Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man’s original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion. – Oscar Wilde
In the commentary following my column of April 7th, Sexhysteria made the statement “Boys see the violation of rules as a heroic act of independence.” And Andrea replied,
Girls do, too. Our acts are just a little different. Swiping that first tube of lipstick comes to mind. How many of us were GIVEN our first “not appropriate” shade (my was black)? We had to use our babysitting money or steal it, and wipe away every trace before we got back home.
First push-up bra?
First thong?
First cigarette (thankfully, not a popular thing to do anymore)?
First copy of the Story of O?I don’t think a rebellious heart is gender specific, but how we express it undoubtedly is.
I saw the potential for an interesting discussion in that comment, and since many of my posts have been rather heavy of late I thought a lighter one might be nice. I’ve written about my childhood before and I don’t think I need to tell anyone that rebelliousness and unconventionality are bred deep in my bones, but Andrea’s post inspired me to talk about some of my adolescent rebellions.
As I’ve said before, my mother never quite knew what to do with me; in addition to my precociousness and independence I was a strange, moody child, prone to visions and flashes of insight which quite disturbed her. I was the product of a brief flirtation with unconventionality in her early twenties, and I think she unconsciously viewed me as a sort of “punishment” for that flirtation. I was never, ever maltreated nor denied any needs, and in fact my parents spent more on my secondary education than on that of any of my siblings. But my mother seemed bound and determined to control my natural free-spiritedness and to delay my sexual maturation for as long as possible. When I started my period a few months after my tenth birthday, she seemed almost angry about it; she asked if I knew what it was about and when I replied in the affirmative, gave me a box of pads and told me to read the directions.
But though she couldn’t hold back the natural developments, she sure could try to stop the social ones. For example, I was forbidden to shave my legs despite the fact that, as I’ve written before, I have the terrible combination of dark hair and translucently fair skin. The first few months of 9th grade were thus an ordeal of mortification, and soon after my 13th birthday I decided I was going to shave my legs whether my mother liked it or not. Of course, I had no idea what I was doing and though I mostly managed OK, I somehow gashed one of my ankles (with a safety razor yet) and could not stop the bleeding for a frighteningly long time (the scar was visible for years afterward). I’m not sure when she realized I was doing it, because nothing was said; she just started buying more disposable razors.
Makeup was another forbidden fruit; due to chronically chapped lips I was allowed clear lip gloss from the age of 12, and when (at about 14) I started crying and fussing and carrying on about pimples she relented enough to allow concealer and powder, but colored lipstick, eye shadow and such were absolutely off-limits. This actually worked out all right because I had been blessed with spectacularly long eyelashes and a lovely natural coloring which made everyday makeup unnecessary; years later I actually did most of my calls with no makeup at all because I didn’t need it. Still, I was pretty excited when, after I turned 16, I was finally allowed to wear real makeup for the dates I was finally allowed to go on. Of course, I really hadn’t waited for permission; I had already learned how to “do my face” years before from less-restricted friends, and in fact had often made up when going places with those friends (though I was always careful to wash my face thoroughly before coming home).
And though I guess my mother thought she was “protecting” me from sex by not letting me date until 16 (and even then restricting me to group dates for chaperoned events), she couldn’t stop me any more than prohibitionist laws stop prostitution. As I’ve told before I lost my virginity on my 15th birthday to an 18-year-old LSU freshman, and by the time I had my first official “date” with a boy I was already two months into my first lesbian relationship. Nor had the complete lack of sexual information from her done anything to stop my learning about the “normal” stuff from library books and the “kinky” stuff from various sources, including a shoplifted copy of Xaviera’s Fantastic Sex (I hated doing it but I knew the clerk wouldn’t let me buy it), a borrowed copy of The Happy Hooker and a garage-sale copy of My Secret Garden (see bibliography for both). My copy of Story of O (which I still own) was obtained neither rebelliously nor secretly, though; I bought it in the UNO bookstore a few months after my 17th birthday.
There were a host of other small rebellions, many of them absurd or stupid when considered through adult eyes but important to me at the time. Sneaking into R-rated movies at the age of 14 and 15, going out for walks late at night after everyone was asleep, wiring up a kill switch on my ancient black and white Motorola TV set so as to watch reruns of The Twilight Zone which aired after my bedtime (10 PM on school nights until I left home), and innumerable curfew violations which nobody recognized as such because I was a university student and looked about 25 even when I was 16 and 17.
Adolescent rebellion is born from an impatience with arbitrarily-imposed restrictions and does not necessarily end at 18 (or 21 nowadays) because parents don’t always automatically recognize those landmarks. Though I moved out of the house for good several months before my 17th birthday my mother still attempted to re-establish control every time she saw me, so of course I had to resist and rebel in any way I could. Judging by her attempt to restrict my employment choices at the age of 30 she never did accept that I had grown up, but most everyone else did; a family friend once said “Maggie was born adult”, and I still remember the day I finally knew most of the women in my family felt the same way. I guess I was about 20 and there was an extended-family picnic; my father’s sister (who had a strong impish streak herself) had made a dessert popular at that time called “Better Than Sex Cake”, and as I took my very first bite she asked loudly, “So what do you think, Maggie? Is it really better than sex?” Instantly all the older women grew quiet, awaiting my answer; I took my time chewing and swallowing, then said, “it depends on who with.” The sincere laughter and total lack of censure let me know with certainty that I had been accepted into the circle of adult women.
Thanks for this.
Your writing brings me back to those years too. I was that awkward 15-year-old so desperate to have Amy notice me, or to have Diana turn her head as I threw the ball. Or on and on and on.
But like you, I was too old for high school. At 19 I married a gal 7 years older who took one look at me and said – “F**k! My friends and family will make fun of me forever (her boy-toy) but you’re my man!”. And they did torture her for a while. But not long…, they saw I wasn’t a complete dipshit and I found my way.
23 years later we’re still together. Still in love.
Our lives at that age you describe well and, I suspect, those of other readers don’t seem far different.
This might be why your writing is so appealing. You are saying what we are thinking!
You’re very welcome, Wander; it’s my pleasure. 🙂
This may seem like OFF-TOPIC, but it’s not:
Polly Styrene died this last week. She was a true (archeo)feminist. This is a video of her at around 13-14 years of age:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ue5jyj_nosc
Here’s Polly singing her most famous song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAL_j-f8gmA&feature=related
Now there’s a Wild Child. I’ll bet she didn’t let anyone tell her who she could fuck or not.
I just read about her; wow, what a life! Running away from home at 15 to hitchhike to hippie music festivals…that’s wilder than I ever was! 🙂
You might like her other music too. X-Ray Spex was a great band.
I’m lucky in that I managed to make friends with my parents in my early teens, and stayed friends with them. To understand that this didn’t make me a little goodey-two-shoes, you need to know that my Mother went to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London and then spent the 1950’s in repertory theatre in New York and New England, my Father once held the Lynn Thorndyke Professorship for the History of Magic and Experimental Science, and that THEIR parents were eccentrics also. I’m a third generation Nut.
But I have come to believe (not on my own, but I forget where I first ran into the idea) that Adolescent rebellion is genetically programmed, an artifact of the time when Humans lived for about 35 years, as a way to spread out the species (by making the Parents throw the young the hell out of the cave for being such annoying Prats).
I “rebelled” by working in a Comic Book store (LONG before that was even slightly reputable), and my parents dealt with that rebellion by carefully not letting ME know that THEY knew that I was hanging out with junkies and nuts, and trying Pot, reading Underground Comix, etc. They figured that it was better if I got into Adolescent trouble while living at home, where I had a safety net. They told me all this later, when I wouldn’t be mad. I consequence I felt like I could go to them with anything for the rest of my life, which was good because My Lady had a nervous collapse twelve years into our (25 year now) marriage, and I needed all the help I could get.
I dropped out of college, bummed around for several years, and all the while relations with my folks remained good – they even told me that (taking WWII, which delayed them somewhat) they did about the same things at the same point in their lives.
I wish everybody’s parents could be that wise. They had their flaws, but I’ll take what I got, thanks.
I think my Mother could have dealt with a Courtesan for a daughter, though it would have troubled her. Father was the adopted son of a Methodist Minister (with The Call. Nice man. I wish I’d known him.) so I think he’d have been VERY troubled, but I think he’d have dealt too. Not approved, maybe, but both of them could love and support without understanding or completely approving.
This was curiously personal.
So is all adolescent rebellion. And I believe deeply that if more people understood that, the inevitable rebellion/friction between parent and children would hurt LESS. It isn’t ‘going along with the crowd’, and it isn’t ‘peer pressure’, it’s the individual compelled by the design of his/her genes to start testing who he/she is. It’s something everybody does if they are going to become adults (and I know some sad cases who never made it), but each rebellion is unique. Personal. And very, very necessary.
Yes, some rebellions are NEEDED. I had at least a few that were needed! My 1st psychologist told me I didn’t have a TRUE adolescence because of abuse and I also took the “caretaker” role to a big degree in my family (caretaker is 1 of the “roles” that abused kids take). Anyway, my rebellions that were needed started in my mid-20’s when my abuser (my Mother) was still living but was out of my life due to the courts (1 time when the courts did the right thing which DOES happen at times, thank God!). Anyway, I wasn’t being abused anymore and came alive in many ways. I also self-destructed with alcohol and in other ways during these years, BUT also accomplished a lot despite that. I worked on NOT being frigid because I finally wanted a relationship PLUS sex only friendships. I know 1st hand that some rebellions are not only healthy but NEEDED for people to truly LIVE and have the best life possible.
I have a few others like this one, including several of the ones linked herein. 🙂
Maggie this is fab too, your humour is so well timed and though I felt sad for ya at points, as your Mum was very controlling, I also laughed lots and it totally took me back too. God I was a sod! 😉 It took me back to the time I slept in the bus stop cos I wanted to go clubbing, and I told her I was going to the cinema and staying at my mates.TThen I lost said mate and ended up in the bus stop, and when it got too cold I broke into my aunties ‘Cortina’ and shivered through the door at 7am, telling tales of the unwatched film, and like you, make up already removed. Go ze rebel ladies ;0! really glad i’ve found your blog Maggie, your a great writer. I look forward to scrolling through the archives…Dawny 😉
Thank you, Dawny! Since you liked these two columns you’ll probably also enjoy the ones linked in the text above, especially the “Genesis of a Harlot” series. 🙂
Rebellion is gender-neutral? I’m glad to hear that so many girls have rebelled against parents and society. But such personal anecdotes aren’t very persuasive on a blog where rebels are over-represented. Most stories of girl-rebels are during adolescence, long after most boys have already become old hands in the rebel camp.
I spent the weekend with a family that includes a daughter (9); and her cute male cousin (11) was with us constantly. Although they obviously enjoy each other’s company, at one point they were playing a game in which the loser gets punched in the arm. I suggested that the loser should have to kiss the winner instead. She absolutely refused, but he didn’t say anything. Their different reactions to my suggestion could be blamed on individual differences, but I’ve seen too many similar situations over many years to believe that gender had nothing to do with it.
I think MOST teens regardless of gender are rebellious, but as Andrea says the rebellion takes different forms. I think that you as a man may fail to notice girls’ rebellion because it’s far more subtle; all the adults thought I was a “good girl” in high school, but all my friends considered me an anarchist. Boys WANT adults to know about their rebellion, but most girls do it for their own satisfaction and prefer adults not to know about it.
So girls are sneaky. I can buy that.
You know, I’ve wondered how Usagi’s parents would react if they knew that their daughter went out at night in a short skirt, met up with other girls in short skirts, and fought monsters. They would be worried, but would they also be proud of her? Could that also be a form of teenage rebellion?
Clark Kent’s parents always knew what he was doing, be it Pre- or Post-Crisis. Robin was, for all intents and purposes,* going out at night with Dad to fight crime.
I have to admit that I don’t know a lot about the parents of various teenage superheroes, because I’ve been out of the comics for some time, and few of the stories that I remember include the parents in anything more than a brief note that they even exist. In fact often they don’t; a high percentage of teenage supers seem to be orphans.
Not sure why I starting thinking of teen supers all of a sudden, but I’ll leave you to compare these two images of Starfire, from the Teen Titans:
TV Show Comic Book
Looks like somebody decided to tone her down a bit for the show, ne?
* That’s “for all intents and purposes,” not “for all intensive purposes.”
Well, as time went on Warner Animation gave more and more control to the Far-Eastern animation contractors, with the result that the characters got more “Japanimationy” with every succeeding series. Another factor is that the simpler the characters, the more quickly they can be drawn and thus the more cheaply. So it may be less that she was “toned down” and more that she was just made more like an anime character, but of course it might be both.
I suspect you’ll really like Monday’s column. 😉