As young girls, we learn our behaviors from the women
who surround us. I was raised by two women with very different points of view.
My mother and my aunt shared almost equally in my upbringing and if I could be
anything like either of them, it would be more than I have earned in this life.
My mother was a saint and would never say anything negative about anyone, even
if it needed saying. My aunt, on the other hand, she opened her mouth and the
truth, whether ugly or kind would come rushing out. She didn't mean it in a
hurtful way, I would always tell myself. Sometimes the truth needs to be said.
Then, I ask myself, to what degree should the truth be given to our young
girls?
The thing about my mother's point of view is that her
opinion was never heard, out of fear of causing offense. She would tell me
confrontation was unladylike, even if my heart was screaming out for
validation. I felt her heart must want the same validation, somewhere deep
inside. Didn't she ever want to spit out the ugly, unflattering truth? Her
biggest fear in life was that someone, ANYONE may not like her. She never met a
stranger. The number of people at her funeral violated the building's fire
code. The staff had to ask people to stand outside. She never had an enemy. Not
one. She never caused offense. She was never heard. I watched her get trampled
on by people whose intentions were unkind. She was passed over time and again
for promotions at work because she wouldn't speak up. My father and I watched
her, knowing she felt helpless when people took advantage of her kind heart. I
did not want to be a doormat like my mother. I always saw her as a sweet,
lovely, beautiful soul of a doormat.
Then, there was my aunt. She seized life and success by the
throat with a vigor and diligence that I will likely never find. She was
equally beautiful, with an equally kind heart as my mother's, but she was never
afraid of the truth. She was never afraid of the offense it could cause. If
something needed to be said, my mom would call my aunt and it would be said. In
fact, most of the times that my mother would confront me about my bad behavior
(there weren't many occasions because I was a mostly good and terribly
precocious child) she would do so through my aunt. She would call Mimi, vent to
her and then auntie would get me whipped into shape. Sure, my aunt had a few
enemies. There was this one lady at work she would've loved to string up by the
toes..... She burned a few bridges, she said some ugly, unflattering truths....
she was probably called a few choice names, but she was also surrounded by
people who loved and respected her. Her funeral was also packed to capacity.
She fought tooth and nail for her success and she craved the respect she worked
so hard to earn. I respected her. I also respected my mother, but in a
different way. I respected her martyrdom…. I just don’t know whose footsteps to
follow?
I’ve spent most of my life playing my mother’s card. I was
quiet and reserved. I harbored a lot of anxiety. I wanted success, but I was
afraid of the men and (especially the) women who stood between me and the
success I sought. So instead of acting on my desires, I sat quietly for fear of
being disliked. However, unlike my mother I was an introvert. I did not have a
host of friends to occupy my time. I was mostly terrified of people. I would
rather keep to myself. Just like my mother, I had so much unrealized potential.
I wanted so much but I was terrified of the struggle it would take to achieve
it. My mother spent her entire life in the same limbo. She was too afraid of
being disliked to fight for the things she wanted. As I grew older and both my
mother and my aunt were diagnosed with terminal cancer, I began to see things
differently. I began to find my voice.
With trembling hands
and quivering lips, I began to tell people how I felt. However, I didn’t know
how to use my voice. I felt too much anger and fear to use my voice
effectively. Still, it felt good to be finally heard. At first, I felt
vindicated beyond my wildest dreams. I sought out people who had wronged me in
high school to tell them how they had made me feel like dirt and I had never
told them off and then proceeded to insult them in every vicious way I could
imagine. I wrote a letter to the doctor
who had for four years continuously misdiagnosed my mother’s illness and called
him every name in the book. I went off on people I shouldn’t have. I got out of
control. I became a stark-raving-mad B-I-T-C-H. I sunk even further into
seclusion. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I just wanted every person who
had ever hurt me to finally hear what I had wanted to say them. The words had
been burning inside of me for so long I became consumed by my own fire.
I remember my aunt saying once to someone who needed a good
talking to, “You think I’m a bitch for saying this, don’t you? Well guess what,
sometimes it feels good to be a bitch.” I think what she meant was that,
sometimes, it felt good to have her opinion validated. It felt good to be
heard. It felt good to vocalize her grievances. Sadly, life took these two
women away from me before my training as a woman was complete. I lost them both
in the same year. My burning question in life, since these two women have been
taken from me has become this: to be a beloved door mat, or a “bitch” fighting
for success? This question has led me to many other questions and they all seem
to involve the gender roles we place upon our daughters. Why must it be one or the
other? Why a doormat or a bitch? It seems that if a man is assertive, he is
considered effective and is respected. He is regarded as having vigor and often
rewarded with success. If a woman acts in the same assertive manner, she is not
regarded for her zealousness; she’s labeled a “bitch.”
I think the truth is that society was unfair to both of
these women. My mother shouldn’t have had to feel like she had to say yes to
everything and sacrifice herself in order to be well liked. My aunt also
shouldn’t have had to have been labeled a bitch just to find validation,
respect and success. I shouldn’t have had to have spent so many years stuffing
down emotions that I exploded on the entire world around me. Where can women
find middle ground? How can we communicate our emotions effectively and feel
our opinions are validated without fear of being labeled a bitch? Why has
society taught us that confrontation is unladylike, being assertive makes you a
bitch, and voicing your opinion will make you unpopular? At what point, in our
roles in society and business, can we put aside these labels and just be
people? Will my daughter have to worry that in order to gain success she must
fight tooth and nail, see other women as enemies and play up to the gender
roles presented to her? I don’t want that for my children and I don’t want that
for myself.
So, my dear women and girls, I’m begging you all to stop for
a moment. I’m asking you to examine yourself. Have you let society mold you
into either a doormat or a bitch? Do you apologize for every word you say? Do
you even say them at all? If you are brave enough to use your voice do you use
your it for good or for evil?
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