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| Just finished walking 60 miles in 2008! |
This blog is dedicated to the women (and men) who have been diagnosed with breast cancer, a cause that is close to my own heart.
It’s pretty common knowledge that women talk more than men. Whether this is somehow ingrained in our DNA or if it’s socially constructed, I don’t know, but there is enough research to prove that it is truth. I suppose that’s part of how my blog came to be. But I think there’s a deeper reason than we admit for this desire to talk.
I recently watched a documentary called Dogs Decoded: Nova. You may be wondering right now what dogs have to do with women. I’ll tell you. According to this incredible documentary, dogs have developed the amazing ability to read human’s facial expressions over their years of domestication. This is something that has not been found in any other animal – not even the chimp. This has allowed for dogs to truly become man’s (or women’s) best friend. In order to survive and belong in this new social order, dogs adapted. I think women have, too.
If you’re unfamiliar with gender roles in European societies (actually, many societies, but there are a few who are matriarchal) women have only recently been considered equals with men. (That is actually still quite arguable, but I digress.) In Victorian society, women were not even allowed outside of their homes without a chaperone. They were property. They, in essence, were nothing but the means to create children – ideally, sons. Gossip channels were very important then through the courts and I’m sure they were even more important if you go further back into history. But because women have generally played a submissive role to men, they needed a system in order to cope and make themselves present. Hence, women talk a lot.
This was brought to the forefront of my attention not long ago when I accompanied my mom for a test at a breast center. I was able to join her in a small waiting room where other women in unflattering gowns that make them feel self-conscious sat awaiting a test that may tell them they have breast cancer. In my family, the women talk even more when they are nervous. More specifically, they joke. This is precisely what my mom and I were doing until she was taken for her mammogram. While she was away, I sat typing responses to student essays on my laptop, trying to look occupied. One woman looked nervous and I smiled at her, but she remained deep in thought and moved carefully, I could see, to avoid her pain. But several other women joined and they were less than silent. One specifically felt the need to talk about her experience, and my mom’s experience, and anyone else’s experience we could share. At first, I’ll admit, I was a little annoyed. I had papers to read and really did want to be productive, but I saw how much this meant to this woman. She, unlike my mom, was alone and she had a history of breast cancer in her family. It was as if talking made the situation more bearable for her – made it more tangible, so she could hold it and control it herself. And so we chatted – something so many people would shrug off as idle and insignificant, but I realized at that moment that it was probably the most meaningful thing I was going to do that day, possibly even that week. So I closed my laptop and kept chatting with this woman and then the next, until I was alone in the little room.
It was then that I began writing this blog. I couldn’t go back to my work. I realized there was something here and, although I would probably never see these women again, I needed to continue their conversation in some way to acknowledge its importance. That, in some small way, my writing was helping us to adapt our own communication and survival. So here it is, my contribution to the evolution of eloquent gab, and yet another reason to never shut your yap.
