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I'm Proud of Her

Friday, September 16, 2005

You can skip reading this attached story and jump to my notes below.

Subject: FW:Good Girl, Bad Girl

I am a good girl. I'd like to think of myself that way, even if some people (who think they know me better) would shook their heads promptly in disagreement. Ever since grade school (even kindergarten) I have been one. I worked hard at school, with my studies, and made sure all teachers liked me. I was so good that it surprised me sometimes when Mom and Dad called me a bad girl. Imagine, ME, a bad girl? Are they insane?

What was the definition of a good girl? Was it having straight A's? Was it wearing long baggy clothes to hide curves from drawing attention; or was it being excruciatingly polite all the time (even to the most annoying people)? My friends and I would talk about it. Some of them even conducted personal researches. None of us came back with anything remotely sound, but they didn't put more into it because they know they're good, while I cringed because I wanted to look good.

'Good girls are good because they're from good, solid families, and they are armed with good moral beliefs. Bad girls (even if they're from good, solid families) are just rotten to the core because they don't know any better, and they have no (moral) instinct.' That was a stupid theory offered to me by an overbearing ex-boyfriend. Screw instinct! But obviously I pretended to agree with him and didn't disclose what I really thought. I think every girl is good until a man comes along and trashes her life like he did mine.

I spent sometime in Manhattan. It was heaven. I had a friend who lived there for 10 years, and who worked in a vintage boutique in the village. Danielle was a very good friend, (which would fall into the "good girl" category in my book) but she had a knack for making other women jealous for drawing attention away from them. She would strut around in short skirts and itsy bitsy tanks, showing off her fabulous body for the entire world to see. I was proud to be seen with her (as did so many other unconfident girls who had good-looking friends), and I took time to secretly observe how people react to her. Many men drooled over her and many women would look at her disapprovingly. But still, to me, she is a good girl. She had a good heart; she was a good friend and a good listener. (Though after 10 minutes she would yawn and try to change the topic to what she thought was more interesting. Herself.) Moreover, she would rather be caught dead than steal one of her friend's boyfriends (another bonus for her friends.)

'Good girls get up early; prepare themselves so that when they have husbands they will be used to getting up early and preparing breakfast for their breadwinners. They don't paint their faces and they wear clothes that cover all but their heads, hands and feet.' Grandma used to say when I was younger, almost everyday. I had to listen to her idea of how a good girl's supposed to be painfully. She disapproves of me because I wore make-up; I never wear plain covered-up clothes and woke up as late as I wanted. I surreptitiously wondered what Grandma would say if she knew Danielle.

I once asked Danielle what she thought of herself. She said she didn't feel she's too good of a girl, but she would never deliberately hurt anybody she cares about. And that would surely exempt her from being a bad girl. She never took personally what other people thought of her. 'I don't care, as long as I focus on myself, on my life and avoid having high expectations from anyone but myself, I can live with myself.' I also thought she was a brave girl.

In college, I had a friend who was extremely funny. He was charming and witty, and he was straight (a bit strange since charming and witty do not usually co-exist with male heterosexuality, plus when I first knew him, I thought he was gay). DJ had a very positive outlook of life. When we became closer, I asked him what he thought of me. Good or bad. 'And no grays DJ, there are only black and white. Shoot it to me straight, Am I good or am I bad?' He told me it didn't matter. People would always have different opinions about other people. 'Maybe to me you're good, but to others it may be the reverse. As long as you're nice to me, I don't really give a rat's ass about what you really are.' To him DJism is what's important (how he loved and prided himself for coming up with that word). 'What's DJism?' He replied, 'It's a way of life. "Have fun on your way to heaven" is our motto, so stop fretting about what people think and enjoy your life, girl!'

Even Dad had his turn answering my question. With his usual dismissive tone, all he said was, 'It's better to be an ex-convict than an ex-priest.' Short and sweet, just the way I like it. Abruptly, a new consciousness came to me in a rude awakening. I totally agree with him (which was rare) I would totally feel better off being a bad girl turned good than to be a good girl gone bad.

I haven't heard from Danielle for almost 10 years. But from our brief friendship in '95, I've learned a lot from her. I learned a lot from my college mates (particularly DJ, one of the more interesting, multi-faceted personalities I'd never forget) and I especially learned a lot from Dad. And a good girl that I am, I used my (new) knowledge to the best of advantage. And while I once feared people would perceive me as a bad girl, I no longer cared.

Like Danielle, as long as I don't deliberately hurt other people, as long as I do something good with myself, I feel good. Who are people to judge whether a girls is good or not. It's OK if they think I'm a bad girl, I won't beat myself up. After all, good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere.

Rima Fauzi
Brussels, Aug 30th, 2004

This interesting article came across to my mind to remind of someone who has similar characters and attitudes belonging to the centered-object of this story. That person is my cousin, a look-alike-sister to me, named Annette. I got her last email that tells about her new-busy-life and how she would change one perception saying she is not a good girl. Currently she has dual jobs, one works for accounting firm and the other one works freelance as a moneymarket trader. I know how hard she is to focus on those two jobs while she is not even graduated yet from her economic school. She reflects somehow part of my life in the past when I had to finish my study meanwhile I was busy working in a big accounting firm and had to handle several clients in the same time.

I remember how close we were back to my living in Jakarta. In weekends we set up most of the time for window shopping, eating out, watching movie at cinema, or just having a whole-day-talk. For those who know or ever met us, you could say our fashion-styles look apparently different, she loves wearing a pair of jeans while I like to dress feminine. The way we talk is also not the same as another. I talk to people little-bit-diplomatic, showing thought and attention with a low-tone. On the other hand, she talks straight to the point, faster than me with a tough-firm-tone. Sometimes I gave her some advice that we need to separate our talking manners to different people because some people would not like to accept the way we speak as we think the right way to do. Another time we did have some different thoughts or opinion and argued each other about insignificant problem but we usually ended it up with mutual understanding. Despite the differences we do have, we have a good-balanced-chemistry that we share our feeling and story, we keep secret our family issue from other family and we care one another. I have to admit she is way better than just a friend, a family, or a cousin. Don't know could I find somebody like her in the middle nobody seemed nice to making friends here.

Now people won't see her anymore in a worn-out jeans and a wrinkle t-shirt she used to wear on. She turns to become a working-independent-mature woman from a spoiled-dependent-lazy girl who has successfully misled people's perception to think she has no future. Last but not least, I should say "I'm proud of you, Tete!"

She used to have a big hair like Marge Simpson ...hihihi!


---> a newly hairstyle --->