gabriela_frank_headshot[Bella’s intro: In this first of a 2-part post, guest blogger Gabriela Denise Frank offers an enlightening, stereotype-smashing view of what it means to live alone. In this first part, she takes on the “othering” of people who do not fit into traditional categories, such as married mom. In the second, she offers suggestions for transcending the boxes popular culture tries to trap us in. Lots of travel and bold living is involved. I first came across Gabriela’s insightful writing at her blog. Thanks, Gabriela, for sharing your smart perspective with us.]

Are You ‘Other’ If You Are Not a Mother? Part 1.

Guest Post by Gabriela Denise Frank

A couple of weeks ago, I read Zeroing in on the Female Traveler in The New York Times. On the surface, it was a breezy report of the latest trend –packages marketed to solo female travelers– but the messages lurking underneath made my hackles burst into flames.

To start, the article reports on Womanhood Redefined, a campaign by the Westin New York Grand Central described as a “personal journey with a rejuvenating getaway” intended for female travelers like me, a childless woman traveling alone. From $234 a night, the package includes dietary and exercise consultation, discounted yoga, a white tea candle and a copy of Melanie Notkin’s book, “Otherhood: Modern Women Finding a New Kind of Happiness,” which inspired the package. (Other packages like this are now popping up elsewhere.)

There was something about that white tea candle that sent me over the edge. Must vacations for women consist of the same relentless self-improvement and zen-seeking that litters our daily lives? And, if women like me are truly other, how will sequestering ourselves and burning candles help us discover new territory? Maureen O’Brien, director of sales and marketing for the Westin, comments that everybody knows “somebody that we love or care about that this book speaks to,” as if we others are intrinsically broken, damaged and unhappy—in need of reconditioning. She might have ended the sentence with, “Bless their hearts.”

I should note here that the first time I traveled alone was eight years ago. My friends were busy starting families, and there was no telling when I’d find a companion, so off I went. I wanted to see the world and realized that if I waited for the right guy (or any guy) I would miss out on a lot of living. This sounds brave, but this doesn’t mean that I was necessarily comfortable with traveling alone. Newly divorced, I was still getting used to eating and even grocery shopping alone; looking back, this was a good struggle. I’m glad that no one convinced me that I’d channel my inner Special Lady by staying at the Westin, because I would have missed the point of getting out there in the first place.

After reading this article, I realized that I’ve been taught to fear being alone all my life. (Hence, setting my couch aflame with the fire of a thousand suns.) From childhood to college and marriage, I had never lived alone. When I was first divorced, I felt self-conscious about embodying the stereotype of a divorced woman even though, deep down, I was having fun. Still, at the grocery store, I found myself putting thoughts into the check-out lady’s head, That poor, single gal shopping for one… when all she was thinking about was the end of her shift. And, more importantly, I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Our lives are populated by both implicit and explicit messages that suggest women should not be alone. From mothers who raised us on constant rapist alert to well-intentioned friends fixing us up with any and every single man they know to the news media and entertainment industry who bombard us with cautionary statistics that make terrorist encounters seem like a viable, and perhaps the only way, to meet guys, the message is:

Alone is failure, alone is dangerous and alone is other. Don’t let this happen to you.

For every campaign that encourages women to shelter up in a posh hotel or believe that candles, exercise and diet is the way to redefine womanhood—or that women need redefining in the first place—we’re taking a step backward. Women don’t need to be saved. We don’t need to be meditated into compliance. These messages are elusive and therefore dangerous; they’re so commonplace, we don’t think to question them — they simply are. They convince both men and women alike that women are in constant need of fixing, tending and protecting.

Why was I afraid to travel, eat and shop alone at age 32? Why was I loathe to be singled out as single in public? Because a lifetime of messages reinforced the idea that my so-called otherness made me a target. [Part 2 is coming next.]

About the Author

Gabriela Denise Frank is the author of “CivitaVeritas: An Italian Fellowship Journey.” From fiction and essays to poetry, her work is influenced by travel and place, as well as a deep enchantment with relationships of all kinds. In 2014, her short story, “Pas de Deux,” was published in “Behind the Yellow Wallpaper: New Tales of Madness,” an anthology by New Lit Salon Press. www.gabrieladenisefrank.com.