was around five when I asked my mother what
women do
when they "grow up." I remember the moment very well. I was sitting on her
lap at the kitchen table and she was teaching me how to write my name for
the first time. I don't know what made me ask the question, but it just
popped out. Her answer stopped me cold:
"Well, they become secretaries or work in an office of some kind."
(Gulp.)
"They what??"
I didn't get it. How could that be? You mean, I wouldn't get to play
outside anymore? What about adventure? Wouldn't I have the chance to
explore the world I just became a part of? Isn't this just the
beginning? I thought I would be growing as I got older, that when I became
an adult I could do anything I wanted! My vision was that I could travel
anywhere I wanted and there would be nothing holding me back. The world
would be my playground and I would spend years discovering the
universe. What else would I do?
Stay inside a building for most of my adult life and not travel the
world?
No!
Of course, these were not my actual thoughts, I was only five years old
after all. But I did have a gut reaction against my mother's answer. What
she said sharply contrasted with what I had assumed about the world, and I
sensed that her answer was wrong. I told myself to remember this moment,
because I thought that maybe my unlimiting vision was more fresh, more
real than an adult's.
I held onto this vision over the years and soon realized that I was
partly right. I realized that if you wanted to travel the whole world and
do everything you wanted, then you'd need some money and you'd have to
work to get it. Sometimes that would mean working in an office.
I also eventually learned that if you were a woman, it would be more
difficult for you to accomplish what you wanted because there were a lot
of people telling you that you shouldn't or you couldn't. I learned how
commonplace it was in 1974, when my mother and I were having this talk,
for women to be secretaries or to work in an office—usually for a
male
boss. Even though I learned these things, I tried not to internalize
them. I will always remember my vision as a five-year-old, which taught me
who we are—who women are—before society tells us. I have not
resisted
completely, I am sure. But I have worked my way through college, I have
traveled to many places and I have lived in another country. Now, after
some searching, I have found something I love to do—working with
words. Though writing isn't travelling the world, it certainly involves
exploration and discovery of our world, without having to go anywhere. I
can also do anything I want when I write—it's an act of pure
potential. It is limitless, like my five-year-old vision of the world.
