The It Factor

Lately, there has been so much talk about having it all that I wonder exactly what "having it all" means. Having a roof overhead and enough to eat may be all one person desires while another person may want much more. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a brain surgeon, a pilot or the president of the United States, or possibly all of them while fronting an all-girl band. My idea of having it all has evolved radically since those days. Now, it has much more to do with being true to myself and having time for a creative outlet.

The recent debate about "having it all" was triggered by a story in the Atlantic by Anne-Marie Slaughter, sensationally titled "Why Women Still Can't Have It All." The cover shot shows a woman toting a baby in a briefcase. I disagree with the title, not only because it should have read "and if they can't, then neither can men" but because the phrase "having it all" is so imprecise. How are we to know if we can or can't have it all, when we're not even really sure what "it" is? If the titular "It" refers to having a baby, what does that say about women who cannot or choose not to have children? Does that somehow make them incapable of having a complete life?  Indeed, having it all is a subjective measure of success that is as much shaped by an individual's interests and aptitude as it is by socio-economic level, ethnicity, culture and yes, gender. 

Slaughter's use of the term "having it all" really refers to a mythical state of being where one is fully dedicated to a career while at the same time being an available, nurturing and supportive family member. Although this often seems to be a predominantly female concern, some men also express concern over being able to balance the two, and while there are many things that our society could do to help people achieve these goals, like encouraging employers to provide better childcare options or allowing people to work from home, the goals themselves may be flawed.

Without Hermione Granger's magic charm which allowed her to be in two places at once, most of us find that there are times when you have to make a choice. But which choice to make? I have several friends who are perfectly happy and feel completely fulfilled without children. I'm currently a stay-at-home mom and although I worked as a teacher for many years, I am very happy to stay home and feel fortunate that at this point in my life, I can be available when my child needs me.

I suppose having had a job I loved while at the same time being a mom,  it may have appeared that I had it all - but I never really did. It was always a struggle to be a dedicated teacher, available to my students, parents and fellow teachers as much as I wanted to be, knowing that I also wanted to be a hands-on parent. I wanted to cook dinners, join the PTA and go to school events. There were always compromises and choices to be made and someone got short-changed from time to time. All the pots couldn't be on the front burner all the time; some had to be moved back, even if only temporarily. The thing is some dishes benefit from a slow simmer with an occasional stir and patience, while others require a hot flame for a brief time. I made choices on a day to day, case by case basis.  It was a difficult time. My most successful years were the ones when I took half-time leave and I was able to split my time between work and my toddler. Of course, there were also financial implications to that decision but I won't go into those here because the whole debate hinges on the assumption that one has a choice.

I agree with an important point that Slaughter makes when she urges us to redefine the arc of a successful career path by embracing its peaks, dips and plateaus. Maybe the secret to having it all is looking at your life and seeing that you have enough time to be many things, but excelling at something requires focus, time management and wherever possible, allies. Trying to do too many things at once is never advisable, but giving up on your dreams is just not an option. Having long term goals while simultaneously adopting a willingness to change and adapt to whatever comes your way will ultimately serve better than trying to follow a rigid career and child rearing trajectory.

Perhaps success is not about having it all but about making the most of what we have, here and now. I would like to propose a new definition of success: the ability to live life on one's own terms, free of externally imposed and arbitrary standards. I propose we reject media-created images of "having it all" as false and designed to enslave us in the pursuit of a mythical consumer happily-ever-after.

It's A Big One!

It's almost my birthday! It's funny the way we sometimes attach so much meaning to birthdays and other times we completely ignore them, well, at least some people do. I don't think I've ever ignored my birthday. I may have had quiet birthdays and loud birthdays but I always know they're there and I wouldn't want to ignore them.

This birthday is impossible to ignore. It's my half century mark. I still remember turning twenty and crying on Craig Lee's doorstep because I was so old and felt like I had done so little with my life. Craig was older and much wiser and assured me that I still had many, many years to make my dreams come true. I didn't dare tell him that I was certain I was going to die at the age of 24. That idea had just popped into my head one day and over the years it had grown roots, irrational roots but when I was young it was much easier to do a doublethink, or to think one thing and believe the opposite. I can't seem to do that anymore, notwithstanding the fact that I still buy lottery tickets and engage in vivid fantasies about spending my winnings when I know what my odds are. But 24 came and went and I lived. The failure of prophecy didn't deter me. Like those psychics who every now and then predict that California is going to fall into the ocean, when the expected event doesn't arrive we simply change and update our prediction; thus, my new expiration date was moved ahead to age 34. Obviously, I lived through that one too. Not that I was afraid to die; mind you, I felt liberated by the fact that I didn't fear death. I think if I feared anything it was the fear of being old and brittle and forgetting things. Now that I'm old, brittle and forget things, I realize it's not that bad.

It looks like being old is in my cards. I even had a baby beyond my expiration date. At age 36, I already considered myself a mom of two beautiful stepdaughters, then I had my own kid and I was suddenly filled with a freaky fear that I would die before she could talk, then walk, later finish elementary school, etc. Every year, for the first few years of motherhood, I saw the Grim Reaper around every corner. Now I did fear death, not because I didn't know what was on the other side of that filmy veil between life and death but because I wanted to be around to watch my kids grow up. No offense to the fathers out there but I saw the difference in the way my hubby and I related to our girls and well, I thought they needed me.

Then my step-kids got older and stopped coming around as often. They had those damned boyfriends they wanted to spend time with instead of me! My little one was in school and she had special needs so she still needed me, but being a parent advocate is all work and no play.

Throughout my life, I had been playing in different bands pretty much non-stop since I was seventeen, up until I was about 6 months pregnant, which is when my doctor told me I had to be on complete bed rest. I was playing, practicing or recording until the last possible minute. I remember tripping over a PA monitor on stage when I played with Goddess 13; I turned to the side as I fell, trying to protect my swollen belly. I was playing with Cholita during that time and I had to hold my guitar over to the side because my fingertips couldn't properly grasp the neck of the guitar while reaching over my baby bump.

I took a few years off to be a full time mom and with no music in my life, I became a ticking time bomb: angry, resentful and with no creative outlet, I was a real Stay At Home Bomb. I formed a new band to express my frustration. That - together with a long overdue hysterectomy - gave me a new lease on life. Suddenly, I felt excited and in charge of my own life in a way that only music has ever made me feel. I had no delusions about the viability of a forty-something rocker chick but it didn't matter. All that mattered was playing, writing, singing, collaborating with musicians I admired and respected. I think that's when I started to understand that my best years were in front of me, not in the past.

I went out to lunch one day with a bunch of my middle-aged girlfriends whom I affectionately call The Rolling Crones and as we sat around sipping Margaritas, I thought about how strong and powerful we were. We laughed out loud, comfortable in our own (slightly) wrinkled skin, confident enough to intimidate younger men, knowing that we could and would do whatever we wanted. Every woman sitting around the table that day was talented, beautiful and wise and it made me proud to be in their company.

In about a week I will be turning 50 and I am excited about it. I think of it as the beginning of part two of my life. It's a time to try new things, to bring out those old, stored dreams that I never got around to and dust them off. I want this year to be a year of closure and rebirth. Already I'm behaving differently. I'm writing my autobiography, The True Life Adventures of Violence Girl. Last week, I sent in my absentee ballot and voted for the candidate I like best instead of the candidate that seemed least offensive. That's a first for me and it felt good, really good not to compromise. I also signed up for an oil painting class at a nearby community college. I've been wanting to learn to paint with oils ever since I walked into the Los Angeles County Art Museum as a kid; how I got to be nearly 50 without ever doing it is a mystery to me. I'm finally going to cross that off my to do list.


"Maribel With Marigolds" - I just painted this last week for Dia de Los Muertos, it's one of my very first attempts with oil painting and I can't wait to do more.

Sure, age has it's setbacks. My knees are messed up and I can't drink everyone under the table the way I did when I was young but there is so much that I can do better and with more confidence and conviction that I have to say I wouldn't want to be any other age. I don't know what I'm going to be when I grow up, but whatever it is, it's going to be fun because now I know that the journey is more important than the destination.

Mexicans have a special holiday to acknowledge the inevitability of aging and death while at the same time, celebrate living. It's called Dia de Los Muertos and is celebrated on November 2, All Soul's Day. It's the perfect time for remembering those friends and family who have passed through the filmy veil separating this life from the next and taking stock of which dreams we have accomplished and which ones we have yet to accomplish. In that spirit, I'm off to watch one of my favorite Mexican films, Macario.


Death shows Macario that life is as brief and vulnerable as the flame of a candle. From the great Mexican film, Macario.

Viva la vida!