A friend posted this article about the Indian Women’s Cricket team winning the Women’s World Cup.
This AP photo of the women celebrating their World Cup win is from the India Today article linked above.
“Three years before this moment, back in October 2022, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) made a bold and unprecedented move during its 15th Apex Council meeting. They unanimously passed a resolution to introduce pay parity between India’s men’s and women’s cricketers. For the first time, the women who wore the blue jersey would receive the same match fees as their male counterparts.”
“This triumph was not accidental. It was the result of a carefully constructed ecosystem designed to elevate women’s cricket from the fringes to the forefront. The BCCI’s [Board of Control for Cricket in India] equal pay decision was only one piece of a larger puzzle: improved facilities, better coaching structures, and the advent of the Women’s Premier League (WPL), which gave Indian players consistent exposure to world-class competition. The WPL, in particular, provided an arena for rising stars to play alongside and against international icons, sharpening their skills and instilling the poise needed for high-pressure moments like a World Cup final.”
The article got me thinking about other low and middle income countries with powerhouse sports teams. I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for, but discovered that Kenya has a national strategy and several funds (public and private sector) to support women athletes. Jamaica announced a fund to support women’s soccer earlier this year, just two years after the national team had to crowd-fund its way to the Women’s World Cup.
Most seem to rely on non-governmental funding, which is more about empowering women and girls rather than producing elite athletes. That is arguably a far more important goal. But as interest in women’s sport continues to rise around the world, I look forward to seeing other countries and corporate sponsors putting resources into equal funding for women’s sport.
I’m already a fan of the Olympics, where there are serious efforts to ensure gender parity in the competitions and on individual teams. Future games promise to be even more interesting, as the traditional dominance of countries that have (relatively) strong support for female athletes is tested.
Cate’s great post from a couple of weeks ago, combined with the latest over-the-top reaction to a trans athlete who hasn’t even competed since 2022 (aren’t all reactions over the top when people are complying with the rules?) led me down a rabbit hole of the harms gendered sports do more generally.
University of Pennsylvania’s Lia Thomas competing in 2022. On Wednesday, U.S. President Donald Trump suspended about $175 million US in funding for the university over the participation of Thomas in its swimming program back in 2022. (John Bazemore/The Associated Press)
I have written about it before, here, and about Lia Thomas and other trans athletes. As a good analyst should, I am putting my biases on the table: I have trans friends, both men and women, who have gone from being suicidal and afraid to use a public washroom or change-room, to being happy and physically active. But as Cate said, and the “punishment” of the University of Pennsylvania shows, the whole trans athlete garbage isn’t really about trans athletes, especially at the elite level.
So what if we were to fight back by refusing to play along? What if we developed more all-gender sports, like we have already done for ultimate frisbee, mixed curling and many other new team sports, and which has been the standard in equestrian sport for decades? What if we changed the rules so that sports valued artistic merit, endurance and flexibility as much as they do upper body strength? What if women could do throws in figure skating, or compete in pommel horse? What if we then changed uniform rules so that men could wear sequins and women could wear pants (or at least shorts that covered more than most of the crotch)?
China’s Sui Wenjing and Han Cong competing during the Winter Olympics at the Capital Indoor Stadium in Beijing. Anne-Christine Poujoulat/AFP via Getty Images
What if we simply stopped having men’s and women’s categories for things like shooting or fencing, where gender seems completely irrelevant? What if people like Katie Ledecky could compete against male swimmers? It is entirely possible she doesn’t know for sure just how much she is capable of because she races at different distances than men, and so outstrips many of her competitors that she may never have pushed herself to her absolute limits.
What if these rule changes led to much more equitable funding for sports traditionally segregated to women, or seen as too feminine (gymnastics, figure skating)?
There will undoubtedly be pushback, just like what we are seeing now against the LGBTQ+ community, from men who think they are losing something when women gain something. We will need to keep up the fight for fairness in sport. It’s a fight worth having for men, women, everyone.
Back in May, Sam and I both wrote about grandmothers as athletes in the context of an amazing marathon swim by Amy Appelhans Gubser. At the time, Sam’s son Miles told her “All your athletic achievements could be so much more impressive if I had a kid.”
I struggle to think of myself as an athlete, despite all the positive self-talk. It is getting harder now that I’m retired and we are living through a miserable wet summer that has me unmotivated to go outside. And now I am about to be a grandmother.
A young couple standing on a dock at a lake. The man has one hand around his partner, and the other on her belly. Both are smiling.
I’m thrilled, but also wondering what that will do to my self-image and the preconceptions of people around me.
Will I continue wanting to do my own fitness things or will I turn to a pile of granny goo who just wants to play with the baby whenever I can? How can I adapt what I enjoy doing to incorporate the little one? When I do those activities with a baby (or toddler or child, eventually) will I still be seen as an independent person or just an extension/caregiver playing along? Will it matter what other people think, or can I be comfortable in my own skin?
In other words, can I be a little bit like Amy Appelhans Gubser, even if I never do an amazing marathon swim?
Sam recently wrote about Amy Appelhans Gubser, her amazing swim and the way it was portrayed in the media. TL:DR it was bad. Lazy journalists treated it as a “human interest” story about an overweight grandmother who miraculously did a long swim.
Since I follow a lot of marathon swimmers and marathon swimming enthusiasts, the coverage I saw what quite different. Everyone was respectful (in awe) of what she achieved. No-one commented on her age, family status, weight or anything else. I assume it’s because women are very well represented in marathon swim records (which do not have separate categories for men and women) and extra weight may actually be an advantage when you are swimming for many hours in cold water. And they can understand just how tough that swim was, and that it wasn’t undertaken lightly by some kooky old lady who miraculously succeeded.
Here’s what Amy accomplished:
Golden Gate Bridge to SE Farallon Island
47.7 km (29.6 miles) in 17 hours, 3 minutes on 11 May 2024
First to complete route in outbound direction (mainland to island)
That’s impressive all by itself, but here’s what her friend and fellow marathon swimmer Simon Dominguez had to say:
“I am still marveling at Amy’s swim. What some might not know is why this is such a difficult swim so I thought I would tell you.
28.5 miles of open water swimming. A long way but there are other swims of the same distance that are not nearly as tough. Why is it so tough ? (and thanks for asking). Because of the following:
The cold While the temperature ranged from 48 to 57 degrees F, I know that it touched down at a low of 43 near the islands. 17+ hours of swimming in these temperatures should not be possible but were for Amy because of the work she put in training in very cold water for a number of years preparing for this swim. Also, you need to remember that the longer you swim, the more exhausted you get, the more you feel the cold. Add this to the fact that as you head out to the Farallones, the water temperature continues to drop so you get the double whammy of exhaustion and cold combining to make this an almost impossible undertaking.
The currents While Amy whipped out extremely quickly at the start of the swim on a strong ebb, she then had to fight a flood. Amy told me that she got stuck in place for over an hour at one stage as she fought the tide. And it was near the end of the swim when she was the most depleted. Truly amazing.
Sea creatures Luckily Amy did not encounter any men in grey suits but they are out there all year long. I have no doubt that she was watched while she was swimming. The Farallon Islands sit in the Red Triangle – the largest great white shark breeding ground in the world. Amy respects that she is a visitor in their world. This is not the first swim that Amy has done in shark inhabited waters.
I attempted this swim in 2015 and did not make it due to a shark encounter about three miles from the finish. I could not be happier that the first person to successfully complete this swim is the amazing Amy Appelhans Gubser. A fierce competitor who has no quit in her and who is the first person to put her hand up to help others in need.
I salute you Amy. I know you probably feel like you have gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. But your name will now go down in history as a true South End Rowing Club badass.”
Amy Appelhans Gubser showing off the badass T Shirt her husband brought her from Dublin, where he had been while she was doing her Farallon Island swim. Photo shared by Amy Appelhans Gubser on Facebook
Amy is well-known and respected as a long-time marathon swimmer. Her first major marathon swim was across the Strait of Gibraltar in 2015: 14.4 km in 4 hours. There have been many great swims since, and she was named one of the World’s 50 Most Adventurous Open Water Women in 2019 by the World Open Water Swimming Association.
But somehow all that pales in importance imparted to her status as a grandmother (sarcasm). Sam’s son Miles made me laugh by telling Sam “All your athletic achievements could be so much more impressive if I had a kid.” I have a feeling Amy would laugh at the absurdity of it too, secure in the knowledge that people who understand marathon swimming appreciate what she achieved.
Sam invited me years ago to guest blog on FIFI, and back then as someone in her late 30s I’d wondered how my musings would fit as a not-quite-yet “midlife” feminist. Aside from her forward thinking (as of course we all grow into middle age), while planning for holiday travel recently I’d realized that perhaps I had finally made it to mid-life. Why? Because I was, for the first time, packing two of things.
I like to exercise to music, but what if my lightning charge cable breaks? Solution: Bring two. What if the busted sneakers I usually bring don’t have treads for the hike I want to do? Answer: Bring a second pair. What if the luggage with my swimming towel doesn’t arrive? Remedy: pack my microfibre travel towel (when I know towels will be available). What if I run out of face 60 SPF while I’m out in the sun. Yes: Pack a second bottle.
A few years ago I blogged about treetop adventures and my reflections on realizations about value of preventative injury measures and safety thinking. Admittedly, for most of my life I have never had a “safety first” attitude (sorry mom). Due to youth, inexperience, and limited financial means I’ve usually winged it with what I had, or I just went without.
These days, in contrast, I’ve noticed my brain has been thinking ahead: planning back ups and paying more attention to minimizing risk. Is it because I can financially afford doubles of stuff, I’ve become wiser in my older age, or I’ve eventually learned from my mistakes?
It’s probably a combination. It’s pretty neat, this sudden impulse to be more prepared, because I know as I grow older I know I can less afford to be injured, and the added preparation measures give me more piece of mind (even with slightly heavier luggage).
My goal is not to reinforce stereotype about middle age. I can see how these “solutions” tend towards comfort, even excess. And I am sure there are plenty of free spirits who are reading this and, out of necessity or confidence, connect with very little of it. I celebrate you!
But today, I recognize it’s a privilege to be able to bring two of what I might (or might not) need for my holiday fitness activities, and I am appreciating that, for probably the first time, I am caring for myself in this new way.
So, as I move steadily into the middle of my midlife, I find myself twice grateful for such abundance. 💜
On one hand, we can celebrate new gains for representation and inclusion: Martha Stewart has cut through the spandex ceiling, making it possible for “older women” to be cover photo-worthy by Sports Illustrated (SI), a magazine whose annual swimsuit issue authoritatively confers the status of beautiful to its models. As an octogenarian swimsuit model, Martha Stewart brings diverse body image to popular media (and to the news media that reports on popular media).
As well, this development signals a growing acceptance of older women’s sexuality. Martha Stewart has left the kitchen and entered the swimming pool. According to a CBC analysis article, Martha Stewart said on Today that she increased her exercise regime and cut out carbs (but didn’t starve herself) to show that “You can look great at pretty much any age if you put your mind to it.” If Martha Stewart can put her mind (and enormous wealth) towards looking sexually alluring at 81, isn’t that permission for us all?
On the other hand, scholar (and aspiring clairvoyant?) @tracyisaacs might have foreseen Martha Stewart’s gracing of the cover of SI’s Swimsuit issue when she wrote about what she describes as inclusive objectificationhere at FIFI and in The Conversation. Tracy acknowledges that commercializing the sexual attractiveness of a wider spectrum of women’s bodies seems, on the surface, to be a good thing (or at least not harmful one). However, mainstream media, embodied by the swimsuit issue (pun intended),
“continues to promote sexual attractiveness as women’s main currency. […] (It’s) it’s not clear how the swimsuit issue, the very essence of which is to represent a particular type of sexualized bodies, could morph into something that celebrates the body in a different way.”
From this perspective, it may be said that Martha Stewart has escaped one form of traditional female currency (homemaker) to another (swimsuit cover model). SI has shown us that Martha Stewart is worthy of sex appeal, but nothing has fundamentally changed the “relentless message about what makes women worthy,” as Tracy notes.
The CBC analysis article quotes Anna Murphy, who finds it refreshing that Martha Stewart refuses to “age out of the public eye.” (This is a return to modeling for Martha Stewart). But the SI issue heavily suggests that, in order to stay in the public eye, Martha Stewart must, in her own words, continue to “aspire to look great.”
Let’s also note that Martha Stewart doesn’t look great on her own. The are four covers of the same magazine issue —featuring Megan Fox, Brooks Nader, and Kim Petras, singer and transgender model (perhaps the most interesting and progressive choice). So conventional sexy and controversial sexy can remain in the public eye together.
Author of the CBC article, Jenna Benchetrit, concludes her analysis with an unanswered question initially asked by Tracy: “It’s breaking barriers, yes. But are these the barriers we want to break?” We at FIFI have many diverse voices, so I speak for myself when I (and maybe some of we) say no. Or at least, certainly not only.
Another Jenna, Jenna Peterson, happens to answer Jenna B’s question in a humorously memed social media post. Jenna P doesn’t want to continue to “aspire to look great” as she ages. Jenna P sees “aging out” of sexy as precisely what she wants to accomplish.
“I hate this whole “women can be sexy at fifty!” narrative. At what age will society stop demanding I try to be hot and just let me turn into an old swamp witch, as nature intended.”
As a cis-woman who is just over half Martha Stewart’s age, I’m inclined to agree with Jenna P. Aside from discourse of what is “natural” for women (for instance, it doesn’t matter much to me whether or not Martha Stewart has had body modifications), women can transgress their worthiness via sexual objectification…by letting themselves just get (and look) old.
Perhaps Sports Illustrated might have photographed an 81 year-old, swim-suited Martha Stewart emerging from a witchy swamp? Well, maybe next year.
Readers, what perspective do you take on this issue?
This reel came up in my social media newsfeed because lots of my friends liked it. And I get why they do. Women don’t have to age in the way that society expects us too.
I personally plan on defying a number of age related, gendered stereotypes in the years ahead.
Why can’t we just celebrate elderly women kicking aside our walkers and doing pull-ups from the ceiling?
The problem is, it’s complicated.
On the one hand, we want to encourage women to take control of our health destinies. We need to fight against the story that says older women are necessarily frail, fragile, and lacking in strength, mobility, and balance. Yes, women can do a lot to retain muscle and bone density with strength training. We can deadlift and do pull-ups at 40, at 50, and for some of us at 70, 80, and beyond.
On the other hand, I don’t want to encourage women to do this by depicting life with a cane or a walker as a lesser life. We have some control over our health but there’s also an awful amount of genetic and other luck involved. Walkers and canes aren’t necessarily bad things.
I’m using crutches right now as I recover from knee surgery
And I’ve been finding that some people are weird about crutches. The crutches enable me to walk further, to walk faster, I’m more stable but lots of people act like it’s the crutches that are holding me back. No, it’s the surgery and injury that are doing that. The crutches are an assistive device. They’re a help.
Crutches Photo by Maksim Chernyshev on Scopio
I hope both that I recover well and don’t need crutches for very long, and that if I do encounter an injury or a medical condition that has me using crutches, a cane, or a walker in the years ahead that I’ll feel okay about that too.
Currency, a display of wealth, and a way to store things,
Making clothing functional (such as jeweled clasps, pins, and buckles)
Symbolism (to show membership, status, political affiliation, or relationships)
Protection (in the form of amulets and magical wards), and
Artistic display (personal style, fashion, etc.)
I normally wear at least some jewelry for most of these reasons. When I exercise, I wear my fitness tracker ring (to “store” data?) and my wedding ring when I want to reduce the likelihood of being approached (a magical “protection” amulet?).
I’ve noticed that my (semi-) regular exercise has had an impact on the jewelry I wear these days: thin, flat, light rings and an equally thin, light, and short necklace that I don’t have to remove. However, I do replace big earrings with small sleeper hoops when I bike or curl or whatever. I don’t normally wear bracelets or anklets, and I have no other piercings (other than a tongue ring, which stays in).
You may have a different approach–you don’t wear jewelry of any kind, or you take take off some or all jewelry then put it back on after exercising. And, of course, it depends on the sport! But there aren’t any sporty people I know who leave on all their regular day-to-day jewelry on while exercising.
I wear some jewelry when I exercise because I like the jewelry I have and I lose what take it off. Also, the jewelry I wear allows me to exercise unimpeded. If I’m honest, I might also keep jewelry because I think it communicates that I am a recreational athlete.
My assumptions about exercise and jewelry
“A quick shot after getting wrapped for the boxing gloves, before the ring comes off and the gloves go on.” Photo by Sarah Cervantes on Unsplash
Somewhere along the way I picked up the idea that exercise and jewelry do not go together, that the more competitive the athlete the less jewelry they wear. Where did this idea come from? Practically speaking, jewelry can hinder performance and even increase injury risk. But I have also assumed that “serious” athletes care more about performance than appearance.
I admit to holding the converse assumption as well: the more jewelry, the more the exerciser cares about appearances. For sale these days is a bevy of “exercise jewelry” that is advertised as waterproof, sweatproof, and non-tarnishing. But do serious exercisers really go for these? The workout jewelry and charms on Etsy are cute but not all practical for the exercise they represent.
While I do not want to police what people wear, my immediate thought about the “strong AND pretty” message of workout jewelry is that it reflects what Andi Zeisler (2016) describes as “marketplace feminism”–reducing social movements and personal empowerment to beauty and fashion items for purchase.
Challenging my assumptions
Then, recently I saw a web news article whose accompanying image made me question these above preconceptions.
I was struck by the size and amount of jewelry worn by track and field athlete Sha’Carri Richardson in recent photos on the Yahoo news site. Richardson is photographed while competing at the 2022 USATF outdoor Championships at Hayward Field wearing multiple hoop earrings, nose rings, a necklace, a bracelet, and a belly piercing with a full chain (not to mention flowing hair, false eyelashes, and long fake nails). She did not qualify at that event, but later at a different international event, wearing similar jewelry she did qualify.
Recently, jewelry wearing, jewelry design, and jewelry store ownership have all gained attention for their historical and cultural meaning and significance for African North Americans. I do not claim to know why Richardson wears what she wears, but I imagine her exercise “look” might go beyond personal beauty and fashion choices to deeper personal and cultural symbolism. A recent article on Serena Williams mentions her wearing Love earrings in her very last tennis match as a tribute to the game, and braids with beads she wore early in her career to honour African cultural traditions.
One of the only fitness activities that stereotypically show athletes with jewelry-like “accessories” in North America: yoga practice. But appropriating prayer beads is for another post. Photo by Mor Shani on Unsplash
Perhaps Richardson, Williams, and other non-white athletes wear their jewelry styles precisely to challenge dominant white-centric stereotypes of competitive athletes as de-jewelled and unadorned. Their accessories lead me, us to realize there is in fact a whole world full of athletes engaging in various types of sports and exercise while wearing jewelry and other body adornments.
Old habits, but some new thinking
I probably won’t change my own minimal jewelry-wearing habits while I exercise. But, this reflection has given more insight into what drives my current jewelry-wearing choices. Some of it is fashion, but mostly it is simplicity and convenience.
It has also invited me to confront the narrow range of imagery that reinforce what is “normal” for athletes to wear (or not wear) when it comes to jewelry. I’ll think twice about my ideas about the relationship between jewelry and exercise. Some competitive athletes wear jewelry for its social and political meaning, not (or not only) to make a fashion statement.
Cue scene: It’s a Thursday afternoon and I’ve finished teaching for the day. I’m looking online for ice-gripper/traction thingamies for my boots. I go to the site of my favorite national outdoorsy merchant– let’s call them REYIYI– and look up popular brands. Quickly settling on two different models, I begin the consumer cogitation process. To give you a picture of this, here are some pictures.
Base model ice traction thingamy. $29 USD. Rubber straps with metal coils.
Upgraded model ice traction thingamy. $59 USD. Rubber straps with metal bits and chain.
Next step: look at reviews. Both score decently, with more expensive ones rated more highly. To be expected. But how to choose? Which one is better for ME?
Enter the promotional/instructional videos. First, the $29 model.
Please watch this. But if you don’t want to, here are the highlights:
Opening shot: intrepid little yellow-and-white flowers in early spring, off a slushy nature trail. Very subtle music playing in background. A woman is hiking, then one foot slides a little on slush. She puts on her ice traction thingamies. There’s lots of ad copy, pointing out they are packable, lightweight, with a removable strap, blah blah blah. Then, she moves confidently through ice and snow, beginning her trail run. She stops to admire nature. Yay woman! Yay $29 ice traction thingamies!
And then there’s the video for the $59 model.
Here are the highlights for this one:
Right away we hear loud music, like you might hear in this Ford F-150 truck ad. There is ad copy, featuring the words “steel”,”bite” and “aircraft grade steel”. Steel seems to be an important part of the messaging here. We see a man walking in the snow, ice traction thingamies already on. He also shovels snow while wearing them. Then he takes them off to a resounding guitar riff, his large truck in the background. Rock on, man! Rock on, $59 ice traction thingamies!
Here’s what I think.
Angry orangy-yellow face saying Grrr.
Really? All I wanted was to figure out if I wanted the base or upgraded model of the ice traction thingamies. Instead I got treated to throwback SuperBowl truck and beer ad stereotypes.
For the record, I want stability while shoveling snow, walking around my neighborhood and also hiking. It looks like both models do that, but the more expensive model has fancier and sturdier components. That was useful information. Oh, also FYI: both come in sizes that reflect the entire range that men and women wear.
But it’s not useful or nice or even accurate to gender the crap out of otherwise-unsuspecting ice traction systems through dopey and stereotyping ads.
Can advertisers and merchandisers and stores and vendors just stop?
I’d really appreciate it.
Penguin says “STAHP!”
Readers, have you run into any seriously-gendered advertising of items lately? Care to share? Penguin and I will give them the stink eye on your behalf.
Today, I hit 2 years straight in my daily meditation streak. When I started, I set myself the goal of 30 days. As time passed, I kept moving the goalposts. I feel good about my accomplishment (and I’ve written elsewhere about what I’ve learned). And yet, as soon as I sense those first inklings of pride, I hear the voice: “Well, you don’t have children, so it’s easy for you to meditate every day.” That’s the collective voice of women I’ve known, friends even. It’s also the voice of our society, which has insinuated itself into my psyche, passing itself off as my own judgments of myself. Every accomplishment I might celebrate is diminished by this subtext, “You don’t have children, so it’s easy for you to …” Write a book. Run an ultra-marathon. Start a new venture offering emotional intelligence workshops and one-on-one facilitations.
Not only do I not have children, I am one of the extreme few women who are childfree by choice. 6-10% by some estimates, but that number sounds high to me; especially given that the total percent of women without children is 15.4%, which includes women who tried without medical success or would have had children, if partnered. In other words, I neither tried, nor was I circumscribed by circumstance. Oh, and my decision is irreversible at this biological point in my life. That’s right, I’m also over fifty. What a disgrace! I’ve allowed myself to age and I did not contribute to society’s diktat of the highest and best use of my female body—having children. Not that our overburdened, beleaguered planet is in need of more carbon footprints. But it turns out that I’m the carbon footprint the world can do without. I am surplus. Not even worthy of pity, because I chose my condition.
How many times have I heard variations on the phrase, “you can do that because you don’t have children”? How many times have I watched a mother’s face cloud over when she asked me if I had children and I answered? How many times have I been told that children keep you young? How many times have I endured pronouncements and opinions prefaced with “as a mother”? How many times have I been told that one has to be unselfish to have children? How many times have I heard that a woman can only truly know love once she has children? How many times have I heard during COVID that it’s the grandparents who can’t see their grandchildren who are suffering most?
The subtexts of each of these statements are demeaning and hurtful.
How about this? –A friend once said that I could (and should) make the effort to buy a fuel-efficient car, but that she could not, because she had children. Not only is it my responsibility to pay school taxes (which I absolutely 100% want to do!), but apparently it would also be helpful if I reduced my consumption, to allow for more by people with children.
This is the moment when I make the disclaimer: No, I don’t hate children. In fact, there are children I love a whole lot. Same as most people, regardless of their procreative status. More, I enjoy cooking for people and engaging in other standard nurturing activities. And, it distresses me to have to have to clarify these points; in case people think I’m the Wicked Witch for not having children.
Playful sign on homey porch that reads: “Beware the Wicked Witch Lives Here”. Bee Felten-Leidel on Unsplash
This is a caveat to my disclaimer: Children’s parents can be self-important and insensitive.
I was moved to write this after reading this interview with Jody Day, psychotherapist, author and founder of Gateway Women—I’m losing my shame. Day talks about the pernicious pronatalism of our society, which tells a woman without children, “You’ve failed, you’ve got nothing to offer, you don’t fit in.” This message crashes up against what Day points out is our all too “human desire to be generative.” After all, aren’t children the ultimate generativity? Of course, that standard only applies to women.
I have been struggling lately with feeling generative. Because Day is right. I want to contribute to our society. I want to have a positive impact during my time here on earth. My last book came out in July 2019. I don’t have another one underway … yet. Early this year I founded a new venture offering emotional intelligence workshops and individual facilitations. We launched right as COVID hit, so we’ve been pushing uphill against all those obstacles. I don’t have a regular pay cheque, so I suffer the psychic degradations of an uncertain income. On occasion, in desperate fallow-feeling moments, like now, I think, “If I’d had children, this would be okay; because I could point to them as my raison d’être.” My children would be my accomplishment, my meaning. Instead, I have to stand in my own shoes. Live my own purpose. Find my own meaning. Offer my own grace.
To do so, I need to overcome the explicit and implicit negative messaging that assaults me from all sides. Women should not be shamed or feel shame for choosing not to have children. One last quote from Day’s interview: “… [J]ust being a childless woman living shamelessly as you age is already radical enough.” Radical? I feel more generative already. I embrace that label. I don the cloak of radicality with insouciant pleasure. I slip it on over the cloak of invisibility assigned to me by society when I reached a certain age without children. My shoulders could feel crushed beneath the weight of the double cloaks. Instead, they feel lighter, looser and easier. The lens through which I’m looking at my life shifts. Free of society’s shoulds and musts, I feel the vitality of energies that want to flow. I remember that I made a conscious choice to be who I am. That choice was a generative act. A decision to share my energies beyond the borders of home and family.
Women without children are abundant; a radiant, radical power source. Let’s plug into our own energy shamelessly, so we can fulfill our highest and best purpose.
