I spent the weekend of Oct. 6 in Southern California
visiting with college friends at a reunion. As a parting gift one of the women gave each
of us a bookmark inscribed with the following quotation by the noted feminist author
Simone de Beauvoir:
"There is only one solution if old age is not to be an absurd parody
of our former life, and that is to go on pursuing ends that give our existence
meaningdevotion to individuals, to groups or causes, social, political, intellectual
or creative work
Ones life has virtue so long as one attributes value to the
life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation, and compassion."
I noted with some rue that a member of my Eisenhower-era generation would
use a feminist quotation. We were teenagers pre-pill and pre-womens liberation; most
of us kept our bras when others were burning theirs; and most of my friends remained in
marriages forged just before the sexual revolution changed so many of Americas
social mores. We majored in subjects that were "safe" for women, such as
teaching or nursing. UCLA even had a home economics building replete with the latest in
appliances and model rooms for young women to practice the virtues of domesticity should
they acquire an MRS. along with their B.A. degree.
So I thought it neat (now theres a 50s word) that the quote
was by the author of The Second Sex. As I read the words again, however, I was
struck by a singular oddity--the use of the word "indignation" in the context of
inspirational entreaties to value humanity. The word seems out of place to one raised in
the time when expressing anger was taboo. I learned that it was inappropriate and
unwomanly to argue, even to disagree (especially with a man). I was to be a gentle and
nurturing mediator at all costs. In my childhood home we studied the Bible. Whenever my
father read from the section called the Beatitudes, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for
they shall be called sons of God," all heads turned my way. My mother claimed the
words were written with me in mind. I was the designated peacemaker, encouraged to stop
arguments before they started and certainly never, ever, to express de Beauvoirs
"indignation."
While I reaped rewards for pleasing people, there was a negative side to
that behavior. I learned to be unassertive and often deceptive, acting as though I agreed
with people when I didnt. During the years of the Vietnam War, at my in-laws
often-volatile family get-togethers, I would generally keep my opinions to myself. Others
would be taking carefully-considered sides on issues such as the draft, and I would remain
silent, horribly uncomfortable at the thought that loving people could disagree, sometimes
heatedly, over dinner. I stifled any outrage I felt.
A more careful reading of de Beauvoirs words puts the term
"indignation" in context: We are to value life by means of love, friendship,
indignation and compassion. Thus, one needs indignation in concert with those other
emotions to continue valuing life.
It is not strange that this countrys civil rights movement was put
into high gear by the image of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat in the bus. Many
who were apathetic before her action were indignant at the thought of her indignity.
Likewise, the dehumanizing act of hosing down demonstrators in Mississippi, as one might
wash away dirt from gutters, stirred the same reaction. Any mother knows that indignation
at the perceived mistreatment of ones children is close to the surface, probably put
there by nature to ensure the survival of the species.
At the reunion my friend Jan told me of her brother-in-law, who always had
"an empty space in his heart." He died recently, unhappy and alone. She
explained that her husbands family adopted him when he was 6 years old, shortly
after he was abandoned. One weekend his mother took him to an amusement park and put him
alone on a Ferris wheel. She left, and he made dozens of rounds on the wheel before
someone noticed no one was waiting for him at the bottom.
That image haunts me and inspires in me not only sadness but also
indignation that translates to a desire to do something for the lost children of the
world. Whatever the emotional baggage of the mother, whatever her mental state, no child
should be left to that fate. (She showed up years later, so there was confirmation she
left him deliberately.) Children shouldnt be discarded, and babies shouldnt be
deposited in dumpsters or ever brought unwanted into the world. Now what I choose to do
with my dismay is the challenge.
Were talking about justified outrage, of course, not petty anger or
the kind of irrational rage that springs from warped perceptions. And while I still
dislike expressing anger or confronting people, I do hope I will continue to be touched by
assaults upon the innocent by forces over which they have no control. Only through being
open to the plight of others and by reacting with a sense of outrage or indignation can
one keep a youthful sense of compassion.
Theres nothing wrong, Ive decided, with having a bleeding
heart, as long as it inspires me to take action.