Female in Public But, please, call me madam
It happened when I was a brunette, but it seems to happen more now that I am a blonde, even though I am blonde only because I’m older — brown hair is hard to maintain after a certain age. Being older should be a protection against this thing, this condition, yet it isn’t. In fact, it seems to be getting worse all the time. I go to the ballpark, wearing a sensible hat to protect my face from the sun. A beer vendor pokes me in the back and then pokes the brim of the hat: “That’s a Preakness hat,” he instructs me, as if I have violated some sacred code of behavior. I post a declarative status on Facebook and a man presumes I am asking for his advice, despite the lack of a question mark. I attend a book-signing after an 18-hour day, in which I have arisen at 5 a.m. to catch a flight and done three different events. When I return to my hotel room, I find a plaintive e-mail from someone who attended the evening talk: “Do you know you don’t look like your author photo? Do you think that’s fair?”
There were only eight people at the signing and I’m pretty sure I know who my correspondent is — and that he didn’t buy one of my books. Is that fair?
Ah, but there I go again. I am the guilty one. Guilty of being Female in Public. My body, my behavior, my posture, my words — they belong to others, who will judge whether they are suitable or not.
I first noticed this phenomenon when I was 39 (still brunette) and unburdening myself in a restaurant to a dear friend who happens to be a man. I guess, from afar, we appeared to be a couple. Toward the end of the meal, an older man walked over and handed my friend a note, then scuttled away. It said something like this: “The average woman speaks 40,000 words a day, the average man only 4,000.” I am unsure of the ratio or the exact numbers, but one was really big and the other was relatively small. I wanted to run after the man and use up a few more of my apportioned words. But such encounters almost always leave me in mode d’escalier, mouth gaping like a fish to the extent that another man will inevitably say: “Hey, close your mouth.”
Once, just once, I had a rejoinder. A man interrupted my writing at a local coffee house to ask how my “little book” was doing. (The same man also recommended a book on menopause to me despite the fact that it was not something I yet required.) Now, as it happens, I have written 20 books, and this particular little book, my twelfth, was the first to hit the New York Times bestseller list. So I told him that.
“Don’t break your arm patting yourself on your back,” his friend said to me.
I have thought a lot — A LOT — about why men of my father’s age harbor this strong need to correct/scold/instruct me. It does not feel paternalistic to me, not in the least bit, despite the usual age gap of 30 years or so. It feels hostile, like the first scene in some really bad rom-com. We are meeting cute, I guess, but not being in need of rom and capable of supplying my own com, I am not on board for the rest of the story.
I try to see myself as these men see me, this strange woman so in need of correction/scolding/instruction. I am tall, broad-shouldered, and seemingly confident. I have biceps significant enough that a male colleague once jokingly suggested that it would be a kindness to the men on our writing workshop faculty if I stopped wearing sleeveless tops in the group photos. If you are an 85-year-old widower, I am, in my humble estimation, like a trophy wife. And by trophy wife, I mean I look like someone who can lift you on and off the toilet, should it come to that. Except I am not available for toilet duty and perhaps they discern that? My heart belongs to one man. Only he will have the pleasure of my biceps into old age, although, given that he is a little younger than I am, I probably won’t be much use to him by then.
Of course, the ultimate moment of being Female in Public comes when a woman, deep in thought, is told by a strange man to SMILE. (And this happens only to women.) Gentlemen, let’s get this straight. There is no part of my body that belongs to you, not even my facial expression. Stop trying to stake out territory there, whether by legislation or verbal imperative. Plus, it never produces the desired effect.
Ah well, it’s not as bad as being called sir, which happens to me almost as frequently. Once, just once, I stood my ground. “I’m a woman,” I said feebly. “Look at me. I’m a woman.” The man just shrugged. I guess I should be grateful he didn’t advise me to smile.
I'm curious, are you the original author of this?
casualties might be Laura Lippman. That would be very cool.Now, as it happens, I have written 20 books, and this particular little book, my twelfth, was the first to hit the New York Times bestseller list. So I told him that.
This is seems to be written by the famous mystery writer, Laura Lippman. At least that's the name in the top right corner. Tess Monaghan is her private investigator.
I don't ask to find out if it's Laura Lippman per se (though that would be cool) but because they've just copy/pasted and reposted someone's original work here on Hubski. That's not cool and I'd rather not encourage that out of respect for Laura Lippman and other authors. That said, there have been works posted here by authors like Vonnegut etc. but these works tend to be public domain by now. -Fine line. I'd like to know what Laura Lippman would think. Also, casualties, I'm curious as to your thoughts...
Well I'm a guy, and I got told to smile more by a lady who was 30+ one time in my local Starbucks and anywhere I go where its more women to men (hospitals, school things like that), clearly my whole identity is a lie and I'm really a woman. Not that there would be anything wrong with this, but then again maybe I came to this post looking for somewhere to be snarky. Of course, the ultimate moment of being Female in Public comes when a woman, deep in thought, is told by a strange man to SMILE.
This is seriously like #NotAllMen in action right here or something. I'm glad that this experience happens to you and that therefore as a result you are better able to relate to the women that (probably) surround your daily life and (probably) have experienced this kind of behavior from men - not limited to being ordered to smile, but in general the idea that a strange man can walk up to a female and just tell her what he thinks she should do - repeatedly, perhaps even ad nauseum, throughout their lives. I am glad that for a few moments in your life you are able to experience what is a common phenomenon for women, not something that happens once in their life but repeatedly, consistently, throughout pretty much their entire lifetime. Something that happens not only to a single woman but to women, as a group, in general. It's almost like this shared collective experience/sisterhood that you can be a part of now! (Hmm, and they wonder why people who are discriminated against tend to group together. Shared experiences. Shared discrimination. Look, we can even have commentary on how being told to smile makes you feel.) I'm glad that you were able to experience what it's like to be told that "You don't look happy enough for me, I consider it my prerogative to tell you to look happier. No, I don't care why you don't look happy. I just need your unhappy mug to stop messing up my enjoyable view." Or "It is more important that a woman appear to be happy than be happy." Or in other words, a woman's face is far more important than what's going on in her head, and plenty of men seem to feel that they have the right to tell strange women what to do with their faces, which means that hierarchically, what a woman thinks is probably even lower on the respect train. It probably wasn't an enjoyable experience for you. I hate being told to smile. I hate it when people think they have the right to tell me what to do with my life. It's a pretty overarching personality trait of mine and yeah, it does become a flaw at points. If you're anything like me you mentally told at least one of those women to go fuck herself, but you smiled and went on with her day because her intentions were just good. She didn't mean any harm. This reminds me of laughing women eating salad for some reason, probably because in part apparently women have to be happy - i.e., look attractive, pleasing, non-aggressive, and non-disturbing when they're in public.
What I said? I don't see how, because if it was, then I would have said something like "All men aren't like that." You know why I didn't? I don't care about what other men do, I'm only concerned with keeping myself within the good social graces of anybody that I interact with. It's just that simple. Since I've had it happen to me by women on occasion, I'm aware of what a nuisance it is and can be hearing it every damn day... So yes I can relate and I do understand what's going on. To be honest it really wasn't and I wasn't going to say anything because I knew if I did, I would have given her a very good reason I wasn't happy (the Starbucks incident) - a reason I won't mention here because it's not that relevant to the conversation. Actually I told every single one of them (mentally) to fuck off and leave me alone. I do when it happens, which is as I said occasionally. I know what the "laughing women eating salad" thing is. So score one for recognizing something by it's hyperlink. This is seriously like #NotAllMen in action right here or something.
I slightly misread your comment and edited appropriately but to be honest, my tone's still there. If you did catch anything that read as super-confusing before I re-read your post and edited, that would be my bad. I think that your snark about 'being a woman' because you have experienced something that women routinely experience rubbed me the wrong way. Don't get me wrong. It's okay to be flip on Hubski and all that. I'm trying not to come down on you too hard. But I'm irritable, and I'm a feminist, and saying "women tell me to smile too" is like saying "I'm not one of those men who tell women to smile" which is how I ended up at "Not All Men." I think that while you experience something similar to what women experience in one single aspect of interaction when people tell you to smile - it's not transferable to true comprehension. And I know, you were joking. You were being flip. But you know what? As a man, you maintain a right to say "fuck you" to strangers who try to tell you what to do with your face that women don't. Because saying "fuck you" is unladylike. Because physically, 90% of the time or more, a man saying "fuck you" to another man is a lot more defensible of a position than a woman saying it to a man. Because if a stranger walked up to me and told me to smile and I said "fuck you" my mother would scold me. For wanting to preserve my own autonomy. And not just my mother but many people - it would be me who was rude, not the stranger trying to tell me what to do with myself and my face, with how I should present myself to the world.
Nevermind the deleted comment. I was making a jab at another comment (or was it post?) that said men aren't allowed to have feelings. You came off as really condescending, which is why I flipped the post on it's head with a related incident. Well I'm an egalitarian, so I don't there's much of a difference between us. I was also raised pretty goddamn good, meaning that if some woman comes up to me and tells me to smile, I'm going to look her in the eye and shake my head no and then continue doing what I'm doing. Why? Manners. Yeah it was a bit disrespectful, but you know what? I wasn't disrespected enough for me to look her dead in the face and openly say "Go fuck yourself." I digress you're right, I should fall back on "Fuck off." every time it happens, if ever again. Relying the fact that I'm male to justify my telling a woman to fuck off for saying "You should smile more." EDIT: I was going to be flip for the rest of what you said, but in light of your PM I'm going to let it go. Ignore was too strong of a word.
" I go to the ballpark, wearing a sensible hat to protect my face from the sun. A beer vendor pokes me in the back and then pokes the brim of the hat: “That’s a Preakness hat,” he instructs me, as if I have violated some sacred code of behavior." Maybe he was a fan of horse racing? I mean, what is the context here? This isn't a story, this is a short out of context, single action. I'm not feeling sorry for anyone unless I know the real details behind a thing. If I were out in public I would find it reasonable for someone to point out if I had a shirt with their sports team on it. "I post a declarative status on Facebook and a man presumes I am asking for his advice, despite the lack of a question mark." Again, context please? Maybe it is a guy thing, but if I ever see someone posting some sort of issue I'm going to offer help if I know it. It doesn't matter the gender. It's called being friendly and being helpful. "I find a plaintive e-mail from someone who attended the evening talk: “Do you know you don’t look like your author photo? Do you think that’s fair?” I'd have loved to see more focus on events like these. The expectation that people are going to a womans book fair because of looks, or being dissapointed in the person's looks. Maybe the person thought she was a fake? That I doubt, but I still would like to know more context. "Ah, but there I go again. I am the guilty one. Guilty of being Female in Public. My body, my behavior, my posture, my words — they belong to others, who will judge whether they are suitable or not." People judge everyone. A guy will be judged for any number of things, a girl will be judged for any number of things. Maybe there is a difference in the amount people call out women on it, I wouldn't know. However, I sure as hell know that judgement to men and women is a fairly equal thing. I have had enough conversations with friends to know that much. If the issue here is that people will feel safer insulting women, I agree, that is an issue. If it's that this person doesn't want to be judged, than tough luck/welcome to life. Human beings love to insult others to feel better about themselves. "I have thought a lot — A LOT — about why men of my father’s age harbor this strong need to correct/scold/instruct me." More out of context stuff, more unexplained things, more biases, more more more! ___ I understand this article is making a point. I understand that there are situations here that need addressed, that many of the stories have unseen contexts. However, if these contexts are there, DETAIL THEM. Don't expect me to take your word for it, because I'm not taking your word for it. I can't help but want to actually see studies on issues, to see studies that look at rates at which similarly tall, similarly "imposing' men and women are corrected by outsiders.I want to see real data and evidence, to actually see stories with context. This sort of story nearly entirely relies on out of context emotional appeal, and I have no room in my cold little heart for that.
I will never be one of those women - tall, or imposing, or on average physically built anything like a male. While it would be interesting to use physical size as one way to measure and/or compare how people of different sexes or genders are treated, due to the fact that women are in general physically smaller and lighter than men, I do not think that such an experiment would demonstrate an accurate assessment of how women as a whole are treated. Are you saying that this behavior happens because women are in general physically smaller and therefore less imposing, and that the behavior would prove to be an equally common experience of both sexes if only men and women were the same size? similarly tall, similarly "imposing' men and women are corrected by outsiders
If this is a question of size than its not a question of gender. There are short men. However, I doubt it is the size of the person that matters, but it's a good thing to control for in a scientific experiment. Otherwise the title would have to be "people correct short people more than tall" rather than "people correct women more than men." It's just bad science not to control for height.
With that in mind one should attempt to control for weight too, right? You could divide subjects into weight classes. I bet no one would tell Andre the Giant to smile. But on the other hand, when he wasn't in a lot of pain I do hear he was a ton of fun.
This my friends is called vague booking and it's a horrible and idiotic thing to do. (I don't particularly care for passive-aggressive things like that... Vague booking that is, and that's why it gets that comment - because people are surprisingly.... I don't know, but the lack of grammar is... Deplorable, so when a post like this comes on FB, it's vague booking and shouldn't be worth the comment... I ignore vague-booking) "I post a declarative status on Facebook and a man presumes I am asking for his advice, despite the lack of a question mark."