A domesticity dilemma (what becomes of a creative woman's heart)

Like many American cis femme girls, I was pretty young when I fantasized about the idea of romantic partnership. “True love”, “husband”, “king”, “fairytale ending”, were all highly elusive terms and things to strive for as a central goal of happiness and purpose in our lives. You may say we live in a modern world where women's independence – financially, romantically, occupationally – is more stressed than ever. This is not true, however, for what is still projected on to kids in cartoons or classic American movies.

Most of us born before the new millennium grew up with Disney movies that perpetuate these kinds of romantic and gendered tropes from a young age. The story lines remain more or less the same. A woman's life is swept away in the premise of earth shattering romance, usually by a strapping young man who is never fully emotionally or physically available. He is usually fighting some demanding war or off at his high stakes job while the woman is transfixed and paralyzed in her lust just waiting for him to return. Eventually they come together at the end in a stroke of sensibility to make the story conclude on a loving, reconciliatory note. The man is never waiting for the woman to come home from work or spending his days wondering when she will return to him, for that would cause the dynamic of gender roles that America so deeply clutches to disintegrate. Naturally, this had an impact on what I understood as important in my life. When I was five, I wrote in my Kindergarten school notebook that I wanted to grow up to be a princess. I remember being obsessed with the ballgown dresses, the corsets that emphasized your waist, the perfectly coiffed hairdos, all for the power of male desirability that was appealing and perhaps paramount even then. It all seemed so magical and dreamy to fall in love, and male infatuation was the sole solution to fulfilling understandings of personal worth.

I grew up boy crazy before I was music crazy, unlike my brother who was committed to guitar from age 6. I hate that I feel shame for it now, but when you're so young, the media you consume has such a strong hold on what you believe to be true. The funny thing is that I think it was this power and ego gained by wanting to be desired and approved of by men more than ever believing a man was central to assessing my level of worth. (Fooling around with my girl best friend in middle school was a direct example of that). At the time, it was so easy to get those two things confused. I did grow out of most of my childlike obsession with the princess dresses and the 'knight in shining armor' tropes by the time I was in late elementary school. But I would still have some days daydreaming about having a boyfriend to hold hands with and find me irresistible, and furthermore, I felt that was the ultimate reward over the fact that I was one of the top academic students in my class or that I played rock drums well enough to be accepted for a School of Rock tour when I was only 11 years old. My commitment to my other interests remained on the back burner for a while. I struggled to be excited about a prospective career or educational interest.

It wasn't until I decided at 14 that I wanted to become a musician when I grew up, upon discovering the vibraphone, that things really took a turn and came directly at odds with everything I epitomized in the realm of male desirability. I realized how temporary and ultimately unfulfilling this chase for male desirability was and how ridiculous it was that we put those images in to the heads of young girls as if that's the only thing worth aspiring to achieve. It became a source of remorse for me because I always thought I would have been a better musician if I had been encouraged by media or external forces to centralize my passions and work. I think it was one of the more dysfunctional ideas of society that I've had – and held – far longer than I feel I should have, and I know this is the story that countless other women share and have shame over. I do hope in the future we can be better about the images and stereotypes we project on to young girls, particularly about what can make them feel fulfilled in this life.

Fast forward to the present day. The irony of becoming a vibraphonist who spends an inordinate amount of time alone with an erratic travel/work schedule, constant creative workshopping, and internal self worth conversations that occasionally dip in to the idea of “success”, is more staggering than I could have ever anticipated. It is more staggering than most office jobs, retail jobs, and the like. It is not to diminish the good work done in those jobs, but it is to say that the confrontation with inconsistent scheduling and constant self assessment on a personal level more than a skill based level is all consuming. I wouldn't have it any other way because I do love my job and the undying sense of purpose and mental/spiritual fulfillment it has given me. I also know that the feeling I had about wanting to merely feel desired more than thinking a man and our potential family together contributes substantially to my sense of life fulfillment crept up for a reason. I didn't want much of the classic domestic women's life anyway – it just seemed like one of the only possibilities projected on to me. My mom grew up knowing she wanted to be a mother. So did her mom. So did my aunt. So did my cousin, who now has a two year old and wants a second. I never once had a desire to be a mother, even as a young girl, although I will not say that won't change in the future. I think that I am hardly an anomaly in that feeling until it is brought up at every family gathering, every wedding, every year that goes by that it becomes a little less likely they will get to cradle the grandchildren they have always wanted.

I do remember when I truly envisioned my life as I got older and all the things I wanted to achieve through music, there was never a man in the picture, and this still appears to be true. Any achievements I made through music – getting in to college that eventually became full scholarship, tours, accolades, awards and opportunities with worth in the tens of thousands – was done without the help of anybody at all. And as I watched my childhood friends post about their recent engagements, the meals they cook every day with their partners as they live back home in the city they're from, the house or apartment they just bought, the recently announced pregnancies, my divergence from the course of their lives became all the more obtuse. Some of these friends used to bully me for playing the drums, having odd fashion sense, hitting puberty late, being short – essentially not being conventionally desirable - and now their parents come up to me at class reunions and ask all about my music tours because that desirability factor is only so finite.

Some of my childhood friends desired a life built on systems of reliability, whether in their relationships or their 9 to 5 jobs. Working until 2am or having your only day off be on a random Monday night back from tour is definitely not for everybody. Some of them genuinely wanted that domestic bliss – it is the pinnacle of their lives - and it works for them. It's not a bad thing. I just happened to not grow up to be that kind of person. No doubt, I have routines. Routines of practicing, writing, composing, reading – all sorts of methodology that I showed an early adherence towards. But I do think that the same person who has routine tendencies such as a 9 to 5 job pairs well with something like marriage and domestic bliss. Musicians deal with a lack of system, a stroke of spontaneity and trust in the unknown. It's pretty hard for anybody to stomach, including musicians, which is why so many of us are mentally ill or abuse drugs and alcohol. How can you feel sane and put together when your creative outlet and line of work are entirely built on the unknown or on the feelings and money put up by the public? What does it do to our psyche, and particularly, what does it do to women who have been told their whole lives that the only way to build themselves up is through the stability and love of a man?

The one residual factor I had of my influence as a young American girl is how well I tolerated the latter on those few days that the work is not fun or easy. It was genuinely hard for me to let go of fleeting moments and the transience of this lifestyle. I wanted to hold on to everything so hard. I couldn't easily meet anyone romantic, man or woman, that would want to stick around after I come back from tour a month later. You work this public life, performing for audiences, being social with band members and hangs after the show, and then you go home to your hotel room with its pristinely folded stiff sheets by yourself and feel a stroke of terrible loneliness. When you do get a moment to touch down at home and have some days off, you might not have much to come home to. If you get rejected from a major grant or job, you often have to bear that discouragement on your own. And that is extremely difficult.

The path to becoming a great musician is also a lonely one because you can take so much time practicing, including time away from friends or family to work on music, only to not have it materialize when it comes time to perform live or for you to find somebody at the drop of a hat who is even more talented than you. It is as if those compounded hours of work can just disappear in one single moment. It is something that men are born for, tasked with as their canon events, the strategy that will make them great in this world. Women are not.

In those moments, I mourn the little girl who wanted to live that domestic fairytale. As much as I'm certain it isn't the right life path for me, there's no question it would have been easier on me. It would not have allowed me to understand what it means to live my full potential, what it means to be truly great and to push oneself every which way in order to achieve it. It might be a path tasked with loneliness, but it only begs that the same kind of fulfillment must be found in the act of building oneself up. And if you can master it, that is the real life fairytale. That is forever.