Playgirl magazine: May, 1974 – “Girl Alone” began on page 109.
I sold a story once to a magazine called Playgirl. For a while, the magazine was an attempt to offer a jazzier version of Ms. to feminist readers. It still exists, although you’ve probably never seen it or heard of it. It’s now aimed at gay and bisexual men with lots of naked male photos and ads for on-line sex.
It seems strange now that the story I sold—”Girl Alone“—would not have been published anywhere else at that time. I was surprised when it was accepted, and even more surprised when I was paid a fair wage for my work—something like five hundred dollars (roughly $2500 today). This was on the edge of an era when short story writers like John Updike and John Cheever could support a family off the money magazines paid for their short fiction. Hard to imagine now.
But back to Playgirl and my story. I was surprised that the magazine accepted it because it was about a young woman with her baby in a big city park counterattacking a man who exposes himself—counterattacking with curses and screams that send him running.
A “likeable” young woman would never have been that loud. Maybe a mild protest or an attempt to avoid seeing or even a thought that she had somehow brought this behavior on herself: too short skirt? Too tight jeans? And she would have retreated from the park in a state of emotional collapse, vowing never to go there again.
Reflecting on this story in today’s climate I began to examine my behavior, as we all must, to prepare for the fearful backlash already building that will sweep some women from the field.
How often have I pretended to be a “playgirl,” a “good sport” (“staffable” in today’s Hollywood parlance), who rolls with the punches, laughs at sexist jokes, ignores innuendos, and engages in vicious gossip about other women?
Certainly more than once.
I’ve encouraged husbands’ and boyfriends’ objectionable behavior by smiling or ignoring—”turning the other cheek.”
A dream the other night brought this realization painfully into consciousness: I was asking a woman friend whether a man we both liked was ever “inappropriate with women.”
To my dismay, she replied that his behavior with women was so out of control he’d been advised to wear his pants backwards. Funny, but…
In my dream, I already knew this. In my dream, it made no difference. I was shocked but still fond of this man.
We’ve all done this, not condoning rape or violent physical assault but accepting the deep-rooted, widespread attitude that allows and encourages this behavior.
Will we stop doing that now?
I’m not sure.
Will we endure the boyfriend’s frown when we say his joke isn’t funny?
Will we withstand complaints that we have no sense of humor?
That we take everything too seriously?
Will we shove off the unwanted kiss, even welcome the freezing of the atmosphere that results? And I’m not even figuring in the loss of jobs, promotions, opportunities…
I don’t know.
Our desire to be liked and loved is passionate, unequivocal, and it makes us vulnerable to every rejection. Being called a bitch can feel emotionally damaging.
But a bitch defends her own. She also, first of all, defends herself.
[“Girl Alone” is now available in a slightly updated version on this site.]
Kudos. Certainly we were raised in the “make no waves” environment, but many of us have been making waves since our teens and 20s. Perhaps they just need to get bigger.
I have searched deeply into my own psyche and memories. Was I at one time “assaulted”? I’ve had my share of pats on the behind, men rubbing up against me, and comments from men that made me stop and turn to look at them. In honesty, I’ve also contributed to this air of misogynistic behavior. I’ve told blond jokes, laughed at dirty jokes, and allowed men to assume things about me that are not and never were, true. So it’s time to stop. My 15 year old granddaughter has a habit of pointing out good-looking guys, saying things like “That’s a hot hunk of guy”, things of that nature. Then she would watch them cross the room and just shake her head. When she gets the same attention, she complains. “Why do they always stare at me? Does my hair look weird or do I have something on my face?!” (She knows why, she’s just being caustic.) I told her that the men and boys she points out and stares at probably feel the exact same way. “If you don’t want men staring at you, then you must stop doing that to them.” She was surprised to realize that the actions of women and men are similar. I hope she learned her lesson – she’s certainly made a lot fewer comments since then. Again, it’s time to stop. Maybe we have to wait, like waiting on old racists to leave this earth. My dad’s and mom’s entire families were raised racist – not the mean, hateful, throwing rocks kind of racist but the worst kind. The silent kind – the ones who’ve never known a person of color as a friend, or even a neighbor! The kind who would never dream of inviting a person of color into their home or having lunch with him/her. Most of those folks are of my dad’s generation or older. There are some lingering descendants out there whose feelings aren’t too far off from their elders but soon, those too will fall away/die off. We can pray that the world is changing, that we no longer accept what men say and do to us as the norm, that we as women will be completely aware and less accepting of men’s actions – that each of will stand together and always be a Girl Alone.
Grand obsevation
Very well said Sallie & Happy Birthday! That’s an amusing hx of Playgirl. The ‘tradition’ of unkindness/inequality to women, sobering. Your comment, “Our desire to be liked and loved is passionate, unequivocal, and it makes us vulnerable to every rejection” – Profound!!
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Re: “Being a bitch can feel emotionally damaging” brings to mind a funny memory… riding down the hwy last summer on our bikes a car w/ several guys flew by pummeling us w/fried chicken bones while screamin’ “Beeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttcccchhhh!” Having been called Many expletives over the years, ironically “bitch” was not one of them. Hence my emotional reaction was, “WTF!?” & of course, “Are you okay?” Thanks for helping us guys discover a whole new aspect to the human experience.