General, Generalissima: Episode I

In the past month or so, I feel like there have been an escalated amount of questionable (to say the least) articles, posts, campaign ads, etc. depicting women in a rather negative light.  Politically, women from both sides have been at each others' throats during a campaign that focused on reproductive rights in order to appease the female demographic (as if we cared about nothing except our uteruses this election, but, ugh, whatever; I digress).  The issue of what it means to be a woman, what it means to be feminine, were once again drudged up from ye olde stomping ground, and rather than discussing it sensibly and civilly, tensions rose even higher thanks in no part to the media's calming (not) effect (not).  So in the spirit of civility and suppressed opinion (as well as the fury boiled within after reading this), I have decided to finally make my voice heard(ish) on this issue of femininity.  My credentials regarding this issue are the following: a) I am not an old, white man, and b) I have a blog, and c) I have a uterus.  Other than that, you can really take it or leave it as you please.

As far as I can remember, I have always struggled with the concept of "femininity," and what it truly entailed.  See, most little girls spent their time watching Disney movies, wishing they could be a princess and have Prince-Too-Pretty-to-Be-Absolutely-Straight-But-Significantly-Rich come whisk them away to a faraway land where they would get married and live happily ever after.  But I wasn't most little girls.  I literally wanted to be Indiana Jones (like, not the female equivalent, just him), and instead of a prince, I kept hoping a space captain would come recruit me (not whisk; never whisk) to join his ragtag crew and help save the universe from impending organic/synthetic doom.  And then maybe, if there were, like, a few free moments before the big showdown, we would accidentally make-out while taking inventory of mess rations, or something like that.  And if we survived the impending doom, then we'd talk about permanenting our relationship.  But the relationship was never the primary; saving Earth took precedence.  It's not that I had no interest in getting married, having kids, etc., but there were always things I cared about a little more, like getting into college, becoming a professional comedienne or writer, or Lord willing, both.

Growing up in a conservative, Baptist family, I can remember this idea of "Biblical Femininity" had always sort of floated around in my brain, but it never really settled in. And, really, up until middle school, as long as I could read, build my LEGOs, or keep trying to collect all 120 stars on Mario 64, I wasn't bothered by it too much. But then by about fourth or fifth grade, girls were suddenly obsessed with boys, make-up, swearing, the melodic crooning of N*Sync, and carrying purses (really, my pockets would be sufficient if jeans makers didn't insist on making the pockets on lady jeans practically nonexistent; CONSPIRACY, PEOPLE!). As if that wasn't hard enough, my two sisters (both of whom I love dearly) were both cheerleaders, the height of femininity as far as high school and 90s teen movies go. I had no interest in any of that at the time, but there was so much peer pressure coming from a desire to be a not outcast that I tried to sort of fall in with all the other girls and stop spending my time practicing accents (SNL sort of played a huge part of my comedienne path).

I thought at least I could turn to the church for refuse from this "girl world" I clearly didn't jive with. I figured I'd be too busy participating in youth group to be hung up on the fact that even though these guys I was supposed to be obsessed with didn't seem to be too keen on the idea of dating me. But I was wrong. Youth group turned into a Noah's Ark, singles' mixer, situation of sorts, but I refused to let it get to me. I decided I'd push ahead and ask to lead a lesson one Sunday, which coming from a shy kid who's ideal social interaction came from The Sims or conversation options on Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, was a huge deal. Excitement escalated and fell just as quickly when I was told I couldn't lead the youth group because I was a female. I was truly crushed.

That left a huge impact on me. I started questioning my faith. If--as a female--my role was defined only in relation to males, and my primary function consisted of either having children or taking care of them, I was like, kindly pull the divine trigger now, God. There's no way. No freaking way. I'll be a guy and follow you because they get all the cool jobs, like anything they want to do, but I do NOT want to be the next Sixty Kids and Hemorrhaging, thank you very much.

Since I didn't have a lot of mentor-type ladies at my disposal to talk through this crisis, I started turning to television and books for answers (which is always a mixed-bag as far as legitimate answers go). My love affair thus began with author Meg Cabot and the shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BTVS) and The Office.

To me, Meg Cabot was like the Judy Blume of my adolescence. Her books always included these abnormal heroines (some of whom were as obsessed with Star Wars as I was) who were awesome as ladies, but who also got the nice, attractive guy (and sometimes even he was obsessed with Star Wars, too, so double win). Her characters were always funny, too, which was a relief for someone who started to wonder if maybe guys wanted girls who knew what bronzer was and how to apply it properly rather than one who knew what the name 'Lorne Michaels' meant to comedy. Turns out, there were other girls who thought like me, just not at my high school.

BTVS and The Office affected me in different ways. Buffy was essentially my first introduction to a superheroine. Outside of Princess Leia (okay, I lied, if I had to pick one princess to be, it would be her), I had a limited exposure to super ladies at that age (my mom can't stand sci-fi; my dad's into weird sci-fi). Buffy was a breath of fresh air. Here's this girl, close to my age, chosen to defend the universe against vampires and such, but throughout it all, her calling comes first. She had boyfriends, some worse than others (coughRileycough), she had friends, and she made a lot of mistakes. Through it all, though, she didn't lose her femininity or her identity as a female. In fact, both of those features actually emboldened her ability as the Slayer, I would say.

Then there was Pam Beasly on The Office. She represented the girl I identified with rather than the one I wanted to be in a secret life. Pam was quiet, reserved, funny (but not in a show-y way), and she was stuck in a relationship because it was safe and familiar, even though she was in love with Jim Halpert. For two seasons, I sat frustrated that she wouldn't just choose Jim, but also empathizing with her fears of the unknown. Then in season three, Pam did the bravest thing I have ever seen a character of her caliber do on television. After walking across a bed of coals, Pam finally confessed her feelings to Jim. And it was so raw and beautiful, I'm pretty sure I may have cried. To me, both Buffy and Pam were strong females, in different ways perhaps, but nonetheless. They were both women, displaying femininity.

So if television could get this, an institution I have no faith in, whatsoever, why couldn't any of my circles (school and church) understand this concept of all females being different? WAS I SERIOUSLY THE ONLY ONE GETTING THIS?

(continued in next post)