Heroine Worship - Part Three -- Getting high on heroines

I’m hosting an evening in New York City at KGB on Thursday night with three terrific women writers (Masha Hamilton, Stacy Parker Aab and Louisa Ermelino) We will be reading from our own work and sharing the incredible true stories of women from the Afghan Women’s Writing Project. The title of the evening is Ordinary Women: Extraordinary Heroines. Our goal is to get you to think about your favorite heroines and if possible, to begin to think of yourself as the heroine of your own story. Over the next few days I will be blogging my thoughts on being a heroine.

Part Three -- Getting high on heroines
I was reminded the other night of the many lectures I heard during high school and college about the "hero's journey." As any good English teacher will tell you it is the stuff of all the great literature. Let's face it, The Odyssey wouldn't be much if there wasn't...well...a journey. The great stories of the ages and the lessons of history are filled with men who have struggled to overcome great obstacles to triumph.

I grew up on these stories and as much as I could I was inspired by them. I have to admit though, it was hard at times to relate to these men. The problem wasn't their story, their challenge or their choices, the problem was more basic, they were all men.

You don't hear much about the great women of our time when you grew up in a suburb of Pittsburgh in the late 60s and early 70s. Sure it was a time of "female liberation" but that didn't mean public school curriculum was ready to put the spotlight on anyone other than caucausion men.

Sure there were a few notable women, but they were treated as a fluke or novelty. The apporach was less reverential and more "hey sometimes women can help too!"

I was lucky to have some solid female role models in my life and a father who believed his daughters should be seen, heard and respected (except of course when he was speaking) so although I sought out some of the great women of history and literature I never understood what it was like to feel the power of a heroine. That is until I saw Sigourney Weaver in Aliens.

My sister dragged me to the sequal and promised that I wouldn't be lost even though I never made it through a whole viewing of the original Alien. From the moment Ripley comes back to life I was hooked. Here was a flawed, jaded, intelligent woman thrust into a incredible situation and forced to dig deep and fight the aliens.

Imagine my surprise when I, the fierce gun control advociate, found myself routing for her to blow those suckers away. At last I understood what my brothers were getting from Batman, comic books and Clint Eastwood movies. When there is someone like you on the big screen or in the center of a big story you connect to their struggle, to their fear but most of all you connect to their power.

Ripley digs deep and comes out a fighter. She doesn't cower in the corner and weep over a superficial wound and she doesn't look pretty while kicking alien butt. She looks strong and powerful and beautiful. She embodies everything a heroine should be to me.

Aliens made me hunger for more. If a hollywood movie could make me feel this way, certainly there were books and women from history that could do the same. Since then I have actively sought out stories that give me that feeling of connectedness and of power. In a way it has become part of a practice I think of as Heroine Worship.

My heroines come in all shapes and sizes and are women from all walks of life. Like their "hero" counterparts, they too are on a journey of discovery. I marvel at the accomplishments and challenges of so many women and yearn to have our stories reflected back in literature, movies, art and the media. I want my nieces and all the young women in our lives to access these stories, to understand the full breadth of experience women can have and most of all I want them to fell that exhiliration when their heroine seizes her power and rises to the challenge.

The stories are out there, the heroines are everywhere, ordinary women doing extraordinary things not waiting for the spotlight of recognition or the acknowledgement of history. My guess is you know a few of them yourself. In fact, you might just be one of them.

Heroine Worship - Part Two - Ordinary Women

I’m hosting an evening in New York City at KGB on Thursday night with three terrific women writers (Masha Hamilton, Stacy Parker Aab andLouisa Ermelino) We will be reading from our own work and sharing the incredible true stories of women from the Afghan Women’s Writing Project. The title of the evening is Ordinary Women: Extraordinary Heroines. Our goal is to get you to think about your favorite heroines and if possible, to begin to think of yourself as the heroine of your own story. Over the next few days I will be blogging my thoughts on being a heroine.

There is a cashier at my local supermarket who greets me with a big smile every time I load my goods on her counter. She is short and a little stocky, has died short red hair that is lightly teased to cover some thinning patches. In the winter she wears a long green sweatshirt under her maroon smock and always has a few tissues stuffed in her left cuff. Her cheeks are pocked from a rough ride with acne during her teen years but a light pink blush highlights her soft brown eyes.

Her son and daughter work part time at the supermarket with her. Her husband is on disability from his job working for a local builder. He is recovering from throat cancer. She has survived two bouts of breast cancer.

She tells me she is grateful for every day as she passes my yogurt, bananas, milk, cookies, eggs, potatoes, cans, jars, and paper goods past the scanner with lightening speed. She doesn't even have to look for the bar code on most of the items, she tilts the packages as if she sees it in her minds eye.

She spent some time in foster care after her mother died and her father drank himself off the grid for a while. He cleaned up, took her and her brother back home for her remaining teen years. She married her high school sweetheart when she got pregnant, had her first baby at eighteen and took her father in when he got too sick to take care of himself. Three years later her daughter was born and her mother-in-law moved in with them.

Her son is diabetic, she shot him with insulin until he was ten and then taught him how to do it. She wants to go to Italy one day but doesn't know when since there is so much to do every day. She thinks I should eat more beets and tells me if I pickle them they will taste better.

She said she misses the sound of her husband's voice, the way he growled a little right before he laughed and in spite of all the rough days they had together they laughed a lot. Now he wheezes a bit when he laughs, his voice is repairing and it will be a while before they know whether or not he will be able to speak.

She works the register like it is an extension of her, another limb that can calculate quickly. She troubleshoots the other cashiers problems and shouts out prices without turning to see the item in question. Her conveyor belt is clean, if your chicken spills juice she wipes it down before the man behind me unloads.

She is taking a class at night, trying to slowly earn her undergraduate degree. She reads two books a week and the paper every day. She likes Hummus now after I told her to try the Horseradish flavor.

She is one of the cashiers at my local supermarket, a mother, a daughter, a student, a friend, a wife and she is a heroine.

Heroine Worship - Part One - It's a bird, it's a plan, it's YOU!

I’m hosting an evening in New York City at KGB on Thursday night with three terrific women writers (Masha Hamilton, Stacy Parker Aab and Louisa Ermelino) We will be reading from our own work and sharing the incredible true stories of women from the Afghan Women’s Writing Project. The title of the evening is Ordinary Women: Extraordinary Heroines. Our goal is to get you to think about your favorite heroines and if possible, to begin to think of yourself as the heroine of your own story. Over the next few days I will be blogging my thoughts on being a heroine.

Part One -- It's a bird, it's a plane, it's YOU!
What comes to mind when you think about heroines? Is there a book or story that inspired you or is there someone in your life you consider a heroine? Have you ever thought about the women that have influenced you over the years? What qualities do they possess that you admire?

Now think about yourself, what qualities do you like about yourself? What is heroic about you? Have you ever thought of yourself as a heroine (or hero?) If so, why? If no, why not?

The word heroine is expansive. When I give myself permission to think of myself a heroine I have the urge to stand with my hands on my hips and my face pointed toward the sun (exactly like the graphic on our poster!) Heroine is a word that has power. It makes you feel like you are the captain of your ship, the pilot of your plane, the CEO of Corporation You. It feels that way because it is true. You may play lead or supporting roles in other stories but there is no other story in which you are the hero but your own.

Take a moment and imagine a movie or book being written about your life, who would play you? How would you describe YOU as a character in a novel? What would the story be about?

The greatest stories ever told are not always fantastical adventures, in fact, if you want drama, heartache, battles with dark forces, adversity, pain and suffering, chances are you can find it in your own story. The trick is to decide whether you triumph in the end and “live to tell your story” or whether you wither in the background and let fate determine your destiny.

We are all ordinary people and extraordinary heroines. Keeping our stories to ourselves is kind of like having a cape and not using it. So dare to tell your stories with you as the hero, struggling and achieving, and ultimately triumphant. Share your truth with the world. It may just be the most radical thing you ever do.

New Year, Old You

It is clear we all need to improve. If you don't believe it just turn on the television or pick up a magazine and you will find lots of advice on what we can do to stick to our New Year's resolutions. If you believe what you read you will discover we are all fat, lazy, and unhealthy adults who don't save enough money or plan for our future.

I'm all for being the best version of yourself you can be and I have committed to a few New Year's resolutions that include health and well being but my biggest resolution is to appreciate myself more. Sounds crazy, I know but I think the most radical thing any of us can do is to simply like and accept ourselves.

I know it's easier said than done. So much of our thinking and self-awareness is based on messages we are bombarded with daily through the media, our friends and our own personal history. If something goes wrong in our lives, the fault must lie within, bad things wouldn't be happening if we weren't lacking in some area. Feeling bereft of some critical quality or talent leaves us wanting and what is better in a consumer society than that?

I think if I asked you right now to name five things you want to change about yourself you could come up with the list pretty quickly, some of us would have to pare down. Now if I asked you to name five things you like, well I'm guessing that would be a little harder. It's bad enough we don't allow ourselves regular access to those things but when we do we feel embarrassed to "brag" about it.

Back when I was studying acting at NYU I did a love scene with an actor in my class. During the class critique the teacher asked my partner if there was anything specific he did to prepare for the scene, he said, "I focused on Teri's lips, she has the best lips I have ever seen." I was confused by this as I never thought my lips were anything to write home about, they are thin (I barely have an upper lip) and not voluptuous at all. I caught up with him at dinner that night and told him I couldn't believe he said that about my lips. I was trying to convince him that what he liked about me was wrong. He smiled and said, "Teri, you don't get to pick what I like about you."

Sometimes I hear a friend lament the length of their eyelashes, their inability to finish a book quickly, their lack of taste in men, their weight, etc. I rarely hear anyone say, "I like how I look in this or I love how I listen to old people." Why don't we do that?

Maybe the best resolution for all of us us to encourage each other to focus on what is good about each of us and instead of spending our time seeking a new and improved self we should take our old self out for a nice lunch and enjoy its' company. After allm like my scene partner taught me, we don't get to pick what people like about us, we only get to do that for ourselves.

Here's to a New Year filled with wondrous discoveries about YOU!