A coworker and I were having a discussion about childhood antics, during which I jokingly remarked, “I’m a girl. When I was growing up, girls didn’t do things like that.”
My acquaintance responded, “Yes, well you’re no ordinary girl.”
I blinked. “Um, yeah, actually, I am an ordinary girl.”
“You know what I mean,” he said, laughing. “Because you’re into computers and stuff.”
I brushed it off at the time, which is my typical reaction to remarks which are, either intentionally or unintentionally, offensive. But later, I recalled his words, mulling them over to consider them from his perspective.
You’re no ordinary girl.
What does it mean for a man to say that to a woman? Am I to pull on my feminist hat and decide that the words carried some sexist or misogynist meaning, which must be challenged? Is it an implication that a female who is interested in, say, computers and technology, or mathematics, or sports, is somehow less of a girl, or less of a woman? In which case, one must wonder, what makes a woman an ordinary woman?
I considered my own journey over the years from girlhood to womanhood. Childhood days of playing with Barbie dolls, and climbing trees in dirty sneakers and bandaged knees. The awkward years of learning to manage trendy outfits and hairstyles, the painful sting and awe of crushes on high school boys, the thrill of cheering with friends during football games. Being a fairy-tale bride in a gorgeous princess bride gown. Sewing curtains to hang in the windows of our home, cooking homemade meals for my husband as he came home from work. The pain and wonder of giving birth to three children, then nursing them at my breast. Years of life filled with planning family outings, leading scouts, baking cookies. Playing soccer, hiking, making photo scrapbooks of my family. Teaching young children during my first career outside the home. Computer games, good books, struggling to keep house as the children grew and grew.
But no…I suppose there is nothing typical about any of that.
In the end, I gained understanding. My acquaintance had developed a narrow opinion of me based on the tiny speck which is his knowledge about my life. He saw that I enjoyed computers and sports, and decided that such things excluded me from the world of so-called ordinary women. No matter. I have no need to prove my ordinariness to anyone, for I am well-rooted in one wonderful truth about who I am: I am extraordinary.
I am good, and kind, and honest and talented. I am a creative person with a zest for life and a positive outlook. I am great at a few things, and terrible at a few things (like housekeeping). I can admit and laugh at my mistakes and weaknesses, and I work hard to be excellent in all that I do. When I look in the mirror, I like what I see looking back at me. If an ordinary woman is one who must doubt herself, or live within the limits of a labeled box, chaining her self-worth to the man at her side, then no, I refuse to be ordinary. Instead, I will continue to live, and find happiness, and learn, and grow into the most extraordinary woman I can possibly be.