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No. I know he can do it. He's a passionate thinker. It may take him a bit to get his thoughts in a order that is pleasing to him, but once he does...it will blow you out of the water. Grin, but you already know that about him. Quote:
I thought about doing this for my mama--and failed. :) Everything for me came back to the role she was in my life. A harder task, I think, than I initially thought. I'm going to keep working on it for my own peace of mind. Is it easier to describe someone not in our lives so intimately? Of course it is. I hope some of us are up to this task. An intriguing exercise to see how ... and who we are. |
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As difficult as it is to describe someone--who they are and not their "roles," I think it's just as hard to describe ourselves. At least, it is for me. I take on the mantle of these roles and identies, but soon forget the *I* that chose them. I become them. Who could blame anyone else, then, for trying to see me *as* them? |
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I think maybe you've just hit on a very important point. Because we ourselves accept those roles, we don't push our own envelopes. We don't become all we can be (sorry for the motto, lol). Maybe by remaining "just" partners or wives or girlfriends or however we style that relationship...maybe we keep ourselves down. I am not saying we all do this, but I think there is a percentage that do. And it's probably easier, right? Tell them you are a _____ and let them relate to you on that level and that level only. Keeps intimacy controllable. Manageable. Not so scary. Do we as femmes perpetuate the role of femme? The giggles and flirting and all the rest? |
Arwen,
I was thinking about your attempt to see your mother as someone beyond her roles and I wondered if she was able to see herself as someone beyond her roles. I think we typically present ourselves in a certain way (wife, mother, etc) because that's how we think of ourselves. We, in this thread and on this site, might be unique to the degree that we are willing to self-examine. I work with women who are sick or dying, and I am stunned by the willingness of so many to reach this place with no sense of self. |
I think it's not the way we are seen by others, rather than the way we see ourselves and how we let them treat us, that matters.
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We lose our autonomy only to the degree that we allow it. And as Arwen goes on to say, particularly for mothers (and lovers), we may have to disabuse our children and partners of the notion that we ever belonged to them. I do not believe, and have never believed, that my child belongs to me. She came through me. I am her guardian as long as she is with me and until she can suffice herself. This is what *I* do: I suffice myself. Sometimes this is read as selfishness. And it may be. But I believe it is more true that I am simply a solitary creature. My roles are of a temporal nature relative to who and what I am. Don't misread, my love is fierce. But it does not define me. My mind defines me before my heart does. Unless we are speaking to my compassion. This also defines me. But never in the sense that I am giving myself away for it. That is less compassion than martyrdom. And I am no martyr. |
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Oh can you PLEASE needlepoint that on a pillow for me? That last line. Selfishness and meanness are such GOOD qualities to have in moderation. By selfishness I mean be selfish about your time and space and needs. Put yourself first so others who watch you can learn to put themselves first. BULB! That's what Mama was doing. She was showing me by doing. I didn't learn it so well but I can always revisit those lessons. Meanness to some is honesty to others is anger to someone else. I'd rather have friends in my world who are upfront and honest and who will give me the respect of discussing things. I am MEAN about this concept of honesty. I have to be otherwise I turn into a woman I do not like. And I must be selfish and like myself better than anyone else, yes? This becomes more than a word -- femme. Femme is part of who I am, yes, but it is not nearly all of who I am. In a strange seque, I am reminded of a pillow my aunt gave my mother. It said: It it's not one thing--it's your mother. I think now I understand just why Mama found that so hysterical. And why she always hid that pillow when my grandmother came to visit.:rolleyes: |
Thank you powerful, strong, brave Sisters and Allies.
Thank you for speaking your truth. My truth? Has involved pretty pink font and pink avatars which make me smile and somehow rise above the sometimes shattering pain of daily existence. (I stopped with the pink font so people would read my posts, yes it made me sad, and yes I see that stopping to please others makes me a co-dependent pleaser :)) Sees that no one is better than anyone else in terms of class or gender or race or education. Knows that insisting on living in a kind and harmonious way is not weak. Speaks her mind firmly and directly when something is important. Refuses to spend time on revenge and anger. Tries to consistently speak to issues she finds important even if people would rather her be silent. Loves who she loves. I really resonate with what so many of you have to say. e, Arwen, Adele, Julieis, Diva, June. In so many ways you are my heroes. I admit that meanness frightens and freezes me. I never thought of it as bowing out to masculinity. more later. :) |
While I love the love and respect you are showing her here, I also want to see you simply allow her the autonomy and agency she deserves (not that I believe you are necessarily disrespecting her). I understand that "the dance" has us thinking often of the bright space between us, the sharp contrast. But what was it about her that you loved before she was yours?
Autonomy???????? Do any of you know Jess and Christie? I do and Jess loves her from here to the next universe and she, jess. Jess doesn't to give her autonomy. She is a grown ass woman and fully ready willing and able to provide her own autonomy. If anyone even thought about trying to take that away. I will gladly call 911 for ya. or send flowers LOLOLOL :rose: wolfwalker |
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i'm not following the conversation. i mean, post 147 made sense and then i'm lost again for at least a page. help?
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I was responding to the thread as a whole, are there specific things you don't understand or can't follow in my posts? Am I not making sense?
I thought we were sharing our truths as Femme and what it means to us? Will you explain how I should have responded? I sometimes take things and am too literal. My deepest appologies for messing up the thread. |
this makes sense to me:
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hmmmm
As a femme, I feel powerful, strong. confident, inspiried.
But.. Are we hesitant to show our vunerable side for fear of being seen as just a weak female? Most of the time, I dont want anyone to see my vunerablilities, my tears, my saddness...I dont want to be seen like less than the ass kicking femme I am.. anyone else? |
I am femme, flawed and fabulous. It has always been who I am from the inside out. It is a constant learning process to know who I am, I am never completely formed.
I am strong and independent. I am weak and inter-dependent. I am a very social being and everything seems to hurt deeply, especially as I age (we won't even start about being OLD and femme). When my self feels unsafe I am lucky to have people who will keep their promises and understand that being sensationally weak is not a bad thing. Asking for help from someone I respect, love and trust relieves me, it does not make me dependent. I am loud and I am quiet. I have worked hard to know the difference between choosing to be silent and being silenced. It takes wisdom to do the first and alertness to recognize the second. I am bossy, all the way to passive depending on the situation. Again knowing when to be which is always the hard part. I have learned a lot about myself and the choices I have made in my life. I like being in control until I don't like it. LOL I am hurt and I am angry. I try to channel my own hurt and anger into positive action, but I am the first to admit, that it does not always work. We have been conditioned and socialized to be passive-aggressive as a way to handle our hurt and anger. (Great book on this called: Social Aggression among Girls by Marion K. Underwood, I read several years ago. She shares her extensive research that looks at how we are socialized to be socially aggressive and how suppressed anger/hurt effects our social interactions with other girls/women.) Sometimes my anger comes out as silence, a deep void of rage that swirls into a vortex of inner turmoil. Sometimes it is channeled into social action and sometimes I just scream. I range from emotionally present to absent depending on my own feeling of safety. I find, again as I age, that my feelings are right on my skin and things that I would just let pass in the past, I won't. some things are not worth the effort and I let them go. Then there are some things I refuse to be silent about, I feel more deeply and sadness is released in tears and heart-ache. I am vulnerable now, only to the people I deeply trust, and those people get fewer and fewer. I don't always need to be understood by anyone but me and I want to be accepted as who I am as a individual human being. I don't always want to be healed, I want to be heard. I don't always want to have to define myself, I just want to be seen. I don't always want to explain my choices, I just want them accepted as fully mine. I fight to keep my Shirley Valentine alive. I am a a bell curve not a duality. My self is fluid. I hope it is always that way. |
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My mother and I have long had this kind of dialogue. I love seeing it in print, the words she and I have exchanged for years. Thank you for having the same words. |
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I don't even know where to start.....Great thread e, I'm still reading. |
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It makes me so happy to hear you share this, Lovely Sassy. Knowing that an adult mother and daughter exist somewhere and speak of this kind of relating to one another fills me with something profound. I can only hope that my daughter and I will continue to have the kind of relationship that we do, and that it will evolve into a woman-to-woman relating someday. My feeling that she does not belong to me - that I do not possess her - is almost a spiritual point of view. I recognize her wholeness. I honor it. This is, I think, the baseline of what the last couple of pages have been about. We want our wholeness to be honored. |
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