TEMPER : verb
tempered; tempering ˈtem-p(ə-)riŋ
To dilute, qualify, or soften by the addition or influence of something else : MODERATE
Each time I study a painting, I wonder how much it differs from the novel idea the artist first had. Did he or she paint the entire scene in their imagination first, only to deconstruct and overhaul it on canvas a multitude of times? Were there layers upon layers of paint on that canvas? Or was it just right? Did they perfect it all in the mind first, the only subsequent job being to transfer the image to canvas?
I write in my head for days before my fingers ever touch a keyboard. The ideas are born from daily life. My kids, my husband, my business, my dog, things I read online and things I witness as I wander about the earth. Same as you – I look around, I make observations and then I say something about them. This past Friday morning, I woke to the news of women behaving badly in congress. And, poof, there was my original idea for a post. Women Behaving Badly in Congress.
That was Friday morning. It’s now Saturday evening. The Invisible Pencil in my Brain (where all first drafts are written) has been making notes for two days about Women Behaving Badly in Congress, but the keystrokes just started a half an hour ago. How much does this final, written product differ from my original idea that swam in my head? Read on.
The Invisible Pencil in the Brain, Friday morning 10:37 a.m.:
What in the actual hell is happening up there in Washington??? I can’t believe what I am reading. One grownup adult woman actually said to another grown-up adult woman, WHILE THEY WERE BOTH DOING THEIR ADULT JOBS THAT THEY ARE PAID TO DO (albeit not paid much, I do appreciate that): I think your fake eyelashes are messing up what you’re reading. Again…I THINK YOUR FAKE EYELASHES ARE MESSING UP WHAT YOU’RE READING.
I read on to understand more about how this unfolded and where it went from there. It didn’t get better. It got worse. There is no reason to replay it here. Google has a purpose, you can look it up if you’re unfamiliar. Throughout the day on Friday, the Invisible Pencil in my Brain was furiously writing. There was so much to say, really. Women in Afghanistan just want to go to a store or a school without a male escort and we are over here tearing each other down over eyelashes??? I was hopping mad and the Invisible Pencil was mad at work. The ideas were building and forming and molding.
I woke up the next day ready to get it all down on paper. I asked some of my women friends and family for their thoughts on what had transpired in Washington. I emphasized to them that my post would not be political, but would instead focus on what it means to be a woman and the ways in which we treat other women. Here are their thoughts:
“Oh boy! I’ll have to give that some consideration. I’m not sure my thoughts on how it made me feel should be published!”
“You mean beyond my first reaction?”
“I need to look into more about the catty congresswomen argument, I saw a brief clip and was disgusted!!”
“It was like a Jerry Springer episode omg I was so embarrassed to be an American watching that. How pathetic.”
“Hellooo! I have a different take on it. I don’t like to see it described as cat fight or whatever other terms to make it a fight between women. Many of the men and women in that Congress behave shamelessly every single day. To tag the women with this creates yet another double standard.”
“I actually didn’t follow that. I don’t really pay much attention to the news and some of the things that go on in politics. I do, but not as much as others. I just kind of focus on the platforms and what people stand for enough that I can vote and feel good about it. All that background noise and everything I kind of stay away from…I just try to stay away from all that negative BS because it distracts me from the main point of trying to decide which way I wanna vote and where my beliefs are.”
“I just watched it this am and my first comment was that it made women look so bad and catty. I’m sure even the congressmen in the room were like omg…It was embarrassing – on both sides. The eyelash comment was childish, but Crockett could’ve/should’ve responded/addressed it in a more mature, grown-up manner…not how representatives should behave.”
I let their texts roll in throughout the day and by evening, I was ready to write.
My first words:
What in the actual hell is happening up there in Washington??? I can’t believe what I am reading. One grown-up adult woman actually said to another grown-up adult woman, WHILE THEY WERE…………
And then, much like the painter and his painting, this piece began to evolve and change. Type, erase. Type, erase. As I read and reread the comments my girlfriends shared with me, my heat started to dissipate and I realized I was no longer coming in hot. I wasn’t even lukewarm anymore. Their words were varied and thoughtful and truthful and I felt a responsibility to be the same with my words. It was no longer about Women Behaving Badly in Congress. It was about Women Living Above the Bar. Way Above the Bar.
To Temper something is to Moderate it, according to Merriam-Webster. But to Temper something is to also Mature it. To Mature the thought, the idea, the prospect, the delivery, the spirit. These paragraphs you’re reading have been Tempered over the past 48 hours. And why? Because I asked some of my dearest friends and family to share their thoughts with me. It caused me to pause and consider what message I would deliver using their words as backup. I had to change my tone.
What’d I learn? To pause. To think. To consider. To allow a thought, an idea, a brainstorm to ebb and flow for a minute. 48 hours ago, I had a bullhorn and was ready to use it. I had to get the word out that women were destroying women and were being catty and immature. And it WAS catty and petty and immature. But, it’s also other things besides that. Were their actions Jerry Springer-ish? Yep. Were they embarrassing? Yep. Were they unique? Nope. Why? Because none of us are good at tempering ourselves. None of us. Men AND women.
I was ready to throw down about how women backstab and belittle and create scenarios where one wins and the other loses. But over the course of 48 hours, because of the comments from my supremely awesome women friends, I changed my tone.
We often don’t witness the creation of something from its inception. We don’t see the layer upon layer of paint that exists under the surface layer of brushstrokes. We don’t even get to know which brushstroke was the first or the last. In writing, we don’t see the words that were there, and then weren’t, wiped out forever with the ‘Backspace’ key. We only get to see the final product. And I would argue it’s 1000% better than the first-born idea.