Society

Again

/ smithei / Leave a comment

Have you ever played the coulda, woulda, shoulda game?  In my opinion it’s the best way to get nowhere fast.  But as with all things, there’s a time and place for everything.  Re-imagining your wedding is one such instance and it’s surprisingly fun.  If I planned the day today, knowing what I know now, it would be completely different.  Well of course it would, because 6 years later I’m different.

I’m not sure how many wives say this but I wish I had been a bit more crazy.  I approached the whole thing like it was a research project, to check things off of a list and enter into excel.  I was careful to be composed, flexible and willing to accommodate people’s wishes.  But amongst all of that pretend zen, I was actually a control-freak desperately trying to hide my anxiety at giving things up left, right and centre.  By not speaking up and saying “no” more, I lost my voice and as a result parts of my wedding started to chip away.  With those fractures I felt like I was also suppressing a part of who I was, who we were as a couple.  For example, after a recent visit to Paris we vowed that we would return to live there for an extended period in the near future.  We say this with such confidence because rarely do Andrew I not make things happen.  We are stubborn as individuals and even more strong-willed together so we know that it’s going to be a reality and we will strategize our next steps to get there.

With regards to the wedding I’m not really talking about having regrets because looking back, I had a beautiful, lovely wedding day and I wouldn’t change a thing.  I just wish that I had fought harder for what I wanted.  So, I’m doing a remix, a Smith wedding version 2.0.  Here’s the do-over with all of the trimmings.  They all begin with the word “go,” ha, because it rhymes with “no”:

 

Go away.  That’s right my wedding would have been far, far away from the streets of Toronto.  Really, why didn’t I think of this back then?  The strength of our partnership is our common love of travel.  It should have involved suitcases, passports, jet lag and somewhere beautiful to reflect on the beginning of this next phase in our lives.  We should have begun anew.

Go intimate.  With the distance comes the ease of having a guest list that reflects close-knit bonds.  Please don’t misunderstand, I’m sure that our party of over 160 people all wished us well, I just didn’t know many of them and neither did Andrew.  The individuals who will commit to attending your destination wedding probably know you well enough to put in the time, effort and financial resources.  Many will ask, what about those who really care for you but can’t attend?  Aren’t you leaving them out?  Yes, that’s always unfortunate but to be completely honest, even as a graduate student living off of funding (thankfully not for much longer), if my best friend decided to get married in Iceland, I would sell the clothes off my back to buy the ticket.  With the smaller attendance you are able to actually interact and converse with all of your guests and in the end, all of you are bonded by this shared experience abroad.

Go outside.  On my wedding day it rained all day long.  All day.  I’m exaggerating because we did get some outdoor shots but the lighting was dark and flat.  Rather than put up with this fate again I would research a time and place when there would be sunshine.  I’m not saying that I would suddenly have the ability to control weather conditions, just that if you are smart enough, there is literally a time and a place where it’s warm and rarely rains.  I would rent a villa in the south of France.  There would be enough room for family members and close friends to stay with us in the house during the wedding and guests could stay in town.  The ceremony would be outside.  Then we would eat, drink, dance and be merry.  Simple.

Go custom-made.  You know the emerald green dress that Keira Knightley wore in Atonement?  I would get that dress tailored-made for me in white silk.  I would also be as skinny as I am now.

Go all out.  There are suddenly more possibilities when you are not serving dinner to over 160 people.  With that extra breathing room financially you can make your vision a reality aesthetically, through your choice of cuisine and music.  You are better able to get lost in the details and create a certain “feel” that reflects your excitement to celebrate the profound love that you have for each other.

These coulda, woulda, shoulda ramblings can become a reality you know.  On our 20th wedding anniversary we are going to rent a house in Provence for a month.  We are going to cook, read, get fat and be content.  Hopefully our family and friends will join us for those long, lazy, happy days.

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View from above

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P.K. Subban is a player in the National Hockey League and is of African-American descent.  When he scored the winning goal against the Boston Bruins on May 1, allowing his team to advance in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, people threw garbage at him and called him the n-word on Twitter.  When asked by journalist Chris Johnston to comment on these events his response was: “I don’t know.  It doesn’t even matter.”  My gut reaction to this is, but P.K., it does matter.

This reminds me of a scene in the Mira Nair film The Reluctant Fundamentalist, which chronicles the pursuit and eventual disenfranchisement with the American dream for a South Asian man.  The book is brilliant but unfortunately its merits didn’t quite translate very well on screen.  Really, you couldn’t put one more light in the Islamabad scenes which are predominantly set in the restaurant?  I can barely see their faces and it’s veering dangerously close to the problematic “Heart of Darkness” imagery.  The saving grace is Riz Ahmed and his charisma, talent and bone-structure.  As an Oxford-educated British actor and musician, Ahmed is definitely contributing to his craft in very interesting ways.  To return to the film, I want to discuss its most poignant scene because it relates to what life is like for all of us at the margins.  The protagonist named Changez is interviewing for a very competitive position with a prestigious bank.  The interviewer (Kiefer Sutherland) will eventually become his mentor and biggest supporter but in this instance he mainly discusses where Changez is “from” and how the scholarships must have really helped him attend Princeton.  God forbid that a racialized man would come from a family of means and social standing.  Finally he questions him on why he just didn’t attend school in Pakistan, I mean that’s where he belongs right?  To this Changez replies, “Because in America you can win.  And I will win whether you give me the job or not.”  That’s it, with that moment right there I feel like he summed up how we, the marginalized, are conditioned to think.  It’s like we constantly say, “What, you’re not going to let me earn it in one step?  That’s fine, whether it takes 5 or 25 steps I will get there.”  We learn to get the job done.

So perhaps P.K. Subban is right and it doesn’t matter.  I don’t know his story but I can imagine what it was like to try to breakthrough in a sport made up of predominantly middle-class White boys whose parents can afford the lessons and equipment.  I’m not suggesting that the Subban family could not, I just bet that the locker rooms weren’t always the easiest places to be.  What P.K. Subban is saying is that he will not be defined by people’s ignorance or the labels they are forcing on him.  His identity won’t be reduced to the colour of his skin.  He won’t be put in his place.  There’s poetic justice in it right?  In rising above?

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Good enough

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I’m going to keep this one short and sweet.  For every article out there written by women sharing their experiences, I promise you that there are 10 to 1000 individuals making fun of it.  Constructive criticism is not the same as ridicule.

 

Practices like that caused women to hide their gender to publish.  It made women keep their mouth shut for decades because they felt that their stories didn’t matter.  It’s for people like you that post-colonial writers integrate words from their language and not provide a translation.

 

My question is do you think any of these individuals would have the guts to lay their joys, fears and flaws bare to help demonstrate the complexities of the human condition?  Doubtful.  Yes entitlement is a problem and no, not everything is great or special, but that doesn’t make it any less of a contribution to the dialogue.

 

Dear haters: be better.

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Raising a man

/ smithei / 2 Comments

I have no qualms admitting that I’ve always thought that I was better suited to raise a daughter.  For my entire life I’ve just related more easily to women and it’s not surprising.  My parents are both one of 5 children and all but one had daughters.  So basically, I was amongst an army of girls and empowered, smart girls at that.  Men, well at least men I’m attracted to, always turn me into gobbley goop.  In fact I’m even surprised that I managed to get married and if I wasn’t, the dating world would have eaten me alive.

So, when I found out that I was having a son, a part of me was a bit nervous.  God, I didn’t even know how to shop for his clothes.  Me.  Not knowing how to shop for clothes.  Well, it’s two years later, I’ve figured all that stuff out and I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have C. in my life.  I would never say that he is easy.  When he was in the womb the doctor always marvelled at how strong and fast his heart was.  Well, he came running into the world, ready to live and know everything.  I think he practices the concept of “joie de vivre” better than most people.  But with that strong will comes frustration.  Thankfully, he gets frustrated less easily now because he has the language to articulate his questions, opinions and charm.  To me he’s smart, lovely and at times my everything.  But I am conscious of all the pressures and expectations that he’ll face in his life.  Therefore, I try my best to prepare him for it all, to have the solid foundation of his parents to turn to when he’s finding a place for himself in this world.

I once told one of Andrew’s colleagues that I’ve always wanted a daughter because of my politics and feminist beliefs.  She said something to me then that made so much sense.  A mother of two sons herself she said, “I want to raise kind, good men because I think that’s important too.”  And it’s so true.  We can always use more men who are secure enough to not be intimidated or slighted by strong women.  We need men who love women and themselves, not their ego.  He definitely has a great role model in his father.  My husband has never been afraid to take chances and to find a path that reflects his wants and wishes.  He is secure enough in himself that very few things bother him.

Unfortunately, so much of the performance of masculinity is based on disrespecting others.  So that’s what I’m trying to counter.  In truth, I will be the first to sign him up for hockey, soccer, golf and ski lessons.  It’s not necessarily because I expect him to act a certain way, I just want him to be around driven people and to be inspired by them.  What’s wrong with expecting excellence in yourself?  People speak so much of the negativity of pressure but there are positives to competition too.  I will try to teach him to acknowledge his fears but to overcome them.  Because lets face it, growing up as a male in North America he will be taught soon enough that he can’t fear anything.  There are always rewards to performing a certain type of masculinity and I want him to find himself amongst all of that but to strive for more.  So he’ll play the piano, learn to appreciate art and what makes the world beautiful and worthwhile.  I hope that he will understand his privilege and the different (not lesser) state of others in the world.

Because there’s going to be a point when my job will be done and he’s going to have to decide what is right or wrong for him.  I’m just trying to equip him with the empathy, morals and values to influence those choices.  That’s when I hope our relationship will change.  Where we are there for him as parents but that he will have his own life and privacy, much like we have ours.  This is when we can’t and won’t really judge his decisions anymore.  I’ve always told my husband that I’ll know that we’ve done a good job if he wants to vacation with us, to spend time with us.  But at the moment he’s my snuggle monster and that’s my favourite part of the day.  It’s when we’re lounging in bed, when he’s in my arms telling me about his friends, toys and snacks at daycare.  You, me and Freud know that this won’t last forever but I hope that he’ll grow up not being afraid to treat others well, that it doesn’t make him a lesser person.  Knowing that love does not make him weak.

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After the party

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I once said “there’s nothing like a social climber trying to prove their worth with a major celebration.”  Wow, that sounded much harsher in print but I don’t mean for it to be.  We’re all social climbers, and probably always will be unless you’re Prince William.  Negotiating the intricate workings of the class system is inescapable and we try to survive through markers of privilege and accomplishments.  It requires work but those who are best make it seem effortless.  Because of the ease with which they read contexts and people they are often rewarded with praise, love and popularity.  There’s probably a reason why the word “cool” denotes lack of passion.  Those who know best could care less what you think of them, or at least they give that impression, and it’s irresistible.  One of my favourite phrases is “fake it till you make it” because it denotes the performance aspect of confidence, backed up with some level of competence.  Till you’re established on solid ground I think most of us have to not be disingenuous per say, but sometimes pretend to be more than the sum of our parts.  I guess it’s a good form of hustling right, and you are nowhere without working hard and having some of that finesse.

One of the biggest performances people take part in is through their wedding and I feel like this is just an extension of the social project.  One of the curses of grad school is that you start to see through everything.  My husband loves it because it’s a part of his nature but I just find it exhausting sometimes.  On occasion it’s a bit more fun to enjoy things at the surface level right?  But, now I can’t even help it if I wanted to and it’s made worse by the fact that I married someone who sees the same strings on people’s show.  Don’t get me wrong, we are the first to point out our strings too, it’s just that we can sometimes push each other on and be a bit judgemental.  Returning to the wedding, I always love a good party and so I found planning my own not a source of stress at all.  The only difficult part was trying to balance the budget and this is where I continually reminded myself of the performance aspect.  Did I really need that centrepiece?  What am I trying to say with it?  Do I need it to prove something?  This was also coloured by my own perspective of how I was about to enter marriage, not a fancy dress ball.  I preferred to be grounded.  From the minute I started to plan the whole thing I knew that it was a commitment to work.  I regret being way too pragmatic now because I think it took away some of the romance of it.  If I had to do it over that’s the only thing I would change—to have a more balanced approach of practicality and emotions.  But really, when you already live with your husband, do you need to be apart the night before the wedding?  I didn’t give into that superstition or tradition because when you’ve known each other since you were 14 and started dating at 16, you go through a lot and you’re more confident that you can probably get though anything.  So, when I designed our wedding day, the most important thing to me was that it represented us.  There’s definitely some negotiation involved in the process and you make concessions due to cost and parental wishes, but that’s the one thing I didn’t want to lose.  Some people say that they barely remember their wedding day but I feel lucky that this was not the case for me.  Weather-wise, there were thunder storms throughout the whole day, less than ideal yes but it was almost a relief.  As soon as that happened I literally just said forget it, I’m going to have fun.  The pressure was gone and I began to relish in the most important part: the people.  We just felt like it was one of those rare moments when the whole room was filled with people, from all over the world, to love us and wish us the best.  So, I ate my dinner, enjoyed the company of my best friends in the wedding party, did not walk around the room once during the reception, danced and drank some vodka.  You only get one day and my advice to a bride is to remember your partner, be with each other and float in the warmth.  Having such a day gave me something to come back to in my marriage.  Through the hard times, because trust me we’ve had plenty after that party in August six years ago, I try to reconnect with that day and how I felt.  There was a support system there, our guests wanted our union to succeed, to thrive, and so it made me return to him, us, our history.  That’s what your wedding day is for.

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Embodiment

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They often say that managing our bodies is all about control.  Well of course it is.  I’m not trying to make light of the pressures that exist for both sexes to conform to certain societal expectations of thinness or muscular definition.  After all, it’s this ultimate performance that causes the breakdown of will, wears on bodies and can result in death.  What I do want to do is to bring out some of the complexities in these stories because after all, the easy way out is to blame it all on society, magazines and love songs.  Whenever anything is too easy that’s when I become suspicious and I know that there is more to discuss, unpack and tease out.

As women, our bodies change throughout our life phase.  Our present image may not reflect our fourteen, twenty-two or forty year old selves.  However, I find that the body is often most scrutinized when you are an expectant mother.  This is probably one of the only times when you’re allowed to gain weight and not feel marginalized because of the added mass.  In my own experience, I loved it because for the first time since my prepubescent days I didn’t need to be self-conscious of my protruding stomach.  Rather, my body was celebrated, problematically of course, as the ultimate as a marker of femininity.  But this changes rather quickly when you’ve given birth to your child and those pressures to present a normative aesthetic return.  It’s not just your independence and regular sleep patterns that you lose in the first few months, it’s also having to live in a body that you might no longer recognize, with scars and badges of how you and your life has changed.  So where do you go from here?

The cruelty of the beauty industry has long been documented but what about the pleasures?  I believe that this portrait is too reductionist and doesn’t show the agency of choosing the outcome.  Is there not satisfaction in trying, through self-discipline and hard work, to have your body be the vessel of your inner self?  With confidence and self-worth you are often able to present a more nuanced version of yourself that can not only impact your professional life but personal as well.  Who doesn’t want to be around someone who is completely comfortable in their own skin?  Lets keep it real, we all have moments of self-doubt but happiness can help you become more resilient.  Probably the two most important lessons I’ve learnt thus far are that not everyone will like you and that it’s much easier to enjoy the peaks when you no longer fear the valleys.  What’s to fear anyways?  We all have our ticket for when to leave, it’s just a matter of enjoying each day that we’re given.  So I say take pleasure in your body, whatever form it takes.  And let go of the guilt that you’re just giving into what is expected of you.

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What’s in a name?

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One of the first feminist readings I completed for undergrad said that as a woman, you first belong to your father and then your husband through your name.  I would cite the theorist if I could but unfortunately I cannot remember her name.  Ha.  Her words did resonate with me though and made me consider how marriage would impact my last name, which really was just adding to my laundry list of issues with this social marker.  It is something that’s always unsettled me and an aspect that I still grapple with.  You know those people that boldly say, oh, what makes you different is the greatest gift?  Well, in many cases that is very true and should be celebrated.  But in other instances it is the thorn at your side that you just have to live with.

Burmese women generally keep their names intact for a myriad of reasons I’m sure but mostly because naming is something that is taken very seriously in the culture.  Some parents take up to several months to name a child and that is only after careful consideration and consultations with astrological charts.  Your name becomes like your thumb print, unique to the day, time and stars of your birth and an embodiment of your parents’ aspirations for you.  So, not wanting to mess with the stars I considered combining the two names.  Ei Phyu Han-Smith, which for some reason it sounded like the keys on a typewriter.  The sounds were too harsh and didn’t fit.  It’s like when you call a helpline and the automated voice has a different tone and lilt for each option which ultimately does not go well together.  Therefore, after the wedding I just didn’t change it all.  I didn’t race down to city hall and the line-ups and just left it as it is.

A few years later I decided that I wanted to take my husband’s name.  I loved him, I loved the child that I was about to have and I wanted us to be a team, a unit.  In my father’s eyes I was changing my fate by making such a transformation but don’t we do that everyday with our choices anyways?  It felt like I was committing to my partner again and it finally felt right.  That was three years ago and everything from my driver’s licence to passport signifies that I am indeed a “Smith.”  But somehow people are still adding “Han” to my name, hyphenating and extending it.  In a completely irrational way, it bothers me.  It annoys me still when other women remind me of their hyphenated name and how they could never be Mrs. Whoever.  I’m all for having opinions as long as you’re open to women choosing what’s right for them.  But, I try to remember that identity projects are all well and good but we live in a social world.  It’s strange that you can embody something in such a distinct and legal way but it takes time for it to be adopted in your circle, your environment.

One time when I went to a Starbucks and stated that my name was “Smith” the cashier replied: “I’m assuming that it’s for someone else.”  Obviously, he is a racist prick but what made me more angry was that for my case I chose that name, and yes it was insulting but it wasn’t devastating.  What if I had been adopted and he reduced my identity that way?  Then I thought of my son and how he too is C. Smith but how will people react when his body might not necessarily reflect a part of his blood and heritage?  However, he’s growing up in a very different context and cultural milieu.  Half of his daycare class is not just of mixed ancestry but half-Asian.  When I went to middle school I was one of 5 Asian people in my school.  So, he’ll negotiate his identity and his world in a very different way and that’s fascinating, fruitful and productive.  So what’s in a name?  History, identity, pleasure and anxiety all melded together in flesh and bones.  There is more at stake than a line on an envelope so take care when you’re addressing it.

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Loving women

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Leading up to Mother’s Day I wanted to write a short tribute to two incredible women whom I love.  But then I realized that this wouldn’t do justice to all of the women who have inevitably made such a mark on my life.

But first, I need to speak of my mother.  Ever since I was a young girl I thought that my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world.  Obviously aesthetically she is beautiful and has such a great sense of style, but what makes her gorgeous in my eyes is the way that she lives her life with such grace.  Her calm and gentle approach to life can make it easy to sometimes underestimate her, but she is the strongest woman I know.  She is also the funniest and let me give you some example of my mother’s wit.  One weekend we were over at my parents’ house and I was in the dining room reading.  She was playing with my son and I overhear her saying, “Ask your mommy to brush you hair everyday C.  I know that she never brushes her hair.”  Yes my friends, because I wear my naturally wavy hair in a pony tail and have long given up the fight with the flat iron, I never brush my hair.  It made me laugh.  The other day C. had a cough and throughout the whole day, she kept asking me to give him cough syrup.  He is two years old and the paediatrician has already said that cough suppressants don’t work and that it’s something that his system has to work through.  This is not just for kids, we all have to let our immune system deal with it.  So I finally said, “can you stop telling me to give my child alcohol (which is what cough syrup mainly is).”  To which she replied: “you are like one of those people who don’t use electricity.”

I’ve always wanted to be exactly like her and I still do.

In turn my late grandmother can be described as the polar opposite to my mother.  She had a big and outspoken personality that everyone was drawn to.  Professionally she never allowed anything, from her gender, ethnicity or nationality stop her from achieving her goals.  Her fearlessness is something I continually try to emulate.  This is a woman who completed her PhD in Canada and traveled to Moscow and Mongolia with the UN.  She had a light that people just wanted to be within.  And I’m lucky to have known her and be loved by her because like with everything, she loved well.  She’s taught me everything I know but the two lessons that I remember most is when she told me not to marry an extreme (religious, political) or controlling man and to always have enough money in the bank account to leave.  She told me this when I was eleven.  She spent some time with my husband before he proposed and the fact that she genuinely adored him was probably one of the main reasons I said yes.  That’s how much I trusted her judgement.  I was with my husband in Paris recently and we were sitting in this beautiful, modern restaurant in the Opera house.  I started speaking of her and he said that I was crying in restaurants again (the other moment was when we had a tiff in a famous tearoom earlier in the week).  But I couldn’t help it, it was suffocating how much I missed her.  I miss her every single day.

Lastly, I feel so lucky to know so many strong, incredible women.  My best friend K, has literally seen me at my worst when I was making questionable life choices and when I wasn’t very happy either.  But she is my truest friend, someone who will love me unconditionally.  She is also one of the first people I want to see when I am oh so happy, like I am now.  To the women, K, P and T, who are technically my cousins but actually my sisters, my beautiful aunts, my best girlfriends and all of the ladies who were my family in Chiang Mai and Mae Sot, I just want to say thank you.  Thank you for your friendship, your light and the strengths of your character.

To say that I love women would be an understatement.  I majored in Women’s Studies during my undergrad, I define myself as a feminist political geographer for my doctoral studies and I want to devote my career, whatever form it takes, working towards equal opportunity for genders and those of different ethnicities, abilities and sexualities.  But I couldn’t feel this much passion if I didn’t have such great role models and for that I am eternally indebted to all of you.  Much love.

 

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6 things I wish I knew before becoming a mother

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Here are a couple of thoughts that have been on my mind for awhile.  And when I say awhile I mean almost two years since I first became a mother.  Perhaps it’s because I want to let them go, or to have a formal record to refer to when I have my next one, but here goes…

1. Feel safe

This is not the time to be packing up your belongings and moving homes (both things I did).  You life is about to undergo a major change and this is when you need to feel the most secure and settled.  Get your nursery together, build up your space, fluff those nesting feathers because you will need a solid anchor when everything is in a whirl.

2. Don’t buy into it all

When you are expecting your first child, everyone and their mother will be trying to sell you stuff.  You do not need all of these things and I made a conscious effort to be as pragmatic as possible (maybe a bit too much, which I will address later).  Be a smart shopper and read the reviews.  At the beginning all they need are the basics and you.

3. Also get what you want

Having said the above, I do wish that I had allowed myself a couple more luxuries.  People will be telling you that you will have too much after your baby showers but you know what, buy those onesies in the 0-3 size.  Do what you need to do to feel prepared.  That is the one thing you owe to yourself.

4. Things will change

I am seriously the person who wants to buy a Christmas ornament organizer.  I want to wrap all of the little pieces in tissue and gently place them in the square boxes.  I like control and when things go awry, I get frazzled, even if I pretend to be zen.  When my son arrived 2 weeks early, I was thrown off base and didn’t recover for awhile.  I was suddenly thrown into a new territory where my independence was gone and I was responsible for someone other than myself.  It was scary but the love that I feel for him is something I feel for no one else.

5. Take comfort in the good and cut out the filler

No matter what your support system is like you will always have the worrywart who makes you question your parenting methods.  Really, who needs a parrot on your shoulder echoing your own insecurities?  Not me.  Next time, I will tune out this chatter and draw from the good stuff.  My aunt used to write me emails saying that my son was growing so much and that I was doing a good job.  That is the good stuff.

6. Be gentle to yourself

Having had no younger siblings, I really had no idea what I was doing initially.  Sure, I was a camp counsellor and babysat the neighbour’s kids but the youngest was a solid four year old, not a wriggling, delicate newborn.  Be kind to yourself in spite of your doubts because we all struggle when we’re making our way.  Make a conscious effort to take care of yourself.

The best part of it all?  All of it: the sleepless nights, teething, night training and fits, they all pass.  And in the end, I truly believe that your kids are the most fascinating people you are lucky enough to know.

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To not be a ‘woman’ at all

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The other night I watched “Woman of the year” (1942) which is the first movie that Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn worked on together.  Their on-screen chemistry is legendary and the pair went onto to collaborate on nine films in total.  In their personal lives they had a long partnership but never married because Tracy being a Catholic could not divorce his wife.  He lived with Katherine while being estranged from his wife till his death and the couple maintained a “secret” relationship.  When Spencer Tracy died Katherine called up his wife and asked to be friends and to offer help raising the kids but his wife responded “oh, I thought you were a rumor.”  Pretty heavy and complicated stuff.

With regards to the film “Woman of the year” I absolutely loved it.  Tracy is a gruff sports writer and what you would classify as a “man’s man.”  As problematic as classifications always are, let just say that he’s a man who would want his wife to cater to his every emotional and material need.  However, he’s attracted to and marries Hepburn’s character Tess who is a political analyst, intelligent and busy. After their courtship the film documents all the strain that is being but on the couple by Tess’ schedule and travel demands.  When the relationship has deteriorated Tracy indicates that Tess may be awarded “woman of year” by the public but she’s not a “woman” at all.  I promise that there is a happy ending and a famous breakfast scene where Tess tries to cook for him and show him that she is a “woman.”  The scene is pure comic genius.

No matter how I may have gasped at her attempts at reconciliation and the concessions she makes in her career and identity, these were the pressures placed on women in the 1940s.  Although circumstances have changed for woman today I don’t believe that it’s completely gone.  My own husband and those of my other friends are willing to help out with household duties that men of another generation would have been appalled at.  However, I believe that it is way more complicated than that.  There are definitely generational differences that I observe even in my own life.  Our mothers are women who fought hard to have careers and maintain the family life at the same time.  Whether these goals were met through paid childcare or other assistance, they are proud that many of them “have it all.”  I sense an anxiety there that they have to come home exhausted and still cater to the needs of their families with perfection.  Is it wrong that I don’t feel the same sort of pressure?  Is it because I’m just lucky to have a supportive and actual “partner” who puts in the time to develop our relationship and home?  The truth of the matter is that I feel like for many women of my generation careers are a given, giving up employment to be mother is not something to be ashamed of, and every single thing does not have to be perfect anymore.  If being a “woman” and an empowered one at that no longer has the baggage of putting on a facade I am grateful.  This is not to say that I don’t acknowledge all of the work and sacrifices that came before us to get us where we are today.  I just hope to raise a generation after us who knows that the most important thing is choice, acceptance and the embracing of frailty.  There is something beautiful in knowing that your sense of self is strong and ever-changing and to own what you choose to build for yourself.  I believe it’s crucial to take responsibility for your choices, really being in the moment and supporting other women on their paths.