Reflections - cover2

Thoughts on being a Lady
masculine action; the second, a feminine acceptance of someone else’s action. Such a passive reactionary behavior is absolute anathema to a
feminist and is symbolized for many of us by the “to be” verb, signifying being, rather than doing. It has lead me on occasion, with friends of likemind,
to try to eliminate the verb entirely when discussing ourselves. This leads to some interesting convolutions of the English language, but also
to more powerful, direct means of expression. Consider this: In various circumstances we are asked to introduce and tell something about
ourselves. These are the responses, first in the traditional, then in the non-traditional form. Compare.
“I am Harriett Lillard. I am a wife, lover, mother of four children, cook, manager, student, writer, housekeeper and am 44 years old.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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“My name is Harriett Lillard. I wife. I love. I have given birth to four children. I mother. I cook meals, manage the family finances, and keep
house. I study fashion design and will work in Dallas or elsewhere after graduation. I write as a personal means of expression. I have 44 years
of life.”
I particularly like the last sentence, which is the grammatical construction used in Romance languages to express age: in this context, the “have”
implies attainment, owning something which is valuable. The construction, “I wife,” is the use of a noun as a verb, but doesn’t it actively define
what I do rather than what I am? Just as the sentence, “I mother,” conjures up mental pictures of maternal activity, rather than a passive,
Madonna-like pose. The separation of mothering and giving birth is important too, since they are two distinct female functions. I do not like to
use the more common expression, “I have four children,” because of the implication of possession. I do not own my children. Of course, this is an
exercise in semantics, but it is important in pointing out the difference in active and passive expression.
Let us proceed – from the buzz verb “to be” to the buzz noun “lady.” This is a very heavily freighted word, carrying with it connotations as negative
as the word “nigger” to a black man or as a positive as the title Lady Jane Grey to a social dowager. It can be as cutesy as, “Well, just look at the
little lady!”—we always get this at about age 13 when we first get breasts – or as patronizing as the Ladies Auxiliary, which is usually some useless
appendage of a predominantly male organization. It is often disparaging, as when a greasy cab-driver in New York City yells “Hey, lady!” in
combination with an obscene gesture just before he runs you down, but just as frequently it can be used as the highest compliment, “She’s a lady.”
I think the problem begins to occur when the word “lady” is used as a form of address, to indicate size or age, or to substitute for “woman.” In fact,
it has become a euphemism for “woman” which is a sexy word, bringing to mind breasts and vaginas and menstrual cycles and passion and birth –
all those female mysteries. “Lady” just sort of blots all that out, like putting on talcum powder, and leaves us sweet and soft and smelling good –
asexual and non-threatening.
Witness this scenario: A group of females standing together, waiting to be seated at a restaurant. The maître d’ comes up and says, “Right this
way, ladies.” They may be high-powered executives, but they are immediately reduced to good little girls trotting behind the head man.
Now the opposite scenario: Same group, same restaurant, same maître d’. He says, “Right this way, women.” Suddenly we’re not good little girls,
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