Thanks to You, Mary Tyler Moore, I’m Gonna Make it After All

Dana Spiardi — Fri, 27 Jan 2017 05:36:29 +0000

I was 13 years old, gawky, zitty, unpopular, and academically mediocre. Unlike many of the girls in my class, I didn’t have a boyfriend. Mary Richards was 30-ish, beautiful, accomplished, and smart. And unlike many of the female characters on TV at that time, she didn’t have a boyfriend. And that made me feel SO MUCH better!

When the Mary Tyler Moore Show debuted on CBS on September 19, 1970, I was 10, and at the height of my tuffy tomboy period. And while I liked the program’s heroine Ms. Richards well enough, at that age I wasn’t too interested in her career or her elegance or her fabulous wardrobe. I watched the show mainly for the laughs and the offbeat characters: Dimwitted Ted Baxter, curmudgeonly Mr. Grant, kooky Rhoda, and haughty Phyllis.

But as I came of age during the show’s long network run (through 1977), I grew to embrace Mary Richards as a role model. She had a cool apartment in an old Victorian house and an exciting job in the male-dominated news business (which was of great interest to me; I’d end up declaring a journalism major in college). For all her physical perfection, she evoked an air of vulnerability as she stammered her way through arguments with her grouchy boss over pay raises and equality. She never managed to throw one decent dinner party — something I’d relate to one day. She was so tidy and practical, organizing her closets when she felt like blowing her top. But what I loved best about Mary was that she never seemed to care that she didn’t have a boyfriend, a husband or kids. All too often, writers succumb to marrying off a character when they’ve run out of good storylines or are trying to attract a new audience. TV’s first single working woman, Ann Marie (Marlo Thomas) of That Girl, remained a free agent during most of the series’ five-season run, but ended up becoming engaged to goofy ol’ Donald Hollinger in 1971. No, the Mary Tyler Moore Show writers (one-third of whom were women, a rarity back then!) stuck to the feminist agenda. In fact, I suspect that the sitcom’s star, the talented MTM herself, wanted it that way.

I was a very late bloomer and never had a boyfriend in junior high or high school, except for a brief four-month period in 10th grade (and it’s important to note that he was a boy from a neighboring town, and was either unaware or unconcerned that I was considered D-List material at my own school. Read more.) So, the fact that a beautiful, intelligent, classy dame like Mary Richards never had a steady beau gave me hope. She had an interesting career. She had friends. She was liked. She was happy. All of THAT, without a man or kids. Wow. The theme song lyrics from the show’s first season said it all:

How will you make it on your own?
This world is awfully big,
Girl, this time you’re all alone.
But it’s time you started living.
It’s time you let someone else do some giving.
Love is all around, no need to waste it,
You can never tell, why don’t you take it.
You might just make it after all.
You might just make it after all.

Girls, you CAN make it. Don’t ever let society pressure you into thinking you need a guy to make your dreams come true. Parents, sit your young ladies down and introduce them to the life and times of MTM!

In loving memory of Mary Tyler Moore, December 29, 1936, to January 25, 2017.

© Dana Spiardi, January 26, 2017

Lesley Gore on Owning Yourself

Dana Spiardi — Mon, 02 May 2016 16:36:29 +0000

Ladies, the next time you want to change your hairstyle or splurge on those Miu Miu pumps and your man gets bossy and tries to dissuade you, just say “you don’t own me.” Guys, the next time your lady tells you to turn down the car stereo or toss out those LPs that are hogging up space in the kettle cabinet, just say “you don’t own me.” People, the next time anyone tries to make you abandon your personal style or code of ethics to suit someone else, just heed some wise advice delivered in song by singer/songwriter/activist Lesley Gore.

“You Don’t Own Me,” a statement of independence and self-respect, was recorded by 17-year-old Lesley Sue Goldstein in 1963. It went on to become a feminist anthem during the women’s rights movement of the 1960s and ‘70s. The song was written by John Madara and David White, but the young woman made it her own, with her powerful delivery.

And don’t tell me what to do
Don’t tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don’t put me on display…

I don’t tell you what to say
I don’t tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you

It turns out I have a rather personal connection to this seminal song. A while back I purchased this intriguing mixed media piece by Irish artist/singer/songwriter Karl Mullen. You’ll notice the work includes the sheet music of Lesley’s anthem. Karl said it belonged to Ms. Gore. That’s her actual handwriting on the sheet. And yes, that’s a non-so-subtle image of a penis emblazoned across the lyrics. This is one of my favorites pieces of art, and occupies a special place in my living room. It serves as a daily reminder that nobody owns me. (Click on the image for a larger view. The full piece is included in the banner.)

Ms. Gore was born on May 2, 1946, and passed away at the age of 68 on February 16, 2015. I thank her for her music and her activism on behalf of women’s rights and LGBT issues.

Click here to learn more about Karl Mullen. Rockers know and respect him as the founder of the pioneering Pittsburgh punk band Carsickness and its reincarnation, the Celtic folk-rock band Ploughman’s Lunch.

feminism – The Hip Quotient

Thanks to You, Mary Tyler Moore, I’m Gonna Make it After All

Lesley Gore on Owning Yourself