That Takes Ovaries!

While I am all about overthrowing gender stereotypes and discourse that constricts and unfairly defines the characteristics of masculinity and femininity, I have to say that "That takes ovaries!" does not have the same ring to it that "that takes balls!" or "cajones!" or "brass!" does. Which is a pity. But, there it goes.

Recently, I was talking to my friend Sooz, from Indiana. She was packing up her apartment; she had been offered a library job in West Virginia, and while she was hesitant, she decided to take it.

As I folded my laundry, and listened to her wry, practical voice in my ear, she said something that stopped me short.

"I wasn't sure I was going to take it," she was saying. "I don't know anyone there. And then I thought, 'Look, if Mel can do it--load up her car and drive to Southern California and start a new job in a new place, then I can do it too.'"
I have to say, I'm not accustomed to someone looking to me as an example of the best or bravest course of action. It was a little flattering. But now, the more that I think about it, the more I realize, she wasn't flattering me, she was just telling it how it was. I packed up my car and left my friends and family and a lot of worn-out dreams, and drove for three days and ended up in hot, crowded Southern California, where I knew next to no one, and set up a home and got a couple of cats and made friends and am getting out there on a daily basis, and if that doesn't take balls or brass or whatever, then I don't know what does.

Usually, I downplay it. It hasn't been too terribly hard, I don't think--but then, one of my strengths is my adaptability. But every now and then, I will admit--this took balls. No, let's just put it out there: it took ovaries. Sure, it's been hard on occasion, and will continue to be hard. I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. But with ovaries like these, I am not backing down. And I am willing to bet Sooz isn't, either.