Thursday, at the office with Shay doing more battle with the STUFF. Today we go through all the family memorabilia that was stored in a closet here. This is touchy territory, what to keep and what to let go? Just this past weekend, Catherine said, when we were gathered for Mother's Day and looking through old stuff, "Aren't you supposed to want to keep stuff from our childhood?" To which Elizabeth responded, laughing, "She's so over us!" We all got a chuckle over that but it got me to thinking. Was she right? Am I eager to move on from the role of mother as collector, protector, conductor? I've always envisioned there would be a time, near the end of my life, when I would want to sift through boxes of stuff from my kid's childhood, marveling over their school reports, their water color paintings, their baby teeth. Or I figured they would want those memories for themselves and it was my fiduciary duty to preserve them. Now I'm thinking we need very little, an archive here and there, but not the granular detail of life past.
I have almost nothing from my childhood. "Lellow The Bear" was misplaced years ago, the geisha doll I loved with six interchangeable wigs, my Tiny Tears with the tightly permed curls, my Ginny's - they're all gone - not a clue where they went. So, I'm getting rid of most of my kid's stuff - all the American girl dolls and paraphernalia, the stuffed animals, the chotchkies - I will keep only pictures. What the girls don't want goes and hopefully will be repurposed by other little girls. Call me an optimist, but now that I'm staring at what is probably the last third of my life, I have no intention of slowing down and being someone that lives in the past, lingers over collected objects, regales everyone with the same old stories. I think of my mother's friend Peggy who lives here in Evanston. She is in her '90's and still an active artist, painting every day, meeting deadlines for gallery openings, exhibiting all over the place. Her work still sells like hot cakes - she keeps very little of it. The picture today is one of her pieces. That woman doesn't have time to slow down and reminisce! She'll be creating until the day she dies!
What's on my mind today is an article I read about female sexuality - the "G" spot specifically. Article in the Trib today about a scientist who went to Poland to dissect a very fresh female cadaver. In the U.S., scientists don't have such quick access to dead folks and as such, certain experiments can't be done. And maybe you don't know that there is still scientific debate about whether the "G" spot exists at all. Many feminists scoff at the idea of a "G" spot - they think it's a male conceived idea that the center of a woman's sexuality lies in the vagina. They assert the "G" spot is the clitoris, and nothing more - that women don't derive pleasure from penetration. I guess I'm incredulous that a) this is still being debated b) that something as important as female sexuality has apparently gotten the short shrift when it comes to hard core research and c) that this is even a topic of discussion at all! Isn't this a case where the anecdotal evidence speaks for itself? Don't we women get to vote? I don't need a scientist to tell me what my body is feeling, what is real or not real inside of me! And I don't need a militant, man-hating feminist to tell me that my vagina is really only good for birthing babies. Feeling pissed off about this. Y'all need to stay out of my vagina.
It's scary though, the preoccupation with female body parts and the things that men are capable of. Few years ago I read an incredible book called Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, an amazing woman who spent her youth in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Ethiopia and Kenya.When her father arranged for her to meet her chosen bridegroom in Germany, she escaped and found her own way to The Netherlands and got asylum. She struggled, survived and then thrived in the democracy there, eventually being elected to the Parliament.
Of all the stories she tells, one, in particular haunts me because it is such a cautionary tale. It's the whole lens thing - seeing the world through our own cultural upbringing, not questioning whether things are right or wrong, accepting bizarre practices as normal. She was in a ladies' room urinating with three other young women, her peers. And while Ayaan had been forced to undergo female circumcision, the other girls had not only been circumcised, but their vaginas were sewed up as well - only a small hole remained for urination. The girls took a long time going to the bathroom and later they trash talked Ayaan, because, while their urine drip, drip dripped daintily into the toilets, Ayaan's sounded like a racehorse when she peed. They shamed her. The takeaway for me is being mindful that, just because something is the norm doesn't mean it's right. Is the fact of Ethiopian girls taking pride in their sewed up vaginas really any more bizarre than some of the stuff we embrace as proper? Boxing matches, hours of TV watching a day, eating pink slime, male circumcision, violent rap lyrics, legalized tobacco - the list goes on and on.
I was all over the map today with this blog post - my mind is full. The challenge today is questioning everything - being a free thinker. Be a skeptic! Be alternative! Just because someone scripts you to be a Grandma in a rocking chair looking through old birthday cards doesn't mean you have to accept that role. Similarly, if you can tell the difference between a clitoral and vaginal orgasm, don't let some scientist or activist tell you that what you're experiencing isn't the truth. Most importantly, take a step back and look at the society you're in with unbiased eyes. Decide for yourself what's good for you and your family. Just because something is the norm doesn't mean it's right. Helps to examine your beliefs with the eyes of an alien.Make believe you just came to earth and were tasked with observing and describing human actions. If an alien would question it, we should too. Having said that, there are things we humans do that probably would make no sense to an alien, that are wonderful. I for one, am not giving up kissing any time soon.
Peace,
Sarah
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