Debby Does…

I think, as women, we often shaped our identities based on, not just our moms and mom figures, but on the ladies who lit up our televisions every night.

I was born in 1970, so my early days were wrapped up in Laura Ingalls Wilder type stories, imagining my life as a pioneer. Considering my affinity for the Ritz Carlton, that was short lived. As I grew, I found myself glued to all things Mary Tyler Moore, finding her Mary Richards character to be the exact woman I aimed to be—funny, sensitive, independent, beautiful, and smart—with the cutest apartment ever. I imagined myself living there, over and over, never fully considering how inconvenient that sofa bed might be.

As the 1980’s led into the 1990’s, I was a Designing Women woman. I still am. I saw myself in Julia Sugarbaker with the strength, the acerbic wit, and the ability to rise to the level of terminator. In Suzanne Sugarbaker, I saw the pageant girl, struggling with her weight, and knowing the the higher the hair, the closer to God. Mary Jo was the mother I longed to be, and Charlene had a soft, sexy, take in all strays style that I loved. To this day, I have watched every episode (until it really got bad at the end) and channeled my inner JulZanneJoLene as I continue to find out who I am as a woman.

There’s been a lot of talk about women lately. Maybe you haven’t noticed.

One of my mother’s favorite terms of high praise for a woman was to say that she “kept her own counsel.” I didn’t always know what that meant, but now it’s quite clear.

I’m happy to be surrounded by myriad women who keep their own counsel. I’m proud to be one of them. I have never been a follower, nor do I care to be. I do my homework; I read; I research; and I debunk nonsense. I am ruled by logic, empathy, sympathy, humility, pragmatism, grammar, and, again, logic. Things have to make sense. They have to follow a logical path. They have to be real. If not, I cannot get on board.

For all the historical and misogynistic talk about women and hysteria (damn those ancient Greeks, they are causing quite a ruckus this week), it takes a great deal of skill and self awareness to balance all of the qualities the world requires from us and that we require from ourselves, as women. It’s not easy. I don’t know that many men could do it, but I know some really good ones who do. I bet you do too.

When women are strong and assertive, names are called, insults are hurled, and bold accusations are often made. It matters not that these things may not be rooted in truth. While men pat each other on the back for these qualities and give each other “atta boys,” it’s easier to call us bitches; accuse us of sleeping our way to the top; and being manipulative vixens.

I would also remind you that these terms: bitch, vixen, minx, queen bee, and shrew, are words for mothers—strong, working mothers. You may want to watch your phraseology there. (Two musicals referenced here. Bonus points if you know them.) These women of the animal kingdom deserve to be respected, not relegated to derogatory labels.

The women in my family, my mother, my granny, and the great grandmothers I never met, were some of the bravest women I can imagine. Immigrating from Ireland and Lebanon; choosing to marry a man with dark skin in 1942; rocking it as a single mom who fought cancer at every turn, these women shaped me with their pasts and their presence. They were women who kept their own counsel when it wasn’t en vogue.

Whether we like to talk about it or not, the world is set up for men, specifically white men. Their exploits and experiences fill the history books. Some people would like that to be the only history we know or, at the very least, most of the history we know.

His-story.

I want to say the next part gently, because some among us seem to struggle with this.

It’s okay to tell Her-story.

It doesn’t make any man’s accomplishments less when we share space at the table.

I saw a woman on television this morning, during an interview of Latinx voters in Pennsylvania. She said that she didn’t trust Kamala Harris to be president simply because she was a woman. This individual was a small business owner, so that was her major concern, as it should be. While I recognize that much of this may be cultural, I continue to be amazed at how many people, across demographics, echo that same sentiment.

Simply because she is a woman. Not who she is as a person or what her policies might be or her past.

Because she is a woman.

Why is this? What is it about us that you cannot trust? I’m listening.

Though running for public office is not in my future, I cannot even imagine how hard it is to maintain one’s sense of decorum when your enemies are flinging much more than mud. The truth is, it’s keeping some of the best people on earth from serving because they’ve been human, made mistakes, and don’t want their family to suffer the political consequences. We’ve made a mess of leadership.

Julia, Suzanne, Mary Jo, Charlene, Mary Richards, and Laura Ingalls were keeping their own counsel long before I was. I feel lucky to have absorbed the trailblazing tenacity, sass, and sense of right and wrong they showed me on my little television. I’m even more grateful to have had that reinforced and modeled live in my own home by my very own tenacious trailblazers. Never once did I think that their perspective, their experience, and their wisdom was suspect because they were women. On the contrary, it felt all the more valid because I knew how hard the journey had been.

Women need to trust women. Women need to uplift each other. Women need to call out misogyny in real time, especially when it’s echoed by other women. Women need to redefine how we talk about each other. Women need to rewrite the -story.

That adds an awful lot to our already full to do lists, but we can handle it. We always do. We can handle anything. We’ve been doing it since the dawn of time.

Because she is a woman.

That’s a vote of confidence.

Sarah Jane MacArthur Castle, keeping her own counsel since 1880.