On Becoming a Woman

I've just finished Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye. It was tough going, partly because of her inventive use of form but because, although I sometimes had a hard time following the thread of the story, I had no problem following the theme of hardship and tragedy brought about by oppression and the consequent self-oppression. I guess I wasn't prepared for the stark cruelty and tragedy of the ending but I should have been. Where else could it have gone? Self-deception and madness.

Morrison wrote this in the sixties when we were just waking up to the horrors of bigotry and that eye-opener pushed many of us toward Civil Right and then for me, Women's Rights and Gay/Lesbian rights. The sixties and seventies were exciting times. We were changing the world. And we did to some extent. Many of our children and grandchildren don't face the barriers we faced.(Of course, another group faces those barriers which we make legal by pegging groups, illegals, threats to our society, to the American way.

My nephews fight those fights. Me,  I am just catching up to myself as a woman. There are countless women like me who grew up in the sixties weighted down by self-oppression, self-hatred for being who we were. Be proud, demonstrate, dance in the streets and I did all those outward things that helped change society. It's the individual struggle that takes place and keeps many of us in the same place. The Pecolas of the world (the main character in The Bluest Eye) go to extremes of self-deception to avoid self-loathing. It was her only way to avoid self-loathing. If she had blue eyes she wouldn't be ugly. She believes herself ugly because everyone else does in a world where blue eyes, blonde hair and white skin are held in the highest esteem.

It's no accident that I identify with Pecola. When I was a kid I renamed .myself Tom. I lived in the fantasy of being a boy because everyone knew girls were silly, stupid and vulnerable to the whims of boys (i.e. powerless). I eventually gave up the dream of being a boy and reconciled myself to my fate - that of a girl, albeit with bad grace. I became introverted and mostly stayed away from having girlfriends. As an adult I realized that I was a lesbian and so worked on behalf of lesbian/gay rights.  And the friends I made then and until recently have mostly been men. What a surprise! I've always been more comfortable with men and especially gay men. This way I avoid the big issues of how I see myself as a woman.

I'm only just coming into being comfortable as a woman and it has taken me all these years to realize I am one of the strong woman. It has been my re-acquaintance with my "tribe" - the women I knew as girls in high school. I can see and celebrate our "culture" - the glue that keeps us together which celebrates our likenesses as well as our differences.

It's since our reconnection through Facebook that I've come into my own as an artist. It's not just their encouragement and support (for which I am grateful) that has helped me so much in this area, but it is through them, remembering where I come from, were we come from and how far we have come as women that I take my rightful and proud place in the universe among these women.