Reaching for Butterflies: do it for Lucy, Ria and my Mum
Our mothers endured a pretty sh*tty deal before laws changed in the 70s - let's acknowledge them, and the impact on us Gen Xers, and courageously move out of their shadows.
And so I’m back from my glorious time in France - more grateful than ever for what a teacher-husband, a penchant for home exchanges, and work that I can do pretty much from anywhere enables me to enjoy.
Including the space to truly appreciate my modern day freedom. As I did driving back one afternoon to our ridiculously impressive Maison de Marchand home-from-home
En route my husband selected the classic 1979 track The Ballad of Lucy Jordan by Marianne Faithful. Surprising in itself, as he rarely plays old music and remains, as a former DJ, rapper and electronic musician, an avid seeker and listener of the most exquisite new releases.
More surprising perhaps was how deeply affected I was on hearing this familiar and evocative tune for the first time in ages. From that distinctive and echoey synthesiser that’s lost none of its impact in the 45 years since it was recorded, to Marianne’s rasping, broken and emotional vocal, I found myself welling up as the tragic story of Lucy the lonely housewife unfolded.
Which was a tad problematic as I was speeding down a motorway at the time.
Yes, it took me by surprise, but I did immediately recognise why I felt this song so passionately - and in ways that I hadn’t the last time I heard it, so many years ago.
Because I’m now embedded in a community of like minded women, which had been lacking and I hadn’t known it. Now, we all support one another to become our best selves and (safely) move out of our comfort zones towards new adventures. And from within this tribe I’m now coaching women who feel stuck - who feel that time is running out, or that their lives have somehow not turned out how they might.
And Lucy Jordan’s story is the epitome of precisely the opposite of that supportive life-affirming community.
Lucy’s is a life of loneliness and disconnection - of complete and utter non-possibility. We don’t know the specifics: who her husband is, or the nature of her relationship with him or the kids. But we know it’s constricting, and that her youthful dream now feels completely out of reach. At the age of 37…
Perhaps this also personally resonates for me, as in 1979 - the year this song was released - my parents separated for about 9 months. During that time, I and my other two siblings - so the younger half of our large family - lived with Mum. She took a mundane job in a photo processing lab to support her decision to leave, and I recall the financial struggle in our breakout household being worryingly apparent as an anxious ten year-old.
I don’t know the specifics of their financial arrangement, but I do know that Dad controlled the money. As the years have passed, my ability to reflect on this story has naturally developed. Now, I can’t help but feel that my Mum’s attempt to break free of the domestic overwhelm from her marriage (at 21!) was similarly doomed from the get go.
Not least because, whilst studying my Masters in Cultural Inequalities a few years ago I learned the stark reality that married women in the UK couldn’t open their own bank account without their husband’s permission until 1975.
This bombshell humbled me into a whole new appreciation of my Mum’s life and her limited choices. It felt like a key missing piece, and helped me appreciate my family history in the wider context of the times in which it played out.
And as I sat in that lecture room with a bunch of 25 year olds (so, half my age) I realised that 1975 might feel like a lifetime ago for them. But for me, it was and is my lifetime - and more importantly, that of my Mum.
So I guess I see my Mum in Lucy Jordan - though I must reassure you that she didn’t meet the same tragic end.
In fact, perhaps her story was more like Ria in the poignant 70s-80s sitcom Butterflies - something my Dad sometimes mournfully remarked upon when their turbulent marriage was - yet again - in free fall.
Not only did the show reveal Ria in her domestic prison - with comic relief from her unfathomable inability to cook even the simplest of meals - but we were also privy to her mental chatter. Funny, yes: but often painfully sad.
And of course - of course! - Ria welcomed the attentions of Leonard: the sensitive, interested, but let’s face it, also a bit weird divorcee who popped up in his trench coat in the park (or his big car). Of course, Ria agonised over chasing the butterfly of adultery, and ultimately, none of us watching really believed she would change where she was: unhappy and defeated. Let’s face it: it didn’t sit with 70s social mores - or Mary Whitehouse one imagines.
So what’s that got to do with us Gen Xers?
Well, we were raised by women who experienced the same limited life options and crushed dreams as Ria, and Lucy Jordan.
Whilst geography plays a role of course, most of our mothers were impacted by WW2 and strict societal norms. Many didn’t experience the direct benefits of any feminist revolution or changing politics - nor the important - if tardy - law changes. My Mum married in 1959 and was living in the North of England with several small children by the time swinging London was doing its thing. She’s told me that if felt a very long way from her life.
Never mind all the other shifts that have and haven’t come about for women’s equality, that 1975 bombshell provides an important reminder that we midlife women were raised within these limiting societal structures. And our mothers - naturally - passed on these ways of being and interacting with ourselves and others. It’s directly influenced our identity - and our dreams and connection to - or disconnection from - our potential.
Even those of us encouraged to follow our dreams without any overt repression from our nearest and dearest still had to contend with insidious societal messaging about women. Messaging that we are only now starting to pick apart and challenge.
We were raised to be ‘good girls’ and didn’t question the valuing of conformity and good looks for women as societal norms. Many of us absorbed the understanding that girls were ‘nice’ and didn’t speak up (lest you be labelled a show-off, or ‘too much’). We basically learned to do a LOT of unconscious second-guessing of who we ‘should’ be and shaping ourselves so that the world might deign to accept us.
Yes - we didn’t have the traumatic coming-of-age via social media that today’s young people endure. But it’s vital that we don’t disregard our own generational challenges and unpack that stuff that really isn’t ours. Including being raised - in general - to play small and squash our dreams. We learned to shy away from expressing our deep desires - things that boys were doing and reaching for with no similar fear or self-doubt.
Or, we just didn’t see our potential at all.
Ultimately, Butterflies and The Ballad of Lucy Jordan are tragically female stories. Domestic drudgery, a suffocatingly small environment and disconnection from support. And with Lucy, we feel and visualise her neglected Parisian dream so powerfully as Marianne’s voice tails off hauntingly at the song’s end.
Lucy’s dream is actually beautifully simple - and we feel her resignation. Did she ever believe it was possible? Was she fated to suppress and neglect it from the off? Perhaps she instinctively belittled it as soon as it arose - i.e. before anyone else could. But it never left her, it ate away at her, until she could bear it no longer….
As I write this I am painfully aware that many women around the world today still do not enjoy the increased freedom and possibility that most western women take for granted. And I find myself thinking not only of my dear Mum with her struggles in a vacuum, the crippling societal norms back then and her personal isolation - but also all the women who still cannot access the support and opportunities that I hope you reading this can.
I acknowledge Lucy and Ria - and my Mum - and vow to not let their travails be in vain. Let’s do it sisters. Let’s make sure we live the lives they couldn’t.
DFY Recommends….
And whaddya know - after writing this piece last week, last night I started watching the Apple TV series The Lady In the Lake starring Natalie Portman and Moses Ingram. Based on the best selling book, it’s set in Baltimore in 1966. I confess that I’m only a couple of episodes in as I write this, and it has had mixed reviews - but I’m hooked. This brooding drama intertwining the stories of two women features incredible set and costume design - and the period detail is breathtaking.
But it doesn’t shy away from the ugly side of the times - one episode has Portman’s character desperately trying source money so she can take a time-out from her insensitive (that’s polite!) husband. And - in line with the 1975 bombshell from earlier - she isn’t able to sell her own car without her husband’s signature.
If that wasn’t a sign about this week’s theme…!
That’s it for now - keep on reaching for your best self, and reaching out to those who might help you.
Because Drama belongs in the movies, not in your life.
Until next time,
Wendy
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