Introducing Positive Amy

Positive Amy came to life one day at the Landdyke Gathering. I realized that I was stomping around muttering grumpily to myself more often than not, and I wanted to see what life would be like if I stopped that. So at breakfast with YL and Kya I declared it “Positive Amy Day” in which I could not say anything mean or critical about other people. And wow, it was enlightening! For one thing, well, I didn’t say much. At one point, YL turned to me and said, “I’m glad you’re trying out this positivity thing, but I miss you talking!” And Kya asked me if I was mad at her because “you’re not saying anything.” Instructive, that–not because I think negativity and criticism are necessarily bad, but I know how I feel when I’m around people who have nothing ELSE to say–I don’t like it. (In my defense, this might be environmental for me, since I was raised by two of the most negative, critical women I can imagine–at least at that point in their lives–my mother and her mother.)

Another thing I noticed was all the good stuff that was going on around me. Not that I don’t usually notice it, but I wondered why the negative, critical stuff is so much more interesting fodder for conversation than, for example, mentioning how much I appreciated a woman’s efforts in trying to get all the chairs under the meeting tent when it looked like rain, so that others would have dry places to sit. Or how, when a woman fell and hurt her knee, other women pulled together to make a bed for her (using pallets and milk crates) in the meeting tent so that she didn’t have to convalesce alone in her tent. Or how one young woman made herself indispensable in the kitchen, such that the rest of us were relying on her to know where things were, how much of which ingredients were left, etc. Or how much I enjoyed making lunch of Pasta Primavera with YL and Pat (who told someone she signed up for that shift because she wanted to get to know me better, for cryin’ out loud). Why don’t I do more pointing out of that kind of thing?

So Positive Amy Day was a success, with only one slip, though wow was I relieved when the next morning came, because THE MATERIAL I PASSED UP! Lardy, it reminds me of that episode of Friends where the pals bet Chandler he can’t go a day without making fun of anyone, and you can see him just clenching everything he’s got not to let some zinger pass his lips. But, I did it, and I’m sure I’m better for it, and even though YL has already beat me to the punch on much of what was good about the week, I’m going to go ahead and put my two cents in.

1. Our workshops. Kya facilitated an interesting discussion of The Tyranny of Structurelessness. YL and I offered up some role-plays on typical interpersonal and group conflict situations so women could brainstorm solutions, and we came up with a lot! Plus, I got to say things like, “I feel really invalidated by your lack of caring about my feelings,” and “You seem to have a real problem with anger, I think you need to do some empty chair work.” Neither of which I would ever even dream of saying as myself.
2. Digging. I got to dig every day, in the company of women, and some sections of the road are looking so much better after our efforts. There’s something so satisfying to this earth sign about moving dirt, exercising the body in a productive way, and getting to see immediate results.
3. A discussion on class. Susan brought a wonderful tape of a talk from the 1970s on class. It was funny and insightful and realistic and I really enjoyed it. The best part was the conversation afterwards, which ranged a bit away from class but covered 1970s feminism and the way that movement has come to be viewed subsequently, particularly the lies that are told about it and the disdain in which it is held by so many younger women. I really enjoyed hearing the perspectives of women who’d been around back in the day, in the thick of things, getting to tell them some of what’s happening at least on the net these days, and hearing the perspectives of women of my generation on what we can do to create a movement again.
4. The dance. Hah, because I hate dances. But this one felt so sweet. It was in Pelican’s lovely house, with the mellow light reflecting off the clay plaster walls and adobe floor, a big bright moon overhead and some lightning playing in the distance. Though there were some couples there, I didn’t get any sense of that sexually charged atmosphere that is so often present at lesbian dances. Some women danced alone, some danced with friends, some danced with lovers, and some didn’t dance–and it was all groovy. The music, by Patricia of the hurt knee, was a fun mix of 70s dance tunes (STOP! In the name of love) and more recent lesbian favorites (Melissa Etheridge) and our attendant three-year-old had a great time alternately dancing with different women and crawling around on the floor. You know it’s a good dance when the kid is having a good time.
5. Oh yeah, safety. One night early in the gathering we were having game night, and our attendant eight-year-old showed up on her own, through the dark, without her mom. It was such a proud feeling to be part of a group where girls can wander around freely, make autonomous choices about their activities, interact on their own with other adult women, knowing that most women are keeping an eye on what’s going on. I wish more girls, and heck, women, could have that experience of wandering off in the dark to play dominos with a bunch of strangers and knowing that everyone would be welcoming and kind, and she’d be perfectly safe and within easy reach of any kind of help she might need.

I’m sure I could come up with more but, you know, enough for one day. Don’t want to overwhelm y’all with positivity all at once. Like everything else, it was a mixed event, with things I really enjoyed, things that I appreciated even though they were hard, and things I could have done without. This year, at least, it was worth doing, and I feel fortunate to have been in the company of so many women I like and appreciate. I just wish YL would quit having sex on my stuff.* That girl has some wicked fun, for an anti-sex prude.

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*Okay, so the sarong isn’t technically mine. However, a tarp of mine was involved, and the futon in the WestWind guest cabin is DEFINITELY mine.

Filed under: land dyke odyssey, positive amy by Amy's Brain Today