The power of positive pinking

I still see Paula, and the whole Mary Kay culture, as being warped by materialistic ideals, patriarchal images of female beauty and half-baked nauseating self-esteem tricks. But would Paula be better off being jostled back and forth on some crappy commuter flight serving microwaved chicken Kiev and spiraling into a valium haze every time the latest boyfriend took a powder? She was driving a Cadillac, wearing furs and diamonds, running her own business and feeling better about herself. She walked up on a stage in front of thousands of women, and was cheered for her accomplishments. And she had loads of friends and a support system that really did care about her and helped her get where she is.

No doubt she still has problems. But so do I. I schedule in at least 30 days a year for lying in the fetal position praying for death and I'm not driving a Caddy. (Nor do I want to, but Paula really did.) Mary Kay delivered on her promise. She improved Paula's life.

My biggest complaint about the Mary Kay philosophy is that it represents a cowardly form of feminism. Feminism is so splintered these days that, while I don't agree with everything that falls under its rubric, I do call myself a feminist in support of its one common denominator: that women deserve the right to fully reach their potential and receive equal financial rewards for work performed. What does it mean to espouse a philosophy of helping women reach their full career potential and yet refuse to call yourself a feminist? Ash wants the same things I do, she just wants them to stay pretty and nice. She wants it not to seem like the ladies are making too much of a fuss about it. She wants to stay popular with men, and promote "family values" by placing her desires beneath those of others. Yet I truly believe there is not a cynical bone in Ash's body. She fully believes the golden words that drip from her mouth into the eager ears of her followers. Whether she likes it or not, Ash is a feminist. And whether I like it or not, I have to give her props for what she's done for the women who worship her.

Over the next year, I would recount to friends the story of Paula and other women I observed during my time as a spy to great comic effect. But as I played on the stereotypes they seemed to embody, I found myself becoming more sympathetic to their struggle and their strength. These women worked hard for their money and their sense of accomplishment. Two years later my fascination led to the development of three characters representing various facets of the women I met. Those characters were finally assembled into a solo show, which became my first writing and performing venture. So, in the end, Mary Kay improved my life as well. And that still makes me a little queasy.

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