THE DOCTOR IS IN

THE S-WORD, PART 2

If you attend the Virginia Festival of the Book (March 26-30) please stop by my seminar on managing expections, on Saturday at 2PM in the Omni Hotel.

On Tuesday, I had the privilege of addressing a group of honors students at the Fashion Institute of Technology on the importance to women artists of reclaiming selfishness. The wide-ranging discussion following my presentation was exciting and inspiring. Below is the text of my presentation, which originated as a blog post here.

I have invited the discussion participants--a group of impressively intelligent, thoughtful, and open young women, and one brave man, to continue the discussion in the comments section--and I invite you to do so, too.

I am going to talk about a topic that has come up frequently among female students and recent graduates—and some men, too—people at the beginning of their careers, who are often struggling with issues of professional identity and entitlement.

This is the issue of “selfishness”—a hot-button topic for many of us, and too often an unexamined impediment to artistic and vocational fulfillment. When my book first came out, I did a series of readings followed by question-and-answer sessions. I have to say, I wish I could write an addendum to the book based on some of the discussions, because they opened up topics that I think are hugely important, and that I wish I had explored more deeply.

This is especially true of issues affecting young women in their 20s. Almost invariably, after I opened the floor for the Q-&-A, a woman my age or older would raise her hand and say something along the lines of, “I can relate to everything you say, but I don’t think the younger women struggle the way we did—the world is a different place now, more equal.”

And then three or four younger women would chime in to explain how that isn’t the case—that, yes, they’re encouraged to pursue a career now, and better equipped for social and professional equality in many ways, but that they still struggle with double standards, just in different—and sometimes more vicious—incarnations.

And sometimes women in their thirties would observe that they used to believe they were functioning in a “post-feminist” world, until they themselves hit the glass ceiling or became involved in a serious relationship, or had a baby. A lot of these very powerful discussions—and follow-up emails I received from participants—crystallized around the concept of “selfishness.” Even the word “selfish” makes a lot of us anxious—which is why it’s important to talk about. I’ve heard from women who feel deep conflicts about writing authentic personal essays, because our stories are not just ours—our lives are intertwined with those of other people, and even if those other people were abusive, or unfaithful, or have otherwise betrayed us in significant ways, we feel an obligation to protect them from our feelings and our truths.

And sometimes, without realizing it, we protect both them and ourselves from our anger by forgetting or glossing over significant details, by finding ourselves mysteriously unable to write, or by what I call “unconscious encoding,” writing material that is deeply significant to ourselves but in language that is so complex or general that its meaning is lost on the reader.

I’ve spoken to women whose romantic relationships were steaming along beautifully until they started to achieve a level of success that threatened their partners. Many of these women also have found themselves mysteriously fuzzy-headed, incompetent at tasks that used to be no-brainers, and even aggressively, though unconsciously, sabotaging their own success.

I write about a woman in this situation in my book, a young photographer, and I’ve heard from a number of women who were experiencing similar symptoms but couldn’t pinpoint why they were suddenly stupid until they recognized themselves in this young woman, Bonnie. And then, if you have a child, a whole other layer of expectations kicks in. If you’re working or furthering your education to provide a better future for your kids, everyone supports that, at least with lip service, though it’s often a different story when you need time off or flexible day care—but at least you’re not made to feel guilty or wrong, the way some older women were.

But if your ambitions are not just for your kids, but for yourself—if you’re seeking a career with other rewards besides a steady paycheck and health insurance, or if you want to take time for creative pursuits that are rewarding but won’t pay the bills, the “S-word” is going to surface sooner or later, either from your family, your partner, your friends, or inside your own head. We’re not supposed to take time out for ourselves when there are others depending on us. That’s selfish.

And then there is the whole question of appearance and self-presentation. The way we look and dress, and the ways we interact socially—our tone of voice, the thoughts we feel free to voice and those we don’t, our body language and facial expressions—might seem irrelevant to a discussion of creativity and psychology. They’re not. Some very strong women are immune to the pervasive cultural messages about “femininity,” but most of us respond, either by complying, by feeling bad about ourselves for not fitting some culturally defined image of beauty or charm, or by taking flak for functioning outside the norm—and often we have some mixture of all three responses.

This is not an analysis of any particular political candidate’s merits, but just as an example of what I’m talking about, it seems important to note that one candidate’s clothing, hairstyle, presentation (whether “robotic” or “overemotional”) and tone of voice get written up and analyzed endlessly, often at the expense of her message.

The others get to wear guy uniforms, pretty much all the same, guy haircuts, and talk in accepted “normal” tones (that is, deep ones), and so the focus is much more on what they are communicating, not on their style. So they may get heard more. And they also don’t have to exhaust themselves or deplete their campaign chests paying advisors to help them navigate all this.

That’s a very public example, but we all deal with these pressures every day--to be thin and fit, but not too muscular, and certainly not hairy; how our skin has to be fresh and smooth, and our clothing stylish, but not too hot, if we are moms or if we want to be taken seriously at work. In other words, we’re supposed to look different from our natural selves.

Again, there’s nothing wrong with playing with hairstyles, hair color, or makeup, if that’s fun for us, if it’s what we want to do—it’s the pressure to look a certain way that may not reflect who we really are, that drains our energy and alienates us from our authenticity. We don’t usually connect spending time and attention on our appearance with a lack of selfishness.

Women who put a lot of energy into looking good are often dismissed as narcissists, unhealthily focused on the self. Often, though, their experience is the opposite, a felt need to please others. I don’t believe most of us would choose to restrict our diets, to spend so much time and money on clothes and hair and nails and makeup, if nobody else did—if we didn’t feel that was what we had to do to be acceptable. If we felt we were okay the way we are. I understand that this is a design school, and I have to say I love the work I’ve seen that has come out of here.

I’m not talking about fashion or beauty as wrong or evil—but rather, the pressure to conform to a certain standard, to wear certain clothes not because we find them beautiful or comfortable or exciting, but because we’re supposed to. Because other people tell us to. It’s the same thing with our presentation. We have to work to be “nice” and “popular.” And it is a lot of work—often involving carefully monitoring what we say and how we say it to avoid alienating or offending anyone. (I’m not advocating brutality and meanness, believe me. It’s great to be sensitive to others’ feelings, and friendship and emotional connections are hugely important—when they’re genuine.

This is different from “niceness,” though, from censoring our genuine opinions and feelings to please other people, so they’ll like us, so we’ll be popular.) What does all of this have to do with creativity? I think the pressure to be “attractive,” to be pleasing, to be the caretaker and sacrificer—to be unselfish—is insidious, and it affects creative work negatively in two important ways.

First, time and energy spent focusing on externals depletes the energy we have for our work. Again, real connection, real caring—our genuine love for our friends, our partners, our children—enlivens us and feeds our creative energy, and time spent meeting others’ genuine needs and claims on us is never wasted. But when these others “need” us to be smaller so they can feel more important, or “need” us to do work that they’re capable of doing themselves, or “need” us to devote more time and energy than we have to looking a certain way, then they’re draining thought and energy that we need for our work.

Even worse, if our focus is on pleasing others—on being unselfish—we can’t possibly be doing our best work. We’re looking outside ourselves for answers that need to come from within. And when we spend so much energy trying to be something we’re not, because someone else wants us to, we can lose touch with who we really are, what we really think and feel—and all serious creative work springs from those depths of ourselves. Think about it—what is makeup, as most of us wear it—and I’m not exempt—but the use of cosmetics to paint a more “pleasing” face over our natural faces? And look at the ads all over the subway, for cosmetic surgery. If your nose or your butt aren’t “right,” however “right” is defined this week, you’re supposed to undergo painful and dangerous surgery to fix it.

When we age, we're supposed to fix that, too. In other words, who we are, as we are, isn’t good enough, isn’t okay. How can that message not affect our work? So I think it’s important to explore a bit how this happens. Keep in mind, I’m going to make gross generalizations here. Obviously, not everything I say applies to all women or all men.

But I think my point—that we all suffer from the commercial model we live under—is valid. I see men in therapy, too. Many of them are decent, sensitive artists who struggle with the messages they’ve been handed as well. But the messages are different. Often they have grown up hearing things like, "Nice guys finish last," "Winning's not the most important thing--it's the only thing," and "He who dies with the most stuff wins." They are pressured to get ahead, to accumulate "desirable" objects, regardless of their own interests or actual desires. They’re supposed to knock over anyone, or anything, that gets in their way. So they don’t struggle so much with feeling entitled to pursue their dreams, or to say what’s on their mind.

But often, they’re forced to bury the more gentle, sensitive parts of themselves, to the point where they lose touch with their own feelings. And that stunts their creativity, too. Women, on the other hand, are expected to think of ourselves, and to package ourselves, as those "things" that men are encouraged to get--as consumer objects. This is why we feel pressure to fit into a narrow range of approved body shapes, hair colors, and conversational styles--and if we don't fit the mold, we're expected to change. And we’re supposed to do this so that we’ll be a good object—to make ourselves “attractive” as an employee, an associate, or a date.

So someone will want to buy us. And objects aren’t agents. What I mean by that is that if we’re packaging ourselves to please someone else, we’re not generating our own steam, relying on our own original thoughts and dreams to fuel our ideas. We’re not starting with our authentic selves and moving outward. I understand that encouraging young women to stop being “nice” could sound like I’m asking you to act like stereotypical boys, trampling everyone in your path in the race to grab all the goodies for yourselves. But I don’t mean that. I’m increasingly convinced that selfishness, in the sense of valuing and insisting on the self, is the cornerstone of authentic generosity, kindness, and empathy. Art is an expression of that generosity. It is our contribution to the ongoing conversation about things that really matter.  It is our statement that the world matters to us--that we care enough about our ideas, our ideals, about what we see and experience, and about the consumer, the readers or viewers, to reach out with our full selves, to take the risk of looking foolish, of falling flat, and, yes, even of hurting or offending.

To achieve this, we need to be real to ourselves, in the face of pressure to look like a supermodel, to win popularity contests or to paint a happy face over our authentic anger, grief and fears. I’d like to close this talk, and open the discussion, with a thought from one of my favorite creative geniuses, Henry James, who wrote: The only success worth one's powder was success in the lines of one's idiosyncrasy...what was talent but the art of being completely whatever one happened to be?" And I’d like to ask you: How much harder is it to "be completely" what we "happen to be" when we believe our faces, our bodies, our presentations--our very selves--are worthless unless we can squeeze them into a narrow, culturally defined mold? And how much is it worth to break out?

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. Her book,  Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity (Seal, 2007) is now available in bookstores. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.  

Comments

[Jaye Wells]

Thank you for this. I've forwarded a link to all of my friends.

[Susanne Dunlap]

So where are all these incredibly bright young women who heard this talk? It was fabulous, and I wish I could have been there for the discussion afterwards. I, for one, will forever feel guilty for going to graduate school to pursue a dream that never eventually materialized, that of getting a job teaching music history to college students. And now I am selfishly working a full-time job and writing as well, trying to support two homes on one income, be a mother and grandmother and partner, and I dare to insist on my own time and place to write my novels. The nerve!

[Leslie Budewitz]

Dr. Sue, thank you for sharing that talk. I keep taped to my computer two quotes that summarize for me much of what you've said -- though without the useful specifics you give of the myriad ways we shrink ourselves under social pressure:

"You owe it to us all to get on with what you're good at." W.H. Auden

"Never underestimate the value to the Universe of a fully realized life." Joseph Campbell

Leslie Budewitz
Law and Fiction, Legal Research for Writers
www.LawandFiction.com
Question of the Month: Extradition

[dr.sue]

Thank you all. I don't know where the students are, either--I hope they (and your friends, Jaye) add their amazing voices here! Susanne, I hear you re the guilt, but what a role model of achievement and fulfillment you must have presented to your children, and now your grandchildren! And, Leslie, THANK YOU--those quotes are going up over my computer as well.

[MaryJane Danyluk]

I think, for some women, pursuing their creative interests feels empty. There is no emotional connection because they aren't doing it for someone or with someone.
I know a woman who paints. She has had some success - signified by dollars, of course, but she doesn't continue it and I think it is because there is no emotional connection.