The Real Her?

Would Toni Morrison twirl her hair to get a guy?
 I didn't think so.

Ladies, we have all been guilty of this at some disastrous point in our lives: you're at a party with your friends, or you're at Starbucks by yourself working on a research paper (which really means you're watching yet another episode of Scandal while dodging judgmental glances from the more pretentious patrons), and a guy approaches you. He's kind of attractive, kind of well dressed, and hey, at least he isn't catcalling you. Clearly, you two are a match made in heaven, so you really can't mess this one up.

Now you have two options: you can engage him in an intellectual dialogue about the fascinating contents of your paper or something else that is interesting, or you can do what every female relative, talk show host, "lifestyle guru," and higher order of plant has instructed women to do since the dawn of sexual attraction-- play dumb.

"Playing dumb" can consist of a plethora of things, each one slightly more degrading and dehumanizing than the last. It can include making your voice unnaturally soft and high-pitched (I personally can transform from James Earl Jones to a chipmunk on helium within seconds), feigning ignorance of a topic on which you are clearly more than qualified to speak (An example of this would be a female astrophysics doctoral student allowing a guy in ironic horn-rimmed glasses to bumble through an explanation of Newton's third law of physics), pretending to be an ideal, conservative future housewife when you can't boil water or stand the thought of children or, God help us all, twirling your hair.

From a bafflingly young age, our culture tells women in thinly veiled language that they must either play dumb or suffer the consequences (I'm assuming that these ambiguous "consequences" somehow relate to dying alone among your highly advanced kingdom of cats). We have been duped into believing that our authentic selves are inadequate and inappropriate for this world, and we are told towe really don't care).
to "hold back" in conversations with men in order to allow them to "take the lead," choosing the topics of discussion and the depth to which they are explored. The apparent goal when speaking to a man on a romantic level is not to display one's true identity and the full extent of one's intelligence, but rather to present a generically feminine representation of a woman, an idea with which a man may become infatuated rather than a woman that he respects and understands. Reticence and being soft-spoken are qualities that are admired in women, whereas being able to lead and carry on a conversation are qualities that men pride themselves for having. The clear difference in the qualities that are praised in each gender creates lopsided, boring conversations in which a woman in a dimly lit restaurant is reduced to nodding passively and pushing up her cleavage while a man rambles for thirty minutes about the complexities of his fantasy football team (

So why don't we change? Why don't all women just stand up and start ranting about Rothko and Newton and Wollstonecraft and Hurston? Why don't we all stop dozing with our eyes open on terrible dates because you've let some guy control the conversation for an hour and you figure there's no point in jumping in now? Why?

It's simple really: because there is nothing more terrifying, humiliating, or soul-crushing to a young woman than seeing the dreaded look of glazed-over boredom (at least, we perceive it to be boredom. It is more likely the shallow anger of incomprehension) in a man's eyes while all of her friends twirl their hair and baby coo their way to a boyfriend or a partner for the night. It can be devastating to hear whispers from the men in whom you are interested that "she talks too much," "she's such a nerd," or, the most agonizing of all, "she's just way too intimidating." It's easy to disregard the ignorance or judgement of anonymous people, but it is much harder (especially as an adolescent or a young woman in college) to maintain an authentic and intelligent identity when it appears to be ruining all of your chances at romantic happiness.

But it isn't. It may not seem that way now (especially since the dreaded "cuffing season," with its gratuitous Instagram posts and public Eskimo kisses is rapidly descending upon us), but the dissatisfaction and boredom you would experience in a relationship with someone who genuinely believes that you are either a) Betty Crocker b) a transplant Valley Girl or c) a chipmunk on helium when you are actually a secret agent and superhero working for S.H.I.E.L.D. (or something like that) is a disservice to your intelligence and unfair to a guy who is deeply passionate about small, furry woodland creatures.

In my experience, I've found that men who will truly accept a woman for who she is are attracted to her intelligence and her ability to carry a nuanced conversation above all else (these special humans have been found at conferences, graduate school prep programs, and academic competitions. So start begging your university for money to travel).

 They may be few and far between, but holding out for one of them will probably save you the embarrassment of falling asleep in your spaghetti on a torturously boring date.