Friday, February 12, 2010
Betty Friedan, Simone de Beauvoir and Me
The writing is magnificent; they are free to be brutally honest, wickedly blunt and constructively critical. It all works because the people they are tearing apart have asked for it. Countless bloggers dare to put themselves under this microscope of harsh scrutiny in spite of reading the disclaimers essentially telling them to bend over and grab their ankles. They ask anyway.
I’m fairly certain I must have had a few glasses of wine when I submitted my blogging for their flogging. What WAS I thinking?
It has been months since I did it. I have read all their reviews since and I had pretty much given up, thinking it must not have made the cut, thank God. I was breathing easily; imaging my impetuousness had not gotten me into trouble after all. Then it showed up – the notice that I had asked and I had received.
With my heart firmly settled in my throat, I clicked over and read the review, prepared by Madame Bellicose herself. I didn’t get shuttled off to a guest writer; I was to take my spanking from the mistress of doom, the blog’s proprietor. They have a rating system ranging from a “flaming finger” (the worst) to “four stars – I fucking love you”, (the best). Obviously, being the competitive person I am, I wanted nothing less that the full four fucking love.
Essentially, you could say I got a good review – three stars are not too shabby. She liked my writing, thought I was talented but she couldn’t go all the way with me because we differed too much in taste. Plus, my background was perceived as too busy with fairies and such. My intent to create chaos amidst the calm of a sunset was distracting. It made it difficult to read and my words were certainly worth reading. Enough said, fairies gone.
At first I didn’t recognize the person she was describing. I’m no feminist; I’m a delicate, southern lady, thank you very much. Then I read through some of my posts and I saw it. It is there, a thread that ties the entire purpose of my blog together.
It’s my blog and as all bloggers know, we start a blog for ourselves but ultimately we want others to follow us, to buy what we’re selling, to get the essence of our voice and to connect with us. I feel perhaps I was chosen to tell the stories of my life involving a lot of “Mr. Whatevers” to inspire women, to make them laugh and cry but most importantly to make them think.
I have just begun to peel off the layers of my life and as I explore the meaning of it all, I shall not walk through the valley alone. For you see, it is not just my plan to be a positive influence to women, it is my life to be constantly influenced by the positive women who inhabit it. That’s who I am. If that’s being a feminist then clear me a spot at the table.