Arguably.
At age seven, life’s greatest conundrum revolved around the monumental decision; ‘Sky Dancers OR Jem & The Holograms?!?!?!’ When K-TV and Cartoon Netwrok dared to show both at the exact same time! Throwing little girls into fits of pure panic and apoplexy.
By ten, getting detention at school for something as criminal and dangerous to the morality of the youth as forgetting my slippers under my bed (one never forgets one's first encounter with a disturbingly over-zealous prefect,) was the death-knoll signifying the end of life as I knew it. How I wept and wept on thinking about the mark that first detention would make on my afore this time, Tabula Rasa of a record. Oh if only I knew how ‘graffitied’ that very slate would become, and how quickly I would morph into the African version of Miss Blyton’s Elizabeth Allen that I did eventually became in that local jail for children cleverly disguised as a boarding school (a ruse many a parent fell for), I would not have wasted my carefully rationed crocodile tears.
By thirteen, getting a result that boldly declared me ‘an average student’ to the consternation of my father meant that my quintessential purpose in life revolved around destroying any suspicion of mediocrity in my erythrocytes. So with the fear of Dear Daddy’s wrath weighing heavily upon my 13 year old shoulders, my life’s blood went into proving that mediocrity was indeed my kryptonite. That achieved, 16 found me trying to explain why the Government AND Literature-IN-English awards did not come home with me at the end of the year....in addition to the History award sitting in its honourary place in our family’s home.
So you see, with one problem comes another. Life goes on, for every problem there is a solution. AND an additional problem. Often the new problem is an inherent part of the solution that once provided much relief. For instance, there I was thinking if I did well enough I would have solved my problems. But ‘well enough’ opens your eyes to the realisation that there is MORE to achieve. 'More' quickly leads to 'Much More', then to 'Too Much' and Beverly Feldman wisely tells us that “Too Much Is Not Enough.”
From a sixteen year old girl to a 23 year old woman, I am beginning to understand that “...To Whom Much Is Given, Much Is Expected.” Luke 12:48. Leave what you heard, the Bible continues to spew forth relevant and surprisingly accurate advice that goes to the centre of today’s dliemnas. But I digress. The universe does not owe any of us a singular thing, in fact it is the most dubious of creditors, a veritable Shylock who will demand that ounce and a half of flesh, whether you are Ready or Not. Fugee la la la. I always thought this 12:48 referred to wealth but it can apply to any and everything you have. Be afraid. Be verrrrry afraid.
At 23 (as a barely 2 weeks old 23 year old, see how I brandish the number about. Eyes still gleaming with the joy and pride of registering another year on my life’s calender...not yet dimmed with the realisation that I am aging. Quickly. Benjamin Button style) I realise that the more years you hoard in your Basket of Life, the more, hell, the MUCH more is expected of you!
In the most basic of examples for instance, a 23 year old woman walks into the room and what people see is a young WOMAN. A young LADY. Not a young GIRL. Not just “The daughter of...” or “The friend of...” but she is seen first as a person in her own right. One whose actions will be attributed to herself alone. Rude words wont be easily chucked into the ‘Bad Home Training & Blame The Parents’ basket as easily as they once would have. Reactions to rudeness are quickly directed straight to the source, the rude woman. She very quickly deteriorates from ‘The young woman...’ to ‘ That young woman that can not carry herself in public’. As a young woman, you are now fully responsible for your words and actions in a different manner than you were as a young girl.
Long gone are the days when men look at a you and think ‘She’s a little girl, she will grow into a beauty.’ The time has come when much more is conveyed in received looks and first thoughts are not necessarily of the ‘Duckling to Swine conversion’ variety. (So woe betide you in this image-driven world if you have not shaped into the promised beauty!).
Rambunctiousness is no longer considered the ‘...excessiveness of youth’...smilingly said with a nostalgic sparkle in the speaker's eye. Boisterousness is often equated with loudness which seems to be indirectly proportional to a womans age and attractiveness. All of a sudden, carriage becomes the watch-word.
So at 23, at this new junction in my life, I am carefully consolidating all the information I have learnt in 23 largely pleasant years on God's Grey Earth. I’m observing the subtle nuances each additional year brings to the world’s expectation of me. Everyday, reveals more of myself as I interprete my role as an actor in the stage of life and my contribution to that niche in the world where my placeholder stands, with my name engraved waiting patiently as I find my place and fulfil my purpose.
I am learning that childlike charm like beauty, has its place. A 23 year old of the female specie is expected to be a woman. It’s like as soon as St. Peter italises that ‘21’ next to your name in The World’s Registry, He sends an internal memo to everyone you will meet and the expectation of ‘Woman NOT Girl’ is there from the start of the conversation to its very end. At 21 or even 22, you may still be forgiven for slacking and regressing (not too far back though) to your glorious teens. But by 23, the world staunchly ignores that Little Girl Inside Every Woman. And if she is not careful...or listens too carefully to the world.... the woman will neglect rather than tame her inner child, until the child's spirit is broken. And the Lady loses her Little Girl.
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