In March I had the distinct pleasure of attending the USC Women’s Conference: Women Empowering Women. Needless to say, it was an amazing day. I found myself nodding along in agreement throughout this speech, and I’ve been so anxious to share it with you. I encourage you to read it all the way through and download the PDF so you can re-read it when you’re needing inspiration and empowerment.

2009 USC Women’s Conference
Keynote speech by Gayle Garner Rossi

Isn’t this exciting? The inaugural gathering of the sisters of Troy! And an entire day devoted to women empowering women! It is such a pleasure to be here, and to share this day with all of you. I applaud the women of the USC Alumni Association for conceiving and creating this conference; and I thank you for inviting me to be a
part of this new Trojan tradition.

Our busy lives seldom afford us the time to sit and reflect at length; so I am particularly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you today, as it required that I first spend some time collecting my own thoughts and considering my perspective on what it means to be a woman – on what defines our lives as women, and how that definition has evolved in my own life.

I do believe there is an art to being a woman; and that all women have within them an artistry that most men are without.

That’s not to say there are not great male artists. In fact, most of the greatest artists in history have been men (at least, the ones we know about), since save the last century or so most of history has been written by men -most of it about men! They were the first philosophers and conquerors and inventors….

In fact, Men came into being first, according to Christianity and to most world religions. The Bible makes it very clear that God created man in “his” own image. (And who’s to say? I wasn’t there.) And frankly, it does make perfect sense that God would create man before woman; you always make the rough draft before creating the final masterpiece! Now, I don’t mean to imply any reverse discrimination; I believe that all men and women are equal – they’re just not the same. I certainly don’t buy this business of “woman being born of Adam’s rib,” but it’s as clear as the difference in our Adam’s apple that women and men are born of different DNA.

Obviously, we’re socialized in opposite directions, but psychologists agree that as a rule – even as infants – boys and girls process their environment differently. I see it so clearly in the way my granddaughter approaches the world as opposed to her three brothers – the questions she asks, the observations she makes….

Girls are more communicative – certainly more expressive. They possess a sensuality that precedes sexuality, and a sense of strategy that supersedes reason. But the female quality that is the source of a woman’s inherent artistry is her innate and essential creativity.

It’s our nature to create – to decorate, to make up and makeover. As little girls we play dress up and try on Mommy’s lipstick. And as young women we find that our bodies are built for the ultimate act of creation.

It’s true, men play a part in the conception…. But even if they were able, does anyone know a man who could endure childbirth? (Even my husband – the former marine, decorated with two purple hearts and a bronze star – he thinks he’s tough, but I’m sure he’d pass out after the first couple contractions.)

But whether or not she chooses to create a child, it’s clear in the way a woman creates herself – from the books she reads and principles she espouses, to which handbag she chooses, and with which pair of shoes!

Women have a broader range of creative expression than men. Unlike our sex in the animal kingdom, the human female is the more ornamented of the species – ours is the brighter plumage. (Thus, the billion dollar cosmetic industry!)

Now I know some women who hate having to wear makeup, but I personally think its fun. I mean … not every day, but to me, it’s like painting! (And at my age, I could use a fresh coat of paint now and then!)

Of course, no two women are alike. White washed or gold gilded, we are framed in every shape and size, (though very few fit the size-4 dresses on the glossy covers of fashion magazines).

But I believe all women – whether they wield a pen or a paint brush, prefer a sewing machine or a laptop computer; whether it’s expressed in the classroom or the board room, at the PTA or in the WNBA – all women share a collective creativity that is profound.

The challenge of our gender can be in claiming our creativity – in taking ownership of the canvas of our lives. Finding her own authentic voice in a patriarchal society can be a woman’s most challenging creative endeavor. Often what we create is less important than why, and for whom.

I believe the Art of being a woman, is in becoming a person of your own creation.

Georgia O’Keefe said, “To create one’s own world – in any of the arts -takes great courage.”In my own life, that took a while to find. It was in becoming a painter that I truly came into my own, but that didn’t happen until late in life.

I had spent many years as a wife and mother, before I finally found the courage to declare myself an artist. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy raising my family, or that the roles of mother and wife were not fulfilling; but I always felt there was something missing. At 50, my children were mostly grown, and I had time to discover what that was.

I had always diligently attended to the things that I should do. But I’d never given much thought to what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was paint.

I had studied fine arts, and I had always painted, but usually in the kitchen with something in the oven, or in the hallway where I could keep an eye on the kids.

I decided I would first need what Virginia Woolf insisted every artist must have: A room of one’s own. So I began by converting one of the kid’s bedrooms into a studio. However, even when it was filled with all my art supplies, it wasn’t filled with a lot of confidence.

But then at 52, I got the “C” word.

My painting became a form of therapy. I would paint the good cells marching into battle against the cancer cells until, eventually the battle was won.

Surviving cancer focused me in many ways. I embraced my life – and myself – differently. I wanted to do what I was most passionate about! Not only to paint but to become a painter – to create a life of my own design, with vibrant colors of my own choosing, in a landscape that made me feel most alive!

It was in the process of defining myself as an artist, that I was able to honor myself as a woman.

And I honor the artistry of all women, and the many courageous acts of creativity that define their lives.

Throughout history, the definition of Art and the role of artists in society (artists and women) has been subject to the fashion of the age. Those with any aspiration have always been at the mercy of the period, and of its ruling class, which clearly dictated how every good painter should paint, and how every good woman should behave.

Advising her young daughter Anne, the Countess of Wiltshire, Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, said, “Observe the ladies of the court, see how they achieve what they want from their men; not by stamping their little feet, but by allowing the men to believe that they are indeed in charge. That is the Art of being a woman.”

Her daughter thought there was a little more to it than just that, and Anne Boleyn went on to become one of the most influential and independent queens of England. (Of course, had she heeded her mother’s advice with her husband King Henry VIII, she might have avoided having been beheaded).

Women are still subject to the styles and social mores of their generation And to their mothers’ best intentions….

When I grew up in the early 50’s, we were still corseted in merry widows! My mother had us ribboned and bowed and starched in crinolines with petticoats out to here!

When I came to USC it was not to obtain an education. Sure, you might become a nurse or teacher, but young ladies were sent to college to find a husband. And I found mine in the very first week!

Back then, we were trained in the Art of being a good wife, and with the help of Dr, Spock, a good mother. We were told that’s what all women were supposed to do.

My daughter’s generation was told they could do it all – get a degree, a husband, have a family and a career … and I told them, whatever makes you happy, do it! My daughter’s daughter isn’t waiting to be told anything! She knows there’s nothing she can’t do! Of course she’ll have a career, she’ll run the corporation! And have kids, and at least one husband, and make it to the last round of American Idol!

I adore my granddaughter. I just love how comfortable she is in her own skin – how self-possessed, at just 11 years old! Ashley and her generation take for granted they can do it all and have it all; I’m just not sure they know what “it all” is.

But I know what it isn’t….

Ashley – like most of her schoolmates – comes from what we used to call a “broken home.” Her divorced parents share joint custody, and her single mother works full time.

I’ll never forget Ashley’s amazement when she first saw me make fudge. She had no idea that candy was something you could make – that it could actually come from a kitchen, not just from a store.

The fact is, I don’t think women can “do it all.” I don’t think anyone can! And the expectation that women should has created so unrealistic a standard that none can possibly live up to it.

Betty Friedan herself said, “The Feminine Mystique has succeeded in burying more women alive….”

Women today are expected to be educated and attractive, organized and well groomed, alternately sexy and sweet, strong but not threatening. We should all be capable mothers and caregivers – with successful careers – who also clean, cook, do laundry, maintain our figures, keep abreast of current events and, be happy. All the time.

If a man were to attempt as much he’d be considered a hero!

(Or gay…)

For all fine artists, and I think for painters in particular, one of the most essential elements and greatest challenges is that of achieving balance – the perfect balance of light and shadow, of composition and design…. It is a critical aspect of all the arts, but in none is balance more delicate or demanding that in the Art of being a woman….

Juggling the demands of postmodern womanhood is a constant balancing act. Now there may be some super women among you who still make cookies from scratch and read bedtime stories to your children and wear sexy negligee to bed and balance your portfolios on line. (You’re also the ones who text on your blackberries while driving, admit it.)

But for those of us who grew up in a time when a blackberry was a summer treat, often baked into pie….

If we hope to maintain our integrity and maybe some of our sanity while surviving the 21st century, we must decide what it is we will keep and what we can let go of, from the generations that have shaped us. Like deciding what still fits and what goes to Goodwill. We must strike a balance in the wisdom of the ages in order to maintain our equilibrium, and perhaps pass some of it on to our progeny.

For example, even if I had all the time in the world, I wouldn’t want to return to my mother’s standards of domesticity: polishing silver and pressing fresh table linens, perfectly penned luncheon invitations on perfumed stationery….

However, I don’t think good table manners and the custom of writing thank you notes should ever go out of style! (Even emailed “thank you”s are better than none at all!)

And it’s a rare day that I don’t prefer pants to skirts or dresses. I praise the day petticoats went past tense. But I don’t think either of my daughters even owns a pair of panty hose! Which is fine… but then, let’s not forego pedicures as well!

And white gloves and Mary Janes had their day; I let go having a say in what my daughters wore early in their teenage years (in hopes of having some relationship with them when the pain subsided).

And though I find her outfits more comical than fashionable I’d never think of commenting on my granddaughter’s hip hop style. However, much as I’d miss her, if she ever brings up getting her tongue pierced, it’s off to boarding school!

But the most dramatic shift through the decades has been in the relationships between women and men. Finding an artful balance in that composition requires more careful examination. Certainly it has yet to be achieved; no generation’s family portrait is without some abstraction.

Of course, when you consider that it’s only been in the last 100 years that we ceased being owned by our husbands, women have made exceptional progress….

We finally managed to get out from under our subservience to men, and to get off the pedestal they promised us in return…

Then again, Betty Grable said, “The practice of putting women on pedestals only died out when men realized we could give orders better from up there.”

Now that we are emancipated women, the roles of the sexes have certainly changed; the division of labor is much more equal in most households…. Then again, so is the division of households, with an equal one out of two marriages now ending in divorce.

I think feminism sometimes threw the baby out with the bath water! And men can be big babies … but most women I know have a fondness for them just the same.

I don’t think we should ever surrender our rights as women. But rather than continue to fight for equality, (at least on the domestic front where we seem only to be suffering more casualties on both sides); if we as women – if we put our minds to it – with a balance of feminine sensitivity and female strategy perhaps we could avoid the battle altogether! And in the leisure of peacetime enjoy the pleasure of kissing and making up. (It’s worth a shot! Maybe a panel at next year’s conference?)

Obviously, there is no easy answer when it comes to men, but for the sake of our daughters, I considered who in my past had the most mastery in that regard….

Certainly, of all the women I’ve ever known, none were more successful with men than my own mother. She was a southern belle; and to the opposite sex my mother was a mint julep on Derby Day. She was trained in the art of being a woman admired by men. She intoxicated them.
Effortlessly, or so it seemed.

I remember when beaus would come to the house to pick me up for a date or a school dance. Ever the gracious hostess, my mother would serve tea or hot chocolate, or even Coca-Cola. And inevitably, within minutes, she had their rapt attention! These boys would sit there on our Chippendale sofa so entirely charmed, they’d just assume stay!

Unfortunately, her example proves less than enviable. Not that I didn’t envy my mother – I did. But I came to pity her, because my mother had no close women friends. None. I don’t think she trusted them.

I find that now so terribly sad. I can’t imagine my life without the company of women. The deep and lasting friendships that we share – they are womanhood’s greatest blessing!

Women speak the same language. We can share ourselves completely. I think even men envy the easy intimacy women have with one other. Our best friends bear witness to our joys and make bearable our sorrows.

We can advise and console one another, better still we can laugh together – even giggle! The only thing better than having lunch with a friend who shares your sense of humor, is if the friend will also share a hot fudge sundae for dessert!

I have friendships that go back to the 1st grade! This April, I am attending my 50th class reunion with girlfriends from Marlboro. And of course, I met some of my dearest lifelong friends right here on this campus.

My freshman roommate at USC was Carol King – I always have to say “not that Carole King, but she’s just as cool.” And she was when she was Carol Soucek! Our drab little dorm room was one of the happiest places I’ve ever lived. I covered the walls with huge construction paper flowers with long green canvas stems. I loved to hear Carol read her poetry and then sketch the images her words inspired.

And like most of my closest friendships, ours hasn’t changed much; we haven’t either – we’re still doing pretty much the same things, and she continues to be a source of inspiration.

The women with whom we share our lives are more than friends. Women are each other’s best mentors and most faithful defenders. They are the guardians of our secrets and the caretakers of our hopes and dreams.

Ultimately, the Art of being a woman is perhaps best expressed by our collective artistry – by the great mural of women who have given color and texture and meaning to our lives.

As I get older, I am increasingly grateful for my women friends. Women allow each other to get older (which helps to ease the blow…).

There are times when I pass by a mirror and think, who is that? Who is that old woman? You don’t think of yourself as a number; you still feel the same inside. You’re the same girl who danced and twirled in front of the mirror in her princess bedroom. What is she doing in that 70 year-old body?

I am not one of those wise women who can wax poetic about ripening with age. However, the truth reflected in the mirror is a very good reminder: Time is short. Make it last. Make it count.

It’s a valuable lesson at any age: to do what makes us feel most alive, what connects us to our creative spirit. In the place where our creativity resides, we are forever young.

I find the best way to stay in that place, is to venture out into places unknown. I think every new experience we embrace provides yet another color to dip our brush into; and the richest hues come from those that lie beyond what we thought possible.

One of the only quotations I can ever seem to recall is by Simone de Beauvoir, who said, “Women are not born. Rather, they are made.”

As a girl I liked the ordered pages of my paint-by- number books. But it was in daring to draw outside the lines that I became a woman.

And to keep growing as a woman, and as an artist, I must continue to draw outside the confines of the familiar – beyond the polite safety of “No, thank you.”

So when life invites me in I say “Yes.”

Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro? How could I poss..? Yes, I’ll try.

Run the LA marathon? But I’ve never… Yes, I can.

Help build a cathedral? Learn to scuba dive? Yes!

Get up and speak at a conference in front of all those accomplished women? Well that I don’t know… what would I say? I guess I’ll just say… yes? Yes!

And I must tell you, I am so glad I did.

This first annual women’s conference is such tribute to the spirit of women who foster their own community and create their own opportunities.

It’s really an American spirit. And the initiative of American women is also a privilege that we are afforded as citizens of this country. All over the world American women are envied – I see it and feel it everywhere I travel; we are both envied for our freedoms and admired for our leadership.

I think all women share a sense of community; as women we know how to “share our crayons.” But as American women, we’ve got a much bigger box of crayons! All 64 crayola colors!

And as Trojan women we’re not only a community, we are a family! And whether we’re partial to “burnt umber” or “aquamarine,” we all have two primary colors in common: We have a shared history outlined in cardinal and gold!

I must tell you, of all the many exciting art projects I’ve worked on recently, the most enjoyable by far has been illustrating our USC cookbook. There was such a wonderful feeling of camaraderie and contribution – not to mention terrific recipes!

Well …women and food! What better recipe could there be?

I am so grateful to be part of this day, and part of this Trojan sisterhood. It’s been an honor to share some of my journey with you (especially as many of you have been on it with me).

I think it is so valuable for women to come together, and share their stories and become part of each other’s journey. What better way for women to empower and inspire one another!

Looking out at this great gallery of extraordinary women, I am so proud to be one of you.

Thank you. I celebrate you all. You are each your own original and magnificent work of Art.

To download a PDF version: http://alumni.usc.edu/apaa/pdf/TheArtofBeingaWoman.pdf