Last night, I watched the Republican National Convention on PBS. Instead of listening to commentary by news organizations, I simply watched and listened. I went out of my way to absorb the message that was being conveyed to the American people. I know I am a difficult demographic to reach, being an educated, urban, single female trying to make it without giving excuses for how “hard things are for us gals.” In listening to Ann Romney’s message to women, I know for sure that I am not the kind to whom she was speaking.
“We as mothers have to work a bit harder.” Call me shrill, but I’m nobody’s mother. And, more importantly, I have to work just as hard as anyone else (man or woman) to make my life successful. The blatant pandering sent me into a feeding frenzy, all the while wondering if I was watching the Brady Bunch mom talk about bringing up three very lovely girls. I began shoving my face full of rice cakes. I’m no animal, people. Rice cakes are glorious. Maybe if PBS had broadcast a commercial on rice cake bingeing, I might feel more included.
She also wanted to “talk about love.” I’m sorry, are we politicizing love now? Oh, forgive me. I forget that “love” exists only between a man and a woman, preferably white people with lots of money (well at least the man has to have a lot). Another speech gave the direct message that if you make babies, after marriage, you will end up a success. Otherwise, you can “use your imagination” (to use Todd Akin‘s words).
Yes, the message was clear. If I live my WonderBread life, never taking chances, following the status quo, doing as I’m told, never challenging social constructs or ideals shoved down my throat by entitled and spoiled people who all look and think the same, then maybe I will be acceptable as a thread in the fabric of American society. Otherwise, if things don’t go as planned, and I don’t find a rich man to make me feel legitimate and important, then I am no one and my ideas do not matter. It was clear.
It is also clear where my place should be in society. Quick! Grab me an apron, put a white dress on me, and find me a muzzle. It is only fitting. What if I want to disagree with those in power who think they’re always right? You know the ones I mean…the ones whose mommies always told them they were “awesome” at playing baseball but never even got on base. The ones who got bailed out time and again by their parents because it was just too hard for daddy and mommy to watch them fail on their own. Those.
Pardon the anger. Excuse my lack of humor. In trying to find it, I see only one part that made me chuckle: that there are many Americans who don’t see through the pandering.
Now excuse me while I go look for my Prince Charming. Disney told me he would show up, silly. Oh right, Paul Ryan is already here…