Every day I see messages that tell me and other women who we should be. This includes everything from what we look like and the clothes we wear, to what our inner-most desires should be. As of late, I suppose I should be growing my hair long and straight and giving it a slight wave, a la Gwyneth, Charlize, and the rest of that gang. I should join the Kabbalah center because right now, it's fashionable. I should wear mousse make-up and a center part and a red thread around my wrist (this last I sometimes do because I happen to believe, though I suspect for some it ahs become little more than a fashion statement, alas - Lfaith as fashion.

This whole process of indoctrination began so young. I was strictly taught what was and what was not appropriate a girl my age, and I tried hard to follow those rules, though my true nature shone through too often and I returned home with bruises from fighting (with boys, no less), or scrapes from go-cart racing down the big hill in the projects etc. I didn't play dolls with m cousins and my schoolgirl crush on David Soul of Starsky and Hutch fame was short-lived. When my cousins were pretending to have his baby, I was halfway up the tree in the back, dipping the branch into the face of passers-by who did not find this as funny as I did.

Back to the point. I can't stand seeing women or anyone for that matter, work so hard to fulfill a social role that is defined by complete strangers who care only about the bottom line. And because I'm everybody's favorite spinster aunt, I offer these small words that I hope are of some wisdom.

Be who you are. We are all so bombarded with social messages from even before we are born. Before you come slipping out of your cozy broth in mother's womb, you can be sure that if an amnio was performed and your sex known, your nursery has been decorated accordingly, complete with colors and decorations that say "girl." Your room may be pink or yellow, but never blue, and any ornament will be of lace and teddy bears and dolls but never blue. Forget about airplanes and fishing tackle and the like: you are a girl and girls simply do not sail or play with dinghys and yachts.

Even your little towel-fabric sleeper suit will be pink or, if your really unlucky, your mother will have bought strange looking elastic headbands, all lace and bows that will cinch your head and your three strands of hair, all contriving to make you look like a figure in a Bosch painting. All you need now is a scepter.