I’ve begun to think lately about how
much we are in tune, so to speak, us American women, to the trends of our
foremothers.
For instance, 92 years ago our grandmothers (and great grandmothers)
fought for the right to vote in their own country. If you’re a so-called “echo-boomer”
like I am (I actually googled what generation I’m supposed to be) then your
mother was part of the bra-burning, birth control sexual revolution whether she
thought she was or not; and you’re maybe not even aware or caring a whole lot
about any of these things. (Birth control? Isn’t it more like pregnancy
control? The whole point is to avoid pregnancy before the birth, no? Perhaps
birth control is a term better shifted to abortion. It sounds so more user
friendly, and would confuse the incoming Republican onslaught, no?)
Still, historically, I sense a shift
in the Force; one where women in total seem to be lost in the shuffle as we try
on our new identities in a culture that resoundingly still stigmatizes women
without husbands, women without husbands without children; and women without
husbands but with partners they are not allowed, by law, to marry. But it’s not
our fault, is it? Like most Americans, it’s easiest to shift the blame to
others before we got here.
Perhaps my mother’s generation of
hippies and Row V. Wade. That’s who I usually pick. If it weren’t for Them,
then I wouldn’t have to hear backhanded remarks from loved ones like, “Fae’s in
a real, mature relationship.” Or, worse still, when I am not in a relationship,
“You’ll find someone,” with that bile inducing smile that makes me want to
punch the person speaking to me. Yes, ladies and gents, there is still a
stigma, a big one, surrounding those of us who are free. I hate to be the one
to tell you, but if you’ve made it to 30 unscathed by stretch marks, babies,
and licenses and divorces, then you’re under attack in the most subtle of
subtle ways.
Don’t believe me? Check out the
looks you get when you are the only single woman at an all married gathering.
Pay close attention to how the men look and speak to you, and then how the
women do the same. Listen carefully to the supportive way your friends who are
married comment on your life, no matter how successful you are. Let me know if
I’m wrong, because I’d love to hear it. I would love to know that there are
women out there, in America, who are not “venting” to their unmarried woman
friends about their husbands, only to turn around and say, “well, no offense,
but you’re not married, so…” as soon as you say anything other than, “uh huh.”
If you are married and reading this,
then I hope you are taking notes: perhaps you see a bit what it is I am talking
about in yourself. Maybe not.
I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just
sayin’. It is in my experience that this is how our generation experiences the
single woman. Probably just growing pains, the echoboom of the generation
before us: or, as I like to tell my mother, it was the fault of the Love
Generation that we borne Marilyn Manson, and his chant of, “we hate love, we
love hate.”
