I was born on July 24, 1950. These are things I learned about being a female, growing up in Poughkeepsie, NY. They are listed, more or less, in chronological order.
Girls are just as smart as boys.
Girls can do anything that boys can do.
When I sit in a chair, keep my knees together.
Being voted Miss Rheingold is a big deal.
Being crowned Miss America is a big deal.
I can be the first woman president.
A girl’s bicycle doesn’t have a bar across the top, so she can get on and off in a ladylike manner.
Having long eyelashes is desirable.
Marilyn Monroe wasn’t even wearing a bra under that dress!
Laugh at a boy’s jokes, even if you have to pretend they’re funny.
Let the boy win the game.
Big breasts are best.
Looking sexy is important.
Boys are "just using you."
The only thing a boy cares about is what’s between your legs.
Don’t cry over a boy. There’s always another trolley coming down the line.
Don’t have sex. Girls who have sex are whores.
Don’t get pregnant! Girls who get pregnant are real sluts.
Don’t cry over a man. There are plenty of fish in the sea.
It’s okay to have sex! Everybody is having sex!
You don’t have to wear a bra under that dress.
You don’t have to wear a dress.
Women are just as smart as men.
Women can do anything that men can do.
Aim for something better than being president.
Find a man you don’t have to pretend with.
That man - cherish him, because there actually aren’t many trolleys anymore.
- Morna Crites-Moore :: March 2020
HERE I AM, HAVING FOUND “THAT MAN,” IN 1980.
I wrote this in March of 2020 - right at the beginning of the lockdown, when we laughed and bumped elbows instead of shaking hands, and even the pessimists among us didn’t realize how very long the misery was going to last.
I debated and debated about whether I should publish it here. Maybe it’s too personal, or too weird, or too something negative that I’ll be embarrassed by after it’s seen by “everybody.” But here I am, around about midnight, having eaten too much chocolate (again), and feeling brave. I hope you like it. I hope you’ll make a comment and let me know how you’re doing as we barrel toward A Pandemic Thanksgiving, version 2.0.