This isn't a poem about my girlfriend.
Okay that's a lie.
This isn't directly a poem about my girlfriend. This is poem for all the partners of Superheros in the world; the teachers, paramedics, doctors, firefighters, nurses, social workers, and anyone who saves the world at work. It can be really hard to take more of a support role in a relationship; to make the dinners, change plans at the last minute, have nights in because your significant other is exhausted. This job is so so important if undervalued, even for Lois Lane who has a career in journalism.
Wonder Woman was recently set up as a paramour for Superman and there are online debates about "who is better for Superman." What about who's better for Lois Lane? Wonder Woman? This poem pays homage to the type of female-centric strength and identity based on relationships praised by radical cultural feminists. It isn't less than, it isn't working in the shadows of a partner's career.
Radical feminism came in two distinct philosophical camps: radical liberal feminists argued the nature of femininity combined with women’s biological reproductive role impaired their development as human beings. Biology and culture combined to keep women from development as individuals. Philosophers in this camp argued women must be liberated from reproduction. This philosophy urged the adoption of androgynous traits--that is traits either male or female, to create whole individuals. Radical cultural feminists argued the reverse, that women could be empowered through femininity and our reproductive roles. Our nurturance and interdependence shouldn't be replaced by individuation and achievement, but instead, a higher value could be attributed to interdependence on our community and the bonding of our identity to our personal relationships. This development is not inferior to male development and leads to personal growth, maturity (a stage of development psychology suggested women never reached because they didn't become individuated!) and the development of empathy. The latter would strongly influence the Women’s Music movement of the 1970’s which sought to change a society that rewarded separation and achievement by building attachment and community interdependence.
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| A sign at Michfest on Lois Lane (if this is your pic I will credit, let me know.) |
Lois Lane Loves Wonder Woman
Sometimes even Wonder Woman can’t save the world.
and she sends that text that just says “I need you tonight”
She picks herself up from the dust and goes home dejected
Surrounded by jeers and screams of the fickle masses.
Those that moments ago sang her name.
It’s another tough day at the office,
when your job is saving the world.
and Lois Lane looks at her buzzing phone from the glow of her laptop
where she pushes each keystroke against the glass ceiling;
she wants to get this story in before
that douchebag manslapiner Clark Kent
can gloat about it tomorrow in the elevator.
But she sees the text like a bat signal.
She folds up her laptop, shuts off the light.
Her trench coat blows in the wind
almost like a cape
in the orange of the street light
almost like a moon.
Her heels click as she walks down the sidewalk,
Keys of Glory in her fist,
Mace of Truth is close by.
Her bracelets are not-so indestructible.
But she is walking with her spine straight like an Amazon’s arrow,
as she ignores the villainous Cat Caller’s taunt
“Hey baby how’d you like to ride a real super man.”
It takes superhuman strength sometimes just to walk down these streets.
She hails a cab and texts Diana, “on my way.”
Lois finds Diana sitting in the dark,
tears cutting their way through the dirt on her cheeks
and Lois knows this isn’t weakness.
Her bracelets are indestructible
but a heart should not be.
She knows villains are born when a heart hardens
in response
when it should split open like
a supernova
for every shooting a star
every mugging a nebula
every rape a universe
every night is not safe to walk down the streets of this city another light in the sky to shine the path a little brighter.
Lois removes each bracelet and kisses the fragile skin underneath each,
a soft underbelly beneath an armor
That can’t always protect against the world
Diana’s skin is so soft
She turns to Lois Lane and says “baby I know you have to work and the news tomorrow but could you stay the night?”
And Lois draws a bath to wash the blood from her girlfriend’s hands,
the corruption from her skin,
the city smog she caresses out of her hair.
She washes the arms so tired from holding the world together that they cannot rise on their own.
She takes each one in her hands and washes them
gently because the world is so hard:
Because you can’t lasso the trauma and tie it up with the bad guys.
An invisible plane will not fly high enough to escape the inhumanity of this world
a telepathic tiara cannot tune the mother's cries “why didn’t you save them?”
And super hero never gets to pound the earth and say “I swear to Athena I tried”
Because it’s never enough to try to save the world.
But Lois wraps up her amazon and delivers her to the couch for some camomile tea and Netflix.
She lassos her arms around her,
mortal arms, they can’t force out the truth,
but they can hold a goddess until she falls asleep.
Sometimes, Lois Lane saves the world.
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