New Project: Chapter 11
An unknown author recently said, “In a society that profits from your self-doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.” Liking yourself is dangerous, just look at Psyche and Arachne. It is also necessary, even when done in secret, because if we didn’t like ourselves sometimes we wouldn’t make it through most days. And a little rebellion is good on occasion. It’s revolution that makes us afraid.
Revolution occurs when the imagined is less terrifying than the reality we endure. It requires we defend our position, stand up for our convictions, and prepare for radical change. Liking ourselves is the first seditious act. Giving to ourselves severs the chains.
To give is to yield to pressure. It is also to bestow. It is from the Latin habēre meaning to have, to hold. To give is an honor, an obligation, a choice. It is where the revolution starts and where, if misguided, it folds.
Rebecca Solnit says, “Revolutions are first of all ideas.” She explains that for all the recent attempts to roll back legislation and relegate women to the kitchen, the genie is out of the bottle and won’t go back in. The idea of woman as equal will never be contained again.
That idea is planted in all our heads, regardless of our position on its premise. Every morning I wake up certain of my autonomy. There are days when one episode after another erodes my conviction and wears me thin, but I never forget the world I should live in, the world promised by those who fought for my freedom and continue, however slowly, to win. Unfortunately, it’s one of the reasons liking myself is an act of sedition.
Finding things to dislike is easier than taking responsibility. I didn’t get that promotion because X is prettier than me. My husband isn’t paying me any attention because I’m always exhausted and can’t keep up with his needs. My son won’t do his homework because I didn’t make enough time for him when he was little. I’m overweight and hate it, but don’t have time, energy, or discipline to change it. The refrain, “I’m not good enough,” rings across this nation all day every day because, while profitable, it’s also a convenient excuse for staying the same. A little sedition is okay, especially when we like ourselves enough to buy a product, but revolution makes us unsafe.
Most women and men in this country do not identify as feminists. When asked why, they recite propaganda that defines feminists as man-hating, radical, or deviant people hell bent on destruction. In reality, a feminist is anyone who supports equal rights for women. That’s it. It’s so simple that when the same people who didn’t identify as feminists hear that definition, they often change their position – as long as their position doesn’t require them to participate in the revolution.
And what, exactly, is the revolution? There are no armed militia taking the hill, no smoke-filled skies or burning fields. As Gil Scott Heron wrote, “The revolution will not be televised,” because the revolution is live.
The revolution is a woman telling her family not to interrupt her writing time. It is a teenaged girl deciding to shine. It is an old woman wearing a miniskirt. It is a group of women talking about their lives without the sugar-coated niceties of, “Everything’s fine.”
The revolution is dancing and kissing and laughing loud. It is hands in the soil, paint on a canvas, a song from tone deaf lips. It is a million, then a billion voices saying I’m not good at this yet, but there’s time. It is a Zumba class and a misstep, a long walk with a friend, a night without the television and its 24/7 opinions. It is allowing yourself to cry.
More, the revolution is getting that promotion if it matters or owning up to why it doesn’t. It is deciding to lose the weight or tell your body you love it. It is opening a bottle of wine, putting on some music, and embracing your husband like you did before you served the recipe that killed the romance in your lives.
The revolution is taking responsibility for our actions and stories even when that means discomfort, upset people, and disruption. It is owning our desires and acting upon them. It is giving ourselves what we need and want instead of blaming ourselves for not being good enough. The revolution is crying out “I matter,” not just to those who would listen and empathize, but to ourselves when we’re in the shower.
It is calling out those who tell us we can’t or shouldn’t. It is saying yes when we want it. It is recoiling from people and circumstances that leave us numb. It is embracing the joy of what it means to become.
The revolution is living over being alive. It’s ours if we’ll have it and will destroy us if we ignore it. The genie is out of the bottle. The idea of equality – liberty, empathy, and economic independence – can become a reality. We just have to try.
Giving is prerogative or prison. It is prerogative for those who are genuine. It is prison for those who compromise. How we give determines our allies, opposition, and battle cry. To take the field, we must be terrified – not of what’s in front of us, but of dying inside.
Imagine a hurricane hitting an island. The winds are so intense palm trees snap like twigs. That cabana you love collapses in seconds. A tin roof sails through the air, severing power lines. Glass shatters. Waves sink ships on their way to the shore. You take cover where you can, ride out the storm. All night you shiver and flinch at the noise.
This is how most of us live most of the time. The world we know is in constant upheaval. We can’t control anything. Everyday we face an onslaught of trash, debris, and sharp objects whipping toward our heads. At night, we try to sleep and can’t. Worse, we dream and wake scared to death. There are headlines and deadlines, relationships, commitments, and obligations. There are those few, dear people we love who weigh on us even as they warm us because there’s not enough time. This is our norm and our nightmare. We so accustomed to the storm we disavow our terror for a narrative that justifies: Our actions determine what we get and what we get determines our worth. Get more and escape the storm.
The narrative is false. Clinging to it ensures continued onslaught. Only giving silences the wind.
Recently, at a women’s group I attend, I spoke briefly about giving as a method for making positive change because it is one thing we can do as individuals to empower ourselves.
Immediately, a woman challenged me. Her daughter gave all the time to her best friends. She was always there when they needed her. She gave support when they broke up with their boyfriends, failed a test, everything. However, the friends failed to reciprocate when her daughter succumbed to chronic illness – which means giving doesn’t work as a strategy for getting by in the world.
This example is a great one, especially for women. We’re told that if we’re caring and kind the world will take care of us in the form of husbands, children, and friends. We’re also told we have to give a little to get a little and most of us do this rather well. The flaw in both these examples is that giving to get will always backfire and render us powerless, but, since many of us are nervous about power, we perpetuate the myth.
Brené Brown says, “Power is a difficult topic for women. The majority of women I talk to are uncomfortable with the idea of a ‘powerful woman.’ Many of them quickly associated the concept of a powerful woman with being unliked or being a ‘bitch.’ On the other hand, every woman I interviewed was quick to acknowledge how scary and desperate it feels to be powerless. This ambivalence about power poses a serious threat to our ability to be our best selves.”
Being liked is often more important than having power and giving is a great way to be liked – or so we’re led to believe. Unfortunately, giving to be liked eventually erodes us so completely we can’t even like ourselves. When we get to that stage, our inherent beauty doesn’t matter and we have no power. Reclaiming ourselves from this state is the first revolutionary act.
