This is the rough draft of the second part of the first chapter of Chelona's latest work. To read the first part click Part 1, then click "back" to get to this installment.

The Ordinary World

That's Just The Way It Is

By Chelona Edgerly, Ph.D.

LOSS OF VOICE

Speaking our mind often causes conflict with those around us. The fear of that conflict keeps women from voicing their opinions. We have been taught from childhood to speak softly, to wait our turn and to speak only when spoken to. Our voices have gotten us in trouble in the past and we have learned through time to be silent.

Those who are not proficient at handling conflict cannot and will not assert themselves. To state one's opinion usually involves stepping on the toes of another person. When the conflict becomes heated, a women with no skills in conflict management will back down and appease the other person.

Women are taught as children to be afraid of using their voices. These teachings begin as adults tell children to hush, be quiet, talk softly, speak only when spoken to. Again the dichotomy between what is expected and allowed of little boys is strikingly different from what is expected and permitted of little girls. Boys are often encouraged to speak up, to talk louder and to assert themselves into conversations, while girls are told to be serene and quiet, waiting patiently for their turn to speak, -- a turn which often never comes. And when women do talk, they are taught to speak quietly, to be reserved and subdued in their manner and emotions.

Our schools have taught us and are still teaching our daughters to be silent as well. It is well documented that in the typical classroom setting boys get called upon to speak much more often than girls. Even those teachers who are very aware of these statistics and are working hard to change their ways find that when an objective observer studies their classroom, they too are still calling on the boys with greater frequency than the girls.

Secretary of State, Madalyn Albright, spoke of her own struggle with learning to speak up for herself in the political arena. Often early in her career she would hold back in meetings waiting for the right moment to interject her thoughts and ideas. Waiting for a pause in the conversation where she could politely speak up. Only to find that before the "right moment" arrived another group member, usually a male, would voice her ideas and the credit would go to him.

Ms. Albright speaks to women and girls about this issue, encouraging them to open their mouths, to put forth their ideas and to speak their minds. When she was teaching at the college level she worked with her female students, encouraging them to interrupt, to speak quickly and loudly and to vigorously put forth their ideas.

But, without this kind of strong encouragement girls lose their voices at an early age. Mary Pipher in Reviving Ophelia reminds us how much is lost for girls during the adolescent years. When a young girl begins to realize that her thoughts, words and opinions don't matter, she is silenced, her words choking her airways. When she expresses feelings and is told not to feel that way or when she expresses pain and is told to suffer in silence--she begins to do just that.

I remember very clearly a time when I was a child of about eight or nine years. My father had just bought a new car and was eagerly showing it to my two older brothers. Wanting to be included in the process I came over to look at the car. It was summer time and I was wearing shorts. Quite by accident as I was walking around the car I brushed up against the tail pipe which was extremely hot, burning my thigh quite badly. I spoke up quickly, complaining to my father that I had hurt my leg. He brushed me off without even looking at the leg. "Oh, just stop whining!" was his response. As is often the case with burns the damage did not become apparent until several hours later. When the blisters were finally visible, he accepted the fact that I had indeed burned my leg. But the damage was done. The scar still remains today as one more nail was put into the coffin that held my voice.

The women I work with often have stories of how their voices were silenced, sometimes inadvertently and sometimes very purposefully, and how they learned to be manipulative in order to be heard.

Nan's story is an all to common tale of one whose voice was silenced over the years by adults who would not listen. By the time I met Nan she was a very soft spoken, shy young woman. She came into my office due to depression and had attempted suicide on several occasions. Trust did not come easily for Nan and getting her to talk and to tell me her story took much time and patience.

As her story slowly began to unfold, I learned that Nan had been sexually abused as a child by her mother's boyfriend. When she attempted to tell her mother after the first incident occurred, she was told, "He would never do anything like that!", and ordered her to stop making up stories.

The boyfriend, seeing his opportunity continued to abuse Nan for several years, knowing that his secret was safe and that Nan would not be believed. In fact, he often reinforced her fear by reminding her that even her own mother did not believe her.

Nan became increasingly more withdrawn and silent as the abuse progressed. Finally, out of desperation to be heard, Nan attempted suicide, hoping that her mother would at last understand and believe her. Instead her mother saw her behavior as manipulative and mean. When her mother asked her why she had taken the pills, Nan again tried to tell her mother of the abuse. Once more her mother became angry, rejecting Nan's story and telling Nan that she was just jealous of the attention which her mother paid to the boyfriend. This time Nan was punished further for her attempt to speak the truth and sent to live with a distant relative. At least she was away from the abuse.

But Nan had learned a very powerful lesson; speaking the truth, using your voice leads to punishment and abandonment. No wonder that by the time I met her voice was barely audible, if she spoke at all.

Nan's story, although more dramatic than most, is certainly not unique in the lives of women today. How many times through our growing up years are we told that our experiencing of an event is wrong, or that we 'misunderstood' another's intent? How many times are we hushed to silence by the adults in our world? How many times is a young girl told that her ideas are not important only to discover that boy sitting next to her in class has the same idea and is being praised for it? From the big events in our lives to the small incidents, they add up over time and many women enter adulthood with the profound realization that their voices don't count.

LOSS OF BODY

Women also have an immense fear of their bodies. We generally will not look,--really look at ourselves in the mirror. When we do look, it is as if we are looking at an object. Our nose is too big our eyes the wrong color our hips too large and our breasts too saggy. We treat our bodies as if they are not a part of ourselves but simply a package to be reformed and reshaped to some unspoken standard.

Over the past several hundreds years women have changed dramatically in how they relate to and look at their bodies. During the Pre Industrial revolution times women were needed to work in the fields along side their husbands. Consequently their bodies grew strong. They were valued for their physical prowess because it was needed for the survival of the species. Even the art work of previous times portrays women in bodies that are much stronger physically, much rounder and heavier--all good indications of a women who could not only work well physically, but could also withstand the strain of childbearing.

As the Victorian times came around women were relegated to the house. They were seen as weak and fragile and unable to take care of themselves. They were protected from the harsh realities of life. Certainly, even the clothing of the time contributed to the change in body image. Imagine for a moment running in a hoop shirt, or even breathing hard in the famous corsets. Women were no longer allowed or expected to be physically active and the preferred beauty of the day appeared weak, frail and about to faint.

Our modern era again changed the way women look at and relate to their bodies. There has developed a national preoccupation with reshaping the female form. We see this obsession with reshaping in the enormous plastic surgery industry, the burgeoning cosmetic industry and even in the extremely popular exercise industry. The models of the perfect female are continuing to change as well. From the big busted, rounded curves of Marilyn Monroe of the 1950's, to the flat chested, asexual Twiggy of the 1970's and now the combination bodies - large breasts with small hips of the super models of today. Many modern women of today stretch and strain, cut and tuck, pay and suffer in order to obtain the bodies they wish they had from birth. At the same time, they hate the bodies they do have and emotionally detach from them.

Most women I speak with relate when I say that for many, many years I existed from my neck up. Whenever I speak on this subject, women's heads nod in agreement while the men look at me blankly. Women have learned to detach themselves from their bodies and then view these same bodies as separate from themselves. For me, I lost touch with my body about the age of 12. Prior to that time I loved to run and jump and climb trees and swing from anything that was high off the ground. After that time I stopped running, put my body in the deep freeze and tried very hard to stay out of physical education classes.

Gradually, in the 80's and 90's women have started to get active again in their bodies. The exercise movement has blossomed with motion of all types and intensity. Very recently, strength training has been added to the acceptable and now necessary forms of exercise for women.

Women are often shocked and surprised at the strength of their bodies as they begin to explore and unleash their power. I remember Tammy as she walked into the group for the first time. She was young, quiet and extremely soft spoken. She stood back from the rest of the group, timid and fearful. With the first punch she threw, I knew Tammy had something special - she was very, very strong. But she didn't know it yet. Her kicks were incredibly powerful and yet she looked like she was hardly trying. While others puffed and panted learning to focus their power and increase their strength, she stood serenely, landing powerful kicks that sent her partners flying across the room. Yet she still had no awareness of her own strength. She was encouraged to "let go" to stop holding back her power--yet with a shy smile and a shake of her head she continued to restrain herself. Several months after the group ended, I got a call from Tammy, Quietly, always quietly, but with obvious delight in her voice, she reported to me that she had just broken her first board with her bare hand! Hurrah, she has claimed her strength and now delights in her strong, powerful body.

The 1996 Olympic Games also added to the acceptability of a strong female form. Dot Richardson, the softball captain, made a wonderful example of a woman strong in both body and mind. On leave from her medical residency training, she is certainly intellectually capable. Her body, muscular and strong, was obvious for all to see. And her delight in her game, her team and herself was a true joy to behold. With women like Dot Richardson as role models we are on the way to revolutionizing the female form one more time. This time we come back around again to where physical strength is an asset, seen as both necessary and sensual.

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