Women who flunk the womanhood test

Sunday, June 4, 2006

My child, when is it you re thinking of settling down? asked my grandmother on the phone when I called her from the London hotel where I was staying.

  "My child, when is it you re thinking of settling down?" asked my grandmother on the phone when I called her from the London hotel where I was staying.

  I looked out the window of my room, trying to escape from the question. It was a cold, rainy London evening. A group of young post-punkers passed by below my window, yelling, shouting. One of the young men in the group had bright pink hair, and one of the young women sported a giant tattoo of a snake on her neck. I decided it would be better not to share this particular bit of information with my grandmother. I tried to fend off my grandmother s questions with a joke: "Aww, grandmother, how is settling down going to help me if it s never done any good for anyone else?" I added, "Movement also has its blessings you know."  My grandmother replied: "My dear child, the blessings you refer to come when a family and home are created. Women set up their homes and make their nests; they don t bump around from airport to airport the way you do." She paused and asked, "How many years does this make it now?" I tried bribery to steer her off this difficult subject. I said: "But look, I ve bought you some of that fragrant tea you love from here. Earl Grey, you know, the kind you love with the citrusy smell."

  "We can get that tea here in the markets now. Thank God, it s not like it used to be, you get everything these days in Turkey. Why don t you come and settle down in your house here for awhile?" said my grandmother, as calmly as she could. I returned with this reply: "Oh grandmother, you are right, but look, one of my novels has been printed in England, in English. I am on a book tour." She asked suspiciously: "What is it you re doing, then?" I said, "You know, I m speaking at readings, showing up at book signings, joining in festivals, talking on the radio..." starting to explain, but before I was done, my words were cut off by my grandmother, who was clearly not persuaded. "Oh, leave off those books to go around wherever they will on their own. You come stay at your home here, write a little, cook a little, and you ll learn that way to settle down..."  No matter with how much pride she watches my overseas book tours, no matter how much she loves talking about me with her neighbors and relatives, and no matter how much she supports my writing with all her heart, my grandmother fosters a worry in her deepest recesses: She thinks I have failed the test of womanhood! Cooking: Zero! Sewing: Zero! Setting up a home: Zero! Not only does she believe that I have failed womanhood test itself but that I have also flunked any make-up tests that might have been offered afterwards. And so, according to her, a woman is someone who gives order to her house, who sets up her kitchen, who organizes and straightens things up, who knows how to cook, who understands the economy involved in running a house, who has figured out where the cheapest shopping can be done, who keeps the refrigerator stocked, and who can handle her husband... When you get married, you settle down, you move somewhere. Married women with house and home cannot be nomads. And women over the age of 30 cannot be nomads! Turkish women cannot be nomads! And here is a summation of some of our important traditions: Married Turkish women with house and home over the age of 30 definitely can never, ever, be nomads! Yes, write a little, cook a little. Write a couple pages of your novel, cook up a pot or two of food, and then go back and write three more pages. When you take a break from that, you can clear up in the living room. Ah, if only I could learn how to be this ideal model of the woman-writer. It looks like, even if up until now I might have passed the writer lesson, I have badly flunked the womanhood one.