Beyoncé, most likely.
By Alisha Giampola (Writer/Performer)
I had the pleasure yesterday to participate in a documentary project conceived by an old pal from college/early days of restaurant work here in the city, Samantha Walsh. Her project, titled Womanish, "addresses what it means to be a strong woman". Sam clarifies that what most interests her in the idea of the "strong woman" is this: "why we even have to preface woman with that adjective in order to make that statement clear for the people around us, the society at large. But most importantly, for ourselves."
Sam had reached out to me about this art project and mentioned that pondering those things had gotten her thinking about what made her feel most powerful, and in turn, what made other women feel most powerful. It's an interesting question, and one I was surprised to have some trouble answering. I feel all different kinds of powerful. I feel powerful when I'm done with a tough yoga class, or after mastering something difficult that I was scared to try. I also feel powerful when I've nailed a slightly complicated social interaction or when I'm wearing a particularly flattering shade of lipstick. I don't think that these kinds of disparate ideas about power are unique to women, but I definitely think women are frequently made to feel most guilty if they aren't able to simultaneously encompass all of them. I am reminded of the now much-worn quote from Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, where she lays out in a fantastic rant a desire to render the "cool girl" obsolete: the Cool Girl of course being the girl who spends her energy creating a persona that is what she thinks men want her to be instead of who she actually, really is.
During a summer when the world has watched Simone Biles become one of the most powerful Olympic athletes not just of the current games, but of all time, during a summer when women in general powerfully dominated their fields during the games, we can't forget that these most obviously "powerful" of women are still presented in comparative terminology and reduced to commentary on their marital or parental status, or if they were wearing enough make up. Women have finally been given a place a the table, but have not yet been allowed to forget who is still sitting firmly at the head of it.
So yesterday, Sam was photographing and interviewing me for the Womanish project and as we were walking in my neighborhood, carrying camera equipment and chatting as we headed back towards my apartment, a smiling middle-aged man stopped us in our tracks. "Well look at these two beautiful girls!" He shouted at us. Sam and I exchanged a slightly weary glance at each other and moved on. Then, just a few minutes later, Sam was taking one or two last photos near my building and was in the middle of readjusting her camera as a man walking by hopped right into her shot, posed with me, and said "We're ready! Go ahead and take it!" He walked away as quickly as he had arrived and Sam and I were left in a combination of exasperated and bewildered amusement. "You should write about how middle-aged white guys think they're so funny." Sam joked. And she's right. I bet, with a quick show of hands, we can easily have an entire internet full of ladies who will vouch that Middle Aged White Guys Just Think They're So Funny.
What was so preposterously apt about those interactions was that they occurred one right after the other during a brief time that Sam was literally in the middle of attempting to work on a piece of art that explores the frustrations (and joys, and struggles, and meaning) of being a woman in the world today. And being a woman in the world today is very much about cheerfully and frequently brushing off the blatantly unnecessary interruptions and condescensions of all manner of Middle Aged White Guys Who Think They're So Funny.
I'm so interested to see this piece unfold, because Sam's pursuit to document all sorts of different women, of different ages, from different backgrounds and fields, should provide an interesting window into what women think about themselves and how being a woman shapes that self-examination. You should check it out too (and not just because I'm going to be a part of it, although that's clearly a great reason and you obviously have excellent priorities, carry on).
Most importantly: if you are womanish yourself and would like to participate, you should contact Sam at womanishdoc@gmail.com.
The Womanish project is on Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.
(Above outtake photo of me definitely not being a yoga model via: Samantha Fairfield Walsh.)
ALISHA GIAMPOLA is an NYC based actor/teacher/writer who has actually given it some more thought and probably has never felt more powerful than when she was 16 years old and was driving her 1998 Pontiac Sunfire with the windows down and Alanis Morissette cranked up.
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