This comes with a warning. It’s not the post one would expect for a Fourth of July celebration. For me, “independence” has become a bad word. I mean, as women in our country, what has “independence” brought us…certainly not freedom, not the freedom we all need and desire? More women than ever before are working harder, longer hours, for less pay.
Don’t get me wrong. We are blessed. We are a great nation. Our independence is the basis of all creative expression which, initially, made us a planetary leader. But this same independence also created disasters, both personal and global.
Independence is a necessary and masculine quality. We all must leave the nest, so to speak, to discover our own potential, to develop our unique internal gifts, to become self-sufficient…but in the U.S. we’ve gone over the deep-end. Somewhere, along the way, we’ve left interdependence, responsibility and community on the wayside. Like all feminine qualities, they are so devalued that we’re suffering the consequences. We have, in fact, been suffering the consequences for generations, but it is only now that we’re at the point of no return.
Now that we no longer sit at the top of the economic world, we no longer have the highest number of well-educated individuals, we no longer have the greatest amount of resources at our disposal (because we’ve already used them up, turned them into non-biodegradable rubbish, and discarded them), what do we have? We have our creative expression, our freedom of expression. Because of this, I am hopeful. We still have a major role to play in creative solutions to the multiple problems that face our planet. Despite my faith being shaken by the inability of even our top scientists to come up with a viable solution to the gulf spill, I still believe that we hold this ability, this opportunity, and this responsibility. We must be the ones to come up with solutions, solutions for all the disasters we’ve participated in creating. We have no other choice.
So, what does all of this have to do with women, with the feminine? As women, we’ve learned how to act independently. We’ve learned this so well we’ve forgotten the importance of interdependence. We live in a society that has also forgotten. And here’s the key. If the problem is a predominance of independent action, then the solution is interdependent action. We forgot responsibility. We forgot the results of our excessive push forward. The answer is solutions that come through creating community efforts, taking into account the consequences of each action, acting in a responsible way. And this type of action is second-nature to most women, to most mothers and some fathers. How do good mothers make decisions? Without thinking, they first answer the question, how will this affect my child, our family? Mothers make extraordinary decisions and changes both during pregnancy and beyond that they would never make for themselves. They quit smoking, they eat healthy foods, they change jobs, they change their lifestyle, they let go of all that is non-essential, they look at the bigger picture, they see how every decision, every action, affects their child’s future.
This Independence Day I challenge us to celebrate our interdependence. I challenge us to accept the responsibility that came with the incredible freedom we’ve been given. I challenge us to make our decisions the way a mother would. I challenge us to value our women and children, our earth, our world.
Happy Interdependence Day, Everyone!
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Would You Intervene to Stop a Bully?
I was walking back from the farmer’s market today, trying not to think about a different farmer’s market, one that I had walked by a few days ago, 6700 miles away in Greece, when my daydream was interrupted by a disturbance from the middle of the street. Now this certainly got my attention, because, unlike Greece, it is rare to hear anyone shouting in my neighborhood.
There was a young man, probably in his upper 20’s, taunting and harassing an elderly man in the middle of the street. Traffic was stopped in both directions. Observing this outburst from the sidewalk was a group of half a dozen young men, roughly the same age as the bully. None of them came forward, but continued to watch. The bully became more inflated, was shouting something at the elderly man and dancing around him like a boxer trying to find his opponent’s weak spot. I started racing down the street with my cell phone in hand (Greek phone numbers dancing in my head), while trying to remember how to dial the police in the United States. I was a quarter of a block away when the situation escalated and the older man attempted to take a swing at the young bully. Only then did the half dozen male observers step in, en block. I could overhear them quietly telling the bully to, “Just get in the car and go.”
I, the only woman amongst the (sorry guys, weak) testosterone pack, called out, “Has anyone called the police yet?” One of the young men looked at me, apathetically, and said, “The police can’t stop a bully.” I replied, “He will continue to do this to others. If observers file reports against him, then the police can do something!”
I was appalled by his response. It was as if some unspoken code kept them from breaking up the confrontation. Didn’t any of them have elderly parents or grandparents? Didn’t any feel the least bit responsible for stopping such an incident? Certainly they seemed oblivious to the fact that people who harass, people who bully, are only one step away from violent behavior. Quite frequently, emotional abuse leads to physical abuse, and even if it does not, I know, too well, its equally damaging effects.
Another young man turned to me and quietly said, as if he didn’t want the other guys to hear, “Yes. The incident has been called in.” So, I proceeded up the street and was stopped by a female shopkeeper who asked me what had happened. I explained what I knew. I shared that I did not know what had precipitated the conflict, but that I was quite disturbed by the men’s lack of response. Her opinion was, “No one wants to get involved.” She also said that she had seen the woman in the car behind make a call on her cell phone.
What has happened to us that we are unwilling to step in? That we are so willing to claim no responsibility? What is this silent male code not to interfere, that trivializes and therefore accepts bullying, labeling the abuser as “just a bully?” What allowed these men to equate a call to the police as “weak” or labeling them as “tattletales?”
People, get the word out: bullying is abusive. Emotional abuse is as damaging as physical abuse, even when one does not lead to the other. We have become socially irresponsible to our elderly and to one another. The bully certainly did not exhibit any admirable masculine traits, but the group of male observers fell short, as well.
It’s a sad day when it takes a fifty-year old physically weak woman to step in.
This post may, at first, not seem relevant to the theme of feminine healing, so let me point out just two significant links. First, the acceptance of abuse and violence to others or to ourselves or, its opposite, too easily accepting the position of victim and the entitlement that goes with this, is a common state in our society and one that needs to change in order for all of us to heal.
Secondly, taking responsibility for ourselves and others, assigning worth to interdependence equal to the status of independence is another necessary change towards balance and healing, not only in our own society, but in our global world.
What do you think? In what ways have you been a bully to yourself or to others? When have you taken on the victim role? When have you left it behind? To what do you feel “entitled?” When have you valued interdependence as highly as independence? When have you stepped in, taken a stand, begun your path toward healing?
There was a young man, probably in his upper 20’s, taunting and harassing an elderly man in the middle of the street. Traffic was stopped in both directions. Observing this outburst from the sidewalk was a group of half a dozen young men, roughly the same age as the bully. None of them came forward, but continued to watch. The bully became more inflated, was shouting something at the elderly man and dancing around him like a boxer trying to find his opponent’s weak spot. I started racing down the street with my cell phone in hand (Greek phone numbers dancing in my head), while trying to remember how to dial the police in the United States. I was a quarter of a block away when the situation escalated and the older man attempted to take a swing at the young bully. Only then did the half dozen male observers step in, en block. I could overhear them quietly telling the bully to, “Just get in the car and go.”
I, the only woman amongst the (sorry guys, weak) testosterone pack, called out, “Has anyone called the police yet?” One of the young men looked at me, apathetically, and said, “The police can’t stop a bully.” I replied, “He will continue to do this to others. If observers file reports against him, then the police can do something!”
I was appalled by his response. It was as if some unspoken code kept them from breaking up the confrontation. Didn’t any of them have elderly parents or grandparents? Didn’t any feel the least bit responsible for stopping such an incident? Certainly they seemed oblivious to the fact that people who harass, people who bully, are only one step away from violent behavior. Quite frequently, emotional abuse leads to physical abuse, and even if it does not, I know, too well, its equally damaging effects.
Another young man turned to me and quietly said, as if he didn’t want the other guys to hear, “Yes. The incident has been called in.” So, I proceeded up the street and was stopped by a female shopkeeper who asked me what had happened. I explained what I knew. I shared that I did not know what had precipitated the conflict, but that I was quite disturbed by the men’s lack of response. Her opinion was, “No one wants to get involved.” She also said that she had seen the woman in the car behind make a call on her cell phone.
What has happened to us that we are unwilling to step in? That we are so willing to claim no responsibility? What is this silent male code not to interfere, that trivializes and therefore accepts bullying, labeling the abuser as “just a bully?” What allowed these men to equate a call to the police as “weak” or labeling them as “tattletales?”
People, get the word out: bullying is abusive. Emotional abuse is as damaging as physical abuse, even when one does not lead to the other. We have become socially irresponsible to our elderly and to one another. The bully certainly did not exhibit any admirable masculine traits, but the group of male observers fell short, as well.
It’s a sad day when it takes a fifty-year old physically weak woman to step in.
This post may, at first, not seem relevant to the theme of feminine healing, so let me point out just two significant links. First, the acceptance of abuse and violence to others or to ourselves or, its opposite, too easily accepting the position of victim and the entitlement that goes with this, is a common state in our society and one that needs to change in order for all of us to heal.
Secondly, taking responsibility for ourselves and others, assigning worth to interdependence equal to the status of independence is another necessary change towards balance and healing, not only in our own society, but in our global world.
What do you think? In what ways have you been a bully to yourself or to others? When have you taken on the victim role? When have you left it behind? To what do you feel “entitled?” When have you valued interdependence as highly as independence? When have you stepped in, taken a stand, begun your path toward healing?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
"Walk Like a Man. Talk Like a Man."
I’m feeling discouraged today, discouraged by the old stuff that women hang onto. My generation has had to try so hard to make it in the male world that we’ve taken on the same imbalances. We’ve learned to value independence to the extreme. We had to, because it was what was respected and expected. It has surprised me, especially when I encountered this in the medical field. One would think that we would naturally ask one another for help, that we would work together. Wasn’t that the advantage of working within a group of physicians? But my residency experience was just the opposite. Although we as residents would help one another, we were expected to do it all on our own, often times juggling several different roles. For example, when we covered labor and delivery at night in our hospital, we were responsible for all of the admitted laboring patients, the evaluation of urgent pregnant patients, and all of the gynecological, prenatal and postpartum in-house patients. This amounted to a lot of patients. There was one other resident in house, covering gynecological emergencies and surgeries, and an attending physician; however, the more we could do without their help, the better.
In retrospect, it was a bit ridiculous. This plan was justified by the fact that it was essential that we learn how to prioritize, that it would prepare us for similar circumstances in the future. Some defended this system by citing the additional experience the sheer volume would provide us over a specified number of years--four, in this case.
I remember, though, what bothered me the most --when women did not help other women. Thankfully, this was rare. I worked with a group of excellent female physicians and ancillary staff, who were very supportive. Occasionally, however, there would be a woman who worked in the hospital that treated the female residents worse than the male residents. Today, I spoke with a Greek friend who is doing his surgical residency in Scotland. He reminded me of this when he said that his fiancée is experiencing the same discriminatory behavior from some of the female nurses at their hospital. This is still happening, twenty years later.
We, as women, have taken the masculine trait of independence to the extreme. We are threatened by and in competition with other women, still. Some part of us continues to believe that it is better if we do it all on our own, without anyone’s help. Then, when we have accomplished an extraordinary amount, we hesitate to extend a hand to another woman, because we are still competing and because we sacrificed so much to achieve our goals. This is such a strange unnatural behavior for women. I understand why it has happened, but it saddens me immensely.
I could not have survived my medical training if it weren’t for my two female friends, who were also residents. They saved my life.
Nothing great has ever been accomplished alone. What will it take before we trust one another again?
I thank all of you, women and men, who have trusted me and supported me. None of my accomplishments in life would have occurred without you. More important, you have kept me sane and made my goals meaningful.
In retrospect, it was a bit ridiculous. This plan was justified by the fact that it was essential that we learn how to prioritize, that it would prepare us for similar circumstances in the future. Some defended this system by citing the additional experience the sheer volume would provide us over a specified number of years--four, in this case.
I remember, though, what bothered me the most --when women did not help other women. Thankfully, this was rare. I worked with a group of excellent female physicians and ancillary staff, who were very supportive. Occasionally, however, there would be a woman who worked in the hospital that treated the female residents worse than the male residents. Today, I spoke with a Greek friend who is doing his surgical residency in Scotland. He reminded me of this when he said that his fiancée is experiencing the same discriminatory behavior from some of the female nurses at their hospital. This is still happening, twenty years later.
We, as women, have taken the masculine trait of independence to the extreme. We are threatened by and in competition with other women, still. Some part of us continues to believe that it is better if we do it all on our own, without anyone’s help. Then, when we have accomplished an extraordinary amount, we hesitate to extend a hand to another woman, because we are still competing and because we sacrificed so much to achieve our goals. This is such a strange unnatural behavior for women. I understand why it has happened, but it saddens me immensely.
I could not have survived my medical training if it weren’t for my two female friends, who were also residents. They saved my life.
Nothing great has ever been accomplished alone. What will it take before we trust one another again?
I thank all of you, women and men, who have trusted me and supported me. None of my accomplishments in life would have occurred without you. More important, you have kept me sane and made my goals meaningful.
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