Shrew Love

The bus I took from Piccadilly Circus to Waterloo was mired in traffic on Sunday from the combined flag-cape wearing forces of Canada day revelers and the supporters of both teams for the Euros 2012 final. I didn’t mind because I like the views from a double-decker and I was intently reading “Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women” by Susan Faludi. Although written in the late 1980s, this book is still a timely and important read for women at all stages of life. It's refreshing to learn how flawed and biased the popular “studies” of women in the workplace, so-called trends of female fertility, and the myths of not getting married later in life really were when they were published. 

Feminism is always a controversial issue, but it’s been front and center lately. From the Republican primary contest’s “war on women” to Anne-Marie Slaughter’s article in the Atlantic last month^[1] to discussions of Nora Ephron’s legacy. Personally, I have been taking it all in and collecting my thoughts.

Last night I went to a performance at the iconic Globe Theater of Shakespeare's “The Taming of the Shrew.” A modern story couldn’t have fit in with my current reflections better. The tale is so funny and endearing and bold and the actors were pitch-perfect, so that by the time that we get to Kate’s big monologue to the other wives about the Husband being Lord and Master, I was as enraptured as I was insulted:

I am ashamed that women are so simple

To offer war where they should kneel for peace,

Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,

Whey they are bound to serve, love, and obey.

I was talking to MP last week about being (or in my case, striving to be) a woman in a position of authority. As you can imagine, she has plenty of wisdom to impart on that front. I’m not a very assertive person—although I've been practicing—but any progress I make is often hampered by the fear of being called a “bitch” (the modern equivalent of “shrew”). MP shook her head at my sad admission; that clearly isn’t something that she’s ever really worried about. If I want to be successful in my career, I can’t let “bitch” hold me back. I have to, have to, not care—because when we do, we're giving the term a power it doesn’t deserve.

MP has a very unique style. She charges into meetings and gives a fearsome roar, bashing heads and banging on tables (sometimes literally). Once the others are suitably cowed, she liberally hands out mercy and they line up to beg for her smiles. By the end of the meeting they are planning to name their firstborn after her. It’s been a revolutionary model for me, totally turning my nice theories of female soft power on its head. But I couldn’t emulate it, I don't have the voice to roar. I have to find my own style of power.

1. Coincidentally, I attended a presentation on the Obama Administration’s theory of diplomacy led by Ms. Slaughter last month, before the article had come out. Even if it had, I doubt that it would have come up in this meeting at Parliament, focused as it was on international issues and “Twitter diplomacy.”