Andrew tells us we are leaving to take golden hour photos for the blog in about ten minutes. We have just finished talking about The Awakening, and all I could think of during that was how intensely I relate to the 19th century protagonist. This schedule reminder brings me right back to reality. Edna never had to worry about looking good for a close-up iPhone picture.
I put on my light sky blue shirt with a gold silver necklace and fix up my hair before getting into the car. Andrew gives us another reminder: we are stopping by the grocery store before pictures. A short panic ensues. I remember how I have been harassed about my feminine clothing choices in even San Francisco, a much, much gayer city than Grand Isle. I hope nothing will happen. Nothing does. I just got my zucchini and left. But after exiting, I can’t discern whether the stares directed at me were curious about what a group of college students were doing shopping at the local grocery store, or hateful. I leave with a tingle of lingering anxiety, but excited to take some cute photos.
In both Kate Chopin’s world and in mine, freedom and security are treated like limited commodities to be traded for each other. Throughout The Awakening, Chopin pours freedom and autonomy into the protagonist, so much so that it permeates into the writing style of the book itself. General references in the beginning of the book of a Mrs. Pontellier becomes a strict first name basis of Edna to the reader, despite other well known characters adhering to their last. The third-person omniscient narrator becomes more limited with every page I flipped. This is a trade off. Edna loses her sense of security and gets judged by the men around her. Her father is angry with her for not attending her sister’s wedding, and her husband and doctor believe she is mad. While bookpacking in Grand Isle I find myself blending, or perhaps conflating Edna’s feminine freedom with my own queerness.
Robert is all Edna talks about, but when Mademoiselle Reisz asks her why she loves him, she replies with a description of his facial features and pinky. I don’t believe this is a quirky message that contains a deeper connection between the two. I don’t believe Edna loves him at all.
I walk across the Grand Isle beach pondering the previous men in my life, and contemplate my past through the same perspective I judge Edna with.
I see my flaws and her flaws as the same. Like Edna, I don't understand what I like because I truly like, and what I like because it makes me feel free. Do I actually like the area this tee crops, or does it just feel transgressive for a guy to wear it? Do I feel sparks and love for the person in front of me, or is it just gratification I missed via exclusion from the American heteronormative sphere? I think this has caused me and Edna both to exist selfishly. I experience men immaturely, seeing romantic partners as experiences related to myself and my own growth, and not fully realizing its dual nature. Like Edna, because of an unfair world I have become flawed and selfish.
This is not just a self centered view of men, but a willful ignorance as a privileged westerner. In the same way Edna gets to complain about her tedious husband or absent lover while taking for granted an unnamed girl holding the leftover thread from the sewing machine or cleaning her house, I can take for granted the world I live in everyday. I think it would be silly to view this piece as solely in the past and the current world as a utopia. I am insanely privileged, more so than Edna, there is just a bigger disconnect between the unethical labor practices that supply my consumption in the modern day. Her actions in the book bother me because they remind me of myself.
I feel this in Grand Isle. The west and east coast are quick to judge the south and speak about it with a sense of superiority, brought about by a political and educational advantage. The way I and others from the west coast have spoken about the south like some odd and inferior other is bothering me. I find comfort in Edna because I relate to her, but this is helping me realize my many flaws. I can’t just empathize with her sadness and leave it at that.
The birds on the beach start flying towards me, either from hate for me strolling near their eggs or curiosity and friendliness towards an outsider, just like the grocery store stares. Maybe the birds don’t like my cute mushroom ring and long sleeve cowboy shirt.
During my walk back to the H2O Psycho House prompted by the fierce birds, I look back towards the ocean. Edna sees the ocean as an infinite body of azure freedom. To submerge herself in it is scary, but it's the ultimate release.
I want the ultimate release too. I contemplate a nice and long swim. But Edna’s world and my world is after all different, and we are not one in the same. I don’t want to live in selfishness. I don’t want to live where freedom and security are finite and forced to be traded. I will care for those around me while also finding spaces in the 21st century where I can be free. I will work towards romantic empathy, and not settle with then cheat on my eventual husband. I am done contemplating a nice and long swim.
The water looks a little murky anyways.