 |
|
Question authority. Stand on your own two feet. Think for yourself. You don't need to be submissive anymore. You know what's best for you. Be independent, self-sufficient, autonomous.
Admirable advice, especially for people like us who tend to align ourselves with that segment of society that defies convention in order to assert our right to live openly as GLBT folk.
But during the last few years, I discovered I ran into trouble with these messages whenever I faced one of life's many trials — what to do with my acting-out teenagers, how to respond to an irritating co-worker, what to tell my mother when she makes an unreasonable demand.
If the favorite motto of our second wave feminist sisters was "The personal is the political," then how I approach challenges that can tie my stomach in knots helps define my vision for a more peaceful world. I'd love to be able to report that when my daughters piss me off, I gently withdraw with loving detachment until we're both in a better place to work through the baggage we carry around from our family history. I'd love to expound on the mature strategies I devise when co-workers thwart me or the compassionate way I hold my own when 86-year-old Mom guilt-trips the hell out of me. (Notice I'm not even touching partner relationships with a 10-foot-pole.)
Like most human beings, I do not bring home all As on the big report card of life. I may have picked up the notion from my feminist sisters that the personal is the political, but unfortunately, I didn't pick up the tools of how to best get along with my relationships. Head-on collisions, marathon group encounters to hammer out differences of opinion, a strong penchant for immediate gratification and horizontal hostility just don't cut it, no matter how much love and fervor we put behind them.
So how have I changed since the heyday of the women's movement? These days I readily ask for advice, and then actually take it. I assume that there are a few trusted folks in my life who have a clearer perspective on my chaos than I do, so I'm open to suggestions. Not always. Not necessarily right away; but the older I get, the more amenable I am to the novel idea that maybe I don't always know what's best for me, and that's OK. It doesn't make me stupid or an ineffectual pushover.
As a matter of fact, that process of following someone else's direction when I feel lost, confused, frustrated, angry, or hurt often produces miraculous results. Number one, pride doesn't clog up the works as much as it used to. Number two, I feel much more connected to my community, something that tends to offset the isolating effects of pain; and number three, it's a great reminder that I'm not always in control when shit happens.
Now, throughout the years I've watched the women's community admirably nurture each other when catastrophe hits — fires, fatal diseases, fighting in the courts. But in smaller ways, I suspect that the great American worship of self-sufficiency is killing us. When we are hesitant to rely on our communities to guide us in our everyday ups and downs, then perhaps we need to take a look at ways to develop a common language around our core values and ethics. But that's another Crow's caws.
Let's just leave it at this. The next time your sister or brother deeply disappoints you, go ask someone you love and trust what to do about it instead of giving into obsessive ruminations of sweet revenge. If your buddy or healer or favorite aunt says, "Let it go," then do it. Or if she says, "Tell her you won't stand for it!" then do that. Whatever you do, remember you don't have to do it alone.
