Barbie Doll
By Marge Piercy
This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.
Friday, October 29, 2004
ramble number five.
I was just backtracking through Mia's blog. I came to her Aug. 27th post and thought that I would respond to that. I would love to link to that page, but I'm a computer ass, so you'll just have to use the link that I have to her site and find Aug. 27 for yourself. :)
I remember watching the movie "The Truth About Cats and Dogs," of all movies...but, one of my favorite parts was when one of the characters said something to the effect of, "Our faces are just shapes. It is not that one is beautiful and that the other is not. They are just different shapes." That was a VERY loose paraphrase, by the way.
Why do we, as women, let ourselves be reduced to hopes of airbrushed model Barbie look-alikes? Why do we secretly hate ourselves for not fitting into this unrealistic image? Most of all, how do we avoid perpetuating this problem with our young girls? My sister is 7, and my parents bought her professional highlights--Her friends thought she was lucky, but I feel so sorry for her...what a young age to learn that you are not good enough just as yourself?
This is one of the reasons I'm in the field of Education.
Here's a poem by a famous poet who speaks out on issues of feminism. There is also some other info. on body image, etc. Again, I'm a computer-ass, so I don't really know how to post links.
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I was once told that men grow up being taught what to desire and women grow up being taught how to be desired. (I think it may be from Naomi Wolf's "The Beauty Myth.")
ReplyDeleteThe immense difference struck me, as did the idea that to love a woman who doesn't fit the "Barbie" image has societally imposed punishments (alienation, mockery, etc.) akin to the punishments imposed for being a woman who does not fit the image.
Luckily, there are those out there who see through the beauty myth.
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ReplyDeleteFaye - So this was weird! It was like the blogger equivalent of the boy on the cereal box eating his breakfast next to the boy on the cereal box eating his breakfast next to the boy on the cereal box, forever and ever. *L* It was also sort of surreal, and slightly painful, to go back and read my own entry so I could get the context of the post. I wish I could say it was a one time, regrettable and hysterical post that wasn't representative of my true, inner riot grrrrrl. But then I got all teary eyed reading the poem you quoted, and no, I have to admit - reluctantly - that that's really all inside of me. Thank all that is good that it isn't the *only* thing inside of me, but it is there. It's funny, because it's the reason I went into teaching too - I swear to all gods every day when I go in to work that no child will ever feel in my classroom the way I felt growing up in school.
ReplyDeleteThere's some very provocative thinking between body and feminism. Like, what would women do with all the energy, money, and angst that is currently tied up in hating ourselves for being "other than" (with "other than" being other than what outside tells us is desirable). Reading poetry like this, it makes me want to parade proudly about the town square like a modern day Lady Godiva where my body, in all its wonder and with all its flaws, acts as my own private "fuck you" to anyone who dares to tell me I'm not beautiful. Then, I think, you know, I wouldn't want anyone to go *blind* looking at my dimply ass, and I realize, you know, I ain't *cured* or anything. :)
I love to run because it's one of the few times that I feel more connected to the woman I *could* be and less critical of the woman I *am*. I have been training for this 10k race that is tomorrow. I've been training, specifically, to finish it in under an hour. The significance of which, I cannot recall. I can only tell you that doing this, the act of making this goal, and on the eve of either meeting it or not, has changed me more than possibly any other single thing I have previously done for myself. Including losing 95 pounds. Oops! 90 now. Ah, well, easy come, easy go.... :)
xoxo Mia