I Am Beautiful: A Celebration of Women in Their Own Words

More documents

Recommendations

Info

isn't the eighteenth century, you mightwonder why a middle-aged professor ata major university is still living at homewith her able-bodied and emotionallysadistic mother. All the better to show,presumably, that this is one Cinderellathat needs a rescuing prince, pronto.But princes seem in short supply, untilRose meets another Columbia prof, ahandsome but awkward mathematiciannamed Gregory Larkin (Jeff Bridges).Gregory, who has had many failed relationshipswith la belle dames sans merci,decides to try another approach to a contentedand productive existence. Sincebeautiful women wreck his life, he'llseek out a homely one with mutual interests;since sexual preoccupations keephim from his work, he'll build a meaningfulcelibate relationship.When Gregory sits in on one of Rose'slectures and hears the frumpy but dynamicteacher expound upon the "courtlylove" ideal of a pure union of thesouls, he thinks he's found the perfectwoman. Later, both agree that themedia-induced obsession with beautyand romance is a harmful force in genderrelations. And so, Rose, who is at-iHelp us rebuildAmerica'sinner cities...and we'll pay youback with interest!Your South Shore checking, savings.time deposit or IRA account directlytargets the inner-city neighborhoods-Vy /I/±Jm /JMwe serve. Plus, you earn an attractive,guaranteedreturn that helpsbuild cities today.Contact JohnHoughtonfor details:800-669-7725,ext. 5636,deposit@sbk.com.MEMBERIDICSouth Shore BankWhere America banks Us values.tracted to Greg's intelligence and kindness(as well as his good looks) is happyto give celibate marriage a try.The brave—and interesting—thingwould have been to have these two form aloving, supportive primary relationshipwithout sex. But Hollywood has neverbeen that courageous, even with a womandirector at the helm. Movies (as "Mirror"itself admits) are designed to sell sexual intercourse.So, before you know it, RichardLaGravenese's screenplay has Rose throwingpn a black negligee and lighting upcandles in an attempt to seduce her husband.When the seduction fails, Rose iscrushed and Greg is confused—and thetwo are temporarily separated.THIS IS WHEN THE MOVIE REALLYfalls apart. These two, who clearlyalready care for one another deeply,don't simply work out their relationship.No, that would be too civilized and tooself-respecting. Instead, Rose opts for atotal beauty makeover. While Greg lecturesin Europe, she exercises andstarves herself down a couple of dresssizes, paints her toenails, bleaches herhair, paints her face, dons black sheathdresses, bares her cleavage and teetersaround on four-inch heels. In short, shebecomes Barbra Streisand at her mostglamorous—a manifestation of everyCosmo cover you've ever seen, a personificationof every Jenny Craig, Lancomeand Clairol ad that has ever promisedyou love and acceptance if you can onlyHOMEVIDEOSIN BRIEFachieve the right "look."In having Rose heal her life through abeauty regimen, The Mirror Has TwoFaces embraces the very superficial,misogynist trappings that Rose and Gregdisparaged earlier in the film. It is especiallytroubling to watch Rose put hermakeover in the hands of her mother—the very woman who, the story goes,kept Rose from developing a healthysense of self.Barbra Streisand has said that themother-daughter angst of the film ismore than a little autobiographical. (Sheeven fed bits of her conversations withher own mother to LaGravenese to insertin the script.) But, in real life, Streisandworked on her self-esteem issues inmuch different ways than she allowsRose to do. Babs got some distance fromthe toxic relationship she had with hermother. She went into therapy andlearned to love herself for who she was.And, as we all know, she accomplishedgreat things in her professional life. Toobad poor Rose couldn't do the samething. Instead, she is redeemed by cosmeticsand hair dye...and a good-lookingman admitting that, yes, he does want tosleep with her.Oh Barbra, Barbra, Diva mine! Couldn'tyou find a project more worthy ofyour prodigious talents? It's really hardfor me to come to the defense of the lastof the female superstars when your putyour power behind a retrograde fairytalelike The Mirror Has Two Faces. •• FLY AWAYHOME is a movieabout a pubescentgirl, Amy(The Piano's AnnaPaquin), and theflock of geese she raises and then leadsSouth for the winter. Doesn't sound likegreat cinema, but it is. That's because directorCarroll Ballard (The Black Stallion) has alwayshad a gift for working with children just to spend some time with them.likeable (and life-like), that you're happyand animals. In both cases, he never goesfor simply cute. He has the patience to portrayboth the human young and our animal the bone, but is just as fascinating (and not• SECRETS AND LIES cuts a little closer tbrethren as complex characters, worthy of without its own sense of humor). When arespect, and capable of brave adventure. young black London optometrist namedMy only complaint? The film exploits the Hortense (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) decidesage-old screen cliche of killing off (or spiritingaway) the child-protagonist's mother. (Brenda Blethyn), she starts a cycle of truth-to seek out her white birth mother, CynthiaAmy would be a compelling hero even if telling that sends shock-waves throughoutshe weren't a motherless child.her new "family." Mike Leigh's character-d;•WALKING AND TALKING, the featuredebut of writer-director Nicole Holofcener,is a warm, funny look at women's friendships.Amelia (Catherine Keener) and Laura(Anne Heche) have been best friends alltheir lives. But now Laura is planning to getmarried and Amelia is feeling shut-out andeager for a romance of her own. There's nohigh drama or wild slapstick in Holofcener'slittle movie. It doesn't need any. The characters,both primary and secondary, are soven, class-conscious melodramas are alwayswinners; this one took home the Palme d'Orat last year's Cannes Film Festival.52 ON THE ISSUES • Spring 1997
CHKSLKR (continuedfrom page 7)my escape plans, my father-in-law choseto obtain an Afghan passport for me; andso, I left Afghanistan for the UnitedStates. When my U.S. visa expired, theU.S. State department told me I had toleave New York, my birthplace. I said I'dchain myself to the Statue of Libertybefore I'd return to Afghanistan—but I had to have my marriage annulledin order to receive a newAmerican passport. The old one isstill somewhere in Kabul.My so-called "Western" feminismwas certainly forged in that beautifuland treacherous country. Foreverafter, I was able to "see" genderapartheid anywhere, even in America.Although I appreciated my relativefreedom as an Americanwoman back on American soil, I nolonger believed that Americanwomen were free—only privileged—orthat Western male adultery,serial polygamy and the impoverishmentof mothers upondivorce were a vast categorical improvementover what I had observed in Iranand Afghanistan.BY 1967, I HAD JOINED THE NATIONALOrganization for Women. I said: Aslong as women are enslaved anywhere,women everywhere, even if privileged,are endangered too. As feminists, wehave to do more than analyze woman'scondition: We need to provide sovereign,physical asylum to women in flight fromslavery.I tried to take two female servants outwith me when I left but failed in this endeavor.Kamar and Madar Kamar: whereveryou are, forgive me. Know that I'venever forgotten you, your numerous kindnessesand sweet and playful dispositions.I will never forget how kind my sisters-inlawwere to me, or my young nephews,who tried so hard to cheer me up.Nor am I likely to forget certain heartstopping,eerily familiar sights, sounds,tastes, smells that, at the time, movedme so: flocks of sheep, camel caravans,fierce, tender, rurbaned men armed withrifles, stars so thick and close-clusteredyou'd think you could touch them(Afghanistan is more than 5,000 feetabove the sea), ancient bazaars, awesomemountains (I could see the foothills of theHimalayans from my bedroom window),minarets, the muezzin's hoarse call, cookingoutdoors on an open fire, delicious,too-sweet candies flavored with roses (!),exquisite, salted pistachios, communalsandalis (to warm one's feet on freezingnights), turquoise-colored ceramichookahs (also known as hubble-bubbles),in which one smoked tobacco or hashish.Every time Afghanistan is in the news,I reach for the phone, call Karim, whoalso eventually had to flee. When I firstMy so-called Western feminismwas forged in that beautiful andtreacherous country, whichafterward allowed me to see genderapartheid everywhere in America.met him he had lustrous black hair, dark,melting eyes, long, feminine lashes—hecould easily have passed for an illustrationin my much-thumbed copy ofScheherazade's The Arabian Nights.When I left the country, Karim wasabout to become a government minister.In 1979, after the Russian invasion,Karim himself escaped by crossing theKhyber Pass into Pakistan, disguised asa nomad. Since 1980, he and his familyhave been living in America.Karim's hair is white now and hishealth is impaired. I do not ask him howhe earns his money. I go to his home for along evening of delicious Afghan food,memories, emotions. Karim's wife Halide,a former diplomat, is warm and charming.She has blue eyes and blond hair and oncetooled around Kabul in her own sportscar. She and Karim are the parents of twomost extraordinary and beautiful children,Iskandar and Rabiah, who are now intheir late twenties. Invariably, when thetwo of them have me alone, they ask:"Why did you come to Afghanistan?What were you looking for?"Thirty-nine years have passed since Ifirst met Isakandar's and Rabiah's father,and I still don't have one "right" answer.Some say that Afghans constitute the losttribes of Israel; others say that a legendaryband of Amazons (warriorwomen)was last seen there. Perhaps,unconsciously, I felt drawn to Karim becausealthough male, and wealthy, hewas an outsider, marginal: like a womanin her own country. Perhaps I simplycould not resist the call of a truly GreatAdventure.These were my prefeminist, heterosexualheydays. I did not know that, unlikeSir Richard Burton or Lawrence of Arabia,Western women abroad were not acceptedas "brothers" simply becausethey, too, were enamored of Araband Moslem places—and men; orbecause they, too, were weary ofmodern, Western, secular societyand romanticized the far and "primitive"shore.Many of the male Victorians andtheir anthropologist successors weretime travelers in search of Biblicalhuman hospitality. They were menwho wished to test themselvesagainst formidable natural challenges,e.g., extremes of temperatureon the brigand road, malaria, parasites,gangrene, amputation, withoutWestern medicine or technology. Ah,but unless a woman was the cousinof the English queen or travelingunder a pasha or sheik's personal protection,long before she could test herselfagainst the world's harshest terrain shewould be stalked, raped, kidnapped, impregnated,locked up behind high mudwalls either in marriage, a seraglio, or abrothel. Dead in childbirth. Or murdered.I had no idea that some Westernwomen had adventured to and/or survivedtheir captivity in Egypt, SaudiArabia, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan,Morocco, Tunisia, Siam: the 18th centuryFrench/Martiniquan, Aimee Dubucq deRivery, whose son became the Sultan ofTurkey; the Victorian-era Lady Sale,whom the Afghans imprisoned and laterreleased (they killed her husband for attemptingto conquer the country for theBritish crown); the Britons, Harriet Martineau,Lucie Duff Gordon, Isabel ArundellBurton (Sir Richard's wife), the HonorableJane Digby el Mezrab, AnnaLeeowens of The King and I—and myown all-time personal favorite: thehaunting Russian-Swiss Isabelle Eberhardt,who, in the early twentieth century,dressed like an Arab boy, convertedto Islam, married a French Legionnaire,wrote stoned, mystic poetry (under thename Si Mahmoud), and died in a flashfloodin the Sahara before she was 30years old.For years, I have wanted to write afeminist Passage to Islam and I may do soyet. Maybe that's why I went toAfghanistan. •Spring 1997 • ON THE ISSUES53
Page 1:
FEMINIST CULTURE • POLITICS • R
Page 11: thors suggest are naively "grateful
Page 14 and 15: One Flew Over the Coup:The Sculptur
Page 16 and 17: Desperate Measures:A mother battles
Page 18 and 19: BUSINESS REPLY MAILFIRST-CLASS PERM
Page 20 and 21: ON THE ISSUESS p r i ng 19 97theonl
Page 22 and 23: ported their effort to keep the chu
Page 24 and 25: were not permitted to speak. They m
Page 26: the most drowsy intelligence, I tho
Page 29 and 30: MARGUERITE, Cambridge, Massachusett
Page 31 and 32: W I JxJ_J A, Sunny Valley, OregonWh
Page 33 and 34: Experts expect it will be2000 befor
Page 35 and 36: IN THE MEANTIME, SHE IS HELPINGto c
Page 37 and 38: Touring Bosnia with Swanee Huntand
Page 39 and 40: After her husband's attack, Margare
Page 41 and 42: feminomicsCOLLECTIVEENTREPRENEURSHI
Page 43 and 44: croloan programs. Chicago's Connie
Page 45 and 46: BY RUBY R O H R L I C H1I OW COULD
Page 47 and 48: At the end of World War II, Rita re
Page 49 and 50: and we are working to make life bet
Page 51 and 52: My 1st gift to:AddressCityMy 2nd gi
Page 53 and 54: ooks& filmsThe battle between femin
Page 55 and 56: Roiphe's descriptions of her own fa
Page 57: IEImary caretaker and the wish to n
Page 61 and 62: ain't never done nothing for him? I
Page 63 and 64: said the deputy director of an Amer
Page 65 and 66: SWANEE HUNT (from page 33)amassing
Page 67 and 68: Looking for Another Great Feminist
show all

I Am Beautiful: A Celebration of Women in Their Own Words

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?