The first thing that bothers me about this quote is that I want to argue about vanity as it pertains to womanhood. The second is that it is a misquote. (In fact Shakespeare wrote, Frailty, thy name is woman, which is also insulting but for completely different reasons.)
My mother impressed upon me from a very young age that vanity was not only an undesirable quality, but a loathsome one. A woman could be smart or beautiful, but probably not both, and smart women did not waste their time trying to be beautiful. Vanity was repellent. I grew up thinking any efforts directed toward improving appearance were signs of weakness. I locked the bathroom door when I was brushing my hair so no one would see me being vain. Of course my mother did not mean we should not care at all, should not make an effort to take care of ourselves and enjoy our femininity. She meant we should not become self-absorbed, should not pour our money into the cosmetics industry rather than having bank accounts. She was teaching me feminism, I think now, though at the time I experienced it as shame.
So I grew up eschewing pretty clothes and make up and dresses and anything remotely frilly or fussy because I was afraid it would give me appearance of having tried to look pretty. (It wasn't your fault if you just happened to be pretty; it was the trying that was the shame.) To this day I still cannot comfortably apply make up in a public mirror.
It is only recently, at the ridiculous age of thirty-seven, that I have begun to shake off my fear of vanity. I have begun to shop differently, with intent to find clothing that is for flattering rather than for hiding. I have been developing a fascination with shoes. I've been letting J paint my fingernails. I have been wearing eyeshadow.
I asked myself what this was about. Was I finally falling into the shameful spiral of vanity my mother warned me about? Was I become self-obsessed and shallow? Maybe. Or maybe it just means that it took me thirty-seven years to think I deserved pretty shoes.
Firmly I believe that at my age I should be taking responsibility for my own choices, weaknesses, and strengths. And so I'm not blaming this one on Mum. I'm just saying it's interesting the way things can be misconstrued, the way I took her affirmative message and made it something to have internal fights about. It makes me want to examine, more closely, the things I say to J, and to watch what she does with them.
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We went to CC's house this morning, J and I, for a visit. CC, in spite of having told me yesterday she would expect me at 10:00, had completely forgotten I was coming over and was in her pajamas when I arrived. Her husband answered the door after the third round of knocking, laughing and telling us he was afraid it was the landlord at the door looking for the rent cheque. Their house was, as always, like something out of one of those reality shows where families have to intervene to convince hoarders to clear out some space in which to live.
When we leave their house, J always asks me questions about their world. Why are they so messy? Why are they afraid of their landlord? Why so many things. And I try to answer objectively, without imposing any value judgment on the response. They are very different from me and Shawn. They value different things. They make different choices, they want different things. They find their happiness in different ways. Different, not wrong.
But in these exchanges I see a million openings where I could squeeze in a little brainwashing, push a few of my values upon her. Over and over I fight the impulse.
Then I ask myself if that's right. I'm teaching her, I hope, to be openminded and accept people as they are. To understand that there are a million different ways to live life happily and as long as we aren't hurting others, it's okay to be different. Then I wonder if I'm missing opportunities to teach her other things I believe in. But it's triage, I guess. I teach her the most important things first.
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6 comments:
I was raised on the same misquote about vanity, but my parents went even further, and convinced me that I was in fact unattractive so I would not be conceited. I am still trying to dig out of this quagmire all these many years later, absolutely sure that I am homely but that people feel sorry for me when they tell me I'm pretty. My parents are long gone, but it's as if they still live in the stronghold of my mind, continuing to hurt my feelings myself.
And yes, the same mentality prevailed - beauty tried for was sinful and shallow, unless it belonged to my mother, who was in fact very beautiful. I don't wear much makeup to this day, but I do enjoy skin care products like a secret vice.
I think it's great that you are resisting brainwashing J, who may adopt many of your views anyway on her own. But how wonderful that she will feel loved and appreciated even if she develops different ones.
Susan,
Having seen photos of you I find it nearly impossible to believe you cannot see that you are absolutely stunning. You really are, and I'm one of those people that was also raised to believe you say nothing when there's nothing nice to say -- you don't lie. But I understand what you mean. It's impossible to be objective about yourself, especially when you are trained to be self-critical.
Interesting what you said about your mother. My mother was (still is) very beautiful, and my father was openly proud of that fact. And although I'm positive she enjoyed his compliments (who wouldn't?) she discouraged us from accepting compliments about our appearance. (We were, however, supposed to be smart and could be rewarded for evidence of that.)
I really do think she meant well, meant to teach us not to be shallow bubbleheads. And I still don't understand exactly why it made me neurotic instead of strong. Maybe it's just in my nature to be neurotic.
It means a lot to me that you understand my philosophy on educating J. By showing her that I love people who are different from me, and do not judge their choices (though of course I secretly do), I want her to demonstrably understand that I will always love *her*, no matter what choices she makes, no matter if she chooses different ways of living than I have chosen. I feel like this takes precedence over teaching her to pay her bills or to be a hard worker or blah blah blah. I hope I'm choosing well. Somehow I feel she is absorbing those other values without my saying anything.
I've been thinking of you, Susan, as the New Year begins, and hoping this one is easy on you and gives you back all the joy and peace you deserve. I know you have had some rough moments in 2011, and I'm sending you warm wishes and big hugs in anticipation that 2012 is going to be your year. Love. xxx
I have always had this secret notion that 'beautiful people cannot live up to their beauty'. By that I suggest that we place high expectations on beautiful people, and invariably those expectations will be dashed. I understand this probably has to do more with us than with them.
But 'created beauty' is intended to raise expectations and makes me uncomfortable. I would rather see someone look in the mirror and say, "Not bad" and apply a dab of make-up and run a brush through their hair and be on their way. Such an extraordinary difference between the two.
As long a J understands that we always have choices and with those choices become consequences. Any consequence can be lived with if she is true to herself.
There's definitely much to be said for being low-maintenance, and I wonder if that's the dangerous precipice my mother meant to steer us away from.
Yes, I want J to understand that there are consequences for choices. And sadly, I think she understands that better than most people her age as she lived the terrible consequences of her mother's choices for many years before she lost her altogether. I try to tread lightly around all the tender spots.
Buy shoes, look at shoes, stroke shoes. It's fine being a girl. I have stopped being a girl in recent years but I think it may return. Or maybe I am just a different type of girl now. My manic years have given me a wardrobe for life, and I don't really feel the need to add to it any more. And big feet and a bunion put me right off girl shoes. Perhaps I should not have admitted to those things. :-/
As well you know, children are more likely to pick up on the things which are not said but felt. I would say being in a household of love, kindness, acceptance, and humour is doing more in setting J up for life than any words might. As your first bit proves a little bit, words can be misconstrued, jumbled, wiggled and whirled in the head of a child. But feelings? They seem to seep through the skin and rest where they rest. I think, despite, or perhaps because of, everything, J will grow up to be a wonderful and truly beautiful woman.
xxx P
This is true, so true, about feelings versus words spoken. It's exactly what we look for in counselling sessions the way I was trained. Although you listen to the client's words carefully, you also watch them for physical cues of what they are feeling, and pay particular attention when the words and physical cues don't exactly match. I think children are very good at knowing when our words don't match our actions.
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