Hurt, Scarred, Healed

Doesn't this house look lovely? In its quintessential California style, with wisteria trailing around the posts and a wide sweeping porch, this house looks to me today as it did almost 40 years ago when I first found it and decided to make a small apartment inside of it my home. I loved that apartment, loved it up until the last time I had seen it, again, almost 40 years ago. And then I was raped inside of it, attacked by a man who entered through that window on that beautiful porch, and altered my life and sense of security for years to come.

I didn't mean to visit the house today; I went to Rockridge to meet up with a friend for coffee, and after our delightful encounter, I decided to explore my old stomping grounds. Oakland has changed so much since I went to school at CCA(C) there, and the bobo atmosphere attracts and amuses me. Artisanal everything, from coffee to gelato to babywear is available along College Ave, and only a few signs of the transitional nature of the neighborhood from when I lived there remain. And so I explored, and then found myself driving off the main drag. I couldn't name the street of my old house, and really didn't mean to be searching for it, yet there I was.

It was nice to know that the sight of the house and the memories of my final horrific time spent there held no power over me today. That was not always the case. For years - decades - I was haunted with memories and nightmares, and my poor ex-husband and many a poor travelmate would be awakened by my blood-curdling screams from night terrors. But I have exorcised those terrors, worked through and past them, and the daytime equivalent was not present when faced with the location of the crimes committed against me.

Why am I writing about this, making such a private subject so public? Because it amazes and impresses me over and over again to see how resilient we humans are - whether in recovery from natural disasters or issues of health, whether dealing with grief or terror. So often, though, we have difficulty acknowledging the hurt, a step so crucial to overcoming it and moving through and past it. That's why I am writing this blog, because rape is such an embarassing thing to admit. It is horrible to admit you have been violated by someone, horrible to admit the dirtying feeling of sexual abuse, but unless you do, you can't move on from it. My hope in writing this is to give courage to any who might need it to speak of their own violations out loud in any effort to send those violations on their way so they, too, can move on, visit their old houses and not be stirred by anything more than a "that was then" moment.

Talking 'bout My Generation

Wow! I just left two days at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), where I had been invited to participate in a panel speaking about "Making Meaning in the Marketplace" sponsored by the American Craft Council. While I often speak in front of large groups of people, it has been a long time since I have been in an academic setting, to say nothing of an art-academic setting, where there is a vocabulary all its own.

I was once an art student at the California College of Arts (and Crafts, as it was then known), and once an avid participant in deep heady conversations. The conversations then (in the 1970's) were often about art vs craft, and how we (mostly) women students could justify working in a medium (textiles) so strongly identified with women's handicrafts, yet consider ourselves serious artists. And how could we be taken seriously as artists by the previous generation when we were rebelling against them so strongly. And how to get a gallery to show our work. My, how things have changed - and not!
There were two conversations with students in particular that really struck me. The first had to do with the concern about having a unique work vs selling out, being unique and being knocked off. In this globalized world into which they are graduating, the Internet and mobile computing has changed everything. Students don't know whether to hide their work or show it, don't know if millions will view their work or no one. We used to be concerned about a few hundred, maybe thousands seeing our work. Now, in the age of American Idol and Yelp, everything is up for grabs to be voted on by our fellow citizens. Such a different pressure...

But the final conversation of the day really struck me. A young woman asked me, essentially asked my generation, to take her seriously - to take the fact that she and her generation approach things so differently than my generation did. Specifically, she talked about the fact that the 20 year olds of today often have multiple interests, and have been comfortable pursuing them, thus their resumes post-college may include a mixture of talents and experiences. She has found that that is often being considered "unfocused" or "inexperienced" by employers of my generation. We spoke of the irony that the mature adults of today, those who fought so hard against the constraints of the '50's and '60's, were now imposing their '80's and '90's-based work ethics on the new workforce of the '10's.

This caused me to reflect on my daughter, a young woman who is perfectly comfortable identifying as a designer/artist/photographer/art director/blogger. www.garbagedress.com She is interested in all these things, damn good at all of them, and wants no one to box her in to one category. As her mom, I know that boxing her in would be the dumbest thing for any employer to do, that this would never take advantage of all that she has to offer. So then I thought about some of the people who work for and with me now: the finance guy who is also a painter, the marketing manager who owns a roller derby team, the merchant who is also an interior designer. Their whole life perspective walks into every meeting we have, but do I really value that? I sure hope so. As far as the finance guy goes, I know that the fact that he was a painter meant a lot to me in hiring him in the first place, but little did I know that he would write a monthly Controller's report that is actually interesting to read!

Really, in the end, is my quest to live as a successful businesswoman, a trusted friend, a desired lover and a style arbiter so very different?