This morning I was part of another discussion on social media among friends and family members gauging the likeability of Hillary Clinton and the relative importance of likeability when voting. I couldn’t discount that voters would likely consider it when making their choice. But I argued that I did not believe there was a correlation between likeability and effectiveness. But the whole conversation continued on surely longer than it should’ve about whether or not we’d go to a Hillary barbeque and honestly all of it was just ridiculous. But it stayed with me, the whole thing. And I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But the “her” wasn’t Hillary. It was my Ruby.
She’s wrapping up Kindergarten now and she’s honestly amazing. I say all the time that I truly have never encountered anyone on God’s green earth like Ruby. If you meet her, I know you will agree. The first time she met her teacher back in August, she did some sort of twerking type of dance. She dry heaves from cottage cheese. She sings Flo Rida in the shower. When her soccer team was trying to think of a name for themselves, she was the only one to suggest the John Cenas (they went with the purple power). Her hair is a color that seems to be made up of twenty different colors. It is not one that I have ever seen in nature. It is thick and curly and spectacular. Much like Ruby herself, it seems to be in its own orbit. She plays often with the boys at recess. She likes to see who can run the fastest. Sometimes when she beats one and she smiles, they accuse her of bragging.
It’s really tricky you know. She is inheriting so much trickiness at such a young age. Because she is a girl, she should be humble, not proud.
I make her where those special shorts under her dresses so that when she flips upside down at recess as I am certain she will do that others will not see her underpants. I know she doesn’t care. They are pretty underpants – white with blue hearts and pink piping. But even at six I am teaching her to be careful and cautious. To hide herself away not because she cares, but because she has to worry about what other people will think or see or do. She has to prioritize other people’s needs over her desire to flip and jump and spin with abandon. All of it sucks.
Sometimes I watch her carefully on the soccer field and am so amazed. She is a force, running up and down that field in relentless pursuit of the ball. But she is different from many of the girls. They all have those perfectly straight long blonde pony tails and long skinny brown legs. She is curves. My curves. Rounded, with my soft belly. Strong, active, talented, but never straight. Not once does she approach anything in life like a straight line.
Life for Ruby I suspect will be exactly like her hair which we battle with each night, trying to find the perfect amount of conditioner and spray that will finally allow us to get a comb through without an epic cry fest from both of us. In the morning, she brushes it relentlessly because she wants it to be smooth. I know she is wondering, is this how I can fit in? For this, no amount of brushing will do. For the really special ones like you my sweet Ruby, smooth must never be the goal.
Mean girl stuff starts as early as possible now, even in Kindergarten. She hasn’t experienced too much of it yet, but I know what’s coming for her. I know that she is not like the other girls. I know that she is not like anyone else on this planet really. In this way I wonder, will this make her unlikeable?
It is bizarre to me that I wonder this about Ruby. It is something I almost never consider when it comes to Dylan because he is a boy. Boys fight and settle their differences and move on. They care less about the dirt on their shirt or under their nails. They settle almost everything in the gaga pit. There is a physicality to almost all of their relationships that serves as the great equalizer. I am frustrated for her that she can’t settle her future battles this way. Instead of being praised for her aggression and serving the final blow in wall ball or gaga, she’ll come home crying because her hair wasn’t smooth enough. Her legs weren’t straight enough. It all wasn’t enough.
And then she’ll be this island. More physical and smart and beautiful then anyone or anything I’ve ever encountered yet equally sure that if she stands up and owns any of it, she’ll be boasting. She’ll be obnoxious. She’ll be unlikeable.
Ugh, she’s bragging.
What a bitch.
I can’t stand her.
Likeability is the ultimate smear for women. No matter how much they accomplish, no matter how many awards they win, offices they hold, how fast they run, no matter how pretty their hair looks, it is the ultimate way that we destroy the last shreds of their dignity.
Frankly, I just don’t like you.
There is no retort to that. There is no way to out logic that.
It just sucks.
I’ve seen the old pictures of Hillary. I’ve seen those big glasses. She was never going to be Melania or even those pretty Gore girls with their long straight hair. She was going to be awkward. And freakishly smart. She was going to work her ass off. She was going to get it done. She was going to win every award. But maybe they still weren’t going to invite her to the barbeque. Ugh.
It might not be today. Maybe it won’t even be tomorrow. But soon she is going to be the first women ever nominated for president of the United States by a major party. I hope that whether you like her or not, you pause to reflect on the historical significance of that moment with your daughters.
I know I’m going to be showing it to mine. I’m going to tell her, you see that smile? That’s not bragging. She earned that.