Those pretty green sandals...

I loved those pretty green sandals! Not sandals like for summertime casual in the sand, but more like special, fancy dress-up shoes for young girls. I don't remember really where they came from. I don't remember that I picked them out. I don't remember that I saw them in the store and wanted them badly, so badly that my mother bought them for me.

But I do remember that I loved how pretty and special I would feel if I got to wear them. And I remember the trouble they caused.

Shoes like that are bad for your feet, my father said, when he returned home from a field trip and they were on my feet. I do remember my feelings of injustice--how could these pretty green shoes be bad for my feet? And I do remember that I couldn't say that out loud. And I do remember my mother could say it out loud, but she had no say. I do remember I knew that. I do remember I knew the pretty green sandals would not be worn any more, at least not when my father was around.

My father was the one who decided what would happen and what wouldn't happen, at least when he was around. I didn't like being a girl because it meant you couldn't decide for yourself if you wanted to wear the pretty green sandals.

It didn't look to me like it got any better when you were an adult woman, because my mother couldn't say if I got to wear the pretty green sandals. But then, if you were a boy, you didn't even want to wear pretty green sandals. Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe my brother wanted to wear those pretty green sandals, too. Several years later he was caught stealing women's shoes out of their homes and had to go to therapy. Maybe he thought shoes held the power.

Being able to decide for myself what I wanted to do or not do became my life script. And it serves me well, most of the time. Once in a while I meet a man or even a woman who has trouble with people who like to decide for themselves. When that happens, I think they are doing me a favor by letting me know we are not right for each other, as friends, bosses, lovers, employees, whoever. And we say "Good-bye" sometimes easily, sometimes not easily.

Do you decide what you want to do or not do? Do you speak up if you are with someone you don't like to be with? How did you learn that you could decide or not decide what you wanted to do?