Kimberlee turned to Karen who immediately took their free hands. Looking first at Kimberlee with moist eyes and a smile, Karen faced Claudia and said, “I give up the right to castrate men forever.”
Kimberlee watched Karen closely, hoping she felt the same rush of warmth and power. She only knew for sure that Karen looked peaceful. Karen and Claudia rose in an impulsive hug and kissed each others’ cheeks. After a moment, Kimberlee realized she wanted to join them. The warmth and softness of their feminine embrace felt wonderful.
It seemed a long time had passed before they disengaged their arms, kissed cheeks again, and turned to sit down. Kimberlee gasped at what she saw before her.
“How long has that been there?”
CLAUDIA giggled. In relief and delight. What a perfect time for her to finally see it, she thought.
“The whole time,” Karen replied, smiling with joy equal to what Claudia felt.
“It has?” Kimberlee asked, incredulous.
Karen laughed and exchanged a warm conspiratorial glance with Claudia. They sat and grinned while Kimberlee continued to stand, gawking at her chair. For it was truly her chair. The wide arms were covered in tiny carvings of Kimberlee; images of her at every age. She lifted the candle from the table and studied each one of them with awe.
Claudia waited patiently, watching Kimberlee struggle with receiving this profound expression of her grandfather's love. She waited to see what would happen when she got to the back of the chair. Many minutes later, Kimberlee still stood, her head tilted, trying to make out the large oval portrait that she had leaned against for hours.
“I think Granddad took some artistic license with this one,” She finally said. “She's prettier than I am. Beautiful, really. And regal.”
“That is because it is not an image of who you are now,” Claudia stated. Kimberlee raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“It is an image of the woman you are becoming. As a man who adores you foresees it.”
BURT watched Claudia's delightfully expressive face as she described Kimberlee's reaction to his creation. He felt completely content.
He remembered his role in her evening. “Sweetheart, given how often men are responding to women, no doubt giving up the right to castrate men forever will have a profound effect. But…I was thinking about what we were talking about. How emasculation can cause objectification. And vice versa…”
He paused, unsure. “Do you think I should give up the right to objectify women?”
He was shocked to see tears spring into Claudia's eyes. “What, Sweetheart?”
Claudia smiled through her tears, “I am surprised at my own reaction. Apparently that would mean a great deal to me. But I did not know it until you offered, my love.”
Claudia rubbed his arm with her foot. “But I would not want to be hasty. Giving up the right to castrate men would seem the nicest thing a woman could do for men. But where a woman has to stand to make such a declaration ends up empowering her equally, if not more. I could see it in both of their faces tonight. They will never be the same—not only about men, also about themselves.”
“That's good to hear,” he replied, smiling.
“I am curious, Burt,” Claudia continued, “with the role that objectification plays—the last line of defense I would call it— where would you have to stand to give up the right to do that?”
Burt nodded, “‘Last line of defense’ is a good way to put it. I'm sure lots of men think of it that way.”
Claudia smiled, “That is who I learned the phrase from.”
He squeezed her foot. “If I were to give it up, I'd have to think I didn't need it. Which would mean I thought I could handle anything women might throw at me and not lose my balance.”
“Would that take faith in yourself?”
“Yes, I believe it would.”
Claudia rubbed her foot on his arm again. “Would you think about it and let me know what you notice? Do some research for me?”
He loved any opportunity to do something for her. Especially something that would contribute to her calling. “Of course,” he smiled back at her.
KAREN's interludes at the coffee shop were becoming a habit. I need this, she thought, to transition from these intense conversations to being with Mike.
She sipped a decaf cappuccino and began organizing her notes into her teaching format. She was still skeptical about men needing women and being overwhelmed by them. But she trusted Claudia to illuminate that in the weeks to come.
OBJECTIFICATION
•
Reduces a multi-dimensional being to a simple thing
•
Makes it/them seem more manageable
•
Happens when a man is overwhelmed, feels out of control—feels emasculated
•
Men can feel overwhelmed by beauty, sexuality, intellect, humor, anger, demands, etc.
•
But being objectified ticks us off in the extreme—causing emasculation
•
Vicious cycle!
When she got to the last part of her notes, she read her handwriting:
“I give up the right to castrate men forever.”
After speaking the words aloud, she had written them in her notebook. She didn't have words for her experience. She was trying for once to actually feel the feelings and not worry about articulating them.
She had been surprised by the brief homework assignment:
•
Notice when you're triggered to emasculate a man
•
And how you react having given up the right to do that
•
Don't beat yourself up if you do emasculate him
•
Stop and apologize.
Kimberlee had asked, “But now what do we do? We've given up bringing out the worst in men. How do we bring out the best?”
Claudia had replied mysteriously, “I will start teaching you about that on Saturday. But the Queen's Code is both a code of honor and a secret code, the Language of Heroes. I want you to discover who men are when you merely stop antagonizing them. Before you ever do anything to intentionally empower them.”
Karen finished her cappuccino and closed her notebook. With a deep breath, she readied herself for home and for a new way of relating to Mike.
Is it Time to Lay Down Your Sword?
This is the Vow that Kimberlee and Karen take in Chapter 3. If you're ready to take the Vow below, I would be honored to receive this commitment from you. Make the commitment by emailing [email protected] with the subject “Laying Down the Sword.” Thank you and Congratulations.
You can also join or create a Queen's Code Book Club and both give and receive the Vow with fellow participants. This is a feature of the online version of The Queen's Code. You can find Book Clubs, an online commitment feature, and numerous articles and videos at www.thequeenscode.com.
If you're not ready to make this commitment, I recommend you stop reading at Chapter 3. You will be in danger of using the material in a way that will ultimately make your life more difficult and full of suffering. If you choose to keep reading anyway, you're encouraged to take the Vow at the earliest possible moment.
Blessings,
Alison
IV. Liberation and Illumination
KIMBERLEE thought, If someone had asked me beforehand, “What do you think life will be like if you give up the right to castrate men forever?” I would never have picked the adjectives that come to mind only one day later: Easier, less exhausting, more fun, FREE!
Smiling, she scratched Lancelot under his chin. Then she turned to her closet with a frown. All of a sudden, her wardrobe didn't suit her. Pun not intended, she thought, as she stared at two and three piece suits in every shade of black, brown and navy. Her clothes felt too constraining, too stiff, too dull. Too masculine, she thought. Before, the structured textiles had made her feel safe and professional; now she felt restricted and uncomfortable. Boxed i
n. Her clothing didn't match the sense of freedom and feminine power she'd experienced since Wednesday evening.
She chuckled as she remembered the looks of consternation on the faces of her female co-workers her first day in the office “post vow.” The guys had been keyboard-racing again, an activity that normally brought a full round of rolled eyes and disparaging remarks. Kimberlee had fully participated in the ridicule, in the past. But she was off man-patrol duty. It was no longer her job to monitor discipline and maintain decorum according to the standards of the Perfect Person. She'd retired. Permanently.
It seemed harmless enough when she'd joked lightly, “Who's winning? Are you taking bets? Can I get in?”
The men had looked up in awe, pausing mid-keystroke as if Lady Godiva had ridden through, naked on her white horse. The women were incredulous. As if she had betrayed them. Not only them — the whole Sisterhood.
The men never did articulate a response. She smiled and returned to her office, suppressing a fit of giggles until she closed the door.
An hour later, one of the younger processors stuck his head in, asking if she wanted a soda from the machine. It was her turn to be surprised. Suddenly, she thought, I always address them as merely “You men” and “Ladies.” That's objectifying, isn't it? I'll have to watch that.
“Umm, thank you, John. I'm fine though.” She declined with a smile. He withdrew hastily, leaving her trying to discern the meaning of his offer.
By the end of the day, Gladys, Kesha, Chelsey, Mary Kay and Fawn were all watching her with open concern. She merely smiled and behaved as if nothing was amiss. John, Hector, Justin and Abrahim, on the other hand, seem to be competing for which one could do the most for her.
At first, she gently refused their offers of drinks, snacks, copy machine runs, et cetera. But it didn't take long to notice a minor version of the crestfallen look. They were truly disappointed when she declined. Having given up the right to emasculate them, she decided she'd better find things she could say “yes” to. And it became clear: the more difficult the task, or the more urgently she needed it, the happier they seemed to be.
Baffling. What if there's a good reason for this? she thought. And couldn't wait to get back to Claudia and Karen.
Rubbing Lancelot's stomach and studying her closet, Kimberlee made a sudden decision to go shopping. As she got ready to leave her condo, her elation was marred momentarily by the thought, How am I ever going to explain this to Melissa?
KAREN drove home from Claudia's house Thursday evening tired but happy. Bubbling over with news, she'd dropped in after school. Claudia had laughed at the way Karen described life after “Giving It Up.”
First, Karen had explained the past: “It's as if the boys handed me weapons. They're late or they're loud or they're not paying attention. They put the weapon right in my hand. Before, I used it. I fired the gun; I swung out with the club; I launched the missile. Mostly with blatant disapproval and verbal reprimands. But sometimes with consequences that hit them where it hurt. Spending recess inside, cleaning up after others. Stuff like that.”
Karen had smiled, “All day today, I saw the weapon as one of them handed it to me. I felt it in my hand, the weight of it. The damage it could wreak. I consciously set it down. I've got a mental pile. My own little armory. But I'm not using them. You'd think my classroom would be a zoo by now. It's not. The boys were more cooperative and attentive than ever. They even offered to do things for me.”
She had shaken her head and Claudia had laughed and smiled and hugged her.
Arriving home, Karen found the garage door open and the trash overflowing, as usual. She glanced into Mike's office and saw the aging piles. Her shoulders instantly grew tired with the weight of the projectiles and impalers being shoved into her hands. Coming around the corner, she saw Mike on the couch, watching TV. He looked up at her expectantly. For once, she saw the yearning in his face. And the fear. As if he might be in trouble.
What if I tried the same thing at home? she thought.
“One second, Honey,” she called, moving to the hall closet. As she hung up her sweater, she imagined stacking the weapons away too. Let them go ….
Instantly feeling light and happy, she scampered over to Mike and plopped on the couch next to him. “Watcha doing?” she asked cheerfully.
Within a few minutes, along with the pile of discarded weapons, she had a pile of another sort: Their clothes on the living room floor.
Later, she wrote in her journal:
Oh my gosh. I never knew this was possible. Mike forgot to take out the trash, as usual.
He handed me the gun to shoot him. Like a million times before.
Remembering my vow, I set it aside, I let it go.
I felt no loss of power. Rather, joy and exhilaration!
What an extraordinary evening.
I'd still like him to close the garage door, and take out the trash, though.
How do I get that without emasculation?
Keep breathing. Claudia promised.
JACK parked his Porsche carefully, got out and locked the door. Looking back at the 1973 Carrera RS, he admired the still-glossy, original red paint and irresistible curves. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Made out of metal, that is. He'd wanted one since he was a little kid. It had been his first car-crush and it had taken him more than thirty years to fulfill it. Women usually made fun of him but men knew exactly what it meant: Victory.
Waiting for the elevator, he threw away his signature toothpick. Once inside, he re-tucked his shirt and straightened his collar. He checked his hair in the stainless steel panel. It was hopeless. The wavy salt-and-pepper mass was uncontrollable.
Stepping into the insurance company office, he did his best to feign nonchalance. The processors were glued to their screens and paperwork. He was moving casually towards Raul's office when he ran smack into Kimberlee.
At first he didn't recognize her. He had to step back and look again. She still wore only a trace of makeup, as he preferred, but her face was totally different. Soft, he thought. Lovely. The scowl was gone, her jaw had relaxed and her dazzling blue eyes were wide and open. The color in her cheeks rose in the most charming way.
“Hi, Jack,” she said and he noticed the pleasantly deep timbre of her voice. Has she ever spoken to me before?
“Hi,” was all he could muster in response.
“Okay, well, see ya,” she said and walked towards her office. Watching her go, he noticed her narrow waist, her shapely legs and the fabric swinging above them, draped over her luscious full hips. She's got a dress on!
As Jack stumbled into a chair, Raul took one look at him and burst out laughing.
Jack exclaimed, “She's wearing a dress!”
His friend smiled, “Yes, I noticed.”
“What's happening to her?!”
“I don't know,” Raul replied. “But I'm determined to ask her about it.”
“Will you tell me what she says?” Jack practically pleaded and felt foolish.
“Don't worry, ol’ buddy. I'll do some recon for you,” Raul assured him, then shook his head.
“What?” Jack demanded.
“I can't make heads nor tails of it. She's gentler, more feminine — and more effective. Production is higher than ever. At least out of the men. The women are completely rattled.”
“How so?”
Raul answered with a chuckle. “Because she hasn't taken the nuts off a single guy for two days. She hasn't even participated in the Castration Club events.”
“The castration club events?” Jack took the bait.
Raul responded with a shrug, “You know, when a bunch of women gang up on a man and come down hard. Usually when the guy is having fun or celebrating a win. I call it ‘the castration club.’ Its members can't seem to tolerate testosterone.”
Nodding, Jack replied, “I know what you're talking about. I see it all the time.” He brightened, “You think maybe Kimberlee quit the club?”
&nb
sp; He had a thought that made him feel sick. “Or did she get a new boyfriend? You know how women look when they're in love ….”
Jack felt relieved when Raul shook his head. “I don't think so,” his friend offered. “She hasn't been working any less and you're the only hound sniffing around here lately.”
CLAUDIA hummed cheerfully as she put together a tray with brownies, cream, sugar and honey. The coffee was percolating and the water was almost to a boil. She expected Karen and Kimberlee to arrive any moment and was glad they were meeting so soon after they had taken the vow.
This is going to be fun, she thought. The hardest part is over, Missy.
She had made some notes to herself about the information she planned to cover since her students had lain down their swords. Now they can receive the magic, she thought, smiling. She added her notes and a blank piece of paper to the tray.
Her first delight was the glow in both their faces. Like a ripening of feminine beauty, she mused. Burt saw it too and winked at her before he went off to his shop, whistling Popeye the Sailor Man.
Harkening back to his days in the Navy, and the way being a sailor would always be part of his identity, that song was one way she could tell he felt empowered. Like Popeye and a can of spinach. No doubt, the fact that he had contributed to their transformation made his joy even more potent. Always the Provider, Claudia thought.
As they settled into Burt's chairs, Claudia continued to note the changes in each woman's appearance. Kimberlee's lips were no longer thin and tight; her jaw had lost its hard edge; the crease between her eyebrows had almost disappeared. Most of all, her eyes had softened, leaving only the lovely blue without the brittle, piercing quality. Karen's beauty was transformed as well. It showed the most in the radiant smoothness of her high-boned cheeks, the sparkle in her golden-brown eyes, and the warm, easy smile on her full lips.
“We have finally arrived at ‘the Language of Heroes,’” Claudia began. “These are the words and understanding women must master to communicate effectively with men.”
The Queen’s Code Page 12
