Woman Vs. Shoe

The silent-but-deadly culprit.

I hate high heels.
That's right ladies, I said it.

Ask anyone who knows me. Two pairs of heels sit in my closet. I don't even wear the second pair (a hand-me-down from a college buddy). Instead, sneakers (Converse, New Balance) and flip flops (Reeboks, Reefs) litter the floor of my room. Carrie Bradshaw would be appalled.

My rejection of an icon of femininity has now been brutally exposed. But what sparked it, and why?

For starters, I was born with relatively flat feet. The word "relatively" is employed here because something resembling an arch can be found on the inside of each foot, albeit barely there. Heels-- shoes built to emphasize the curve of a woman's foot-- are exponentially more difficult to fit into for flat-footed females like myself. Why put myself through the torture?

Second, I've got rather large feet. Size: 10W. The shock and horror! Hold back your gasps. My feet grew at a rapid rate for as long as I can remember, and they've certainly added an element of clumsiness to my life (which actually worked for me on the ultimate frisbee field of yesteryear). It's uncommon to see a shoe store stocked with loads of women's shoes over a size 9. Having always had less to choose from, I found these stores frustrating and unimpressive in the first place. Sizes 10 and up are the outcasts of estrogen-heavy Shoetopia.

Third: I'm fairly tall (5'6), so I don't feel the need to add a few inches to my height when I'm going out. Heels, pumps, platforms, none of them are necessary. (Perhaps if I were more severely vertically challenged-- a friend of mine stands at 4'11-- I'd feel a tiny bit differently.)

But perhaps most importantly, I'm a product of my environment. My mom was never too heel-crazy herself. I wasn't raised to worship shoes, and this is a financial relief I must thank her for. Such an obsession would be just another extra expense of daily living. I can barely keep up with all of the New Jersey Transit tickets, concerts and drink purchases that have come to define my post-college lifestyle.

However, I do understand that there's a time and place for everything. Obviously I'm not going to show up to a job interview wearing neon green, ripped Chuck Taylor All Stars. This is why I own the perfect pair of all-purpose heels. They can be worn to work, to a wedding, to the bars, wherever. Solid black, standard closed toe with a short heel. The LBD (little black dress) of shoes, if you may. I also comprehend the feelings of empowerment that come with a pair of heels. I dig my LBS (well, they're not exactly "little"). This energy, however, is not exclusive to the wearing of heels alone. It's not just what you or I wear, it's how we wear it (which means even sneakers can be sexy... when utilized appropriately).

To all the Gucci lovers out there who may misunderstand my lack of shoe passion: simply put, I am a person who, for the most part, values comfort over style (or rather, what's currently in style). This is a widely acceptable life philosophy for most guys (or at least most of my male acquaintances), yet it comes across as ridiculous when women express similar sentiments. God forbid somebody might call us frumpy. It all boils down to the pressure to look good, and by "good" I really mean girly. Being feminine/sexy/attractive equals status equals power.

I'm not advocating protests outside DSW or the public burning of Manolo Blahniks. But to my female readers: how about the next time you find yourself on a shopping spree, try out a slightly less sky-high pair that you wouldn't normally buy? Go ahead, blur the edges and toe the line of those gender norms. Your feet will thank you for it.

La Nouvelle Histoire

Sometimes I wonder if it means anything that most, if not all, of my favorite works of fiction considered to be part of the "Great Books" canon, feature males as their central characters-- and were written by male authors themselves.

It's a lengthy list: Warren's All the King's Men, Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated, just to name a few. Today, I'm adding the classic Fahrenheit 451 to my collection (just finished it on the L train this morning).

Have I always inherently related more to male protagonists than females? Are men simply more interesting to read about than women? Am I grossly overgeneralizing? Can I finish this paragraph having written it entirely as a series of questions? (Nope. Ran out.)

A partial explanation: simply put, there are far, far fewer books that have been put into print starring women, told by women, written by women. Perhaps that was the most obvious answer.

But I find it somewhat shocking that most of the shiny new paperbacks I eagerly look forward to purchasing at Barnes & Noble so noticeably lack a female perspective. Even the select two or three books that have changed my way of looking at the world (and that's doesn't happen too often) contain women characters that are starkly one-dimensional.

What I mean is that fiction-- creative nonfiction, too-- is longing, begging, for the new and improved great American novel. A piece for the 21st century that tells a story never told before, in a way we've never heard before. I know that there's room out there for the woman/hero, the gay/hero, the gay/woman/hero in literaure, and there will be a day when that isn't weird or wrong.

Part of me wonders whether I'm capable of even writing the first chapter-- hell, a single page-- of my own novel. The mere thought of it gives me the jitters. I might have a better chance of winning the lottery than being the next J.D. Salinger.

At the same time, it makes the blue in my eyes burn a bit more brightly. Every kid has a dream, and a kid can dream, can't she?

Baby steps, though. Before the novel comes the novella. Before the novella comes the short story. Or the essay. (It's a lot like one of those wooden Russian dolls-- a nugget within another nugget.)

And before that?

For now-- the blog. Here's to getting started.