a bit of a katie girl.

ain’t vindication grand? thanks to a recent new york times article, i have discovered that i am not alone in my stringent literary requirements for potential beaus. i have spent years being criticized by family and heckled by friends because i adhere to one basic moral code. you are what you read. tell me the last book you’ve read and i’ll tell you who you are. let me talk to you about books and i’ll love you for life. my requirements for a relationship are simple but exacting. leave me alone when i am reading and we will have a foundation for success. because as thomas jefferson famously said, “i cannot live without books”.

this is how i see the world. i am a bibliophile. so it is only natural that when potential suitors come along “what is the last thing you have read” is one of the first five questions i ask. (the other four, in no particular order, are: do you like dogs? do you like red wine? how do you feel about the state of minnesota? and can you name three classical composers?) but the books. the books are a deal breaker.

honestly, the reason why i love facebook so much is that i can heckle people’s literary choices. if judging is a sport then facebook is bat, glove and ball. if you have listed under your “favorite” books anything by dan brown or v.c. andrews, you will be judged. you will also be judged if you have something listed i know you have never read. proust, for example. or whitman. or adrienne rich. there are girls i went to high school with who i know for a fact have never picked up dream of a common language or leaves of grass…but there they are on their facebook profile. a testament to falsified intelligence and literary posturing. perhaps you read a quote you liked once…something about your whole body being a poem? while isn’t that nice. you haven’t read the whole poem. don’t put it down. quotes from robert frost on a facebook profile are also a key indicator of a feeble mind. you took the road last traveled. whoop dee doo. isn’t that original? (also an incorrect interpretation of the poem, i might add). i also hate girls who say that romeo and juliet is their favorite book. first of all, it is a play not a book. second of all, you don’t like the book. you like the story. you like it because you cast yourself as juliet and whatever moronic excuse for a pre-pubescent you are currently dating as romeo. get over it.

some of you may be offended by this point in the entry. i could apologize, but i won’t. its my blog. and when it comes to intelligence, books are nonnegotiable. i don’t care how smart or special your parents told you you were. if you’re not reading quality literature, you are not fully comprehending the world.

yes, i have opinions. as i told one of my favorite college professors, i have opinions on opinions. but i do listen. for the most part. the people i am most impressed by are the ones who argue for a beloved author intelligently. who are able to say what makes a book great. who can convince me to take another look. it happened with hemingway. it happened with steinbeck. it happened with emily dickinson. and i’m eternally grateful. it will not, however, ever happen with the davinci code.

i have gotten in major trouble for these opinions before. on one memorable occasion i was talking to my best friend’s new girlfriend and i asked her what her favorite book was. because i assumed my friend would date someone intelligent, thoughtful and well-read…i chuckled as i asked, “and don’t tell me its the davinci code!” it was. whoops. i would like to point out, however, that the relationship didn’t last. coincidence? i think not.

as someone once said and my mom is famous for quoting “we read so we know we are not alone“. thank-you, new york times, for assuring me that at least some of my neuroses are not unique.

xoxo.
ellie

addendum (slash shout out to my mother): when i sent my mom this article via e-mail (subject line: I TOLD YOU SO), she responded:

A few thoughts:

You should not be snooping at what people are reading, you should ask.

I have not heard of Pushkin (but now I have to look it up)!

For most of us, relationships are about helping each other grow, which leaves open the idea that someone can open up a whole new world of literature for someone they care about.

The fact that you found this article, Ellen, speaks to your need to get out more and read less!

Given how we love dogs, our opinion would rise if we found a friend with a book that implied that you can learn life lessons from dogs on their end table.

Stop with The Da Vinci Code!

Love,
Mom

yup, she’s a katie girl too. so in case you think i haven’t been toppled off my literary high horse a time or two, be assured that my sense of duty and filial obligation keep me perpetually grounded.

i’ll be the first to admit that i sometimes tend to focus on fashion and urban living in this blog. little do you know that inside of me is an outdoors loving, sigg water bottle toting, birkenstock wearing, rei shopping, bona fide crunchy. and although i do love a good pedicure…i’m actually at my happiest when i’m anywhere near lake superior or the boundary waters canoe area. so for all you katie girls out there who defy the socially constructed definition of what it means to be female…this one’s for you.

oh, and in case you are wondering…i am, in fact, tossing a log. this picture was taken last fourth of july in the boundary waters while i was competing in the caber toss competition at wilderness canoe base. as i remember, i came in third for the ladies. not a bad showing for an amateur!

i am going to tell you a story, but in order to understand the context, i need to first share with you a few key pieces of information:

(1) i am an expatriate minnesotan currently residing in the district of columbia as part of a volunteer corps program
(2) i like to make lists. i have many of them. my lists include “goals for this week” “goals for the next six months” “goals for this year” and a “bucket list” of things i want to do before i die.
(3) on my “bucket list” (besides going to africa and taking at least one clandestine lover) is to ride the tram that goes from underneath the house and senate office buildings to the u.s. capitol.
(4) i am a katie girl.

my story begins sometime last month when a certain d.c. roommate who shall remain nameless signed us up to attend a weekly constituent breakfast with a certain minnesota senator who shall also remain nameless (hint: rhymes with robochar). the breakfast basically consists of doughnuts and coffee in the senator’s office…followed by a few pictures. we were scheduled to go today, so said roommate and i woke up at the crack of dawn to be down to the hart senate office building by 8:30 a.m. for our breakfast with other minnesota constituents. we arrived right on time at the senator’s office, only to see that it was being gutted completely. there were a dozen men (and a few women) in suits waiting to meet the senator outside the office, where a perky intern immediately informed us we would be going over to the capitol building to meet the senator there. with all the men in suits.

now i am never under dressed. i pride myself on never being under dressed. and even though my gut feeling had told me to dress up a bit more…i had opted to wear a khaki skirt and my chaco sandals. i also went by what j. (nameless roommate) was wearing…jeans and a t-shirt. although j. isn’t exactly a style maven, she had gone on the website and seen pictures of the (very casually dressed) constituents who normally participate in this event. we had even giggled as we imagined our white-legged brethren wearing shorts because they were so thrilled about the warm d.c. weather. and maybe even one of those fbi t-shirts. well, let me tell you that there was nary an fbi t-shirt nor a white leg in sight. except for mine.

so the senator’s chief of staff (!) comes to escort us via tram to the u.s. capitol building. insert squeal here. i was actually achieving one of my life goals. something that was on my bucket list. and do you know what i was thinking about? my freaking outfit. and the truth is, i didn’t stop thinking about it for the next hour and a half. and i’m still thinking about it. i’m also thinking about whether a guy would have felt the same way if he had showed up under dressed. would it have mattered nearly as much?

the fact of the matter is, j. and i had an incredible experience this morning. we met a senator. we stood inside the u.s. capitol building. we rode the tram. and i’m still focused on what i was wearing. and how i felt in it. i know they say that clothes make the (wo)man, but what i’m really tired of is how they always seem to unmake me. i am so focused on pants sizes and making sure i carry my kate spade purse label side out that i miss what is really happening around me. a once in a lifetime experience. i am so obsessed with reading about everyone else’s sense of style in fashion magazines, what they weigh, what they eat…that i miss the goodness in my own life. my own style.

the fashion industry makes billions each year exploiting women (and men) by telling them that they have to dress a certain way to be a certain way. that some clothes don’t look good on you unless you weigh 115 pounds. i open up glamour every month and each page becomes a new wish. to be thinner, better dressed, more chic…and while i do believe in the power of a little black dress and kitten heels…what i don’t want, what i’ve never wanted, is for what i wear and how i look to define who i am.

so what i’ve decided is i’m going to have to figure out a way to get back onto that tram. and this time i’m not going to think about what i’m wearing. i’ll be thinking about the sheer awesomeness of democracy (insert audience groan here). or maybe about how surprisingly quickly those bad boys move (and they really do)…or maybe just about the beauty of having an experience you’ve always wanted to have. chacos and all.

xoxo.
ellie

I’m a Katie Girl because of society. Society has created a mold for me that I am simultaneously trying to fight and fit into. Societal pressures are so much a part of me that I can no longer figure out the difference between what I want and what society wants me to want. This makes me complicated.

Who I am in the context of my society allows people to make assumptions about me. For example:

I am female, and therefore must love chocolate and hope to one day have a family.
I am from middle-class white suburbia and must therefore be naïve about issues like racism and poverty.
I am 23 and therefore must enjoy alcohol and going out on the weekends.
I am blond and therefore must be not so smart
I am from Minnesota and therefore must like hot dish and cold weather.
I am from the U.S. and therefore must know how to read and write.
I am a feminist and therefore have to be pro-choice.
I am a math minor and therefore must a nerd.

These are only a few examples, and while some of these stereotypes are true, some are false. Some I embrace, some I fight tooth and nail. Why do I do this? Why am I so afraid to either meet or not meet these expectations? Why do I care about what society says I should or shouldn’t be? I act different around my parents than I do around my friends. My co-workers see me in a different way than my clients do. I am always trying to figure out what people’s expectations are of me first and then deciding whether or not I want to try and meet them. I continually try to decide what I feel and what society has told me to feel. Despite years of searching, I still haven’t figured out who I am and who I want to be. That makes me complicated. That makes me a Katie Girl.

i’d like to offer my formal apology to this week’s katie girl for taking so long to put her entry up on the blog. and for always eating her chocolate chips. thanks for such a thoughtful response. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here.

i think it should go without saying that this woman is a serious katie girl. i met her at an awards ceremony this fall and couldn’t even speak in the presence of such an incredible activist. i tried to tell her all that her work had meant to me as a woman and as a feminist…but ended up only managing to cry and blubber something unintelligible. i would give anything to go to the upcoming v^10 conference, but since money constraints are preventing me from going to new orleans this year, i’ve been reading all i can.

so you can just about imagine my enthusiasm when i came across an entry on blogher.com informing me that maria niles was doing an interview with ms. ensler and would be taking questions from member bloggers. so i submitted a question…and maria asked it during the interview! click here to check it out! while you are at it, be sure and listen to the entire interview.

in case you don’t have time to check the whole thing out, i wanted to be sure and share this with you…a quote from eve that i think embodies the spirit of this project:

i think what it comes down to is this: we have a choice as women to be good or to be great. to me, what it means to be good is that you are polite and you’re well behaved, you don’t say what you feel, you don’t make waves, you don’t get in trouble and you’re not messy and you spend your life obsessing about your body and trying to be skinny…you are so good that you disappear and you don’t exist anymore. or you become great. you make a decision that you are going to be great. and what that means is that you are going to stand up for what you believe and speak your truth and know that there are going to be people who don’t like you and people who love you. and you’re going to be whatever shape, whatever size, whatever color, whatever age you are and you are going to be proud of it and you are going to stand in it. and you are going to end up having a life that is full of mystery and excitement and outrageousness and joy and difficulty. and you are going to be able to withstand being alone, in your own self, by yourself, in the world. and i think you have to make a choice as a woman which life you want…if we really are serious about saving the human species we must take the energy, time and attention you spend fixing your body and direct it toward fixing the world.

i don’t know about you, but i’m putting this up on my bathroom mirror. as i read this i keep thinking about the difference between journeying toward good health and a positive body image and being on a diet. what should our real goal as women be? i know for me it is all too often a number on the scale. a number that represents who i was before i was hurt…before i grew up and before life got so damn complicated. maybe the real purpose of this journey is to redefine strength. to redefine beauty. to create a space for myself where i can feel comfortable…somewhere between a box of thin mints and actually being thin, there has to be a place where girls like me belong. who are never going to be a gym queen and sometimes take a second piece of pie but who also love to hike, do yoga, and swim. who would rather beat the boys on a scrabble board than a soccer pitch. who want to be loved and seen and known as a whole person…not the sum of a few attractive parts.

xoxo.
ellie

In first grade I shoved a rock up my nose. It got stuck. In fourth grade every girl in Grandview, Missouri, got the bright idea to shave only the back of their heads. It was some kind of rebellious fashion statement, and one I rarely admit to doing. In sixth grade I started my period and insisted that it wasn’t normal. I was so persistent that my mother had to take me to the doctor. I refused to believe that my mother, a nurse, knew what she was talking about. In seventh grade I received my first kiss. Ken Willert was the one to give it to me. My friends and I were at Mitch Karsten’s birthday party, girls on one side of the room and boys on the other. The kiss was strategically planned, not romantic or spontaneous in any way, and I refused to kiss him until I found my Dr. Pepper Chap Stick. I had to make sure my lips were soft after all. Two years ago I dated a guy named Ben. I was bored, and he was cute, until he turned in to a stalker. I had mentioned that I liked Batman, and one day I came home to find him in my apartment in nothing but a child sized Batman cape. I sent him home. Three weeks ago,I accidentally found out that the father of my son is having a baby. This was quite a shock to me because he had been trying to get back together with me for months. He would tell me how sorry he was for things that happened in the past, tell me he loves me, and wants nothing more than to have his family back. I knew that even though there were still feelings on both people’s parts, I couldn’t ever go back to that relationship. I didn’t want to be with the father of my child, but he should damn well be miserable and pine over me. I figured that he deserved it after everything that he had done. I spent the rest of the night throwing myself a pity party and avoiding his text messages and calls. Unfortunately when I was ready to talk the only thing that could come out of my mouth, after some alcoholic beverages, was, “I hope your baby has five legs.”

I thought about how immature that phrase was for about a week, and then I realized something. It is ok to do things I regret. I’m not saying I should go out and purposely do things that are stupid, but all of my experiences have taught me something. For example, I now know that rocks do not belong in body cavities, that being a woman is a normal biological thing, and I have learned that clippers should only be used on members of the male species. Spontaneous kisses that hold feeling and meaning are the best, and I no longer worry about having Chap Stick. I figure I am a little old for Dr. Pepper flavor and so have now matured to Tropical Punch Kool-Aid. Dating someone because I am bored never goes anywhere and is a waste of time. Maturing enough to consider someone else’s feelings is something that I am glad to have learned. I can now just tell someone that it isn’t working out rather than hoping that he gets my subtle cues and disappears. Even though I still do not like the idea of my son’s father having another child, a baby with five legs just wouldn’t be a good thing.

Learning to let things go is not an easy task, and I have not mastered it by any means. I am positive that I will have more moments that I am not proud of, and I welcome them. I figure it is how I handle myself during and after them that shapes who I am. I can only hope that as I age and mature that I live a life without regret and have many stories to tell.

i’d like to thank this week’s contributer for such an incredible essay! for more information on the katie girl project or how to submit a piece, click here.