My dear friend, Chichi, hosted a dinner discussion about feeling like we need to “shrink” as women, inspired by this spoken word piece. It’s well worth your time to read Chichi’s passionate words here. My essay below was originally published on her organization’s blog.
I wrote a biography on Amelia Earhart when I was in the third grade. It wasn’t Pulitzer worthy, but it was my first introduction to a powerful, successful, and celebrated woman.
I have to wonder who would have served as my subject if there weren’t women like Amelia who courageously pursued spaces uninhabited by women before them. My subject would have likely been a perpetuation of the stereotype of success—a forefather or an early American businessman—male, white, and deserving of every ounce of their success.
Those three adjectives—powerful, successful, and celebrated—don’t always coincide when you’re a woman and Amelia realized that. She’s quoted having said, “Women must pay for everything. They do get more glory than men for comparable feats, but, they also get more notoriety when they crash.”
I’d like to think this reality vanished in her time. It hasn’t. More often than not, I live out of the fear of the notorious crash.
So, I minimize.
“You sounded so apologetic.” That’s what my husband said about how I presented my professional aspirations to a friend—a female friend even. “You sounded like you were trying to ask someone for a favor.” I curtail the speech about my ambitions because of the risk of the crash. When women desire more, we worry for them and their impending disappointment.
I was ashamed because he was right. I feel no right to my own ambitions—as if I’m in possession of some kind of contraband by just having them. I’m not sure where that feeling started, but I do remember the moments that reality was solidified. When male professors were less than eager to advise me about my future. When pastors preached on the blessing of women who focus on the family. When I was told it was my job to “raise the children.”
It appears that we’re given a choice: be a woman or be ambitious—as if our femininity is a hindrance to being heard or successful in the world. I think about the way women have circumvented this problem in the past. Brilliant authors—the Bronte sisters, the author you know as George Eliot—adopted pen names to hide the reality of their womanhood in hopes of being a success instead. You can try to believe this practice is extinct, but one of the most celebrated authors of our time, J.K. Rowling, presented herself as such to disguise her identity as a woman.
Just like for those women, I believe my femininity is a hindrance to being heard. I think this is why I confess with a bit of embarrassment that about once a semester since I started grad school, I’ve watched Legally Blonde when I become discouraged. Despite being a fictional caricature of all things feminine, I’m motivated by her perseverance to remain loudly feminine, despite those around her telling her that such choices can’t coincide with success.
Being feminine is not limited to our garments and our names, but being successful shouldn’t require us to relinquish those things either. Zooey Dechanel, actress and patron saint of polka dots and vintage dresses, questioned this false impression in an interview saying, “We can’t be feminine and be feminists and be successful? I want to be a f–king feminist and wear a f–king Peter Pan collar.”
Can I wear a f–king Peter Pan collar and still deserve to be heard? Could I accept—even celebrate—femininity as an asset instead of a hindrance to my goals? Should we trek forward into places untouched by women—despite the voices of contempt or the fear of the crash—so we can encourage the aspirations of a third-grade girl?
Let us choose to follow women like Earhart who have left us breadcrumbs towards the joint path of womanhood and ambition. “The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers,” she said. The woman carrying the fear of crashing her plane and her aspirations knew—and tells us today—that all of those fears are just paper tigers.
Woman, decide to be powerful, successful, and damn it, even if you crash—we will celebrate you.
