An Obligation for Change

I have always loved Meryl Streep. There's just something about her that makes you want to be her friend. She's seemingly softspoken, her voice almost lulls you into thinking she would agree with just about everything and everyone. (She would tell you that's why men like her.) Yet, I think the secret behind why women love her is in the way she carries herself with purpose and an unassuming confidence that makes you want to walk beside her because you know this chick is taking the world by storm whether you like it or not. She has a take charge kind of personality without being overbearing, and when you watch her on screen, you believe her. She's authentic to who she is. She's real.

I think Meryl and I could be friends.

So, when my father of all people asked me to watch Meryl's 2010 Barnard commencement speech, I did simply because I like watching her, and I was feeling slightly nostalgic as my 4-year-old's preschool graduation crept closer. I didn't, however, expect to love Meryl even more after hearing this speech. Not only did this speech resonate with me on several levels, it also made me think about how my father perceives me. It made me wonder if I've been wrong about him.

You see, I have always thought he was disappointed in me...not because of the things I've done but because of what I'm not. I thought I embarrassed him because I wasn't that girl. I am not and never have been the prom queen or even the prom goer, the cheerleader or the popular girl, the pretty one, the agreeable one, the happy-go-lucky, giggly girl all men seem to want on their arm. 

I don't like makeup. I've had a life-long hatred of hairbrushes. I wear dressy dresses only on special occasions or if I run out of clean pants. I sit like a man because it feels better and doesn't give me varicose veins. I like a challenge and to be challenging. I like to curse. I don't think you need to love someone to sleep with them. I don't mind arguments as long as the argument is moving forward and not running in circles. I say what I mean without filter or apology. I need freedom and consistency all at the same time. I am fearless...of people, of places, of rejection, of you, of me. I have a temper, and sometimes I yell way too much for my own good. However, I do have a softer side, and I love affection and loyalty and honesty and beauty and animals and kids and family and flowers and paint...and little girlie drinks with tropical umbrellas in them. And jewelry. Go figure.

For the longest time, I thought my father wanted me to be more like my cousins, girls from the deep South with perfectly applied makeup and silky-straight blonde hair and heels. Girls with cute bodies who know when to giggle after a bad joke or what to say to make a crowd of people love them. My cousins are very agreeable, and my father seemed to love them for it.

I don't know if my father was truly disappointed in me, but if he was, I don't think he is anymore. I think he has finally realized he was searching for the wrong things to be proud of. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter if 100 men thought I was pretty or if every woman wanted to look like me or if my picture on his desk got compliments from his coworkers. It doesn't matter if a crowd of people find me sweet and buttery. What matters is what's ticking in my head and swirling in my soul. What matters is that I'm being who I am and not who the world would prefer me to be. What matters is how strong I am and how much shit I can take without giving in to the world's whimsies about women.

I think I'm pretty strong, and I have a pretty high threshold for the bullshit society throws at me every day simply because I'm a female and not your textbook strand of female either. And, that's a lot of reason to be proud, I think.

Meryl Streep said her greatest characterization was the one she perfected in high school when she decided to deny who she was and to be what every man wanted her to be. She became that girl, and it wasn't until she went to college and surrounded herself with strong, independent, challenging women that she was able to reach deep down into the cobwebbed crevices of her soul and find herself again...the loud, fearless, opinionated, curious, sweet and salty woman that she had stuffed in a box while she experimented with expectation.

Unfortunately, I think Meryl is right. Most people, at first glance, would prefer a woman who is less loud, less opinionated and less forthcoming with herself. Anything other than the norm makes people feel uncomfortable. After all, it's always easier to fit in with the crowd than it is to grow away from the norm.

What I took from Meryl's speech is a lesson I hope to one day instill in my daughter. You can't be it all, do it all or want it all. If you think you can, then you're only going to find yourself empty in the end. What you need to realize is happiness is actually very simple...it's giving into you and no one else. It's the line that divides pretend play and reality. It's the place where your family lives, where you feel the most loved, where you feel free to be you. It's that place where you don't feel an obligation to change yourself to fit the world but a duty to change the world to accept you the way you are.

And, if I have managed even part of this, my dad has every reason to be proud.