Today at work a lovely woman I sometimes see was talking about her upcoming wedding plans. One of the guys remarked that when he was studying psychology in school he was advised, “before you marry, spend time with your fiance’s parents. The way you react to her mom, take note of that.”
“Oh, no!” my engaged friend remarked. “That can’t be. He’s nothing like his dad. His dad makes me nuts. And I’m nothing like my mom.”
People my age brag about this all the time. I’m nothing like my mother. Meanwhile I’m hearing my mothers voice flying out of my mouth every minute of every day. I look down at my hand grabbing something and see hers at the end of my arm.
A few years ago I asked a friend
How many times a day do you think I’m becoming my mother to yourself?
About once a week.
ONLY ONCE A WEEK?!
I’m heartened by the fact that people tell me I sound more like my grandmother (who died before I could talk) than my mother. Which means that I’m the embodiment of best qualities of the two.
It doesn’t scare me, turning into my mother.
Or shall I say, the new and improved version of my maternal lineage.
Now stop bragging mom. I know you’re reading this.
I don’t really consider myself a Misandrist within the Feminist community. Men can be useful and pretty and even occasionally think of something smart. I’ve even loved them. Heresy, I know.
But there is one image that makes me want to put on a bunch of Misandry Jewelry and run around screaming and throwing red paint on men.
Oh, it just feels so good.
On Wednesday I posted this beautiful comic.
I didn’t talk about the mom though. Check out how satisfied she is. I love images of people who are invested in bringing out self-love in others.
I have… high self-confidence. Verbally.
You: Nice to meet you.
Me: I’m nice to meet.
And I catch a lot of heat for it. People think I’m stuck up, but let me ask you this, how could I be a narcissist when I don’t even know how to spell it?
But the truth is (I like to think) that the longer you spend around me doing that the more it rubs off on you. I can be proof that loving yourself doesn’t always have to be a struggle. And it can be practiced quickly and painlessly every day. This summer I’ve shown myself love by making iced tea and ice pops. And also by telling everyone around me how amazing I am.
I don’t know when it came out but I just saw the video for Bad Blood by Taylor Swift, featuring Kendrick Lamar.
And the person that she’s got bad blood with…
IS A WOMAN!
Yes Bechdel! Yes, not all Swift’s songs have to be about a boy!
The video does look a lot like Sucker Punch with it’s lineup of oversexed, underdressed heroine’s in bralettes and stilettos.
But let’s momentarily overlook that to notice all the butt-kicking women in it.
Lily Aldridge, Zendaya, Hayley Williams, Gigi Hadid, Ellie Goulding, Hailee Steinfeld, Lena Dunham, Karlie Kloss, Serayah, Jessica Alba, Martha Hunt, Ellen Pompeo, Mariska Hargitay, Cara Delevingne, Cindy Crawford, Selena Gomez.
That’s a pretty impressive list.
In my head each of the women was approached and asked what kind of hero, what kind of look and power they’d like to have.
Who knows if that actually happened of course, but a feminist can dream, can’t she?
It isn’t perfect but it was a great surprise considering I was expecting to see Swift in a field crying in a white dress with occasional flashbacks to kissing a tall white boy with great hair. And who needs that really?
Today I watched the latest episode of Inside Amy Schumer.
An Episode, any episode, they’re all brilliant.
You know what I love about that show? It’s that it feels like it’s just the contents of her brain, spilled out all over the place, the good, the bad and the ugly. In any given episode there will be some amazing, subversive feminist pieces like this.
And there will also be other random stuff she finds funny like this
And her humor includes the gross and scatological.
I don’t love absolutely everything but she’s a person with a broad sense of humor. And I love that she’s allowed to express all of it.
How excited am I to see her movie? Very excited.
A wonderful old friend of mine (who I don’t see enough) recommended to me the other day that I should start listening to the Dear Sugar podcast.
She was right. It is delightful.
And the first episode that I listened to was #10, about friendships. In the episode a woman tells the story of her best friend helping her through the death of her mother. The feeling of having that best friend right alongside her in the first row with the family of the deceased.
And I realized that I never wrote an ode to the amazing friends who crossed the country to be with me when my father passed.
When I was just starting high school I befriended two other girls who happened to live in California. It’s a long story. But apparently, when our friendship developed and they found out that my dad was ill they decided that when he passed, whenever it was, wherever they were, they would come. I didn’t know this at the time. I only found out when they called me from the airport “We’re on our way!”
They sat right behind me and my family at the service, they answered every question I could think of, helped me pick out what to wear to the cemetery. They did all the things that a friend could do.
And I just wanted to say thanks. Because they’re amazing. Because friendship is an important and beautiful gift. We should all appreciate it more.