Articles Archive Index

The women in my family have big hips. We have big hips and loud voices, and sometimes we talk too loudly or too much or too fast. And we take up a lot of space in a room when we walk into it, even when we're trying to be small or quiet or less threatening or less intimidating, or less of whatever it is that people seem to think that we are when we just walk into a room being our whole selves.

We have big hips and small waists, and we can never find pants that fit us right, not a one of us. Always the pants have waists that stick out in the back or hips that ride up. We wear our Birkenstocks in the wintertime —even in the snow — with purple wool socks, and we don't complain about cold feet. We use our hips to carry the groceries, to shut car doors, to hold up the laundry basket while we use the other hand to open the washer lid. Some of us use them to carry babies, and some of us use them to counterbalance a tricky dance move. Sometimes we take up more than our fair share of space when three people are packed in the back seat. Sometimes we take up more than our fair share when three people are sitting in the living room. Sometimes we fill in the gaps that other people can't fill because they aren't big enough.

We tell bad jokes and laugh at our own jokes and laugh loudly with our whole bodies until we really might fall out of our chairs and onto the floor. Sometimes people are alarmed by our laughter, by the whole of our selves being thrown into the joy of laughter until our shoulders shake so hard that we can hardly hold ourselves up. We use our bodies. We don't sit still and calm while someone tells a story. We interrupt often with additions and questions and agreements and side notes.

We don't sit still and calm while telling our stories. Our stories involve our bodies, and we gesture wildly, sometimes endangering items or people placed within arm's reach. We lean forward and stare at the listeners pointedly to drive home an idea. Sometimes people don't like to be stared at. Sometimes people don't like to be made aware of our bodies or our ideas, and sometimes people resent that we are so powerful that they can't help but be aware of us and our bodies and our ideas.

The women in my family have big laughs and little tact, and it is hard for us to find people to fit us right, every one of us. People want us to talk softer, wear coordinated clothes with fewer fluorescent colors that really do not flatter us, take up less of the space that they wouldn't know how to occupy even if it were available.

We are dynamic and multi-dimensional and powerful. Sometimes other people feel small next to us. We have a way of asking the most innocent questions with an intensity that makes other people feel defensive for no reason, a way of holding our eyebrows or staring intently or simply focusing our energy on another person. We have an energy that seems to weigh more than people are expecting. Sometimes, people do not like the weight of us. We are heavy with loud voices and intense energy and big hips. We are powerful, and we try not to scare people, but sometimes we can't help it.

DeAnna Dailey lives on the southernmost tip of the Puget Sound, a part of the country with plenty of space, even for someone who needs a lot. She lives with her partner and their very funny cat, Magoo. Find out more about her at www.whoaphotos.com/blog.

Top of Page