Week 9: Memento mulier

In David Sedaris' "Memento Mori," he describes the odd “relationship” and one-sided conversations he has with the skeleton he gifted his husband. This skeleton constantly reminds him, "'You are going to die,'" and effectively creeps him out (Sedaris 155). Although Sedaris does not explicitly explain the connection to this chapter's title, "memento mori” is the idea that this skeleton reminds him of his inevitable death. "Memento mori" is Latin for "remember you must die" and describes objects in artwork or everyday life that remind people of their mortality ("Memento mori"). I was going to attempt to discuss some things in my life that are memento mori, but I came up empty. Of course, I get the occasional existential thought that I am going to die one day, much like anyone else. However, I am not reminded of that fact or worry about it often enough to have objects in my life that serve as memento mori. With that being said, I thought about how I could still discuss this idea. After some brainstorming, I came up with "memento mulier," which is loose Latin, courtesy of Google Translate, for "remember you are a woman." There are a number of objects and experiences in my day-to-day life that remind me that I am female, or the "lesser sex." Thus, with this blog post, I would like to share a short list of "memento mulier," or things that tell me I am a woman. 

My Memento mulier 

1. The expensive feminine hygiene products I buy every month 

This memento has to do a bit with nature and the biology of being a woman, but it also deals with inequality. On International Women's Day, I saw an Instagram post titled "If men had to pay for toilet paper." This video included a very interesting experiment in which men had to pay for toilet paper in a restroom, much like women have to pay for tampons (if they are even available). If the men did not have any quarters, they had to post about period rights for women (Okamoto). Here is a link to the video if you would like to watch it. I absolutely loved it! 

https://www.instagram.com/p/B9eTfD9nDZA/  

2. I am told to smile while minding my own business. 

Being told to smile is a near exclusive thing that happens to women. (I honestly doubt any guy has been asked to smile by another man or a woman in this way.) It does not discriminate where you are or what you are doing either. I was even asked to smile while completely zoned out around 10pm at Food Lion with no customers. This old man walked by me and told me to smile, in a very sassy way too, even though I was extremely tired and also not even paying attention out of sheer boredom due to how slow it was that evening. As I am typing all of this out, trying to defend why I was not already smiling, I realize that there is something else that reminds me I am a woman... 

3. I constantly feel the need to explain myself, especially if I am doing something "unladylike." 

Just like I was defending why I was not smiling for this creep, I am often explaining myself as a woman. If I am ever in a position of power, which is a feat in itself, I am apologetic or constantly explaining why I am "being bossy." Similarly, I am so afraid of appearing unladylike, that I overcompensate by always adding explanation points to my sentences to seem happy or refraining from vulgar language to seem sweet and virginal. 

4. The fad diet coffee I bought for an outrageous price 

I once bought an embarrassing number of bags of "Keto coffee" in an effort to lose weight. The stress of college and life in general made me gain weight, and I am currently very unhappy with my body.  Society grooms us women to hate our bodies anyway, weight fluctuation or not. Instagram accounts that make money off of vulnerable young women preyed on me, and I ended up buying this weight loss product from one of them. The coffee did not help and was a giant waste of money. FYI this keto coffee tastes disgusting on a whole new level and is basically like drinking liquified butter and dirt. It is great. 

5. Sexist pigs in general 

The sexist pigs I have to deal with, especially at work, remind me the most that I am a woman. I would not have to listen to rude misogynistic comments or marriage proposals from COMs (creepy old men) if I was male. Similarly, I would not have to worry about my safety when certain older men come into the store that have a history with sexual harassment. These kinds of men remind me daily that I will always be treated as a sexual object and a sounding board for their hideously out-of-date viewpoints and ideals. 

In addition to these main "memento mulier," there are littler objects that remind me of being a woman that include but are not limited to: my pepper spray, my spanx, demeaning social media posts, articles, magazines, and other forms of entertainment, my future pay check that will most likely be less than my male coworkers, and catcalls. There are so many more, and I encourage you to share some of yours in the comments. The strongest thing we have as women is solidarity, and I believe that our unity can beat any of the constant reminders that we are not enough. Together we are everything. 

Works Cited 

“Memento mori– Art Term.” Tate, 1 Jan. 1997, www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/m/memento-mori. 

Okamoto, Nadya. "If men had to pay for toilet paper." Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/p/B9eTfD9nDZA/. 

Sedaris, David. "Memento Mori." When You Are Engulfed in Flames. Little, Brown and Company, 2008, p. 155. 

I think we can all learn something from Nanette

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I had absolutely no idea what I was going to blog about for this week. And it’s not like I had a lot going on this week, so I had the time to come up with ideas. It was almost as if every idea I had in the past six weeks grew legs and walked out of my brain. But, after purchasing a net and attempting to catch every single one of them, I settled on the idea I have brought forth to you today.

I’m almost scared to ask. What on Earth did you come up with, then? Well, let me ask you all a question: who’s Nanette? Yeah, you heard me. Nanette, the title of the show, the supposed main story of the whole comedy special—Hannah Gadsby talked briefly about meeting her in a café (1:09-1:50) in Hannah Gadsby: Nanette. She was going to explain who Nanette was in greater detail, but then she moved to her next point of why she doesn’t like small towns. So who is she?

It’s a good thing I know how to use the Internet; otherwise, this would have been much more difficult.

Apparently, Gadsby explained to Variety that Nanette was a barista that worked at a café she visited once. “She was just an older lady who I would normally love to talk to, but because of what I represented, we didn’t,” she explained. While she admitted that she might have been wrong about her and merely projected what she thought was true, the occurrence was still significant enough for her to name the show after her. In the Netflix special there was no explanation of her, but in the live taping of the show, she explains who she is in greater detail (Aubrey).

Elana, how are you going to squeeze more out of this topic? You found out who Nanette was-now what? Are you going to search for every barista named Nanette in Australia until you find the exact same one that made Hannah feel terrible about herself? Are you going to out her to the public? Wait, is this about revenge? I’m so proud of you for going dark-side! I didn’t realize you had it in you! I’m glad you asked, voice in my head that severely doubts my ability to come up with conversation topics (also, tad bit violent there. Are you good?)! I actually want to talk about customer service.

What? Oh geez…

For those of you who aren’t aware, when I go back to Morgantown for long breaks, I work at a Panera as a line worker. This means I make the sandwiches and salads, serve the soups and pastas, and give extra cutlery and napkins even when I made sure the customer had them. As easy as this probably sounds, it’s not. Plenty of you reading this probably understand that food service jobs are stressful and exhausting: running around, standing on your feet, almost cutting your hands when you’re cutting things, almost burning yourself because you’re paying more attention to the order than your hands—it’s all part of the job. Even if you don’t work in food service, any type of job that requires pleasing the customer to the point that they will want to come back again is tiring and it can be draining.

But here’s the tricky part: you can’t let any customers see how tired and achey you are. No matter where you are in the café, you have to treat every customer with respect. So while I understand Nanette’s behavior was not appropriate for her job, we’ve all been there. You’ve been working several hours without a break, you haven’t had food since the day before, and you barely get any sleep; interactions with other human beings is a nightmare. You barely have control over yourself, but you have to be nice to people in order to keep your job. That isn’t to say Nanette wasn’t out of line-she definitely was. I’m just trying to see this encounter from both sides. Sure, Hannah must’ve felt pretty bad because the barista looked at her like she was a freak, and based on her identity, the feeling was probably much worse, but Nanette honestly probably thought, “Oh no, another order? I just need five minutes to sit and breathe! Why the hell did she even order anything?”

If there is one thing this audience should learn from this, it’s this: don’t assume anything. Hannah assumed the barista hated her because of who she was, but she admitted she could be wrong. Nanette might not actually hate lesbians—she might just hate her job…and people in general.

Works Cited

Aubrey, Sophie. “How a Scathing, Silent Cafe Interaction Inspired the Name of Hannah Gadsby's 'Nanette'.” Mamamia, Mamamia, 20 July 2018, www.mamamia.com.au/why-is-nanette-called-nanette/.