I thought of my title on the way home from class (pretty kicky, I know)--I couldn't stop thinking about what happened in our warm, knitted circle, wondering WHY I had the reaction I did to the question posed to me.
I am a bit of a social crier, to be sure, so Davinia's glistening eyes as she talked about her father nearly did me in.
And then Kim said something about being a mom, and this is something I never would have considered as an answer to "what's the best thing about being a woman?" just under two years ago. I probably would have said something trite, or sarcastic, or witty, as I am wont to do on many occasions. But now the idea of "mom" is one that I own, that I carry upon me so heavily and tenderly, and that idea, compounded by the prior appearance of tears...
...well, the rest is...evidence running down my face.
Why did this (the appearance of my own emotion) so startle and disorient me? For one, I think our culture shuns so-called "feminine" or emotional expressions in classes. We applaud passion, but only the type that leads to strong outbursts of argument brilliantly constructed and delivered. We cringe at the sight of tears--of, to many, a sign of weakness.
And I am equally guilty. Emotion makes me uncomfortable, especially emotion in public spaces where only public actions are desired.
But who SAID emotion of this kind is a private-space only act? Perhaps we ought to ask our culture, our society that. Why are we, feminists of all ages/faces/genders, so skeptical of everything ELSE our patriarchal society tells us but NOT THIS?
Gosh, we are so repressed. I am. I've spent all my life being bigger and braver than the bad stuff that has happened to me. And now I'm this uber-cynical woman who is terrified of someone finding out I'm not as smart or put together as I might appear. (Maybe you're already on to me.) And it's not even that it's a founded fear, but it's one that I hold.
Insecurity. Emotional baggage. Why are these the words we use for someone who feels? Why is it SO BAD?
Perhaps the nurturing side of feminist pedagogy can help us realize that it's okay to care deeply for people, and for those people to BE REAL in turn. No one is constantly calm and poised.
Why do we keep pretending?
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2 comments:
Eloquently put, Jackie. We have relegated emotion to TV self-help talk shows and group therapy. And when a man tears up when he's talking about the troops or his teammate in the Super Bowl, we admire him. But if a powerful woman cries in public (such as Hillary Clinton), we rush to explain it away. It would be interesting to read the book about emotional intelligence and see what insights it sheds. Hey, when we teach writing and literature, there darn well ought to be some deep emotions stirred up! Otherwise, what's the point?
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