I stayed up late last night wondering why Samantha Brick's article, on how much she is hated by women for being prettier than them, was keeping me awake and then it dawned on me-I've been hated by women that actually meant something to me, not acquaintances, neighbors or co-workers but women with whom I have had deep connections as well as loved and appreciated. I'm not sure Samantha has ever been close to another woman, to say that she is shallow is an understatement of her complete lack of knowledge about the social constructs of female relationships. It is almost as though she suffers from a kind of “She'spberger's”, wherein she cannot relate socially or emotionally to other women through any other channel than that of oppression. From her counts, I say she has actually been bullied by women who are, socially and professionally, stronger than her. Her reaction to her perceived victimization has been to go behind the backs of these elderly, female tyrants and talk shit with other sulking, confused females, like herself. Women expect other women to talk behind their backs but if you confront a female, she will, most likely, respect you. Samantha admits that she often bursts into tears when bullied by women, really, that ruse only works with men, but again, evidence of her social autism.
It is sad to me that she is incapable of looking beyond herself, that she must have been so wounded by an experience, early in her life, that she has shut out reality and moved into the warm, dark chasm of Narcissism. I'm not sure she is capable of understanding the phrase, "Beauty is on the inside." In her world, there is no inside, just her looks, her French husband and her feelings of being reviled for being pretty. Undoubtedly, there was serious competition in her home, either between she and her mother, or another female sibling, for her father's attention. Or, perhaps, vice-versa, for her mother's approval, as her most vehement complaints are against older (French, she mentions this in the video interview though she is complaining about British women in her rebuttal) women. One has to wonder if she was abused and justified her mistreatment by believing that she was attractive to her abuser, therefore becoming victimized for her beauty, not her vulnerability, as a child. There is more to the story but she cannot tell it for to reveal the root of her seemingly oblivious vanity, would be to destroy her a thousand times more completely than a world of “vile” emails and tweets, possibly could.
But enough about her, a bit of reflection on my experiences with women:
The first female I recall disappearing from my life, for no apparent reason, was L.C. She and I rode the bus to High School together every day and were fast friends. Then, I met Rima. Rima and I became good friends and within, what I percieved to be a very short time, L.C. went as far as to leave the school we attended. I would call her house, try talking to her Mom but I was forever shunned for some sort of mysterious atrocity I committed.
Then there was Myssi. She and I lived together in my room at my parent's house for a year, finally moving out and getting our own place. Our relationship, which I once described as having the qualities of a marriage (little did I know), deteriorated into a few violent confrontations and her moving out of our apartment, within 4 months. What had changed, besides the fact that we had to buy our own toilet paper, I got a boyfriend.
Probably the most painful for me, was Nalani. We were friends for 8 years when, in the midst of my Mother's re-diagnosis with cancer, she became hostile, distant and ultimately unavailable. When my Mother died, a mutual friend told her and she sent me a card. Without opening the card I put a big question mark, “return to sender” and put it in the mailbox. In effect, death is not anyone's invitation to step back into relationship with me. If I couldn't trust her to support me in one of the most important moments of my life then I opt to never trust her again, seems a sound decision.
Over the course of my and Gary's relationship, Regina, an eventual bridesmaid of mine (take that Samantha), became increasingly insane. I'd love to dump all the juicy details here but I will simply say, she became someone I did not recognize who's hatred for me was so obvious that she could not even smile in my presence any longer (we have wedding photos to prove it). We had been friends for twelve years, she had written poems for me and wonderful letters about how I would one day have all that I deserve, etc. Her behaviour became erratic and cruel, I confronted her, asked her to be a bridesmaid and hoped for the best. I have not seen her since the wedding, despite several attempts.
What do these 4 women have in common besides being close to me and becoming crazy? I think each of them felt threatened that something greater than them had come along. If a woman behaves strangely, I am much more likely to believe its their insecurities, not my infallible attractiveness, coming to light. I hate how much I hurt for each of those women, some still girls when they left me. I hate that I had to lose them to become who I am because they meant so much to me at the time, but I am neither ashamed of my actions, nor frought with regret. Not everyone can go onto the next stage of our lives with us, not everyone meets the opportunity to grow and change with enthusiasm and gratefulness, never mind Grace (that one's for you, Mom).
And so, Mrs. Brick, Aesthetically Challenged as you are by your “beauty” (quotation marks compliments of my husband), subjected to the horrific paranoia that accompanies denial, you are telling the world how much you think a woman weighs-
You are the epitome of female insignificance and of someone who pines for invisibility because its safer than being challenged by the charge of your own Worth.