Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Femininity
This one is something we've been working on and have wanted to post for a while. We're testing out some writing here. If you're commenting, be kind. If you're lurking, please no snarky faces. No eyerolls either! Hopefully this will generate some good discussion about motherhood and what defines us as women. Any men out there should feel free to add their own perspective as well.
Those who know Poker Chick IRL probably use just a handful of adjectives to describe her: Intelligent. Pretty. Sharp. Bitchy. Funny. Clumsy. You know, all the things that make her endearing to loved ones. Now take a moment and think about some adjectives that are absent from this list: Warm. Maternal. Feminine.
Now, Poker Chick has always been all right with this. After all, so what? Who cares if she can't manufacture a case of the fuzzy wuzzies at any given corny moment. She is a businesswoman. She'll trade the house for the boardroom any day. In fact, the whole idea of being responsible for a house is so bizarre she's swapped that notion for a small apartment where one phone call brings dinner. She skipped sororities in college because fraternities seemed like a heck of a lot more fun and she wasn't allowed in those. She'd much rather be at a bachelor party than a shower. And she is, of course, at home playing poker with "the boys". She's always been "one of the guys". And she'd always been able to avoid large gatherings of women so she could continue to enjoy this lie, this pretend world she built around herself where she can do what she's good at and outsource the rest.
But you know how most men "outsource" the stuff Poker Chick sucks at? They get wives. Now, we suppose that's not impossible. Poker Chick has often been known to comment "I need a wife". She even has a friend hand-picked for the role, though for some reason this woman seems genuinely uninterested (I mean, what gives, right?)
Why are wives so desirable? They help make a house a home, which seems to be some kind of necessary step towards the next holy grail of femininity: mothering. Mothers are widely regarded in society. In fact, as Poker Chick wrote this, she was watching the movie Primary Colors, where they all declare "G-d Bless the Mommas!". This rousing statement met with loud approval and it is indeed a common thought. Books talk about mommies who make everything better. When teachers need to resolve an issue, they call the mommy. Children's worlds are surrounded with "mommy" references. It's clear what a mother is supposed to be.
The feminist movement has come and gone, and despite female CEOs in droves these days everyone has neglected to address one irrefutable point: women are biological childbearers. Men can technically do everything else but women still have to go through 9 months of pregnancy, several weeks of recovery, and [for many] months of leaky, saggy lactating boobs. Going through 5 different dress sizes in the course of a year is just one consequence of this fact; one that means women will always fall behind in the workplace at least a little if they desire to bear children. And let's face it, as much as men are doing these days, as long as we women get to pull the "if I'm giving birth to this thing then it's my call!" card, we are the primary child-rearers, whether it's fair or not. It's biology. And who is Poker Chick to argue with biology?
The problem with biology is that it is not fool-proof. Typically, the universe prepares women for life by giving them mothers, aunts, sisters, cousins. Women surrounding them throughout childhood to passively educate them about what it means to be feminine. Not just the big things, but the little things one needs to know. How to brush your hair. How to iron a shirt. How to cook a roast. How to wear a scarf. Poker Chick is convinced that the combined knowledge is filled in some hidden encyclopedia called "how to be a woman." She fantasizes about a secret hazing ritual where you mix the perfect martini and then the encyclopedia is handed to you by the next-of-kin woman. Most people get this encyclopedia. There are many different versions, but everyone has the one that works for them. Surely, tomorrow, she will wake up and have some form of the book magically appear by now.
Nope. Poker Chick, it would appear, got royally screwed by the universe. Her mother was pretty much out of commission at an early age. She had no sisters. No aunts, female cousins or grandmothers close by. Not surprisingly, most of her friends weren't female either. Hers was (for the most part) an alpha-male family with women relegated to the role of wife or ex-wife. So the only way to survive and get any respect was to become one of the men. So Poker Chick learned business skills. How to negotiate deals. Use foul language (decidedly 'un-feminine'!) How to "raise a stink" when someone tries to take advantage of you and your money. And, of course, how to play poker!
You know where this is going.
Yep, biology bit her in the @ss. Enter motherhood and the whole facade was exposed. She was clueless. In the past, she had been able to avoid large gatherings of women; she felt uncomfortable with so much estrogen in one room. But with a newborn, she was forced to confront her insecurity. The reality was that she needed these large groups of women. She didn't have a clue and the poor screaming kid in her arms demanded their knowledge. But it felt like she had failed entry-level womanhood and was now in a PhD program. She was clearly out of her league. And of course, as luck would have it, she was given a daughter to somehow teach.
The older the mini gets, the more she realizes she missed from not having a role model in girl flavor. She thought she didn't need those xx genes, but suddenly every maternal encounter is an opportunity for someone to point out her fraud. Every time the MIL gently "offers" to do something domestic, say wash the mini's clothes, it's a subtle suggestion that Poker Chick should not be raising the child herself. She is not qualified. She does not know how it's done. She doesn't know how to be a woman.
What reminds her that she really is a woman? Besides hormone-driven emotional outbursts? For Poker Chick, it's stupid little things. A big powder brush. Sitting there putting makeup slowly brushing some big powder brush around your face feels female. High heels. Those are feminine. Painted toenails. Real women clearly always must have colored feet tips. Eight different kinds of wrinkle cream in her medicine cabinet. That's right, count 'em. Eight. And she can tell you the difference between each and every one. That'll make you a girlie girl. But it's not all looks, is it? (though keeping up appearances is certainly a big part of the facade). No, Poker Chick learned a few non-superficial lady tricks too. Buying the perfect present for someone. That feels feminine. Nursing. Nursing was awesome. Not only is it undoubtedly female, it's not something every woman can do. And Poker Chick rocked it. So as long as she kept nursing, she was entitled to that female title. But that's where it seems to end. Plenty of people see cooking and cleaning as "women's work" and therefore feminine. But Poker Chick sucks at that. Women know things. How to sew a button. How to take out stains. How to tie a tie. Poker Chick knows none of these things. No one taught her. Does that make her un-feminine? And if not, what does?
What makes you feel "feminine"?
Those who know Poker Chick IRL probably use just a handful of adjectives to describe her: Intelligent. Pretty. Sharp. Bitchy. Funny. Clumsy. You know, all the things that make her endearing to loved ones. Now take a moment and think about some adjectives that are absent from this list: Warm. Maternal. Feminine.
Now, Poker Chick has always been all right with this. After all, so what? Who cares if she can't manufacture a case of the fuzzy wuzzies at any given corny moment. She is a businesswoman. She'll trade the house for the boardroom any day. In fact, the whole idea of being responsible for a house is so bizarre she's swapped that notion for a small apartment where one phone call brings dinner. She skipped sororities in college because fraternities seemed like a heck of a lot more fun and she wasn't allowed in those. She'd much rather be at a bachelor party than a shower. And she is, of course, at home playing poker with "the boys". She's always been "one of the guys". And she'd always been able to avoid large gatherings of women so she could continue to enjoy this lie, this pretend world she built around herself where she can do what she's good at and outsource the rest.
But you know how most men "outsource" the stuff Poker Chick sucks at? They get wives. Now, we suppose that's not impossible. Poker Chick has often been known to comment "I need a wife". She even has a friend hand-picked for the role, though for some reason this woman seems genuinely uninterested (I mean, what gives, right?)
Why are wives so desirable? They help make a house a home, which seems to be some kind of necessary step towards the next holy grail of femininity: mothering. Mothers are widely regarded in society. In fact, as Poker Chick wrote this, she was watching the movie Primary Colors, where they all declare "G-d Bless the Mommas!". This rousing statement met with loud approval and it is indeed a common thought. Books talk about mommies who make everything better. When teachers need to resolve an issue, they call the mommy. Children's worlds are surrounded with "mommy" references. It's clear what a mother is supposed to be.
The feminist movement has come and gone, and despite female CEOs in droves these days everyone has neglected to address one irrefutable point: women are biological childbearers. Men can technically do everything else but women still have to go through 9 months of pregnancy, several weeks of recovery, and [for many] months of leaky, saggy lactating boobs. Going through 5 different dress sizes in the course of a year is just one consequence of this fact; one that means women will always fall behind in the workplace at least a little if they desire to bear children. And let's face it, as much as men are doing these days, as long as we women get to pull the "if I'm giving birth to this thing then it's my call!" card, we are the primary child-rearers, whether it's fair or not. It's biology. And who is Poker Chick to argue with biology?
The problem with biology is that it is not fool-proof. Typically, the universe prepares women for life by giving them mothers, aunts, sisters, cousins. Women surrounding them throughout childhood to passively educate them about what it means to be feminine. Not just the big things, but the little things one needs to know. How to brush your hair. How to iron a shirt. How to cook a roast. How to wear a scarf. Poker Chick is convinced that the combined knowledge is filled in some hidden encyclopedia called "how to be a woman." She fantasizes about a secret hazing ritual where you mix the perfect martini and then the encyclopedia is handed to you by the next-of-kin woman. Most people get this encyclopedia. There are many different versions, but everyone has the one that works for them. Surely, tomorrow, she will wake up and have some form of the book magically appear by now.
Nope. Poker Chick, it would appear, got royally screwed by the universe. Her mother was pretty much out of commission at an early age. She had no sisters. No aunts, female cousins or grandmothers close by. Not surprisingly, most of her friends weren't female either. Hers was (for the most part) an alpha-male family with women relegated to the role of wife or ex-wife. So the only way to survive and get any respect was to become one of the men. So Poker Chick learned business skills. How to negotiate deals. Use foul language (decidedly 'un-feminine'!) How to "raise a stink" when someone tries to take advantage of you and your money. And, of course, how to play poker!
You know where this is going.
Yep, biology bit her in the @ss. Enter motherhood and the whole facade was exposed. She was clueless. In the past, she had been able to avoid large gatherings of women; she felt uncomfortable with so much estrogen in one room. But with a newborn, she was forced to confront her insecurity. The reality was that she needed these large groups of women. She didn't have a clue and the poor screaming kid in her arms demanded their knowledge. But it felt like she had failed entry-level womanhood and was now in a PhD program. She was clearly out of her league. And of course, as luck would have it, she was given a daughter to somehow teach.
The older the mini gets, the more she realizes she missed from not having a role model in girl flavor. She thought she didn't need those xx genes, but suddenly every maternal encounter is an opportunity for someone to point out her fraud. Every time the MIL gently "offers" to do something domestic, say wash the mini's clothes, it's a subtle suggestion that Poker Chick should not be raising the child herself. She is not qualified. She does not know how it's done. She doesn't know how to be a woman.
What reminds her that she really is a woman? Besides hormone-driven emotional outbursts? For Poker Chick, it's stupid little things. A big powder brush. Sitting there putting makeup slowly brushing some big powder brush around your face feels female. High heels. Those are feminine. Painted toenails. Real women clearly always must have colored feet tips. Eight different kinds of wrinkle cream in her medicine cabinet. That's right, count 'em. Eight. And she can tell you the difference between each and every one. That'll make you a girlie girl. But it's not all looks, is it? (though keeping up appearances is certainly a big part of the facade). No, Poker Chick learned a few non-superficial lady tricks too. Buying the perfect present for someone. That feels feminine. Nursing. Nursing was awesome. Not only is it undoubtedly female, it's not something every woman can do. And Poker Chick rocked it. So as long as she kept nursing, she was entitled to that female title. But that's where it seems to end. Plenty of people see cooking and cleaning as "women's work" and therefore feminine. But Poker Chick sucks at that. Women know things. How to sew a button. How to take out stains. How to tie a tie. Poker Chick knows none of these things. No one taught her. Does that make her un-feminine? And if not, what does?
What makes you feel "feminine"?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
It's the little things that make you smile....
Chocolate makes any celebration happy. Like, say, watching Lost. Does anyone else get as excited as Poker Chick by the annual return of the gooey, yummy, milk-chocolate-y fondant egg?
(mūd)
mood1, n.
In case you hadn't noticed, our girl's in a bad mood. Which got her to thinking. Why? Let's examine the options:
What puts you peeps in a bad mood? There's gotta be, like, 1,000 valid reasons out there for being pissed off. Don't let Poker Chick be pissy alone!!! Let's all share a good vent as we ponder why exhaustion is making Poker Chick pretend to talk like an Irishwoman.
In case you hadn't noticed, our girl's in a bad mood. Which got her to thinking. Why? Let's examine the options:
- Stress. Work has been overwhelming and all-consuming lately. 'Tis true.
- Lack of balance. Today Poker Chick had her first big mom f-ck up, she missed the Purim parade. It was a conscious choice as she had a big meeting at work. The parade was covered by the husband and Big Boy. But she hadn't been faced with that choice before and it sucked. She wished she could have been there to see the mini. The guilt, oh the guilt!
- Inadequate sleep. For the past couple of weeks the mini has been getting up several times at night to "make a pee pee". We're talking like every two hours. Poker Chick hasn't been this exhausted since the newborn stage.
- Jet-lag. Well, Poker Chick probably doesn't have jet lag anymore, but she has been on a whole heck of a lot of airplanes in the past week or so. 'Tis draining.
- Malnutrition. Ok so that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But loads of travel and a redonculous work schedule = irregular meals. If you're Poker Chick stress means reduced appetite too. Counterintuitive, we know.
- Bad news. Between sick relatives and a funeral this weekend for a friend's parent, 'tis hard to stay cheery.
Excellent illustration of bad mood flowchart. Thanks, mystery online person!
What puts you peeps in a bad mood? There's gotta be, like, 1,000 valid reasons out there for being pissed off. Don't let Poker Chick be pissy alone!!! Let's all share a good vent as we ponder why exhaustion is making Poker Chick pretend to talk like an Irishwoman.
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