Caricatures of Female Intelligence

Late last night I saw a commercial on the television that made me angry.  The premise of the commercial was for parents to encourage their children to eat breakfast - they would perform better in school if breakfast was eaten - and of course something was being sold, a breakfast sandwich, I believe.  My issue wasn't with the premise, or even with the breakfast sandwich being sold.

The scenario went like this - the main character of this commercial was a girl, probably a pre-, or young teen.  She was participating in a spelling bee.  This character, this young girl, was a stereotypical caricature of a geek.  Everything about her was geeky.  Her glasses, clothing, mannerisms, the way her hair was styled, everything about her was geeky.  And that is what made me angry.

It is a known fact, based on many years of scientific study, that girls dumb themselves down in the middle school years to appear less smart as compared to their peers, especially as compared to boys of the same age.  This dumbing down is frequently seen in mathematics and science.  It is also a known fact that women are a minority in the fields of math and science and in fact, there is a great need in those disciplines for more women.   Middle school girls want to fit in, be liked and popular...have boyfriends even.  Being considered, or referred to as geek doesn't help to accomplish these goals.

I personally know of a few highly intelligent teens who admit to dumbing down.  I know of grown women who claim to have dumbed themselves down to better fit in while in middle and high school.  Some mothers  still do this to some degree, unwittingly setting an example for their children.  Being considered too smart is very un-cool for some, especially if being intelligent can land you with the brand of geek.

Intelligent females look and act like everyone else.  Intelligent girls and women look just like the girl next door.  These girls and women ARE the girl next door.   I've yet to meet one who was the stereotypical geeky looking caricature intelligent girls are made out to be.

This commercial particularly bothers me because I am the mother of two highly ambitious, intelligent young women, who at points in their lives have dumbed themselves down to fit in.  One of our daughters told us she just wanted friends, to fit in and be like everyone else, not be smarter than.  In our family we discuss issues like these and explore, through conversation, the ramifications that can happen to personal self-worth, future educational and employment opportunities and self identity when dumbing down happens. It is never a good idea to deny who we are - ever.


Today, I am going to ask each of you reading this to put your own face in this frame.  Put your daughters face in this frame, share the frame and ask other women, young and old to do the same.  Actually see, with your eyes, what an intelligent woman looks like.  Accepting who we are, with all the talents we have is important and caricatures of our intelligence should not be tolerated.

On a final note, I will tell you that when I see that commercial again I'll be paying attention to the name of the company.  I will be calling the president of that company and letting him or her know they are contributing to a great dis-service with our girls who subconsciously, or consciously close open windows and doors to future opportunities.  And I will be asking them stop the caricature of intelligence.  Our future is in our youth owning who they are, with all their gifts and talents.  Our future is in accepting who we are, as women and individuals.  We usually look just like the girl next door.  We are the girl next door, notwithstanding caricatures.

Make Mine a Chrysalis...and Throw in an Oxygen Mask

"Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others."— Randy Pausch (The Last Lecture)

As a stay at home mom I take a lot of pride in what I offer my family.  I work hard at keeping everyone happy.  Once upon a time, not too many years ago, I didn't think meeting my own needs was a priority. I do now. Most especially because I am a mother to two daughters and I want them to know that regardless of their work/life choices they too deserve to at least be as happy and content with life as those they provide for.  And they need to know they have a responsibility to themselves for their financial security.  I want to be a great example to them.  I now make it a priority to meet my own needs - put my own oxygen mask on first, so to speak.

I used to work long hours outside the house for pay.  I would get up extra early, head to the gym, grab a healthy to-go breakfast and run to the office - earning my keep (as I used to say).  One day, right after having the youngest I decided it just wasn't for me any more.  I couldn't see handing that baby off for someone else to enjoy for the 10-12 hours a day I was going to be gone.  Besides, there was a teenager that needed my attention and she too deserved some time with just mom.  Some days I wonder about that whole quit my job decision, but not overly much.  First, I'm a realist, meaning I can't change what has happened anyway; but more importantly, I've gotten back in spades by being with my girls much more than I would have by collecting that paycheck - as handsome as it was.  Except - I gave up my paycheck, didn't have a backup investment plan in place, or any financial plan in place and that now leaves me vulnerable.

Lots of big mistakes were made along the way after deciding to leave the paid workforce.  Savings or retirement, outside of an existing 401K wasn't a concern - big mistake.  I lost touch with friends who worked outside the home, lost pieces of myself by giving up 'me' time and I didn't know how important it was to connect with other moms - real face time, not phone or online computer time for genuine, deep, inspiring, and motivating conversation.  I figured I was relatively young and would eventually go back to work, make more money, bankroll a stash, take a few vacations, celebrate a couple of weddings, and be ready for retirement.   For me, it took the death of a best friend to realize I had overly cocooned myself, formed a chrysalis..and all without meaning to.  I eventually found myself feeling misplaced, frustrated, lonely, and most importantly, afraid. Quite honestly, I had no idea where to turn and who to talk to ... this stuff makes you vulnerable!

Wikipedia: Greyson Orlando

The good news is that there is great beauty to be found in studying any chrysalis.  There is a wonder of what lays sleeping inside, waiting to be awakened and brought to new life.  We know that a metamorphosis will happen.  The timing of it all might be a mystery; but simply put, the entire process is amazing.  A chrysalis inspires hope, change...and rebirth.

My own metamorphosis began almost 5 years ago when I learned of a non-profit women's organization, Mothers & More, that truly believes every woman, regardless of her paid working status, has and contributes value.  Friends, I found friends in other women that shared my journey, or part of my journey - our commonality being motherhood and caretaking.  We share all the issues associated with motherhood, whether one chooses to work for pay outside the home or not.  Advocacy and education about the issues we as mothers face is the biggest topic of discussion - nationally and locally.  I believe, like the chrysalis, discussion creates hope - hope for change.

My message to my daughters has always been to follow their dreams and all the rest would follow.  I still believe the same, except now I would add that each of them should know where her oxygen mask is and use it first.  As for me, well, I'm lucky.  I have made many friends from within that mothers group I mentioned, Mothers & More (www.mothersandmore.org) to help me as I make necessary changes.  I do not fear - I have hope.  My wings may be damp as I burst from that chrysalis, but they will dry and I'll be off and flying in no time at all. You'll know it's me, because I'll be the one with the oxygen mask.

Cloches

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding." - Kahlil Gibran


I so frequently use nature as a metaphor, because I find most that affects me in here can also be experienced out there.


Just a few days ago I realized I wanted to plant some new seeds in my life and nurture them, and myself until I saw the fruit of those fresh ideas.   Whiling away a few minutes at the local T.J. Maxx I bumped into what I  called a most fortuitous find.  There, hidden behind and amongst many broken items in one of the clearance shelves was a cloche and dish, with basil seeds included.  I wish I had taken a picture once I had planted the seeds and set the glass cloche on top to nurture them, because the entire piece, seeds and all represented the in here aspect of what that ensemble was.  My husband had also made note at how quickly the seeds germinated and new life sprang forth.  I was overjoyed, knowing that what I was seeing externally was probably also happening internally - that's just how I tend to see things.


Today was not such a fortuitous day.  This morning one of my children accidentally broke the cloche.  The glass covering that was protecting those fragile and germinating seedlings.  I felt as if my heart were broken.  That glass cloche, fragile though it was, provided just the right temperature control, light, and moisture for the basil seeds.  I worried that without the protective covering the seedlings would probably die...and quickly.  What might that say of my own freshly planted internal seeds?  Was I protecting them well enough; giving the new seeds of thought just the right amount of what they needed; and just how well was I protecting them, so they could find root and flourish?  I spent the better part of the day trying to find a replacement cloche.   And. I. Failed.  There was not another to be found.  


As I pulled into the driveway home, I asked, out loud, if perhaps there was a lesson there for me, something bigger I needed to pay attention to.  Not that I wanted a bigger life lesson to matter mind you, I was still consumed with wanting to protect those out there seedlings, knowing full well they represented the in here seeds that were germinating.

Here, the unprotected basil seeds.

 My lesson came soon enough as I looked over at my daughter, explaining to her that I wasn't upset with her for breaking the cloche.  I was upset because of what the seeds in the dish and the cloche represented to me.  Too little, too late.  She couldn't, even as a young teenager, understand my explanations; instead she understood my frustration and hurt; the all that she had witnessed and experienced today as I rushed around looking for another bell jar.  Thinking back, I wish I had understood myself enough earlier in the day so that I could explain to her the process I was dealing with.  It still might not have made a difference, but she wouldn't have had to go through the day with me bemoaning and her thinking she had ruined something so precious that my reaction was worthy of dropping everything to fix the problem (or replace broken glass, as the case may be).

Basil seeds under turned upside down trifle dish.

Ultimately, coming home empty handed was probably a blessing.  Being without what I consider to be the perfect answer to a problem leads me to imagination and adventure.  Though certainly not as pretty as the initial cloche I had purchased, I was able to make due with a turned upside down trifle dish.   Will the new covering protect the seedlings as well as the perfectly designed cloche?  I don't know.  I hope so.  


What I do know is, I remember at one point wondering if there was a bigger lesson in this one days event.  I now wonder if perhaps the broken cloche was a metaphor regarding my own concerns for protection of newly sprouted internal seedlings.  Maybe, just maybe those ideas will grow strong and bear fruit - even without whatever protective covering I had been using to keep everything perfect.  In the meantime, I'll watch over the out there seedlings as they grow; and most importantly, I will remember that I plant seeds all day every day - especially as I interact with those I hold close and love dearly.  I may after-all be someone else's temporary cloche.

Spilling Forth

"A woman has got to be able to say, and not feel guilty, 'Who am I, and what do I want out of life?' She mustn't feel selfish and neurotic if she wants goals of her own, outside of husband and children."

 Betty Friedan

These days I find myself asking many questions.  Who exactly am I?  What do I want out of life? What do I want to give back in life?  What and who shall I allow myself to become?  How will I accomplish whatever it is?  I feel an urgency to answer these questions; not because I feel time is running out, but rather, because the timing seems to be right.  Sometimes I allow myself time to sit and be. Just sit and be.  And it's then that I recall snippets of passions I thought I had lost.  I most frequently visualize a stream of water rushing forth.  Now certainly rushing water is not my life passion and yet the image is incredibly empowering for me - it draws me like a moth to a flame.  I am not interested in raging rapids, streams bordered by trees on either side, or great falls of water.  Instead, I see a fountain that happily spills water, just as it is supposed to do.  Nothing more and nothing less.  The fountain expects nothing else of itself, nor does anyone else expect the fountain to do more than the role it has been designed for.

This fountain caught my attention while traveling in Germany several years ago.  I remember spending quite a long time staring at the fountain and the way water fell from it.  That, I thought, is precisely as I want to be.  I want to spill forth.  I want to do precisely what I am intended to do - and I want to look charming while I'm doing it.  Here I am, a few years later, still looking at the photo of that fountain and saying those same words.

Being a wife and mothering our children has brought me great pleasure; I wouldn't change a thing, even as much as I complain and pretend I would.  But I am more than a wife and mother.  I am more than any paycheck I collect.  I just know it.  There, in the recesses of my memory are passions and dreams left unfulfilled.  I am barely able to bring voice to what those passions were, but still they exist and I feel them calling me.

For now I will continue to sit and study the fountain doing exactly what it was designed to do.  I will continue to stare into the stream of water and notice how each has its part in the whole.  And I will continue to listen to the whispers of memories hidden away.  I know that eventually I will spill forth, doing exactly what I am intended to do.  And I will look charming doing whatever it is.

Purposeful Regeneration

I believe that what woman resents is not so much giving herself in pieces as giving herself purposelessly. Anne Morrow Lindbergh

We are on a semi-family vacation, which means the entire family is not here - we're missing one, unfortunately.  Our first stop on our escape from the everyday rat race placed us in a B&B set right on the ocean.  The sites were few, unless you were to count the stars that lit the night sky, the sea oats blissfully billowing in the wind, the beautiful white sand, shells galore, beautiful stingrays and the sounds of the non-stop roaring of the ocean.  Though air conditioning was available to us, we ignored it.  All computers were shut off, as well as telephones and we melted into the life that has come to be for the last several days.

I consider it a chance encounter that on a side table at the B&B there was a book.  Having brought three rather large books I wasn't looking for another, even as small as this one seemed.  Mistaken or not, I ultimately picked it up, leaving those other packed books for another day.  I had found a treasure and one I hope to share with my own two girls.  Anne Morrow Lindbergh had written this book, entitled Gift from the Sea.  Serendipitous is the word I have used to describe the finding of this book at just this time.

Anne understood mothers.  And she understood the feeling of purposelessly giving of oneself.  She should have, she was a mother and names the fractures that happen to us, as women, when we neglect ourselves.  Why is it that we give and give to our children, husbands, friends, committees and busy activities without consideration for ourselves?  When is it that we make quiet time for ourselves and why if we do is it such a secret?

I find myself reading this very small book of less than 130 pages exceptionally slowly...I savor it.  Like Anne, I recharge at the ocean - I love every minute detail of the experience.  Yes, though the teen calls for shopping sprees at the closest of malls and distractions happen, I make it a point to listen to my own inner voice and note the need for purposeful regeneration.  This book yet again reminds me that I sometimes run too far off balance and act purposelessly.  I try to explain to my teen the importance of learning this lesson early - rather, I show her by taking her arm and arm to walk the beach, with no destination in mind...only to listen for what the mind and heart have to whisper and to have the courage to heed our own internal advice.

Sighs of joy and quiet moments which are easily forgiven in this atmosphere; the here and now.  The secret will ultimately be in listening, learning and ultimately taking home with me what will work for our family. 

"For You, Mama"

I am what is referred to as a seasoned mom.  Meaning, my Wee One's are women in their own right ...or close enough to it.  One is fully on her own and the second is not too far behind.

When the girls were little they would surprise me with little oddities, like a heart shaped stone, an unusual piece of sea glass, a box of rolly pollies, or a picture drawn free hand and colored in perfectly.


The best of these gifts came not during a holiday season, or my birthday, or any other significant event.  Rather, I was gifted these items out of the blue...just because I happened to be on their mind.

That  timing and the words, "for you, mama", are what makes those treasures so special.

The girls are so much older now that I rarely get those little surprises, especially the boxes of rolly pollies.  But today I did.  From the eldest.  She's traveling, seeing the country, listening to weird music by Phish and having the time of her life.  Which is why this little gift, with her standing next to a sign that says "Fabulous Texan" and the message "for you mama" means so much.  It means, though she's off on her own, enjoying herself and the company of her travel mate, she is still thinking of me and wants me to know it.

I can't think of a single act that would make my day any brighter than the words "For you, Mama".  Even after all these years.

How about you?  What do your own Wee One's say or do that makes your heart sing?