A WOMAN WINDOW

   A few days ago I was scrolling through FB, looking at one of my favorite new, calm sites: "View Through Your Window." Someone posted a photo looking out of a window in Marakesh, Morocco. It was called, "A Woman's Window," because someone inside could look out, but a person outside could not truly see within. 

This would have been a protection for a woman in a Hareem, I assume, and it gave me furiously to think, as Hercule Poirot would say.

  For so long, for so many thousands of women, they have only been allowed to look out a window and not truly participate in the bustle of life outside. And how does that apply to modern life in America, you might ask?

Here are a few thoughts:

1/ I was part of the older generation of females growing up and looking out at a wider world, wondering, "Could I do that? Could I be a doctor, scientist, researcher, politician?" This is what it was like for me growing up in the 50s-60s, when the careers open to women were basically being a mother, nursing, and teaching. Thankfully, the world has changed for the better now with so many more opportunities available for women.

2/ Let's discuss Sex while we are at it. Growing up I was convinced I was the only female feeling sexual desire. All the rest of womanhood lived in a beige house without fierce desire or orgasms. That was for men. I was not aware that it was talked about, researched, or written about until the 70s with the radical and welcome, "Our Bodies, Ourselves." 

 

I looked through a window at the sexuality of others with no one able at that time to look through my window and affirm my sexuality.

3/ Athletics: growing up I looked through my window into a world with very few female athletes, excepting some tennis champions. Someone like Simone Biles was far away on the horizon at that time, 

 although we did have the marvelous--if deadly--example of Amelia Earhart flying across the ocean. I admired my Aunt Benny, a pilot in the WASPs who flew planes back and forth in Europe during the Second World War. Her bomber jacket and warm helmet with goggles intrigued me and gave me an inkling of a wider world for women.

4/ Writers: Ah, HERE was a place where I could peer through the window at many amazing women. This calmed my soul, and gave me the feeling of possibilities. Emily Dickinson, whose collected works my dear Mom gave to me at an early age, inspired me. How brilliant were her poems, how deadly, gleaming, and sometimes depressing. She knocked on my soul like someone hitting a wind chime, and the sounds reverberated for years. I began writing poetry in High School, chosen for some contest which I forget, but I remember the sheer, unutterable delight at choosing words, discarding others, and making a story from a few lines. In my college years I discovered Sylvia Plath, Ann Sexton, and Elizabeth Bishop, who all filled my soul. It seemed the glass in the window had broken and fallen into shards at my feet.

5/ Science: Rachel Carson and her book, "Silent Spring," greatly influenced my mother and through her, me as well. Jane Goodall rocked the world with her research into chimpanzees, as she lived, watched, took notes, and spent countless hours observing the primates. 

Also, Dian Fossey with her work on mountain gorillas inspired me, that she could be so committed to saving the dwindling population. Sadly, she was murdered with her machete, possibly ordered by politicians offended by her work and arrogance. There are others who names escaped me who discovered the fabric of the universe, and who developed the math which enabled our rockets to fly to the moon.

6/ War: this is not a career I would hope for anyone in face, but I am so impressed by the women in Ukraine who have taken up arms and trained to be part of the resistance against the murderous Russian invaders.And just to point out: let's remember the women Resistance Fighters in World War II, as well as the female Russian sniper who killed more Germans than any male. 

7/ Saints: let me not forget to note a few women of extraordinary holiness, who I would not have noticed growing up, but have read about and admired since becoming Catholic. Looking out my window I would see: St. Teresa of Calcutta, who took care of the dying; St. Teresa of Avila who wrote "The Interior Castle" and reformed the Carmelites; Dorothy Day, the reformer and founder of The Catholic Worker (still only 1 cent per copy), whose cause for sainthood is ongoing; Simone Weil, a Jewish mystic who was not a saint but saintly in her witness to the struggles of the working poor; and so many more, all inspiring and heart-warming to me in my spiritual journey.

 Do I still feel as if I am looking through the Woman Window? Sometimes. When I see the deep misogyny of the Republicans, the closing down of opportunities, the firing of teachers--both in regular and Catholic schools--I feel the window shades being pulled down. It seems we are taking giant May I Mother steps backwards into the 50s, 

when the only career open to women was being a Mom, advertising refrigerators, wearing heels and an apron, making odd salads with mayonnaise and sugar, and waiting for the Man of the House to drive home from his job in the city, doing important things. Oh, and helping kids with their homework.

 I am grateful for people like Kamala Harris, traveling around the world, engaging world leaders in discussions about economics, women's rights, and poverty. How about Hilary Clinton, who ran for president, won the popular vote, and only lost in the racist, dead Electoral College. A few other women who delight my soul for many reasons include: Greta Thunberg, Mary Oliver,

 Heather Cox Richardson, Andrea Ayvazian, and Michelle Obama.

So--even though it feels that the Woman Window is less open than it once was--we can take heart from the many, many exceptional women writing poetry, protecting the environment, voting in Congress and Scotus, and generally reminding all of us of the possibilities for women. Take heart, ladies! And lest we forget, still being Catholic, please remember Mary, Nostra Signora, Mi Madre, who braved much, watching the child of her body suffering as he was crucified, who stayed as witness with the other Marys, the men having fled. THAT'S a witness and a model of courage. So look out your own Woman Window and write in your journal who you see and who inspires your soul and life.