Interviews with Women

In the winter of 2017, I interviewed women. I was creating a group program, and I wanted to know what women were dreaming about and what kind of support could feel useful.

As I began the planning process, I wondered, “What do women really want? And what do they need in order to start moving in that direction?”

I am, in fact, a woman. I had my own guesses, but I was curious. Did other women have the same desires and feel stuck in the same ways?

Intimate conversations began. I asked women what they daydreamed about. If they could be doing anything at all, what would it be?

The common denominator I found? Women lit up when I asked this question. It took them hardly any time at all to give me an answer. There weren’t many “Hmmmms. I’m going to have to think about that one. That’s a toughy.”

Quite oppositely, a stream of inspired sentences flowed from their mouths. They could see it and feel it. Clearly and excitedly.
 

“My dream is to be a writer. I want to write my story. Share what I’ve been through. Maybe my story could help somebody.”

“I want a professional singing and artist career.”

“I want to exist openly engaged and connected with the world.”

“I want to publish my book of poetry.”

“I want a sense of purpose and accomplishment.”

“I want my own space to create. I would want others to be able to come to this space to create too!”

“I want to wake up excited with a kickass schedule for the day.”

“I want a supportive community.”

“I want to travel and take chances.”

“I want to trust myself.”
 

Dreams flowed out of these women freely, like a rushing, wild river, alive and full of life.

I was inspired as I listened. This call to create felt strong.

And yet, for most of these women, this call to create was not translating into reality. They were not actively creating in the ways they most desired.

Why?

I wanted to know for the program, but I also wanted to know it for myself. I could relate. 

What was keeping us stuck from embracing these lives we imagined?
 

“I have a lot on my plate.”

“I overthink it. I’m cautious, and I compare.”

“I jump to Step F. I’m not too good at navigating the little things.”

“I’m afraid it will go too well, and I will put too much time into work.”

“I’m not patient.”

“My creative life feels like the most important thing. There’s some guilt there. How can I say my job is more important than people?”

“I”m worried I won’t be fulfilled. It won’t be what I want.”

“I’m a caretaker. I have to solve all the problems.”
 

For the most part, these answers didn’t shock me. I’d said most of them myself.

And for the most part, they seemed solvable. Some reprioritizing, some planning, some commitment, some compassion.

But there was one response that seemed to cut to something deeper:
 

“I don’t completely trust myself. I want to trust myself, but I have trust issues. Will I make the right decisions?”
 

TRUST.

And a hesitancy to trust.

I wondered, is it really a hesitancy to trust ourselves or is it a hesitancy to trust the call? The whisper? Life?

I think back to the good old advice I received as a young girl when I was forming my beliefs about the world and how it works:
 

“It’s a nice thought, but you know you can’t make any money doing that.”

“Oh yeah, everyone wants to be a writer, but only a couple of people actually make it.”

“You should probably have a backup plan, just in case.”
 

Nowhere in that messaging was a sense of possibility. A fluffing of my wings and the encouragement to fly, or even try.

What I did receive was doubt, doubt, and more doubt.

I’m sure you did too.

We were taught to believe you can only make money doing practical things, and money is what matters.

There is a limited amount of space for dreams in this world reserved for a lucky few.

And failure is likely, so why even bother.

How dismal is that?

I wish I’d heard messages like:
 

You can make money doing anything, so you might as well choose something you love and devote yourself to it.

The creative process is the reward in and of itself. You gain so much by making space for creativity in your life.

There are plenty of things you can do in tandem with creating. You can find a way to make it work.
 

There comes a point when we start relying too much on logic.

We stop believing.

We need perfect plans.

We choose “realistic.”

We make it about money and, ironically, once we hit our savings goals, we just create some new goal to reach before we’re ready or safe enough.
 

When will we be ready to create?
 

Is it after we hit a certain level of accomplishment? A certain age? After we have a certain amount of money in the bank? Once all the people who rely on us are out of requests?

I want to tell you about a girl I saw for therapy years back. A wonderful 10-year-old girl. Who still trusted. Still believed. Still created and created some more.

She showed up for one session in a dress she'd sewn herself. She danced and performed often. She shared with me pictures she’d drawn for mom and dad.

I learned a lot watching her. She was still free.

Around Christmas one year, she was having a hard time. The kids at school were talking about Santa and how he isn’t real, and it broke her heart. She loved Christmas. She loved the elves and the nutcracker that came to visit her each December. She loved making her Christmas list. She loved “the magic of Christmas.”

I think about this time in our lives. This age. Ten maybe eleven years old when the magic of Christmas gets threatened, but it feels bigger than that, like the magic in general gets threatened.

We weren’t born skeptical, but we are taught to become it.

We go from being certain we heard Santa eating the cookies we put out on Christmas Eve to finding it hard to believe in anything we can’t see or guarantee.

The world becomes a less magical place.

There are rules to follow and boxes to fit in.

We need reasons and answers for everything.

The kids at school tell us we’re foolish for believing.

And we forget, don’t we?

That we live on a planet that floats in outer space.

That there are flowers that bloom in hot pinks and deep blues.

That women grow humans in their bellies and furry creatures love us unconditionally.

At the end of one session, I asked her how she was feeling about Christmas.

And she said, “I believe. I have to believe. If I don’t, Santa won’t come.”

And what I saw before me was a girl who was fighting for more than Christmas.

I saw a girl fighting for dresses she’d make by hand.

I saw a girl fighting for magic and stories.

I saw a girl fighting for the world she wanted to live in, and how she wanted to feel and move within it.

I saw a girl tuning out the noise and choosing to trust. Not in the noise. Not in the opinions of others. But in life. Creativity. Possibility. Herself.

And as I watched her week after week, some of the doubts melted away inside of me, and she helped me to remember that believing is a choice. Trusting is a choice. Writing your own story is a choice.

And I will always love her for that. 

Most preadolescent girls are marvelous company because they are interested in everything - sports, nature, people, music and books.

Almost all the heroines of girls’ literature come from this age group - Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, Pippi Longstocking and Caddie Woodlawn. Girls this age bake pies, solve mysteries and go on quests. They can take care of themselves and are not yet burdened with caring for others. They have a brief respite from the female role and can be tomboys, a word that conveys courage, competency and irreverence.

During adolescence, girls stop being and start seeming. Girls who were the subjects of their own lives become the objects of others’ lives. At this time, girls are expected to shrink their souls down to a petite size. This is when girls learn to be nice rather than honest.

- Mary Pipher

Photo by Olesia 🇺🇦 Buiar on Unsplash