Can Strong Women Love? The Saga of Olga of Kiev

Wondering why her strength intimidates men (source)

  As a romantic at heart, I get a little salty when I hear people say "true love doesn't exist". As a feminist, I get a tad grumpy when people say, "strong women can't love", or "a real relationship needs a woman to be feminine" (usually implying that for romance to be in effect, a woman's real place is 'in the kitchen'/subservient to the man/sewing by the fire or some such nonsense). Feminists are "known" for being 'man-hating', 'feminazi', or 'butch'. True to form, many feminists of the past were messes when it came to their romantic lives, and they are often cited to prove that "strong" women just hate men/want to be men/are completely incapable of love.
     True enough to those points, there are few examples recorded in history detailing the romantic love of strong women. "Strong" women in history are usually not known for their romantic relationships. If they achieved something, it's usually because they devoted their whole lives to it, leaving no time for love, or, they got their way through skanky means. It creates a tidy narrative; strong women are either prudes who hate men or seductresses who use them, probably because they hate them.

It's time to clutch the pearls! (source)

Prudes

1. Joan of Arc: a religious warrior who fought and led for France. Burnt at the stake by the English. As far as history knows, she was never in a romantic relationship.
2. Florence Nightingale: basically invented modern nursing, opened and ran a hospital from self-imposed bed-rest. She died single at the age of 90.
3. Mother Theresa: helped the ill and poor in India, awarded with a Nobel Peace Prize. As she was a nun, she died single and chaste.

"The only good man is a naked /rich one" (source)

Skanks

1. Elizabeth I of England: never married, never had kids, but history is pretty sure she slept around. She spent her time being the queen of England, improving the economy, killing Catholics, and fighting the Spanish. She gave England one of its most prosperous reigns, but her life contains no epic love story.
2. Cleopatra, queen of Egypt: Member of the Ptolemaic royalty of Egypt. She married her brother (who later died) and slept with both Mark Antony and Julius Caesar. She was brilliant (rather than beautiful), and she used her political schemes to keep Egypt in power. She killed herself when things started to go wrong. 
3. Ching Shih, also known as Madame Ching: one of the most powerful pirates in history, commanding a fleet of over 300 ships. She was a prostitute who married a pirate king. When he died, she took over and expanded the fleet, coming into conflict with the British, Portuguese, and Qing Empires. She eventually retired from piracy and used her money to open gambling houses.

Breaking the Stereotype

     When I was a young girl, my parents spoiled me with great books about great women. I started to notice there weren't many stories about romance. It actually took me until early adulthood to come across a story where a strong woman was motivated by romantic love (rather than a desire to seduce and manipulate). The first woman who fit those criteria was Boudica. She was the wife of a Celtic chieftain. After her husband died, the Romans stole Boudica's land, raped her daughters, and beat her in front of her people. Her resulting revenge set the country on fire; she led a force of 100,000 in an uprising against the Romans, ending in the deaths of 70,000-80,000 people. She died on the battlefield, possibly of suicide when she was defeated. She is described thusly, "In stature she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh; a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips; around her neck was a large golden necklace; and she wore a tunic of divers colours over which a thick mantle was fastened with a brooch. This was her invariable attire."

Badass (source)

    Cool as her story is, Boudica is not who we're here to talk about today. Sure, she was married, and she fought the Romans after her husband's death, but there was a lot more to be revenged; the rape of her daughters, her own humiliation, and the theft of her lands. Nah, we have someone better today. Someone I didn't learn about until I was in my 20s.

Princess Olga of Kiev
     Once upon a time, around the year 890AD, a girl was born, and she was named Olga. Rather than the singing of birds, her birth was accompanied by the sound of an enormous thunderclap and a spontaneous wildfire [not-a-fact].She became a princess when she wed Igor, the leader of the Kievan Rus (a people in W. Russia descended from Vikings). She married Igor quite young, when she was 12 or 13. Later on, Igor and Olga had a son, Svyatoslav.
     When Svyatoslav was three years old, tragedy struck. Igor, Olga's husband, while collecting tribute, was murdered by the neighboring Drevlian Kingdom.The Drevlians then sent Olga an offer; she could marry their ruler, Mal, and consolidate the powers of the two kingdoms. This is where the story really takes off.
   Prince Mal had sent a coterie of 20 men to make his offer of marriage. Olga met the procession, "She told her noble suitors that her people would carry them in their boats to the castle, so they wouldn't have to walk. And they did. But when they got to the castle's courtyard, the carriers dumped the suitors, boat and all, into a giant trench. Olga, smiling, had them all buried alive" (source). Buried alive.

"Quit playing; marriage or no?" (Source)

     Olga sent word to Mal that she accepted his proposal, but she was worried; her people would not support her marriage to Mal unless it was shown he respected her. She requested he send the most distinguished men from his kingdom to travel with her to the wedding. Mal eagerly acquiesced. When they arrived at her home, Olga offered them refreshment and access to the bathhouse to clean up. While these high-class men were bathing, she locked them in the bathhouse and set it on fire.

(source)

    Surely, after taking out the Drevlian's diplomatic and ruling people, she was done, right? NOPE. Still pretending her marriage to Mal was going to happen, Olga invited the Drevlians to a funeral for her husband.They agreed. She met the Drevlians at her husband's grave, where a feast was held in remembrance. When the Drevlians were drunk, Olga's soldiers killed 5,000 of them. Olga returned to Kiev, not to rest or pat herself on the back for a job well done, but to continue plotting the demise of all Drevlians. 

     She assembled an army and advanced towards the Drevlian survivors. After a siege, the Drevlians begged for mercy, offering to pay Olga off with honey and furs. Not wanting to "burden the peasantry", Olga said she'd allow them to live in exchange for three pigeons and three sparrows from each household. The surviving Drevlians thought this more than reasonable and sent Olga her birds. Then, in her pièce de résistance:

     "Olga gave to each soldier in her army a pigeon or a sparrow, and ordered them to attach by thread to each pigeon and sparrow a piece of sulfur bound with small pieces of cloth. When night fell, Olga bade her soldiers release the pigeons and the sparrows. So the birds flew to their nests, the pigeons to the cotes, and the sparrows under the eaves. The dove-cotes, the coops, the porches, and the haymows were set on fire. There was not a house that was not consumed, and it was impossible to extinguish the flames, because all the houses caught on fire at once. The people fled from the city, and Olga ordered her soldiers to catch them. Thus she took the city and burned it, and captured the elders of the city. Some of the other captives she killed, while some she gave to others as slaves to her followers. The remnant she left to pay tribute." (source)

Pictured: Princess Olga, doing as one does (source)

     That's right. Olga wiped out an entire kingdom to avenge her husband's death. After this, she ruled the Kievan Rus until her son came of age, avoiding marriage proposals from other kingdoms. When her son grew up, she retired from her position of regent, but that was not the end for her. She converted to Christianity when she was 50-60ish years of age, and she was made a saint after her death. Though she was not the regent, she continued to be an important figure until her death. The year before she died at age 80, Olga led the city of Kiev through a Siege while her son was away. When the siege was broken, she sent Svyatoslav a scolding letter about duty, after which he returned home straight away. Rumor even has it she sassed the Emperor of Byzantium when he proposed to her. She told him they could not marry because she was a pagan, and requested he baptise her. After it was done and he continued to press his suit, she told him it was impossible for them to marry, as the baptism had made them family. In response, Emperor Constantine VII said she'd outwitted him and gave her presents (source).

#BattleAxeforLIFE (source)

Was She Strong?

     Undoubtedly. She was savvy, and she was strong. She didn't use her body or seductiveness to get her way, but her force of personality, savagery, and cunning. Even after her son took the throne, she spent much of her time ruling the city when he left on military campaigns, because he knew she was to be trusted. She never gave up or gave in. Unlike other female rulers in history (*cough* Cleopatra *cough*), she didn't take the easy path. She earned the respect of her people through her integrity and loyalty.

Was She in Love?

     This question is harder to prove. We don't have fragments of love letters shared between Igor and Olga, but I think her actions speak for themselves. Back in the day, it was not expected for women to take care of themselves. After the deaths of their husbands, they were basically the flag in "capture the flag". They were supposed to obey their late husband's advisors and marry for the sake of their kingdom. It was common for a woman to be passed around like a hacky sack if her husband/s died. Olga did not allow this to happen to her, and unlike Cleopatra and Elizabeth, who stayed single but used their wiles to keep themselves in power, there is not record of Olga having a lover or relations with any rivaling rulers. It seems there was only one man for Olga. It makes sense. She married when she was very young, and she and Igor were married for more than 40 years. Looking at that fact; they were married for forty years, but when Igor died, their only son was too young to take the throne. That means Igor and Olga were childless for nearly 35 years. In many such cases, (the most well-known probably being Henry VIII), this infertility was grounds for divorce. It was very important for kings to have heirs. But Igor did not divorce Olga. There is no mention of him even attempting it. Why? Perhaps he loved her, and she loved him.

     In any case, Olga's actions after Igor's death show a unique ferocity. It would be extremely unusual for the widow of a king to take control the way Olga did after Igor's death. Even if she were the regent, this was usually a title in name only. Male advisers would be the true rulers until the prince came of age. But Olga seized a reigns of her kingdom, a rare move. Her revenge against the Drevlians goes above and beyond just "keeping the kingdom safe". There is a touch of the personal about her commands. It doesn't make sense in the context of Olga being your typical arranged-marriage wife. But in the context of a loving wife of forty years who just lost her husband, the burying and burning alive makes perfect sense. She was furious because the Drevlians took her husband away from her and dared propose marriage afterward. She didn't just kill them; she made them suffer.

     I would argue Olga loved Igor, and her actions after his death were primarily to punish his murderers. She stayed single, even once her role of regent was done with, because she loved Igor and was devoted to protecting their kingdom and their child. 

Can she be cute AND slay your enemies? (source)

Can Strong Women Love?

     Heck yes they can! And in cases like Olga's I would say they love better than a 'weak' woman. A weak woman in Olga's shoes would have married Mal without a whimper to protect her kingdom and avoid trouble. Her son would perhaps have been murdered before he reached adulthood, and she would have dutifully popped out more kids for her new husband (this type of scenario is frighteningly common in the ruling classes of yesteryear). Olga was strong in her love and in her self. So ask yourself: what is better--a woman who "knows her place" and meekly does everything she is told, or a strong, capable woman who steps up when she's needed and fights for herself and her family? I know my answer.

Positive Fatherhood and Strong Daughters

When it comes to kids growing up, each parent has their own unique role to play. In the case of girls and fathers, the relationship can be complicated, messy, inspiring, helpful, or ultimately harmful. Never let it be said fathers are not necessary for the growth of strong daughters.
     There's an interesting trend--in children's (ie: Disney) movies especially--of daughters growing up with single fathers and dealing with the issues that arise.

Dealing with independence and power struggles (source)

Conflicting goals and miscommunication (source)

Going on adventures (source)

Sharing hobbies and interests (source)

     And so on, and so on. It's a trend with roots in the Victorian Era; the phenomenon is called the "absent mother" and is seen in most Victorian literature. Some people take issue with it, but I really don't mind it, especially in the modern day. Why? Because there's already so much the media does to divide the sexes; it's nice to have some positive reinforcement for strong father-daughter bonds.
     The next time you watch a commercial with both a man and a woman, see if the two fall into the following couple "archetypes":

• Smart, patient woman/stupid, bumbling man
• Clueless man/seductive woman
• Decorative sexy woman/cool guy
• Sexy "confident" woman/decorative sexy man

     Outside of commercials, movies are often advertised (and written) as a battle of the sexes. "Watch these two sexy super-spies go toe-to-toe!" "See if this smart, career-driven woman will give in to this adorable slacker!" "Will the creepy loner guy get the girl?!"

(source)

     Of course, it's found in real life, too. "Boys night" "girl's night" "man cave" "woman talk". The eternal question, "can a man and a woman be just friends?" This is all fine and good for creating artificial tension, but when it comes to being a parent, these rules can't fly. At what point does a man learn to brush and braid hair? When is it 'okay' to watch a "girl" movie? In short, how does a dad bond with his daughter?
     I've seen it in many ways. The most harmful, in my humble opinion, is when the dad tries to turn his daughter into a boy. She'll have a name like "Jesse" or "Jo" or "Alex", and she'll be really into sports. She'll have an older sister, maybe, but no brothers. She spends her life desperate for her dad's approval and dates neglectful and demanding guys to fill her need for male attention. Why? Because this type of father never met her on her level. He made her feel like she was never good enough, that if she really wanted to be the ideal child, she'd be a boy. You see similar behavior in girls whose fathers left the family.
 

(Source)

     On the other, more positive, hand, we're starting to see a swing the other way in media. Commercials showing men and women acting as a team, commercials about fathers and daughters forming strong bonds-- lessons about the important role and responsibility fathers have. The stereotypical things fathers teach sons include "how to throw a ball", "how to tie a tie", and "how to drive". What dads teach their daughters is more mental, and ultimately, more impactful. "Self respect" "how to handle herself" "what a good man is". These lessons aren't so clearly defined as "come on, let me teach you how to throw." These lessons come piece by piece over time. They're taught in the small, easily-looked-over moments. They can be taught in almost any setting.

     In terms of a father-daughter relationship, I am lucky in that my relationship with my dad is and has been strong. A large part of my identity springs from my father. I love my long hair mostly because, when I was small, my dad cut it. It wasn't any big deal; he was better at cutting hair straight than my mom. He would always mention how lovely my long hair was and compliment me when I kept it brushed. One of my earliest memories is of being about three years old and my dad asking me if I wanted to have bangs or not when he was giving me a trim. I have strong self respect because my dad taught me to stand up for myself, that I was someone worth respecting. By watching how he treated my mom, I learned what to expect out a romantic partner. He told us a story about work when he came home one day. His coworkers had been having their accustomed "complain about my wife" time when one of them had mentioned that my father never joined in. "Why would I? She's my wife," he replied. Dad takes great pride in my mom's skills. "Your mom is so intelligent", "Your mom is hardworking", "Your mom is the best shot I know", "Your mom cooks the best food I've eaten." Dad is unrelenting when it comes to our success. When I was in high school, there were constant reinforcements and suggestions. "It's time to make your resumé. You'll need it when you're older." "You can earn an A in welding. Go talk to your teacher about practicing after school." I joined Cross Country partially because Dad had a rule; we had to be in at least one sport each year, "To show you're more than just a good student", and partially because I looked up to my dad, long-distance runner extraordinaire. Marathon-runner, 50-mile completer, two-time 100-mile contestant. When I was younger, he'd run 30 miles every Saturday morning. He'd be back in time for lunch, sweaty and happy. He still speaks fondly (and a tad ruefully) of the time he was using me to learn a martial arts technique. I wasn't hitting hard enough, so he said "really hit me". I got him in the spleen, causing a little damage and more than a year of twinges. Rather than angry, he was proud at how well the technique worked. In my family, my dad and I share our rounded heads, our left-handedness, our introversion, and our sternness in the face of chaos and noise. We are all a product of our upbringing, and mine was grand.

(Source)

Conclusion
Fathers are important in their daughter's lives. There are some lessons best taught by fathers, and some lessons require both a mother and a father to be complete. Some are active; some are passive. Father-daughter relationships are not just important to the daughter; they are one of the only male-female relationships a man can have that is not sexualized. It's a chance for a man to get to know a female, be a support system, encourage, teach, and enjoy the automatic love that accompanies family. In a world of rape, crimes against women, and rampant objectification of the female anatomy, it is a chance for a girl to be loved and supported unconditionally, just for being who she is. For women; if you have a good dad, take a moment to appreciate him. When you have kids, try to find a man who will be a good father--not just to your sons, but to your daughters. For men, as I'm sure fathers know, there is a lot of duty resting on your shoulders, but know that if you do it right, it will pay off.

"It's Disgusting": Rape or Armpit Hair?

This post comes about from a coalescing of two things I've seen in the last week. The first was a picture; the second was a video.

This picture (source)

This video

     Granted, the problem highlighted above probably has more to do with the "younger" generations. The boys, who in high school or middle school, squeal, "Groooooss" when anything to do with menstruation comes up. The same reaction is seen when female armpit hair is the subject of conversation.
     "I don't live in France, why would I have armpit hair?"
     "That's nasty."
     "Eeuw!"
     "I would never date a girl who didn't shave her armpits."
     "Women are supposed to be smooth."
     It's not a polarizing topic. Pretty much everyone agrees, "that's disgusting". People shout this opinion freely. It's a cultural opinion: "American women shave their armpits." Men and women, boys and girls, are pretty much united over this opinion: (Female) armpit hair is gross. They feel comfortable telling women to continue using a razor to scrape the hair off of their armpits, because that's how it's "supposed" to be.

Y'know. "Natural". (Source)

     Let's talk about similar conversations about rape. When rape is brought up, do people yell, "That's disgusting!" "That's just wrong!" "People aren't supposed to be rapists!"? ......No. No they don't. There's normally an uncomfortable silence, and then people start talking in polite language. "Well, in my opinion....", "I know some people might....", "It seems to me....", and those sorts of platitudes. Why? Because it's not a cultural norm for people to speak out against rape. It's not part of our cultural identity to hate rape and rapists and to think they are disgusting. It's accepted, but not really expected.
     We feel comfortable telling women they can't grow the hair their body naturally grows, but we don't feel comfortable saying rapists shouldn't exist. A 14 year old boy can tell a grown woman she shouldn't grow armpit hair, but we don't see the same freedom of expression when it comes to condemning rapists.

(Source)

     In a time when 15% of women in America have been raped, when 7% of 5th-8th grade girls and 12% of 9th-12th grade girls have been sexually assaulted (source), we feel more comfortable condemning armpit hair than rape and sexual violence. Fifteen percent of women. That's not including harassment and assault other than rape. That's just rape. In a 1986 study, thirty Goddamn percent of men in the study said they would commit rape if they knew there was no chance of being caught. When the phrase "rape" was swapped for "force a woman to have sex", more than 50% said they would (source).
     Now, that was 30 years ago. Times were different. I wasn't even alive. But my parents were, and yours probably were, too. Just thirty years ago, 50% of men said they would rape a woman if they could get away with it. The numbers today are not much better, with 1/3 of men still saying they would force a woman to have sex if they would get away with it (source). We don't have a cultural trait of hating rape. How could we? One sixth of us would commit rape, given the chance.
     We live in a country and a time where it's definitively not okay for a woman to not shave, but it's considered within the range of "normal" for people to hurt, abuse, and assault each other. We're supposed to speak out against female body hair, but it's not expected to speak out against rape.

(Source)     

"Imagine a world where people were more disgusted with rape than they are with female body hair."

What a beautiful world it would be.

Don't Call Me "Babe"

     America, it's time we sat down and had a little chat. Y'see, there's a problem in our culture. It's pervasive. It's insidious. It's gross.
     It's time we talked about "babe". Ever since I was a young Fem-Mermaid, I've had a problem with the use of "babe" (and "baby", for that matter) as a term of endearment. Why, you ask? Well.....

This. This is why. (Source)

Let's look at other (less icky, more mature) terms of endearment.

• Boo (from the more archaic "Beau")
• Cutey
• Dear
• Dearie
• Darling
• Honey
• Hon
• Honey-Bunch
• Love
• Lover
• Precious
• Sexy
• Sweetie
• Sweetie-Pie
• Sweetheart
• Sugar
• (And many, many more, including more personalized names)

     Notice what that list of names has in common. For one, there's a comparison to sweet foods or flavors. Love is sweet. Or, as the Bard ironically wrote, "Sweets to the sweet". Some terms show the level of attraction in the relationship "He's so sexy, I just call him Sexy!". Some are terms that define the relationship--"dear" can be a nickname, or it can describe how important something is. "That is dear to me." Either way, the above nicknames tell the nature of the relationship. Calling your significant other "Sweetheart" implies they have a sweet/kind heart. Awwww. Doesn't that just make you melt a bit?
     So, back to "babe" and "baby". What do those terms imply? .......that your loved one is....like....an.....infant. Let that sink in. If you are a "babe"-user, you might be tempted to argue, "What! No! "Babe" means a hot person! As in, "what a babe!"" This could be, but why in the realm of almighty God does "babe" mean a HOT person???? What is hot about babies??? (Hopefully you're thinking, "eeew. Nothing!" Good. You're not a pedophile.)

Hey, uh...baby. (Source)

     Answer: Nothing is hot about babies. Nothing is attractive about babies. Sure, they're cute. But not cute in the way adults are cute. They're chubby, helpless, and sleep and cry a lot. They also can't clean up after themselves or hold a conversation. If "babe" is used to imply level of caring, well, that's more than a little patronizing, isn't it? Not sexy. Not hot. [Though it's not nearly so common, "sexy girl" or "sexy boy" has the same squickyness to it. Boys and girls are not sexy. They're seven.]
     Throughout history, it's been popular to infantalize the opposite sex to make them "more" attractive. The remnants remaining today are things like using baby talk during times of intimacy and calling your partner "mommy" or, more commonly, "daddy". Sugar-daddies are a great example of this.

Lovely. (Source)

     The term Sugar-daddy plays on the creepy incestuous vibe such relationships give out. The age difference is such that he could be his lover's father. He tends to provide for the woman, much the way a father would provide for his child. The woman is completely powerless in the relationship except for the manipulation of her sex appeal. What a healthy relationship! (cough cough patriarchy cough) 

     Using the "babe" or "baby" implies a similar relationship. Where is the respect of "babe"? There's isn't any. People don't respect babies. They care for them. They tolerate their tantrums and under-developed communication skills. You wouldn't call your baby "Lover", so why would you call your lover "Baby"?

Have a relationship like this. (Source)

     Don't worry, if you are trapped in a Baby relationship, there is hope! If you are the Baby-caller, try the following--consider your loved one's appeal to you. Do you love them because they are sweet? Sassy? Sexy? Do they remind you of an animal you like? Create a tailor-made name for them to show you really care! Why use the generic, boring, and creepy "baby" when you can use "Sassy-Pants" or "Love-Panda"? Terms of endearment are allowed to be silly (just think, you've been comparing your loved one to an infant all this time), so feel free to go wild! Have some respect for your partner, their personality, and their accomplishments; They deserve better than "baby". 

Not this. (Source)

    If, on the other hand, you are the one assaulted with the term "baby" in your relationship, it's probably time to stand up for yourself. Why settle for "Baby"? Tell your partner to stop patronizing you and to try harder (After all, open and clear communication is very important in healthy relationships). "I'm not a baby" would be a fabulous starting line.

Why Women Go to the Bathroom Together

Hello all!

    In honor of this post of the Feminist Mermaid, I hope to explain an eternally confuddling question. "Why do women always go to the bathroom together?" It's joked about in movies, TV shows, and in real life by men and women alike. Common answers are "to gossip", "just because", "to check makeup", and so on. But here at the Feminist Mermaid, we don't believe in easy answers! 

(Source)

     Now, I'm not one of "those" women who always asks a female to accompany me to the bathroom. I'm quite happy to go by myself. However, I have been involved in many a group-potty trip in my day. It all started when I was a kid. I'm the second of three children; I have an older brother and a younger sister. As is usual with young children, when my brother and I were small (and before my sister existed), we would go to the bathroom with our mom when in public spaces. Once my brother was old enough to go the bathroom alone (ie: not pee on himself, get lost, or forget to wipe), he did. This was when he was about five or six years old, I think. My sister and I, however, were never really "allowed" to go the bathroom by ourselves. Even when my sister reached the age of competence in the bathroom, we were always told to go with each other. it didn't matter where we were--The mall, a restaurant, a barbecue of a family friend. Our parents probably stopped asking us to go with each other when I was 16ish, but by that time, it was ingrained. "Do not go the bathroom alone".

Like this. Only, ya' know, with a bathroom (Source)

     So, what's all that about? Is this a common experience for sisters? Bet you can't guess the answer. It's "rape culture". Hear me out. The reason my parents always told us to go together was to avoid us being kidnapped. As I was the older sister, I was always told, "Keep an eye out" and to make sure nothing happened to my sister. I was told this as an eight year old. As a nine year old. As a ten year old. It was a rather common-sense thing my parents did. They were teaching us a useful skill--to watch out for each other, always. 

    Now how is this indicative of rape culture? I bet none of you blinked when I revealed my parents made my sister and I walk to the bathroom together. I also bet none of you found it strange my brother didn't merit a body guard. Yes, he was the only boy, but if one of we sisters was unavailable, our mom would usually go with the bathroom-seeker. It was okay for my brother to go to the bathroom alone, but not for us. Because someone might mess with us. Someone might try to lure us away with candy. Because bad things can happen in bathroom stalls. And, indeed, once upon a bathroom trip, when I was maybe 11, a strange man did indeed try to lure us outside. He promised puppies to sell. Since my parents had prepared me, I knew the deal. I gave him a dirty look, held a strong grasp on my seven-year-old sister's hand and tugged us into the safety of the women's room. 

It's a real thing. (Source)

    On another occasion, I was 16, in the library with my sister. This was when the message was already ingrained; "don't leave each other". A man in a yellow rain slicker began following us around the shelves, trying to pretend he wasn't. Whenever we moved to a new section, he followed. When we headed towards the exit, he sped up, to not lose us. We went back into the main area of the library and waited for a woman to walk out. As we shadowed her, our "shadow" fell back. Once in the parking lot, we sprinted to our mom's car. This anecdote doesn't involve a bathroom, true, but the skills we learned in our early lives from the bathroom trips strongly applied.

    I was hanging out with my sister, and in a longer story about a friend of hers, she told me about a strange encounter she had at a party. She's at college, and she was having a party at her apartment. There was a girl she didn't know there who came up to her and said, "please, go to the bathroom with me." My sister escorted her to a bathroom where this girl revealed her "date" was actually a man bent on harassing her. She couldn't get him to leave her alone, and she didn't know anyone to ask for help. My sister left the bathroom and arranged a distraction for the "date" and then got the girl on her way home. The "date" never expected a thing, because girls always go to the bathroom together, right? Chick stuff, man. So obtuse.

So crazy (Source)

    Yes, women do gossip in the bathroom. We do touch up our hair and make up. We check our clothes in the mirror. But, I submit that's not what the whole thing is about. Women go the bathroom together, because when we are small, we are taught to be careful when we go the bathroom. "Safety in numbers". Because going to the bathroom isn't safe. Not even for little girls. 

    Take a moment: How messed up is that?  

    It can be a fun place to chat with friends, or it can be a refuge. It can be a place to plot an escape. If you've ever wondered, "why do we need feminism?" This is one of the answers. Because it's normal for us to teach our daughters to not go the bathroom alone. Because it's practical. Necessary, even. That's rape culture. As an eight year old, I was living life in a way to avoid getting kidnapped and assaulted. Because that's actually something that can happen in our country, and it's commonplace enough that we teach our daughters to live around it.

[Fun anecdote: today, I was leading a workshop to create a series of skits for the local elementary school about "stranger danger" in an informative, interesting, and non-threatening way, when one of the workshop-ees came to this same bathroom conclusion. We were talking about the do's of avoiding strangers, "Do always walk with a friend", and one of the young men yelled out, "Oh! That's why girls always go to the bathroom together!", while the others attendees confirmed, "especially in college." Can't make this stuff up.]

My Mother is the Strongest Person I Know

For this, the first blog post of the Feminist Mermaid, I wanted to start where it all began. My mother. Most people love their moms. Many people respect their moms. We like them for their kindness, their love, their patience. We thank them on Mother's day and on their birthdays, and maybe on days in between. Something we often ignore about our mothers, though, is their strength, and my mom is the strongest person I know.

Mom was a punk in college, and though she traded her black pants and wild hair for a more mom-ly appearance, at heart, she is still that outspoken person.
After a C-section for her first child (my brother), my mom went on to give birth vaginally to my sister and I without painkillers. My sister's birth was induced. What she did is not even allowed anymore in hospitals.
When my brother was an infant, mom ran a 13k race while breastfeeding him. As in, she carried him as she ran and fed him simultaneously.
When we lived in Malaysia and only had one car, mom would walk us (brother--6, me--4, sister--infant) across the vast, multi-lane highway. She carried a big stick in one hand to threaten the crazy scooter-drivers with. We never got hit.
When I was four and our previously-abused family dog attacked me, my mom threw it off of me and wrestled it into the kitchen. She whisked me upstairs, put a washcloth on my head, arranged for my dad and brother to be found and told (they were on a bike ride) and secured a ride with a family friend to the hospital. I remember her solidity and calmness. When we arrived, she claimed the best surgeon in the hospital for me. He specialized in sewing veins. I had to get more than 300 stitches on my scalp. I was terrified, but mom didn't waver.
In her spare time in Malaysia, mom would run "hashes". Ie: races in the form of adult tag (everyone chases the person who's "it") through the jungle with other interested people. When I say "jungle", I mean "jungle". She and dad would bring home leaches for my brother and I after these little jogs.
When she was worried our educations would suffer from our constant military-moving, mom took it upon herself to homeschool us. When we re-entered school, we all read at a college level and ended up all graduating valedictorians.
My mom taught me how to shoot when I was a kid because women should know how to protect themselves. She was also an NRA-Certified instructor and specialized in teaching women's classes because she wanted to teach women to be strong. She has the best aim.
Mom navigated our family trips across country with just we kids in the car, in the time before Garmin, Google maps, and smart phones. She used paper maps and a CB radio. 
When we walked to the local park as kids, mom scared away the creepy cat-callers.
My mom doesn't see problems, only possible solutions.
When dad worked night shifts in Virginia, mom kept us well-behaved and grateful, not matter how bratty and not-understanding we wanted to be about dad's new hours.
When dad was away on trips, even the month-long ones, mom didn't let her loneliness show or affect our lives.
My mother never used makeup or clothes to feel beautiful. It didn't matter if people looked at her strangely for wearing men's pants. "They have bigger pockets". Now that I'm an adult, I find I cannot stand a pair of pants unless it has a good pair of pockets.
Mom never let her personal feelings of a person get in the way of how she treated them. "Manners are for people you don't like."
She never let anything get in the way of her helping people who looked like they needed it.
Wherever we moved, mom was always the first of us to meet people and make connections.
Mom was a volunteer firefighter. She also became an EMT. She said she was treated badly by her EMT classmates for being an older woman, but that she didn't care because she was learning things to help people.
When our dog cornered a copperhead snake near our house, my mom shot the snake's head off. When a rabid opossum was walking towards our house, mom killed it. The same goes for many other dangerous or trouble-causing animals.
My mom's mid-life crisis was to buy a rock-crawler jeep.
When our turkey was savaged, mom helped my sister and I patch it up. She was not deterred by the maggots, smell, or heat.
Mom taught us that to be nice and smart at the same time. After dropping off a hitchiker, she made clear, "I only picked him up because his clothes were too tight to hide a weapon, and because I had my gun if he'd tried anything." You go, Mom.
My mom has more upper-body strength than I can hope to get in my entire life. One word, "indefatigable".
Mom always weeds her garden, even in the 100 degree heat. When her whiny kids wouldn't help, she remained unperturbed.
Mom taught me the value of "no".
One of mom's ideas of "fun" is to ride a horse in the 20-degree weather.
Mom is usually the one we bring our bad problems to first. Dad often gets the buffer of her, but we rarely give her that luxury. She still answers her phone whenever we call.
She doesn't lose her temper, even when dealing with extremely unreasonable people.
Mom used to run races with dad, the ultra-marathoner, until her tendonitis flared up so badly she couldn't walk for a bit.
She taught me how to do basic repairs on toilets and cars. (I used some of that knowledge this week; thanks, Mom!)
Even though she is terrified of flying, mom came to Italy with my sister and me.
My mom is not afraid of creepy crawlies. I wish her bravery had rubbed on me in regards to spiders.
Mom drives superbly in all weather conditions. She never loses her cool, even when hitting black ice and spinning 180 degrees.
No matter how unlovable we act, the strength of my mom's love never wavers. She always encourages us to be our best selves.
My mom taught us to have fun freely. Social rules are often straight bull, and she taught us it was okay to ignore those ones. I didn't see the value of that when I was younger. But now, I understand.

I appreciate my mom for a great many things. She cooks well; she gives great hugs; she's got a great sense of humor. But, today, I want to share my appreciation for her strength. She's amazing. Thanks, mom, for making this possible.