Saturday, December 29, 2007
"Chivalry is dead. And women killed it." -Dave ChappelleIn the movie "The Aviator", there's a very telling and well-played scene about male-female dynamics. Leonardo DiCaprio, as Howard Hughes, and Cate Blanchett, as Katherine Hepburn, are having an argument. During the course of the verbal sparring, Howard, who is holding a bowl of ice cream, receives a call. Because a part of their argument is Katherine's increasing annoyance with his attention to forces outside their relationship, she glares at the ringing phone as he answers it. Of course, since they were having a rather deep discussion, and since he was the superior of everyone he worked with and beholden to no one, he should have informed whomever was on the other line that he was busy and would call them back. As Katherine watches, however, he begins what appears to be an in-depth conversation. She then demands that he not set the bowl of ice cream down on his desk, because of course, once he's set the ice cream down he's then completely moved on to the conversation at hand that has interrupted their very important dialogue on their relationship. Finally, with a smug smirk he sets it down and she storms out, ultimately storming out of his life and onto another man. I watched this film for the first time several years ago with my cousin Tyra and her boyfriend, Radi. We all found ourselves riveted by this scene. When it was over, we all exhaled in ponderance of what had just happened between the two characters. Radi, who seemed particularly affected by Katherine's behavior in the scene, muttered "...damn. and all over some ice cream." Tyra and I looked at each other and fell out laughing. The real issues in the scene--and the cinematic relationship--had gone completely over his head. In Dave Chappelle's stand-up act, he has a little bit on chivalry being dead and women being the ones who killed it. Of course, he introduces an interesting possibility. Did we murder chivalry? Did we, in fact, shoot the sheriff? I don't know, but what I do know is that what isn't addressed from Dave's emphatically male point of view is that while we may very well have skinned chivalry a bit, we haven't quite driven a dagger into its heart.
It's just that men have, once again, missed the entire point.It's true that we've done away with much of chivalry, because much of chivalry was completely over the top. Think about it: there was a time when chivalry was defined as dueling someone who insulted your girlfriend or wife or throwing your coat over a puddle of water for a woman to cross. Beautiful sentiments, but ultimately unnecessary. Many women would be satisfied with a simple verbal admonishment to someone who has disrespected them, and most women are perfectly capable of sidestepping their own puddles. Where we are first accused of slaying chivalry is in our frequent demands for equality. The "aww maaaan" choir quickly pulls their set together after every utterance of a hope for female advancement in this country: "Women want equal treatment, equal pay; of course chivalry is dead!". What these people fail to point out is that the places where women demand impartial treatment are the places where it serves us all to let them do so. Where are the primary areas women seek equality? The workplace, sports, and the army. Areas where it behooves all of us to let talented and strong women in to do what they do best. Females who can perform in the workforce just as well or better than males deserve equal pay, period. Women who have the strength and dedication to their brand of athletics and can put butts in the seats for games and meets deserve every possible door opened to them the same as a man. As for the armed forces, well, any woman willing to work that hard to fight for her country deserves a chance to do so, the same as a man. In researching chivalrous acts, I came across a quote from Fascinating Womanhood by Helen Adelin that reads: "If chivalry is dead, women have killed it. They have killed it by becoming capable, efficient, and independent, able to kill their own snakes. They prove by their strength and ability that they don't need masculine care and protection, that they are well able to take care of themselves. They commonly display their capacity to solve their own problems and fight their own battles. To awaken chivalry we must return to femininity. We must stop doing the masculine things and become the gentle, tender, dependent women we were designed to be, women who need masculine care and protection. When we do, men will delight in offering their chivalry." Blank stare. Crickets. And finally...what the hell do you expect women to do, Ms. Adelin? Not be capable, not be efficient or independent? This woman is only an eighth of the way on point with this, because let's face facts: I ain't killin no snakes. So, yes, a man can always do that for me. However, how would I look pretending to be overly fragile, inept and needy? Especially when, in this society, finding a man who will "delight" in offering chivalry can be something of a stretch. As I said earlier this year, I don't really even believe chivalry is dead...I simply believe it's pimping. But either way, women don't need to make themselves smaller so that men can be bigger, and that's where anti-feminists always go wrong. Of course, there are exceptions to this as with anything. Another way women have assaulted chivalry is in not being cognizant of the major difference between respect and inferiority. Some women are so quick on the draw and so insistent on being able to do any- and everything themselves that they don't ever stop to make a man feel like a man. And this is where we've damaged chivalry the most. We should let a man feel that he's capable of "being a man". We should let him feel like he knows where he's going if he's driving (unless you're just completely lost and you have to be the woman and put your foot down), we should let a man feel that he knows sports or cooking or wherever his expertise [that's not our own] may be better than ours and we should let him explain it even if we already know what he's talking about. We should let a man change our tire if he's there, we should let a man open doors when we go out. A man should pay for every date unless you've been together a loooong time, and especially if there's sex involved. In this way, we set the stage for the respect we deserve in our most intimate relationships. As loudly as I vocalized my opposition to chivalry and my position on female sexual liberation in my youth, it took a few empty morning-afters and some questionable relationships before I realized that yes, me, naked is a big deal. Aaaall thiiis, me bucket naked and having sex with you, is a huge deal and one that shouldn't ever be taken lightly. And because I'm not asking anyone to pledge undying love to me before I give it, a man has to find some way to prove that he understands the weight of my decision. That includes opening doors and paying for dates and communicating with me. Those are the basic offerings of respect you give to a woman who has given herself to you. I'm not implying that sex is a one-way street and that women don't benefit. I realize we do. At the same time, the subsequent implications for us are much greater, socially and emotionally. Nothing can minimize this, and we need to know that men are considerate of this fact. That may be newfangled chivalry to some, but it's chivalry--and necessary--nonetheless. See, the simple fact is that chivalry needed to die in some places and it desperately needs to exist in others. Of course, the Helen Adelin set believes that women's insistence on equality has caused men's behavior to diminsh to where it stands today--often disappointing and frequently disrespectful. But women have not learned to reject chivalry; we have learned to take care of ourselves out of necessity. And once we got to doing it, we kinda liked knowing that we didn't have to depend on erratic and often selfish men. We kinda liked knowing that we could be our own trophies before being anyone else's, and yeah, we kinda liked the rush of achievement that made men work so hard for so long before we had the same opportunities. But what came first, the chicken or the egg? I say (us being the egg for obvious reasons) that the chicken came first. The need for chivalry in some instances and the need to do away with it in others can't and shouldn't be dumbed down simply because men have allowed society to lead them to a place where their penises are the Lewis & Clarke of their life's expedition. Making it plain, the places where women demand equality, such as corporate America, sports, the armed forces, academic institutions, government, the industry (it makes no sense that Viagra be fully covered by insurance and we still have a co-pay on birth control)...these are places where bare-boned logic can be applied and it would result in our favor. These are places that should be unchivalrous and maybe even mildly chauvinistic. Women can handle that. Women can handle being challenged by the government, we can take going up against the administration of a school. We can handle chauvinism because it's all part of the job...and because, as Hillary Clinton has shown time and again, women can do chauvinism just as well as men, too. But home, family, love, romance, sex...these are sacred places that build families and lives; places, I believe, in which women should always feel protected, cherished and honored. Point blank. And I don't think that's too hard to understand. We bring forth life from our loins, for heaven's sake. What more do you need to prove that, in the scheme of things, we're special and to be treated specially? Another way in which we're accused of trying to off chivalry is the cheapening of ourselves through sex and lack of modesty. It can't be completely negated that women have slightly devalued sex by making it easily accessible and constantly available. However, there are plenty of women out there who take sex very seriously and who just happen to choose men who don't. A sad and complex dichotomy, and one that won't be fully dissected in this article. However, the question of the egg and chicken comes into play once again. Is it simply that women decided to reverse-cowgirl their way through life for basic need of clitoral stimulation, or that some women decided to make a currency more available in an effort to survive in a market with great demands often met elsewhere? Food for thought. As for a lack of modesty, the main reason women used to be so modest was to protect the assets of their fathers, husbands and brothers--the men that owned them. Once women realized that they owned their own body parts and pieces, they started to show them off more. Of course, some women took it too damn far, but just as many are aware and respectful of the fine line between edgy and tasteless. So is chivalry buried and cold or has it just coded? If it's the latter, how do we resurrect it? Well, my father's always stressed that you teach people how to treat you. So if we've taught men that chivalry is dead, we can just as easily teach them that it's alive.Yes, we can take care of ourselves, but the point of finding love and finding a partner is feeling as though you don't always have to take care of yourself, whether you're a man or a woman. And we do need to treasure what makes us special as women so that men do the same. Women are natural multi-taskers and innate chameleons. That said, the woman that goes to work every day and hustles to take care of business shouldn't be the same woman that lies down next to her man at night. We have to own our femininity, softness, warmth and vulnerability. Not roll around in it, necessarily, but acknowledge its part in us. We're truly from Venus and they're from Mars, and if we try make them treat us like martians, it only causes discord and resentment. Maybe teaching them the language of our culture is the key to creating lasting relationships. The word "chivalry" makes a lot of women cringe. It sounds antiquated and repressive, scary for women who just last century were afforded fundamental opportunities like voting and attending select institutions of higher learning. But the concept shouldn't be looked at in a negative light. There is value in men serving and celebrating women. So often the plight women speak of is one of feeling undervalued and taken for granted. What could be so wrong with a system that makes women feel valued and cherished? As I previously stated, there are places chivalry doesn't belong--the workplace is a major one. I take nothing away from the brilliance and capability of women to excel in corporate America and tons of lucrative industries. Creating a career is something that uses a woman's unique talents and sensibilities, and it's an art. But in order to create a home, there has to be an order and an understanding of male and female roles. I'm certainly not saying that women should be submissive at home and not saying that our days should be spent cooking and cleaning. I am saying that our time is priceless, the emotional work we do in order to sustain relationships is important, and our bodies are precious. Making sure that men realize that through actions and not just words serves us all. There are still some little pockets in our lives where chivalry can snuggle quite comfortably. A book I once read whose title escapes me talked about feminine and masculine energy in a relationship. The argument was that if the woman is exuding too much masculine energy, the man has to exude more feminine energy in order to be a proper balance. Of course, this might explain why so many guys act like bitches half the time, but the point is simple: we have to be women so that they can be men. Or else we have to be able to live with what we get. Which, sadly, may not be much. Resolution #2
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
"The best way to hold onto a man is in your arms." -Mae West"The hardest part is learning to be a well of affection, and not a fountain; to show them that we love them, not when we feel like it, but when they do." -Nan Fairbrother
Speaking of new year's resolutions, I've got one.
Everyone wants to get love. There's nothing that feels better than when someone really loves you. A large part of relationships' appeal to men is the receipt of affection. Let's face it: most women really are Electras--they want the daddy-esque figure, someone they feel they can follow better than they can lead; and men really are Oepidial and want someone that can love them just as good as their mother. And yet I'm currently single? I'm one of the most maternal women I know, and, many have argued, the most passionate.
But here's the cold water and a little known fact: I'm not great with affection. Don't misread me: I'm naturally over-the-top mushy with family and friends. I love hugs and I love being close. I've found that with men I really like, the easiest way for me to achieve that closeness is through sex. So, I've employed that tactic. Of course, my last relationship--the longest I've ever dealt with someone, in fact-- got me the most comfortable with non-sexual affection. I was so deep in love that it was nothing to take his head in my lap and stroke it, nothing to kiss the palm of his hand as I held it. There were nights we climbed in bed and just spooned, no sex. When we had long talks, I had to sit in his lap and straddle his legs, press myself against him so I could feel his heart beat.
Oddly, guys I'm not crazy about or just passing time with can be certain to receive some tender love pats, impetuous kisses, random back rubs. In fact, I'm certain there are at least 20 guys out there who think I'm the sweetest, most affectionate chick they ever met. Conversely, there are a few guys out there I've truly cared for who think I'm just slightly colder than a Minnesota winter.
I'm not now, nor will I ever be the giggly type of girl who hangs all over a man, stroking his face incessantly and digging my nose in his neck. While I find this behavior mildly vomitous, I understand its appeal when you're truly in love. That said, I think my issue speaks to a larger problem, which is that of letting go in relationships. A control freak to the core, I hate the feeling of 'losing it', but I love the feeling of total abandon. I'm convinced this was the primary contributor to my confusing and vaguely memorable weedhead period in college.
I say all of this to say that I am making my first new years resolution. The next man I meet that I see potential in, that I like or grow to care for, I'm gonna be the woman I want to be. I'm not going to be nervous or scared of vulnerability, nor am I going to think about my past, my mistakes and love affairs that fell apart like a hot potato. I'm not going to think and rethink every little decision about tenderness. I'm not going to repress and hide my passion, my instincts, my warmth. Nah, I'm going to show him love.
Just maybe what I get back will be worth it.
Tell me what your first resolution is...can't wait to hear from you!!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
"Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie." -Jim DavisMerry Christmas!! If you're spending the holidays with your "boo" (yeah, I said it; sue me, it's Christmas), and you have to cook, good luck! It's almost first of the year, when we'll all be back in the gym again hard and heavy. My guilty admission is that I was so bad in 2007 and put on so many inches around this waist that I had to start in November. So before you begin kneeling back at the altar of the power lunge, here's a recipe for you. My favorite holiday dishes are turkey, candied yams, and cornbread, but since my grandmother would roll over in her grave like a tilt-o-whirl if I gave away her beloved candied yam recipe, I'll stick my own personal hotwater cornbread recipe here for you to try. Ashleigh's Hot Water Cornbread 1 2/3 c. Cornmeal 1 3/4 c. brown sugar 1/2 c. white granulated sugar 1 1/2 tsp. molasses 3/4 tsp. cayenne pepper 3 tbsp. semi-melted butter about 1 1/2 c. boiling water (use your best judgment) vegetable oil (you can try olive oil; it does change the taste quite a bit, but it is healthier--macademia oil is expensive but the best for health and taste...gives it a pleasant nutty favor) 1/2 tbsp. salt Combine the cornmeal, brown sugar, white sugar, molasses and cayenne pepper in a bowl. Mix in the semi-melted butter and pour in the boiling hot water. Stir until the butter is completely mixed in and melted. Heat the oil (the appropriate temperature would be around 350/375, but again, use your judgment). While the oil is heating, shape the cornmeal mixture into little round circles. Place it in the oil to fry, making sure to fry it on both sides until it's your preferred color (best is golden brown). When you remove it, drain it on paper towels before serving. Merry Christmas ladies!! xo
Friday, December 21, 2007
"In the middle of every difficulty lies opportunity." -Albert Einstein God, it hurts. In fact, little feels worse. He's gone. Maybe you made the decision that it wasn't going anywhere or that it was going somewhere awful; maybe he told you he couldn't do it, or maybe he was just acting so terrible that it was apparent he didn't want it. Any way you slice it, though, the relationship you once cherished, the love you craved...gone. And it feels like someone is holding a knife in your stomach, twisting it every few hours. You go through your days with the biggest smiles, looking flawless--in fact, you've never looked better--and everyone comments on just how gorgeous you've been looking. When you get home, though, you kick off the stilettos, put on the biggest t-shirt you can find, curl up in a chair and cry. Or eat. Or stare at the wall, feeling numb. Or some variation of a combination of these things. When you're done with the pity session, you sit in silence, flicking channels, scrolling through old text messages in your phone, ignoring all your calls. Then you take a nap on the couch because getting in your bed will only make you think of him. You turn off your phone. You just can't deal with anyone right now.After a week or two of this, you're hungry for fresh air and a feeling of being able to breathe. So you're out at Barnes & Noble or the grocery store or the gas station just doing you when some cool, attractive guy comes out of nowhere, introduces himself and for some odd reason--maybe recent insecurity, maybe newfound loneliness, maybe boredom, maybe just because you don't have the energy to say no--you give him your number. Of course he calls, and you go out with him. Deep down, you're determined to try to piece your life back together. He's actually a nice guy, and you agree to see him again. You talk to him on the phone a few times, grab a few meals. Then, one night, he invites you to hang out at his place. You kiss him and it's pleasant and sweet. It doesn't burn with the passion you've been missing from old dude, but this guy is relatively sexy, smart, and above all, in spite of your coquettish but firm resistance, he's totally committed to getting into a place inside of you that you've decided to hide. He is not seeing anyone else since he met you, even though it's only been a week. And his constant attention and compliments are slowly starting to make you feel better about your situation. Then, out of nowhere, you get an email from your ex, or a call. Not to say or do anything of any significance, of course, but the interruption is just enough to throw you off-kilter and catapult you back to the proverbial "start" in the boardgame of getting over him. You stop taking calls from the new guy. What's the point? He calls for weeks, until he just...stops. But what happened to that guy? He didn't die or skip the country. He still exists. You probably still have his number somewhere. He probably has yours. Rebounds rarely work out, but they don't just disappear into thin air when they don't. And since they're typically crazy about us--in addition to being great guys--how is it that they just fall to the wayside by the dozens in our lives? Every woman knows that the worst of love always brings a chaser of a prospective "best ever". Sadly, we're usually so wrapped up in the pain of the recent past that we can't give it the attention or weight it deserves. But it's possible that we've thrown away some our best chances at love. As women, are we so focused on mistakes that we can't get it right? I found myself thinking today about all of the men I've dated. The number is significantly higher than the number of men I've slept with and about twenty times greater than the number of men I've loved. There's a reason for that. When one man almost destroys you, it's almost foolproof that right behind him is a great man who adores you. Unfortunately, at least in my experience, I can never muster much passion for these guys. I find myself questioning if it's the timing. Timing is the easiest answer, of course. And I don't doubt that it's a large reason of why these men never get the attention they deserve.
But I think it goes deeper. The first man that you begin seeing after the big killer is usually completely different than him. He's usually what your friends would consider an upgrade. But although you instinctively know that they're right, you don't feel that way deep inside. Instead, he feels unfamiliar and wrong. He makes you long for the wrongness that felt so right before. When you end things with the new guy, you move on to one, two, three more guys. Until...you finally find one that feels better than the rest. But what was the problem with that first guy? Is it just that he wasn't right? Or just wasn't for right now? And what would happen if you went back and tried to make it work now? Could you?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
"In the end, that's what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope?" -Barack ObamaI've made no secret of the fact that I'm 100% Obama to the death. I've even considered being on of those truly ignorant people who writes in a name in November if their candidate doesn't win the summer primary (no worries for the diehards, I'm totally committed to a Republican-free executive office for at least 8 years...) Anyhow, here's just another reason why I'm Obama-ing my life: I'm telling you, one day I will be proud to welcome Sasha and Malia to our ranks, ladies. They are truly some beautiful little girls! And you gotta love Mama Obama's body languge, that hardcore lock on her husband's leg that screams "do NOT let your gaze go too far past my hand because I don't play that...". I mean...we all saw the sideways glances she was giving Oprah in New Hampshire. Even Oprah! Michelle is the Truth. The nervous little love taps she gives him here are really sweet, too. Bet you won't hear too much about infidelity in that camp. Obama looks like he doesn't even want to be alone with himSELFtoo long for fear of cheating...
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
"The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike." -Sidonie Gabrielle ColletteThere is a magic to a sexy woman who feels confident about herself. A woman who steps out into the world every day feeling good from head to toe---you can see it clearly in the way she carries herself. Head up, shoulders back...a mean "Crazy In Love" video-esque stomp to her walk, runway-ready glide. There is something to a woman who moves through life with a sly smirk on her lips because she has a secret: she really is, underneath it all, the Truth. More Truth than you might even guess--and you'd guess that if she wasn't, she was pretty damn close. This, my friends, is what we call swagger. Swagger wakes me up in the morning and lays me down at night. Life, to me, is nothing without it. I have different swaggers: I've got my gorgeous swagger when I'm feeling my face, my fine swagger when I'm feeling my curves, I've got what Kim and I call the "Jesus swagger" when I'm feeling extra favored, and I've got my sexy swagger all the time, absolutely no exceptions. My spicy, silky swagger is what I love most about myself. It's the way I stick and move, the way I get in and get out unscathed by what should scorch me. Most of the time it's there for me and it serves me well. One place swagger is always useful is in love. When you truly believe that you're the business, so will a man. And even more, it doesn't matter so much what he thinks because you think it. And to take it a step further, when you truly think it, any other woman on his radar or wanting to be on his radar can't help but know it. Swagger wards them off, but even more it protects your heart and shields you from the insecurity and jealousy that can creep up on you in love situations. When relationships aren't exclusive--and we all know I've struggled with the concept of exclusivity for years--other women in the equation or trying to be in the equation normally don't phase me. The most they can do is make me take a second look, but they never knock me off of my pedestal. SB had a constant harem of women trying to get with him. I saw their pictures and texts and emails. And in hindsight, we now know he was probably having sex with every last one of them. However, my attitude was always very "are you kidding me with this chick?" Not that they weren't pretty; they were always pretty, ranging from cute to knockout beautiful. But just looking at them you could tell they were either stupid, lame, ignorant or all three. I felt that not one of them could touch all I was working with: grounded, spiritual, ambitious, beautiful, talented, intelligent, nurturing, super loving, understanding, motivating, crazy passionate, crazy sex appeal, crazy sex drive, creativity, and above all, I was cool as a fan on high--flexible, self-maintained, generally undemanding. I just felt like putting any of those girls next to me in a lineup was about as futile as comparing jersey to egyptian cotton, truffles to Twix. It wasn't worth the comparison. And yet, all women meet their match or something like it. Including me. Maybe especially me. I don't know. I won't give up my crown to anyone, but I have to admit that this time, this girl...there's something there. She's fly. She seems like she has some stuff going on for herself. And me, I'm experiencing an emotion unrecognizable to me until recently. I'm a little jealous. I find myself wishing she was even a little homely. Or didn't look like she has a little swagger of her own. The flame was lit in September when I first saw her and has slowly sizzled into a small fire of jealousy. Even as I type I feel the flame going out, and yet, it's still so foreign a sentiment that it deserves examination. We should all feel good about ourselves as often as we can. Swagger is important, but as with anything, too much can be a bad thing. In a way, I'm happy this happened. We all know that too often, we grow to take things about ourselves for granted. Maybe I've taken my confidence as a woman for granted. Maybe I've gone overboard feeling myself from time to time. And maybe this is exactly what I needed to be grateful for the ability to love myself. A lesser woman would be broken. And yet, I'm blessed with the strength to make it through anything, and this is a minor blip on the radar for someone who's lived my life. And yet, it has the capability to consume me, even if just for a few nights. I'm going to grasp the silver lining here. Maybe sometimes it takes someone else with just a little of what we've got to remind us how richly blessed we really are.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
"Just as bones, tissues, intestines, and blood vessels are enclosed in a skin that makes it possible to bear the sight of a human being, so the agitations and passions of the soul are wrapped up in vanity: it is the soul’s skin." -Freidrich Nietzsche
The "Really, I have $20 Until Payday" Recommendation is:
Friday, November 30, 2007
"even when I'm a mess/I still put on a vest/with an S/on my chest/oh yes...I'm a Superwoman...yes I am" -Alicia KeysI want to apologize as one of the biggest A. Keys fan in the world for just posting this over a week after her album was released. It is truly an amazing revelation. And since we all know Alicia is classic BIC from waaaaaaay back, you already know the LP is chock full of BIC-appropriate lyrics. You've heard "No One", "Like You'll Never See Me Again" , and "Go Ahead" (which reminds me SOOO much of my ex-boyfriend it's scary). Check especially for "Wreckless Love" and "Teenage Love Affair" for car jamming sessions; "Lesson Learned", "Where Do We Go From Here", "Tell You Something" and "Sure Looks Good to Me" are goosebump fodder. Get it in your life. TODAY. Love it. Love her...
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
"You gonna pay what you owe!"
“I Have A Dream: Christmas 2007”
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest concept of satisfying women in the history of our nation.
In just under a month, a great holiday, which stands symbolically in the shadow of Jesus’ birth, will come to pass. This momentous occasion comes as a great beacon light of hope to millions of women who have been shopping the Internet for months, surveying clothes, shoes, travel, expensive memberships, spa visits and rare vintage literature and photography, who have been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It comes as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their heartbreak.
Even after centuries of overcoming male oppression and disappointment, the Woman still is not free. Years later, her life is still sadly crippled by the manacles of mistreatment and the chains of neglect. She is still languishing in the corners of true love and emotional fulfillment and finds herself an exile in her own land. So we have come here today to dramatize shameful conditions.
In a sense we have come to cash a check. When women created Cosmopolitan and Mademoiselle, they were signing a promissory note to which every man was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all girls, yes, girls as well as women, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of passion, accountability, consideration, intimacy, affection and the pursuit of commitment.
Instead of honoring this sacred desire, men have given the Woman a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of amorous justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of passion of this nation. So, this Christmas will be a very special Christmas for us. We have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the new relationships of our hearts' desire and the warm blanket of Santa’s benevolence. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind the male persuasion of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of avoiding the malls or to take the tranquilizing drug of singular gifting. Now is the time to make real the commercial and completely fabricated reason for the season. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of despair to the sunlit path of red boxes with gold ribbons...or blue boxes with white ones. Now is the time to lift ourselves from the quick sands of romantic injustice to the solid rock of demonstrated devotion.
It would be fatal to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of Woman’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of Christmas presents and New Year’s kisses—and presents. 2007 is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Woman needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the penis-bearing set returns to business as usual. There will be neither cellular silence nor cessation of texts or emails in relationships until the Man has granted Christmas wishes, however huge and however ridiculous. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of his sex life until the bright day of do-right emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my ladies who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining all we deserve we must not be guilty of undervaluing ourselves. Let us not seek to satisfy solely our thirst for material goods by drinking from the cup of coming up.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into sex without strings. Again and again we must make men rise to the majestic heights of meeting the expensive present force with the soul force.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking us, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the stocking is empty and our beds are cold. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies and minds are heavy with the fatigue of fighting against men’s degradation, humiliation and underestimation. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until we get what it is we have coming to us.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream today that I will look up to find myself in love with someone worth my time, someone who understands my needs—spiritually, emotionally, physically, materially…intrinsically.
I have a dream today ladies.
I have a dream that I will soon find myself in a new relationship with someone who writes me poems and love letters every now and then, just enough so that it’s a surprise every time. I have a dream today that I will be with someone who I never have to ask for the things I want. Someone who will know instinctively, just by mere mention, that for Christmas I want the new Gucci perfume, “Gucci”, that smells so good I want to lie next to myself and kiss the nape of my own neck-- except it won't be out of necessity.
I have a dream today that I will have a love that will want to step out with me in the new Marciano jumpsuit that inexplicably transforms my body into Pam Grier’s from Foxy Brown, and the new little Marciano sequin dress that’s mildly inappropriate on my body but makes me feel like a rock star. He’ll be fashion-conscious enough to know that both outfits would best go with the Gucci Dahlia High Heel Knee Boot, after I tell him.
I have a dream that one day that he will wake up next to me and think “how can I make my baby happy today?” And then know that a huge-gesture gift certificate to Origins would do just the trick.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day he will give me beautiful, brilliant babies—two boys and a girl (or the two girls and a boy the psychic/prophet predicted/prophesized in Vegas earlier this year). But for now, he will fill the maternal void in my heart with the Christian Louboutin Chiffon Peep-Toe Pump with the hint of pink symbolizing our future daughter’s future nursery. He will also give me a Sephora gift certificate with which I will purchase some fresh blue NARS Island Fever eyeshadow in honor of the boys.
I have a dream today girls.
I have a dream that I will find a man who shares my deep appreciation for cold weather, and wants me to be properly covered when he takes me to exotically cold locales and doesn’t balk when I pair my mother’s vintage rabbit jacket with a Young, Fabulous & Broke tunic, stirrup pants and no underwear.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that I will cohabitate with a man metrosexual enough to buy me a gift certificate to Neiman Marcus and heterosexual enough to not know that I will use it to purchase every shade of red lipstick that Chantecaille manufactures.
I have a dream.
I have a dream that we will marry in Las Vegas at the Mandalay Bay and honeymoon in Asia, but long before that fateful day he will have the resourcefulness to locate last season’s dark rinse Guess Leah Jean in a 29 that I so adored and didn’t buy, and love me enough to tell me he wouldn’t still want me as 27. I have a dream that when I use the spa visit and Pilates gym membership he gives me and I actually am a 27, he will lie and tell me I’m too skinny.
I have a dream today that I will love and be loved by a man that realizes and appreciates that I have expensive taste made far, far more expensive when it’s not my money being spent.
I have a dream my friends. I have a dream that contrary to what any analyst or highly principled person will say is just and/or healthy, one man will pay for what the others have done. I have a dream that one man will fill us up with all the love we’ve given—for every gift of time, adoration, sex, and actual matter that we have given to men we no longer love or even like, we will be repaid.
This is my hope. This is the faith I go into the holiday season with.
And when this happens, when we get to the mountaintop of this against-the-current brawl with love, we will
be able to join…hands (hmm)…and survey our booty (no, not that one) and say “It’s free at last! My spree at last. Thank GOD Almighty my spree at last!”
G. Steinem disclaimer: * *man not actually required**
Thursday, November 22, 2007
"Until you're twenty, you have the face that you are born with; after that, you have the face you deserve."
I told y'all I was going to be shouting out my favorite skincare collection, Origins, over the next month. I've tried so many products in my lifetime and nothing has ever proved as consistent as Origins-- that is my guarantee. I live and breathe skincare, and I really don't have a high tolerance for grown women who don't know what the hell is going on with their own skin. Honestly, your face is all you got! So before I get started worshipping at the altar of exfoliation, if you're totally in the dark about skin health, I'm directing you elsewhere. I ain't got the time to explain!
Now. The rest of us know that, in this world, you gotta exfoliate. The greatest exfoliation product on the market, hands down, is Origins Modern Friction. First of all, it smells great but as I said before, absolutely EVERYTHING that comes out of this company smells fantastic. But the really great thing about this particular exfoliator is that it's not harsh at all. It gets the job done, it feels great, and it makes a difference after just one use. Twice a week you put it on your unwashed face, add a little water to form a paste, and then rinse with warm water. It's supposed to replace your face wash, but I still wash my face afterwards because I'm OCD about those types of things. Either way, it's a super on-point product that really helps immediately in the deep cleansing arena, but long-term it makes a difference with discoloration and skintone. I promise that my combination skin is far less oily in the T-zone since I started using this last year.
Another miracle potion up for discussion is A Perfect World Antioxidant Moisturizer, which is hands down the best moisturizer Origins has to offer. Every skin type can use it, it's wonderful in the winter in colder weather, and it clears up bad breakouts in no more than two days. It even brightens your skin and evens out the texture. It also has some amazing antioxidant qualities that keeps your skin feeling good all day and protects against free radicals. And of course, the smell is ridiculously intoxicating. And while we're on the subject of the A Perfect World Collection, there is another product in that particular collection that makes me want to make love to myself three times in a row.
A Perfect World Intensely Hydrating Body Cream is, in fact, intensely hydrating. Unlike most lotions and creams, you are not able to write your full name in your legs with your fingernail thirty minutes after application. It's super rich and really improves the texture of your skin and makes you silky smooth and sniffworthy. In fact, it has me wanting to make some very bad decisions with someone, because the smell alone is pure foreplay. Still worth the use without le perfect guy because it's that great, particularly after shaving. But, if you can, get the man.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
"Women complain about PMS, but I think of it as the only time of the month I can be myself." -Roseanne BarrI personally love PMS. Well, I love to hate PMS, anyhow. There's an unparalleled joy in being completely free to be misanthropic and filled with unsubstantiated rage. I received this email today that made me laugh. I think we've all been in a place where we felt like saying what this woman says in this letter. **This, by the way, is an actual letter sent to Proctor & Gamble regarding their feminine products.** Dear Mr. Thatcher- I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core(tm) or Dri - Weave(tm) absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi - Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F - 16 in my pants. Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing? As Brand Manager in the Feminine - hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from "Aunt Flo". Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out - of - control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi - pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period." Are you f***ing kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle - manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong", or are you just picking on us? Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have Chosen to take my maxi - pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex - Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull sh*t. And that's a promise I will keep. Always. Best, Wendi Aarons, Austin , TX
Monday, November 19, 2007
"What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived." -Margaret MitchellCardinal rule amongst women of a certain age (over 24 to be exact) is that you never sweat a man who doesn’t sweat you first, long and hard. I mean, c’mon. You know that you never call a man who hasn’t called you in over a week, you never spend money on a man who hasn’t ever spent money on you, and you certainly never call a man again who hasn’t returned your last call. These are basic lessons that young women just know. When we’re girls, we are almost obligated to deal with the bull that young men offer. It’s a rite of passage to say that you’ve been in a place where you compromised yourself for love, where you were taken advantage of, misunderstood, and essentially played. There’s no shame in a young girl learning the hard way how to demand respect. There is, however, shame in a grown woman learning the hard way how to demand respect, again. By the time you’re 25, you should be a trapeze artist in the circus of love, able to leap the tall buildings of empty promises in a single bound. You should slide gracefully from one swinging pole of a man to another until you are able to land safely in the strong, sturdy net that is the arms of the right one. Too many of us, however, have allowed one of those swinging poles to toss us, the beautiful acrobats, violently into the clown car where we’ve become all too comfortable. When you’ve reached official womanhood and instinctively know what you only thought you knew before, when you’re exhausted from the years of fighting for and against love with immature, emotionally undeveloped guys, you’re increasingly aware of who you are as a woman and for what you will not stand. Unfortunately, many of us, weary from those years of swinging at the dust left behind by the chimps we allowed into our minds, bodies and souls still look at hopeless situations like an oasis in the desert. We still reach out for the baton beyond our reach, even though we’re all too aware that it will slip from our hands. Of course, we have ourselves to blame. But taking it one step further, a portion of the fault indubitably belongs to our men of yesteryear who leave us so damaged, so rock bottom, that we have nowhere to go but up. Most of us, when we were very young, had relationships that went off and on and round and round; and, in hindsight, we slipped in and out of these situations rather seamlessly. But nearly all of us got stopped in our tracks at some point by one person with whom love blossomed but truth withered and forever just died. Once we’ve picked ourselves back up it’s possible that our optimism—and solid belief that God just would not take us through the ringer again—makes us have faith in situations where confidence is wasted. At a time when we should all be focusing on the lions of the set—the solid, commanding protectors and providers that we all deserve—some of us are still caught up in the chimpanzee menagerie, hanging onto the old promises of the one that got away by looking for a new ape to finish the job the old one started. We still give power to the guys who never deserved it by continuing the legacy of pain and degradation they began in our lives. So what do you do when you’re unable to make a relationship work, or better yet, find a working relationship after failing so miserably in the one you would have liked to have kept for a lifetime? What do you do when one monkey really does stop the show? When you’ve made a mold out of someone who’s done you all the way wrong for so long, it’s inevitable that you might find yourself unable to break out of it. Of course we’re perfectly capable of breaking out, but when stepping outside of the box doesn’t feel quite right, it leads us down the hedonistic path of poor relationship choices. Unfortunately, too many of us make the wrong man a benchmark. It’s not enough to say that someone should be "better" than your old guy; he has to be different in key ways. Of course, the short answer to not letting anyone rain on your parade is not to let anyone rain on your parade. But anyone who’s ever been down that road knows it’s easier said than done. You’ve got to get back on the horse when you’ve been thrown off, but getting back onto the same horse defeats the purpose. We have to be open to change and trying new things. This year, I practiced my own personal “Year of Yes”. If you’re not familiar with the concept, author Maria Dahvana Headley wrote a book by that title chronicling her year of taking every date she was asked on. Now, I can’t do all that because I just don’t have the patience. But I did take most of the dates I was offered. I know a lot more about myself and how I behave, what I like and don't like, what kind of lover I am, what kind of partner I am and what kind of partner and lover I need. This is certainly a more drastic approach to figuring out what you need, but it’s more than effective. Love is, indeed, a circus, and there are too many beautiful animals with cool tricks for us to linger any amount of time around the clown car. I know; they can just be so damn funny and fun to be around sometimes—but when the lights go down and the show is over, always remember: they’re just sad.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." -Charles DuBoisIt's pretty crazy to go through with cosmetic surgery with a pre-existing medical condition, but that's not the only reason I'm mentioning Donda West. I don't know how appropriate my quote is above, but it struck a chord in me because I think that it captures the mindset Dr. West had as she prepared for a surgery that she likely knew would risk her life. However it goes, she's no longer here and my heart hurts for Kanye because I know how it is to lose a mother, regardless of how she dies; and my heart hurts for Donda because all women know how deeply you can want change in life, so much so that you're willing to risk what is actually important--life and love. On a different note, I want to congratulate Dr. West for the life she led: one of purpose, one of integrity and not only that, she did a fantastic job raising her son (recent über arrogance aside)into an intelligent, spiritual, culturally-aware, grounded (yes, he's still pretty grounded)and enigmatic individual who commands respect. And she did it by herself. Most of us are unmarried and/or childless reading this, but trust: it's way harder out here for a single mother than it is for a pimp. So give it to mama; she did a pretty good job. Prayerfully, she's in a better place being told the same thing. Sidenote: Pretty interesting article Maureen Dowd has up today about women refraining from acting too much smarter than their men. Yes, it's still the 21st century, in case you were wondering.