I embroidered this sweatshirt with idle hands the day I learned Helen Reddy died. I remember my mother belting out I Am Woman in the wood-paneled basement of our split-level home where there was a built-in bar with vinyl barstools and the hilarious Mannequin Pis liquor dispenser displayed front and center. I enlisted my family’s help to find this same dispenser at thrift stores and flea markets, and after 20 years, we found one. It’s now displayed upon a silver tray on my bar alongside crystal decanters and a sterling silver cocktail shaker. Kitschy memories outweigh class any day, and that’s exactly what guides my design sensibilities.
As a young child, I keenly felt the injustices of the world. I was a brown girl in the south, the only one in my class pretty much until I went to college. I immigrated to the States from India when I was still a wee one in my mother’s arms. Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake spoke to me like nothing I’ve ever read. And to hear my native language Bengali spoken in the film version brought me to tears in the movie theater.
The weight of representation cannot be measured.
I struggled with expectations, cultural norms, and my own internal tug to simply be me, a girl who fit into none of the available molds and living a life uncomfortably as my own self overflowed and underwhelmed from the options presented to me. I was raised to be a rule follower when what I wanted was to be a rule maker. In this patriarchal world, girls are labeled rule-breakers when we don’t go with the flow, never mind that the flow could lead to our demise. Boys and men are hailed as the rule makers. I call bullshit. Most of my years on this earth have seen me teeter between being too much or not enough. I have yet to experience the Goldilocks effect.
Too loud.
Too opinionated.
Too brash.
Too forward.
Too talkative.
Too inquisitive.
Too emotional.
Not smart enough.
Not polished enough.
Not pedigreed enough.
Not connected enough.
Not patient enough.
Not easy going enough.
Not feminine enough.
To be feminine is to be fierce. It’s in our biology, after all. I mean, men don’t bleed monthly for decades of their lives and carry on with the tasks of the day. Women carry and deliver children, and we feed them by our bosom. Our body is indeed a wonderland, and we don’t need John Mayer to tell us that. Now listen, I am the mother of sons so this is not male bashing. I was raised by a progressive single dad who thwarted his own culture to ensure I was teed up for success, no matter how that looked for me. I have an older brother who is my biggest champion. My husband is the rock to my kite, and we are in turn, raising our sons to not only see the inequalities in the world, but to do something about them.
When I was about 10-years old, I wrote a letter to Hamburger Helper denouncing its advertising campaign because I thought it was sexist. Being raised by a single dad in an Indian household influenced my worldview from a young age. I am lucky to have a feminist father who despite our Indian heritage, did his part to smash the patriarchy. Now 42 years later, I continue rallying with the same battle cry. Among my proudest moments was when my teenage son was watching the news of late and said there are “lots of Misters in the Senate.” He often notes patriarchal systems as he consumes media so I take heart in knowing the next generation of men and leaders just might approach the world differently. I am a strong believer in the notion that what you learn at home propels you forward.
But as a system, the world keeps failing us.
Men have been in charge the world over, and look where we are. If we focus on women, children, and families first, we will all rise. It’s 2021, and the ERA has yet to be ratified. Women saw record job losses during the pandemic (myself among them). Childcare costs have skyrocketed. Access to quality, affordable healthcare is a human right we cannot seem to stand behind. Wages are punishingly low with no increase in the minimum wage in sight. Hell, we don’t even have pads (invented by Mary Beatrice Davidson Kenner, a Black woman from North Carolina!) and tampons in bathrooms (I mean, at least provide them in public schools!). Menstruation is a bodily function, so if we provide toilet paper to take care of our other biological needs, why not feminine hygiene products? The patriarchy creeps even into the bathroom stall to mock us.
Poet rupi kaur says it best.
you want to keep
the blood and the milk hidden
as if the womb and the breast
never fed you
On this International Women’s Day, let’s celebrate the women who cleared the path to dismantle systems of oppression. It might be 2021, but our work is just beginning. Let’s start by acknowledging that white men alone won’t be our saviors. Elect progressive women, better yet, women of color. Put women in charge in boardrooms, classrooms, courts, legislative chambers, houses of worship, and more. We’ve been shuttered from power, but now, we’re here to shatter those glass ceilings.