In my work with women on weekend retreats, in sacred circle, at workshops, etc., I have heard women speak of distrust of other women. I have
heard fear of judgment and criticism, fear of being talked about behind their
backs, experiences of betrayal.
I myself grew up in a family of 6 women. My father traveled
much. My mom mostly raised us, me and my four sisters. Although I have some
good memories, I also experienced it as very cruel, critical, and viciously
competitive. My relationship with women was bittersweet. It contained both fun
and laughter, and the cruel as well. I learned not to trust women... or to
trust that they would betray you and stab you in the back, say mean, biting
things in front of others, ridicule you in an attempt to raise themselves up,
etc. Now, consider this:
I, I, I
am a woman.
So it stands to reason that if I believe that about women, I
also believe it about myself. I learn to reject myself, not trust myself, etc.
As little girls, we learn about our value and worth as a
woman from the most important woman in our lives, our mother. If our mother is
wounded on a soul level, or if she is cruel, critical, abusive of the feminine;
then we learn, by model, to do that to ourselves. So, long after that parent is
even on the planet, we continue to do that to ourselves because we now carry
that critical parent within our own psyche. My mother carried a deep wound
around her own femaleness, her own sexuality. She was raised in a strict
Southern Baptist family with a hyper-critical mother. While she was away in
nursing school, my mother got pregnant. Her mother pressured her to give the
baby up for adoption. Mom carried the pain of that all her life. This was also
kept a secret until I was more than 30 years old. The shame and pain she
carried about herself influenced me as a woman and how I saw my own womanhood.
How could it not?
I believe this is part of why women's work has become such a
passion of mine. I want to heal my relationship with myself as a woman... and
in doing so, I open the door to heal my relationships with other women.
What I have learned in my own path toward healing is just
how profoundly we are creatures of perception. My awareness today is knowing
that when I perceive someone outside of myself to be judging me, it is often
because I am already judging myself. Even if they actually ARE judging me, it
is only a problem if I also believe it. Think about that. Say someone
"judges" me to be Scandinavian, for example. If I have no judgments
about being Scandinavian, and if I know that I am not Scandinavian, then it
doesn't bother me if that person thinks that. It is only when I already believe
that to be a "bad" thing and believe I am that "bad" thing,
then it becomes a problem.
This whole judgment thing comes up quite frequently in my
women’s work. In fact, when we create sacred circle and women speak what they
need in order to feel safe, there has never been a time when at least one woman
(usually more) ask that they not be judged. EVERY. SINGLE. CIRCLE. And I‘ve sat
in a lot of circles with women. What that tells me is something I already know;
we ourselves carry a pretty harsh judge within us. Our own inner critic is the
place where healing is needed. My inner critic has kept me from wearing the
clothes I wanted to wear, having sex when I wanted to have sex, kept me from
going places and attending events I wanted to attend because somehow I wasn't
thin enough, fit enough, pretty enough, sexy enough.
I remember a time when I was a teen... it was one specific summer
that stands out in my mind (there are others, but this one for now). We lived
in Dunwoody. There was a neighborhood pool and they had a large swim team with
swim meets. It was a big deal and a large community. Competitive. My dad had a
real respect for the water. When we were very small, he made sure all of us
took swim lessons and knew how to handle ourselves in the water. He insisted we
also be on the neighborhood swim team. Every summer, my sisters and I spent
most of our time hanging out with friends at the pool. This particular summer,
I had gained some weight. But in my mind at the age of 16, I believed I was so
hideous, so unacceptable, that I couldn't bear to go out. The whole summer when
my sisters would go to the pool, I would stay at home, ashamed to put on a swim
suit and be seen in public. And truth be told, I wasn't even that big. It was
my *mind* that tortured me.
When I sit in circle with women today, and we pass a hand
mirror; as each woman takes a moment to look into her own eyes and really *see*
herself, it is a difficult task. Most often she speaks her criticism out loud.
That’s a good thing, I believe, because it creates connection through
compassion. There isn’t a woman in that room who hasn’t felt the same thing.
Now imagine doing that same mirror exercise with a full length mirror where the
woman can see her whole body. And now imagine standing in front of your own
full length mirror in your bathroom or some place you feel safe. Imagine
yourself loving yourself *naked*. Yes, naked. Right now. Just as you are. Not
20 or 30 lbs, or even 5 lbs lighter. Not younger, not thinner, smarter,
prettier, more successful, whatever. Right now. This body. This *you*. Can you
love HER? *Will* you love her?
