Close up of The Awakening on Galveston Beach.
Books, Fiction, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Remembering and Rereading Kate Chopin’s The Awakening

I read Kate Chopin’s The Awakening twice in high school, but I haven’t touched it since.

Normally, I write book reviews, but this is more of a book forward, a book impression, a book remembrance. I read it for the first time and fell deeply in love with this classic, feminist triumph of a novel, but I’ve been scared to return. As a young woman, it came to me while I was in the midst of my own battle against the patriarchy, man, and family for freedom of self. My uncertainty to open its cover once again is out of fear. Fear of what I will find it would do or maybe what it wouldn’t do. Would it mean the same thing it did to sixteen year old me as it does to twenty-nine year old me? Not only am I stronger and more broken, I have been of this world longer with its misogyny, laws, patriarchy, double standards, abuse, and more. I’m also a more experienced reader. So of course The Awakening won’t mean the same to me today as it did a decade ago, but I was scared it would mean less.

Woman in a white dress standing on the beach with The Awakening by Kate Chopin.
Standing on Galveston Beach with Kate Chopin’s The Awakening. | White Dress

Literature with a capital ‘L’ arrived on my bookshelf when I was eight. I was an overachieving priss of a child; children’s literature did not speak to me. I love Literature because I didn’t get it right away. It demanded an understanding of the vocabulary, history, culture, and more in which it was written and set. I yearned for knowledge. Literature made me do the research; in a time before Google and the internet, it was an interactive experience as I read one book surrounded by a dictionary and encyclopedia. As much as I loved Literature, I craved more. I craved seeing myself on the page. Even as I kid, I knew I was not being represented in the pages I so loved. There is very little written by women. More exists than meets the eye, but even as an educated reader and researcher, finding older works by women takes effort outside of Dickenson, the Brontës, Alcott, and Austen. It was years before I found Woolf, Morrison, Eliot, Shelley, Wollstonecraft, Duras, Wharton, Cather, Plath, Lee, Stein, Beauvoir, Angelou, Gaskell, Lennox, Stowe, Hurston, and of course Kate Chopin. All of whom have shaped me as a reader, writer, and most importantly as a woman. Chopin was my gateway into a world of writers writing about me, my plight, my pain, my existence in a world not meant for me. Even a hundred years later or more, the words these women wrote represented my place in the world. Chopin wrote in the late nineteenth century, and she rocked society with her daring works about the internal and external lives of ordinary women daring to live

The Awakening was the first book I ever felt a deep connection with. I was a young reader beginning to understand the importance of Literature, representation, feminism, activism, and more. I was starting to come into my own as a thinker with a vagina. I was beginning to grasp at what it meant to walk this earth as a woman. A lover of Literature and history, I was probably more aware than most fifteen year old girls of women’s historical lack of autonomy. Historical being the key word. I did not feel equal, and I wanted equality, but I knew it wasn’t mine. Even with my fundamentally better understanding of history, I had yet to grasp the whys or the hows or the history or the culture or any of it. I just had a feeling. This book came into my life when my life was changing from bad to worse to what I would eventually title “Hell”. As I read The Awakening, I was struck by the realization that I knew very little had changed for women. I could wear pants like the boys, but I would never be like the boys. I was a girl. America had never been the land of the free.*

Four months after I experienced my first sexual assault in the lunch room by a school administrator. Four months after I told my mother. Four months after she told me to keep quiet and see if it would happen again. Three months after my first kiss at the Winter Formal because my mother told me I had to or I wouldn’t have a boyfriend anymore. Three months after I realized no one would protect me. Two months after I realized I was only worth something connected to a man. I was a freshman in high school. I was experiencing my first tastes of being a woman.

I picked up The Awakening.  

It was the summer I turned sixteen. I had new boyfriend because that’s what sixteen year old girls do. But I had no faith in men. No faith in women. No faith in family. No faith in people. I felt utterly alone. With no one to protect me, to understand, to hold my hand, I was accepting that to be a woman was to be alone.

What I had read in history was not at all in the past. Nothing had changed really. Being a woman meant being an object for male consumption. Some took gently. Some did not. It would be another year before I learned how much they could and would take without permission, without waiting, without caring I was human. And if I turned to women, they would not protect me if they believed me at all. My mother taught me that.

At sixteen, the next seventy years looked like a lonely, losing battle. What was the point? Did all women feel this way? Why weren’t they do anything about it? I was years away from understanding the nuance of internalized misogyny and all the culture shit we are taught to swallow, believe, conform to, and uphold as women. But I already knew existing like that in this world was not for me, and so I already had a few suicide attempts under my belt. I had very little desire to live even before the first of many men took what he thought was his right. 

And then Edna walked along a Grand Isle’s beach and dared to yearn for more than motherhood and wifedom. We were separated by a century. We were separated by experience. We were separated by so many things, but I understood her. She didn’t save my life, but I felt seen. I felt validated.

Close up of The Awakening on Galveston Beach.
Reading The Awakening by Kate Chopin at the beach.

I reached out to my fellow bibliophiles asking for their opinions on The Awakening, on Edna. The few who had read the book hated Edna. They found her shallow and selfish. The ending was completely unrealistic. What woman with a life of leisure would walk into the ocean? What wife would leave her husband? What mother would choose death over her children? To me, it was the perfect ending to her story. I was frustrated by the vitriol. How could they not understand? She was alone and desperate, leading a meaningless life. 

The Awakening was the first time I saw a female character with any emotions or internal life I could comprehend and identify with; probably because she was the first woman written by I woman I had read. Edna was the first, but many have come after her.

My concept of womanhood has evolved over the last thirteen years. I am no longer the optimistic sixeen year old, but I’m no longer the devastated sixteen year old. All is not completely lost, though I have a dismal view of the present and near future. My world view is complex, and I know I am on a lifelong search for my place and role in society. Not all share my view of womanhood, nor should they. But I will continue to fight for every woman. As a twenty-nine year old, I know my life has seen challenges many have never and will never seen, but it has also been blessed in many ways. Pain is not a competition. I acknowledge my many privileges and disadvantages. Pain is not the only thing I have known, but pain is still central to my experiences as a human and as a woman.

Kate Chopin, The Awakening, and Edna gave me validation. Someone understood. 122 years ago, a woman knew the pain I knew and dared to want more.

I am not going to review The Awakening. For so many reasons, one of which being: I don’t want to. Another being: It would be a very long review. My fears ended up being unfounded. The book means more to me as a grown ass woman than it did as a teenager. I found the nuances, narrative, and storytelling far more enthralling than I had thirteen years ago. Not only did I fall more in love with Edna, I fell out of love with her husband, paramour, and female companions. What had seemed like a love story years ago is anything but today. It isn’t romantic but deeply depressing. I could identify the tragedies with the eye of an analyst and the heart of a woman and the mind of a partner. I saw the craft in Chopin’s work and the soul in her story. The Awakening spoke to me in new and more powerful levels.

Edna is very much alive.

bisous et обьятий,
RaeAnna

Shop the Post
[show_shopthepost_widget id=”4446088″]

*This is being written from the perspective of a white woman as I look back at the views I had as a teenager exploring my own place in this world as a woman through the knowledge, resources, and books I had at my disposal. It would be several more years before I learned the term “intersectionality” and began applying it to my own life, views, feminism, and activism. Up until that point, feminism and racism were uniquely separate issues because that is all I knew. Black women suffered racism. Black women suffered feminism. I wanted equality for everyone: men and women, Black and white and Asian and Hispanic and everyone in between. I was more apt to identify as a humanist than a feminist. My fundamental beliefs have remained the same, but my terminology has expanded to better encompass and express my desires for intersectionality, equity, and advocacy.

11..., Lifestyle

11… Wonderful Things That Happened in 2020

Finding happiness on the beach in Galveston, Texas. | Swimsuit | Hat | Cover Up |

Like most people in the world, I am happy to wave goodbye to 2020. It was quite the year filled with historic events that we could have all lived without. 

I’m sure that I’m in the minority with this view, but I will look back on 2020 with a certain amount of fondness. Sure it was a shit year, one might even say: It was quite the shituation. Okay, I say that. For me, 2020 brought a host of wonderful things that I am choosing to focus on instead of the globally pervasive catastrophes. 

Doing my best to be cute and not ridiculous… But probably both.
  1. I brought life into this world! Well, not personally. I did enable life to be brought into this world when I rescued a pregnant dog off the street. She had thirteen puppies. She and all the babies are alive and thriving. 
  2. I bought a house. Fuck was that a fiasco. But it happened, and I’m thankful for it. 
  3. The world started paying attention to racial inequity in a meaningful way. That being said, I hate that it’s still a problem and everything that transpired in order to draw attention to the systemic racism existing in this country. A lot of people have definitely lost interest in the issue, but so many people’s eyes were opened to the problem. I’m hoping good will continue to come out of the atrocities of 2020. 
  4. I got a lot of reading done. I was able to really plow through my reading list. Unfortunately, I have even more books on my reading pile now… So hopefully, I can keep up the reading stream. 
  5. Trump did not win the election. Thank fucking God. 
  6. My priorities were evaluated. Being stranded at home with six dogs, I had a lot of time at home with my immediate family to think about life. So many of my life choices, I am very proud of. Going forward in a post-pandemic world, I’m looking forward to continuing to chase my dreams and happiness. 
  7. We elected a woman of color to the Vice Presidency. I am so thrilled about this. 
  8. I made new friends. 
  9. I took a semi-break from writing and fell back in love with it. It wasn’t so much of a conscious break as it was a break due to circumstance. I didn’t have time to write and COVID put a dent in the amount of projects I was receiving. Being forced into taking a break from writing helped me solidify my love of my job. So hopefully, you’ll be seeing more consistent and more interesting writing coming from this lady. 
  10. I worked the election as a poll worker. It was a fascinating experience, and it solidified a lot of opinions I had and opinions I didn’t even know I held. It opened my eyes to so many things, I was never even aware of as a voter. It was exhausting emotionally and physically, but I am so glad I did it. 
  11. I hit ten thousand followers on Instagram. Yay! That number has fluctuated up and down, but I hit it and I have stayed over 10k, which means I can do the swipe up thingy. Woo!!!

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Shop the Post
[show_shopthepost_widget id=”4336821″]

Books, Fiction

The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Worth A Read Yes
Length 406
Quick Review Delving into magical realism and familiar themes of justice, humanity, freedom, and equality, the era of slavery is raging in Ta-Nehisi Coates debut novel. 

wp-1582081241350.jpg

wp-1582081241308.jpg

wp-1582081241266.jpg

wp-1582081274827.jpg
The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates in Galveston, Texas | Dress |

Ta-Nehisi Coates’ writes incredible essays and nonfiction, which are entertaining and thought provoking. I couldn’t wait to see what Coates would do in a world he created himself. Set in pre-Civil War Virginia, The Water Dancer is an impressive piece of fiction. 

Hiram Walker is the son of a slave and the Lockless plantation owner. His mother was sold when he was young, and he was taken in and raised by another slave on the plantation. The community is made up of Quality, slave/land owners, the Tasked, slaves, and classless whites. Hiram is an exceptional human because of his photogenic memory, but he also possesses the gift of conduction, the ability to travel across great distance through waterways. He eventually travels to Philadelphia through the Underground Railroad, where he meets Moses, a legendary Underground member. 

One of my favorite parts about the story is the way it is framed and told. Coates introduces Hiram in a death scene in chapter one. It captures the readers’ attention and holds it. There are also breaks in the narrative, where Hiram speaks as an older wiser man reminiscing about his younger years and even to speak directly to the reader. There is a lot of dependence on mysticism and suspension of reality. Coates shows the evils of slavery through the eyes of a slave. He also shows the entire society was trapped in the horrific cycle. Everyone suffered. No one was free. 

Story wise, it’s very interesting, well thought out, and thoroughly researched. Honestly, it’s rather forgettable. I’m having a hard time writing a decent or even remotely in depth review because it did not sweep me along. I read it and had to make myself keep reading. It’s not a novel I just had to know what happened. I remember the beginning far more than the ending. 

The Water Dancer is a combination of intriguing, boring, and well done. To be honest, it’s really hard calling, the beloved writer, Ta-Nehisi Coates’ prose boring, but it was. I thought it dragged on and on at times. Maybe part of it is that I don’t really like fantasy. I’ve never been a huge fan, and this is very much a fantasy novel. Although, I don’t think that has much to do with it. The fantasy bits were interesting and did not overwhelm the plot. 

Memorable Quotes
“She’d gone from that warm quilt of memory to the cold library of fact.”
“I was a man well regarded in slavery, which is to say I was never regarded as a man at all.” 

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Buy Amazon | Buy Barnes & Noble | Buy Book Depository
Shop the Post
[show_shopthepost_widget id=”3919098″]

Title: The Water Dancer
Author: Ta-Nehisi Coates
Publisher: One World
Copyright: 2019
ISBN: 9780399590597

Blog + Dog

Happy 4th Birthday, Beau!!!

201905156793460490667484771.jpg
She wanted the cake like NOW.

201905156426318867024777938.jpg
Beau could not wait to eat her birthday cake. | Beach Days Hat | Good Vibes Shirt | Jean Shorts

When you rescue a dog, you never really know how old they are or when their birthday is. Beau was about a year and a half when I adopted her, so we decided to choose a day for her birthday because everyone deserves a birthday. May is my birthday month as well as many other people I love dearly. She was most likely born in 2015. I have a thing for numbers with a pattern, so I picked the 15th as her birthday. 5.15.15 is her birthday!

Today is Beau’s fourth birthday! I love celebrating people’s birthdays and that extends to my very favorite breathing entity: my dog.

Yesterday, I snagged a cake from Three Dog Bakery in Rice Village. It’s even customized with her name on it. Beau loves yummies, and Three Dog Bakery makes healthy and dog friendly treats. Peanut butter is a favorite flavor, so that’s what she got in the shape of a bone. I also picked out other dog treats because it’s not a birthday without presents.

Beau and I laid in bed for a good bit this morning getting our cuddle on. She didn’t know what the afternoon would bring, but it was definitely a celebration of her life. She loves the ocean. I love the ocean. We love the ocean. Luckily, Galveston is an hour away. Beau was very nervous as I packed clothes and food and blankets. I even wrangled up birthday balloons in her favorite color. Yes, she has favorite colors: hot pink and teal.

We were at the beach by three. She got to spend the afternoon running after birds, leaping in the waves, and chasing her favorite peoples. I even managed to get a few pictures before she chowed down on her cake. I would lie to you and say she only had a piece, but nah. She ate the whole cake in a matter of moments. I don’t think it even lasted two minutes. By five, Beau was exhausted. We spent another hour and a half just laying in the sun drying off enjoying the last bits of sunlight on her fourth birthday. Honestly, it’s the perfect way to spend a day. She had a blast, and now, she’s laying on my feet snoring. She may not know it’s her birthday, but I hope she felt extra special love today.

I couldn’t be happier to be this girl’s mama. She makes my heart happy and probably makes me a better human being.

Shop the Post
[show_shopthepost_widget id=”3582708″]

201905153245413511675158282.jpg
Lickin’ her lips after scarfing down the whole cake. | Hat | Shirt | Shorts |