I’ve been thinking a lot lately about strong women. Women in charge of things. Women who have, seemingly, for the most part, “done it all.”
Mind you, I don’t necessarily mean women who are, you know, running to be the leader of the free world. Although that is A Thing That Is Happening Right Now.
No, I’m just sitting here in the center of a venn diagram of women rugby players who slay, five foot nothing gymnast women who are complete goats, and Marie Antoinette Or Ladypool—but I digress. I speak of course, of the Paris Olympics. Every Olympic year I swear I won’t get caught up in it too much, I won’t be switching back and forth, scrambling not to miss horses, kayaks dropping three feet into churning water, pole vaults, laps, corner kicks, double back flips, and more. Of course I am so caught up in it, I find myself reading about it when I’m not watching it, to the extreme detriment of my to - do list. Forget about my WIP.
Now before anyone thinks I’m denigrating all the cool stuff men are doing in Paris rn, I am not. Because they are awesome too, most especially Pommel Horse Steve. I AM however, focusing on the incredible female athleticism that’s rampant this year in one of my personal favorite cities on the planet. I think what got me going on this (ok 2 things but this one first) was the sight of female athletes celebrating the fact that the Olympics “gave” them dedicated, private spaces for (of all things) breastfeeding. I mean, imagine. A top tier athlete in her chosen sport, also providing nourishment for her child on her breaks? And the venue, I don’t know, “allowing” it? Earth shattering, and, if you read this article, ridiculously late to the game. But at least it’s here, right?
The female body is something both mysterious and familiar, even to those of us inhabiting one. It’s at once vilified and objectified; over-emphasized and under-studied. Hell, I’ve both loved and loathed my own, so many times in my almost 6 decades living it it, I can’t even count them. I was practically today years old when I learned how little is actually known about female anatomy. Makes sense, though. Since the very act of child bearing and child birth can be and many times is, deadly for “reasons.” I mean, come on, modern science. Why the delay? What’s holding you back? We need to go on more than vibes, here.
The bodies and brains on display right now at this year’s games are varied and incredible. I am personally obsessed with Ilona Maher, the star of the American Women’s Rugby team. She is, by all account a tiktok phenom in addition to be one of the baddest asses in the sport today. But when you google her, these are the questions that pop up.
Study that for a minute, and let me know why you think it makes me steaming mad. Luckily, she had Words for those who claimed her BMI (a thing that is about as legit as a credit score, honestly) was high. I invite you to enjoy this take down. But trust me when I tell you that no woman wants to have to defend her own damn weight to anyone, much less some couch pillow clutching troll. It is a Thing, though, for women to have to worry about. So we put it on the worry list, along with dying in childbirth because somehow nobody understands how it works. Grrr…
(One of my favorite things she’s said is that she played soccer but was told to try rugby since instead of running around the other players she ran over them.)
It may be that I’m being a bit obsessive about strong/smart women scaring people male humans because I just finished The Hour of the Witch (audio book) by Chris Bojhalian.
This story is about early Massachusetts (Boston) and how precarious a life women lead there. It shines a bright light on the Puritanical nature of our country’s origin, which says a lot about how far we’ve come (and how far we still have to go to leave that behind us). Mary Deerfield is married to a serial abuser, who abuses her. She decides that instead of taking the abuse that includes him sticking a fork (a.k.a. the Devil’s Tines…good grief, no wonder we struggle with our identity in this country) in her hand, among other things, she will divorce him. It goes about as well as you might imagine, with both men and women claiming she’s a witch because 1. she hasn’t manage to get pregnant after 5 years of marriage and 2. she doesn’t believe that a fork is from the Devil and 3. a bunch of other circumstantial nonsense.
So yeah…Smart woman won’t take shit off a man = she must be a witch.
Without spoiling anything, suffice it to say, Mary has a lot to prove on her way to proving that she’s not a witch.
Bottom line is, it’s tough being a female in the Universe. It always has been. We are worshipped and vilified at the same time. And Goddess help us if we run for President.
Although this time…it feels…different.
Carry on with yourselves. And leave me a comment with your favorite thing about the Olympics this year—especially if you thought the Opening Ceremonies were the perfect whacky chaotic French version of watching Deadpool and Wolverine—throwbacks, easter eggs, naughty innuendo, broad winks at the camera and all!
xoxo
Liz