Between Wonder Woman and the porcelain doll: Independence, dependence, and the unwell woman

by Colleen McKee

"Say, I don’t suppose there might be some way I could get a ride from you? I mean, if it’s not too out of your way or anything, feel free to say no…” I hear my voice rise an octave, and there is something unflatteringly girlish about it. Despite my attempt to sound casual, I know I sound needy.

In the most literal sense of the word, yes, I am needy. But I never ask for a favor unless I can’t do it myself without getting sick (or sicker). Most of my favors are no big deal to the person doing them: a car ride that takes only fifteen minutes, saving me from carrying heavy shopping bags in 100-degree weather on a bus ride that would take an hour and a half with two transfers, or lifting a few boxes that are only heavy to me. Still, I think of myself as needy every time I ask a favor.

Intellectually, I know this is not so. I have a handful of ailments that can make life a bit difficult, especially when it comes to getting around. My immune system is weak as a result of growing up in the first town in America to become completely evacuated due to toxic waste. I have an eye condition that leaves me with poor peripheral vision, leaving me unable to drive in a city with substandard public transportation. I have asthma and severe allergies, so being outside during St. Louis’ long, polluted, humid summers is like trying to breathe salt soup.

On some level, I know I’m not a moocher, not lazy. If anything, I’m an overachiever, working on average 50-80 hours a week, plus writing and editing (most often gratis), as well as volunteer work.

Illness is unladylike.

Our female conditioning leads us to believe this, that we should be constantly taking care of others. Asking for help from others seems to be in direct opposition to this. Women are supposed to be sweet and make sure everybody else is happy, right?

To ask someone for a ride to the doctor or the grocery store entails talking about why you need a ride in the first place. That brings us to an unpleasant topic, sickness. Often, after complaining of a symptom, I find myself hastening to add, “Oh, but I’m okay,” no matter how untrue this may be. (God forbid anyone else should suffer from my ailment.)

As a feminist, being ill puts a whole new spin on being sick. Shouldn’t I be independent, in control, not a victim? How do I resign myself to needing help, to having to ask anyone for anything? The fragile porcelain doll was never my female ideal. I am a child of the seventies. Wonder Woman never got sick.

Emphasizing community

But in addition to independence, feminism also emphasizes community. A favor done for me could lead another person to feel helpful. A classmate who provides a ride might appreciate having someone to talk to on the way home from school. And I offer more tangible rewards as well: a home-cooked meals, sushi dinners, ice cream. If my barters are accepted, I don’t feel so useless, and my friends get fed and feel appreciated. It also offers a chance for socializing. Of course, there are times that my friends don’t have time for sushi, or I am too sick to cook. Then I still feel the shame, but I remind myself that true friends don’t expect rewards for helping sick friends. It’s what friends do. It’s about being a mensch.

Reading and talking to other women with independent spirits and somewhat dependent bodies has helped me greatly. It’s important not to let illness isolate us, mentally or physically. My healthy friends have been very helpful, but I am starting to realize that one needs to be in contact with women who understand first-hand the emotional challenges of being young, female, and what Paula Kamen calls “invisibly ill.”

I am currently editing a book called Are We Feeling Better Yet? : Women’s Encounters with Health Care in America, and have been surprised how therapeutic it has been for me to read so many women’s stories. I find that the shame attached to needing help seems to be at least as much of an anguish for many women as the physical distress itself. In fact, it is a major theme in women’s writing about pain.

Some advice

I’m going to be bold and offer advice to other ChronicBabes out there: Ask for help from a variety of people instead of leaning on just one or two especially available people. (I learned this the hard way.) It is tempting to just ask those who are the most underemployed or least reluctant to help, but even those genuinely caring friends can get burned out.

On the other hand, if you have friends who consistently doubt your pain -- or your inability to do X or Y for yourself -- or are cranky and guilt-trippy about helping you -- or seem to expect more in return than you can give -- by all means, get those people out of your life! A true friend will put herself in your shoes, and take the time to help.

Whether you are so ill you need help taking a bath (and I have been there), or you simply need a ride here and there, remember: the needs of your body are valid, and you need and deserve to have them met. Not asking for help when you need it is a great way to go from under the weather to sick. Feminists value the female body. Let that begin with yours.

Colleen McKee is a teacher, writer, and activist who is co-editing Are We Feeling Better Yet? : Women’s Encounters with Health Care in America. Learn more from her web site.

Posted: 8/23/2005 in Relationships | Also posted in: Coping

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Between Wonder Woman and the porcelain doll: Independence, dependence, and the unwell woman

Illness is unladylike.

Emphasizing community

Some advice