I AM A WOMAN
One of my favorite quotes is by Margaret Trudeau: “I can’t be a rose in any man’s lapel.” For years, these words have sung to the very core of my being, yet I failed to understand its significance to my life. A conversation I had yesterday led me to recall situations in coming-of-age that have awakened my reality.
A black man who I respect and absolutely adore disagreed with me and two other black professional women with regard to whether or not we (black women) have difficulty advancing in our chosen careers due the young, fresh-out-of-college, perky white girl whose energy (and maybe her father’s network of friends) keeps us from having a fair shot at promotional opportunities. Don’t get me wrong, our point was not that this happens in every single case. The point was that even a black man who has his own dealings with discrimination, finds it difficult to even fathom the hardships that black women encounter when trying to move to a certain level.
I’ve had the very best role models one can ask for in this life. My childhood was filled with strong people who were determined to thrive and succeed. These people didn’t have any plans from day to day on how they’d win in the end. They only knew that each day that breath found their bodies they’d have to keep fighting – for education, justice, freedom, respect. I had permanent fixtures in my life that I didn’t realize then, but now I know that they stood as examples of excellence. Most of these “fixtures” were men.
I’ve pontificated over why the men stood out so much to me. Maybe it’s because as a young girl, I attached my idea of power to my father and thus individuals who looked like, sounded like and acted like he did. Maybe it’s because the role of the woman, in my mind, wasn’t as “in your face” as that of their masculine brethren. There’s no question that they were there, at the meetings, planning, organizing, marching, etc. I remember seeing them even in my faintest recollection. However, their efforts are overshadowed by the deep, loud proclamations made by the men. Could it be that the women I remember being there did the ground work and the men swallowed the fanfare? Hmmmm.
Being raised in an environment that subconsciously influenced me to believe that women, although capable, were in some way inferior to men has –dare I say- confused the hell out of me. My ideas about feminism and womanhood have been fused with ignorance and attachment. Ignorant because as a woman, I didn’t really understand why the memories that have shaped who I am today didn’t magnify people who shared my gender. Embedded deep within the core of me, resided the outlandish idea that power belonged to men. Where did that leave me? I’m supposed to be powerful, but I am not a man. I was supposed to be just as capable; just as strong; just as smart. But where were the women who I was to pattern myself after. They were all men.
Don’t get me wrong, since I met adulthood, there have been plenty of powerful, strong, Soldier Sisters in my life. No doubt about that. However, it’s during youth that we begin collecting that which will form the mentality we carry through life. My youth showed me men run the world. Men are the ones who fight and create change. Men are the ones who actually get the win. No matter how much assistance they have from women, men are ultimately the ones who plant the flags and get pinned for the victories.
Men have the luxury of choosing whether or not they wish to acknowledge women. Much like the employee on the job can choose whether they want the strong, opinionated, openly vocal – yet professional, 30 year old black woman OR the 22 year old, easily trainable, highly connected white woman to work for them. Fair?
It has become obvious to me that while I stand firmly on my beliefs and dare to be crossed. I have yet to formulate them all. I know today that the women aren’t prevalent in my memories because they were holding down another part of the struggle. They’d already marched before my Daddy got me to the parade. They’d already reached the finish line before the men even suited up.
I have given the torch away without even being asked for it. I have succumbed to what my sisters (black and white) have already accepted. I am a woman with strength unrecognized; a woman with power unmatched. I am a woman who can accomplish much with your agreement or without. I am a woman who does not now, nor will I ever need approval to succeed. I am a woman and I will never again serve as a simple flower to your lapel. I am a woman; the entire garden isn’t big enough to hold my might. I am a woman. I. Am. A. WOMAN.