My most recent book, The Silver Swan: In Search of Doris Duke was published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux in March, 2020, just as the pandemic hit. I had to cancel all my readings; as we know, books don’t sell just by being in a bookstore. And so the sales have been abysmal, hard to accept after the eight, hard years of work it took me to research, write, re-write, edit, edit again, edit again (I’ve forgotten how many times) and wait for better times when my biography might begin to move.
Well, we are at last—maybe—able to see those better times coming. And so due to the generosity of a store here in Santa Fe called Travel Bug, I was able to give a reading from the biography a few days ago to a large and appreciative crowd. What a surprise and delight that was!
One of my aims in writing the biography is and was to restore Doris Duke to her rightful place as one of the major philanthropists of the modern era through her creation of Shangri La in Hawaii (now the Shangri La Museum of Islamic Art, Culture & Design which houses her spectacular collection of art), Rough Point at Newport, The Newport Restoration Association, Duke Farms in New Jersey, and the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation.
I knew from the start I would have my work cut out for me. There was already plenty of rumor afoot, leading to the creation of some accounts that focused primarily on her sexual relationships. When I was doing research in Newport, I ran into every imaginable reaction from “Didn’t she marry her butler?” to “Didn’t she murder her lover?”
No, and again, no. But facts as we know too well these days do little to dispel rumor and outright lies. It seems our imagination loves to dwell on and embroider these myths, whereas truth sometimes seems plain and even insignificant.
So I was prepared the other night for someone to run off the track. And someone did. A bumptious male acquaintance of mine started to explain what he thought was the basis of her second marriage to a man from the Dominican Republic who was, to say the least, shady. After muttering something about a “pepper grinder” and “well-endowed,” this commentator claimed to be embarrassed and lapsed into silence.
It was too late. I explained his reference and found myself once again trying to refute that the size of a man’s “endowment”—as we politely call it—has nothing to do with his sexual partner’s satisfaction.
It’s a hopeless attempt. Men reinforce this myth with each other as every locker room reveals. We catch the contagion and fall sick with it and pass it on.
And this leads me, circuitously, to the issue I raised in my last post: why am I, a feminist, attracted to macho men?
You’ll have to take my word for it that it’s not because of a man’s “endowment” or lack of it.
Since I am not the only woman to ponder this question, I’ve a few ideas about the reason:
For many women—especially of my generation—who were emotionally starved in childhood and repeatedly told that the way they looked and dressed were the only things that mattered, the first appreciative glance from a male rouses a monsoon of emotional response.
Finally, we have made it!
This reaction is reinforced by something I’ve noticed in myself and other women: we don’t recognize our own power. Speaking and acting with authority is dangerous. Recognizing and even touting our strengths and virtues is not permitted, even today. How often have you heard a friend respond to a compliment with something self-demeaning, another version of “You mean this old dress??”
Human beings of all genders long to be appreciated for our wisdom, kindness, experience, and the ability to love and be loved. If power seems to cancel out these qualities, we will avoid exercising our power.
And that makes the “power” of macho men fascinating even when it is an illusion built on a loud voice, a strong body, and the habit of dominance.
Does our worshiping at this alter cause harm?
Yes.
We may risk our self-esteem and even our integrity and we may fail to give the support to other women we all deserve. Maybe the reason we have seldom joined the great social movements of our time, for justice, for peace, is that even standing up in a crowd shows our personal power.
Our world can’t change until we solve this problem—until no one responding to The Silver Swan brings up a pepper grinder.
But even so, now she is sailing on.
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