The Story
This summer, I watched the documentary Lucy and Desi, produced by Amy Poehler. (Highly recommend!) I thought I knew a lot about Lucille Ball, but this horrifying fact blew me away: Lucille Ball found out she was pregnant, not from a doctor’s phone call, but on the front page of a newspaper. She’d gone in for a blood test to confirm pregnancy— the procedure in those days— on a Friday, and was told she could call for results on Monday. Over the weekend, one of the country’s leading gossip columnists was tipped off by someone in the lab that the biggest television star in Hollywood was expecting a baby.
(Sure puts some of our more recent celebrity privacy scandals in perspective, doesn’t it?)
I have no idea how Lucille herself reacted to this betrayal, but it would have devastated me. I’ve always been a private person. I know, I know! I’m literally sharing stories on the internet every week. I write about incredibly personal subjects, like having had cancer, or my young daughter’s medical issues, or my tenderly-new Jewish identity. But even that has its limits. I don’t post anything on social media besides links to longer-form writing, because I’m too self-protective to open myself up to criticism of my off-the-cuff “hot takes” on the news of the day or political commentary. I do have opinions about that stuff— thoughtful, nuanced, strong opinions. I’m just too private to share them.
At least, that’s what I told myself until recently.
I’ve been asking myself why, if I’m a person who has a strong sense of self-worth and creativity, a person who is willing to speak deep and honest truths about herself in front of audiences, I slam down privacy gates over everything I think and feel in the moment. Everything has to go through the processor; everything has to be edited. Unless I’m having a conversation with someone I deeply trust to love me unequivocally, I don’t let myself just say what I think. I either don’t say anything at all, or I bend it so that it’s the objectively “right” thing to say.
It’s gotta just be fear, right? Fear of being ridiculed. Fear of doing something society views as “wrong” or even just “out there.” Fear of what “they” (whoever “they” are) will say. I’m sure it’s all linked to the culture I was raised in, putting women in their place and implicitly discouraging women from the same freedom of speech as men. But I also can’t dismiss it just by saying, “oh, it’s the patriarchy.” That’s not how we undo it as a culture, and that’s not how I heal from a broken mindset.
So maybe I’m not a private person. Maybe I’m just afraid of certain things. Maybe, if I let go of some of those fears, I’ll be able to clear the blockage that keeps me from expressing myself more fully in the world. I’ll find new avenues for my creativity, explore deeper themes in my writing, and be capable of posting my opinion in a damn Facebook post.
But that’s me. Lucille Ball? She was never a private person. She sought the spotlight, and shone it not just on herself, but on other women, too. She uplifted the female comedians who came after her, like Carol Burnett and Mary Tyler Moore. She used her platform to speak truth, like when she pushed for her mixed-race marriage to be shown on television in the early 1950s. I don’t know what Lucille Ball was afraid of. But I know she lived her life as though she had nothing to hide.
In Case You Missed It…
My writing group and I started IN A FLASH, a lit mag for flash creative nonfiction! We’d love to have you subscribe, and if you’re a writer, submit to our first themed submission call in October. All the info is in the introductory post. We’re trying to get off the ground with lots of subscribers, so please share if you can!
Stuff You Might Like To Know
I’m reading COMMUNITY BOARD by Tara Conklin. It’s sweet and funny, and weirdly— though the subject matter is completely different— gave me a great idea for my novel-in-progress.
I’m wearing LL Bean cargo pants all week long. They’re so comfortable, and the quality is good enough that I can wear them to work with a dressy top and colorful sandals, and I still look professional.
I’m watching ABBOTT ELEMENTARY Season 2 and I’m obsessed with Sheryl Lee Ralph’s “Mmm-hmm” and pretty much everything Lisa Marie Walter says.
Here’s to us, in all of our imperfect, striving goodness.
Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.
Great post, Leanne! It’s given me lots to think about, since it’s something I also struggle with. I wonder how much is the patriarchy and how much is due to how much social media has polarized society.
I feel the same way! Learning to open up publicly is still a work in progress for me