How I relate to Betty Draper
I really don’t relate to Betty. Her people are Nordic, mine are Jewish. She’s a soft-spoken beauty, I’m a loud-mouthed oddball. She feels trapped in her conventional choices, I’m a rebel who acts out whenever I’m expected to be conventional.
Yet, I relate to Betty.
In the post-Night to Remember episodes, there was a tightness in Betty’s jaw that felt like my jaw. In Six Months Leave, she can’t let Don back in. Can’t. He can convince anyone of anything, she says, and her jaw is tight. He tells her what they can say to Sally, and all she hears is that it’s another lie. In The Inheritance, she was “just pretending.” Even in Meditations in an Emergency, when Don comes back, there’s “must be nice,” and she’s tight. Tight.
It’s when you break up with someone, or you just hit a point, and all you can feel, all you can think, is not letting them in. Everything they say, every tone of voice, every nuance of bodily posture, is reminding you how angry you are, and you just tighten up. You can’t release, you can’t soften, because the very presence of the other person is hardening you.
January Jones caught that posture perfectly. Her face was like a poem about anger. Every time I looked at her, all tight and unforgiving, I remembered every breakup I ever had. And not even the specific breakup, not the guy or the situation, just the feeling in my jaw, how my whole body lined up behind my righteous anger.
And there’s the other thing. I’m a mom. A mom as in, never alone. As in, outnumbered (even though I have an only child, believe me I’m outnumbered).
In my whole life, I never lived alone. I lived with family, in a dorm, with guys, with roommates, with a husband, with a husband and child, with just a child. Never alone. (In New York, roommates are more common than not for a twentysomething.)
And then, just about ten weeks ago, my son went off to college. For the first time, I was alone. There’s a giddy freedom and an aching sorrow. It’s glorious and it’s confusing.
Why bring this up?
Betty eating chicken at the fridge.
I know it’s laden with meaning. “Mommy doesn’t like to eat,” Sally says. Is that pregnancy? Rage? Eating disorder? All three? And there’s the getting laid and finally satisfying yourself. I know all that.
But it’s also being home alone for the very first time. No one is there. No husband. No kids. No eyes watching. And you know what you do, the first time? You stand at the fridge and eat whatever you want. In your coat. Off the serving dish. Who’s going to know?
Giddy freedom. Aching sorrow. Leftover chicken. They all go together.
So, yeah. I relate to Betty.
November 14th, 2008 at 5:34 pm
One word……wow!
This post is really hitting home with me right now.
Nicely done, Deborah.
November 14th, 2008 at 6:01 pm
Cool, Deb. Thanks.
November 14th, 2008 at 6:20 pm
Wow, are you ok?
November 14th, 2008 at 6:49 pm
Ohhhh, Deb.
My kid (okay, she’s my stepdaughter — but ever since she came out two years ago, she has been my kid) left for college two months ago too. It’s been okay. I guess.
But then again, it’s not.
I love her father, and we are doing fine. I love her little sister, too, but I just ache for my pal. And since Prop 8 passed out here? You do NOT want to know what my days and nights (which should have been filled with nothing but Obamabliss) have been like.
I love being alone. Revel in it. Need it, actually. So it’s odd to miss someone like this. And missing someone does not equal wanting to be with others so that I can talk to them about how much I miss her. I just need people to stay the hell away from me. So I’ve been brittle and prickly and throwing myself into work (paid and unpaid), because there I can put my head down and do my thing and people leave me alone.
Its it okay to say I envy you a little, Deb? To say that I wish there were no one home sometimes, so that I could just go there and cry? Or throw things at people passing by on the street below, who just seem to act (there’s no nice way to say this) too damn straight?
I completely relate to Betty. I really don’t let people in, these days.
Strangers are fine, as is anyone who phonebanked with me over the weeks I was doing my Obama thing. People I know and love from back in the day, when I had no money and no family yet: we’re square.
But anyone who wants anything even remotely intimate from me is s**t outta luck. I’m done. It’s not even about the other person: first it was the surgery, then my kid left, and now she’s a second-class citizen? And still you want something? Get away from me.
I even fired my shrink. That was probably uncalled for.
I get it, Deb. I feel for you … also, as I said, envy you. Thank you so much for writing this. It really hit the spot, for this fellow member of the lonely-mom club.
November 14th, 2008 at 10:04 pm
Been there. You hit it right on the head Deb and Anne B. Thanks. Just to let you know: This too shall pass.
November 14th, 2008 at 10:32 pm
Actually, I am okay. Ironically, because my kid is kind of needy so we talk every day. And I accept this as part of life; a good part. But when I saw Betty eating that chicken, man did I ever see me.
November 15th, 2008 at 12:52 am
I’m glad you’re okay. The “being home alone for the very first time” and “aching sorrow” were a little disconcerting. But there is something great about seeing something on screen that makes a profound impact on us. Thanks for sharing your experience.
November 15th, 2008 at 1:13 pm
Yet another thing I love about MM: It enables the audience to relate to (not just intellectually empathise with) the characters they barely resemble – and would probably loathe in real life.
I feel a kinship with Joan, even though we’re essentially total opposites (ok, well, aside from the curves). When people see her in the first episode, she appears to be a caricature of the “Mean Girl”, the girl who’s naturally brave and bitchy and gets pleasure out of nothing but power trips. Obviously, that type of girl always has some “deep, dark tragedy” that made her that way, yadda yadda, so we’re supposed to pity her.
MW doesn’t play into the trap of heavy-handedly forcing us to empathise with her, though. The only hint we get of a tragic background is that veiled “hospital comment”, and the only overt acts against her that provoke sympathy are the rape scene (which was great, but practically unnecessary – Harry taking her new job away was much more heartbreaking, IMO). For most of the series, Joan is what she is – someone who has used her mind to improve her life, working within the paradigm she has been given. Love her or hate her behavior, I’ve never once thought she was motivated by malice or even jealousy – as Matt once implied, she barely even understands the changes that are occurring around her.
Growing up in the 80’s and 90’s, I had brains and knew they’d be respected without a tight sweater – and while I’ve got a bitchy streak mean enough to make Don cry, I would never express it in the workplace. But there were certain things I wanted – or thought I should want – and I knew I had to work very hard in ways I didn’t necessarily think were fair or should be necessary to achieve them. So I did work hard, because what choice do you have? And you know what? Despite all that hard work to build yourself into something you think people expect of you, at the end of the day… it’s a house of cards. One new secretary or some asshat fiance can come breezing in and blow the whole thing down. And then where are you, what has happened to that carefully cultivated sense of identity?
I’m not a bombshell like Joan, and I probably have more in common with Peggy, but Joan is definitely my favorite character because it is more of a challenge for people to identify with her – and it is that much more revealing when you do.
November 15th, 2008 at 1:16 pm
Wow, I’m sorry. I just wrote a treatise in the comment area! :-O
November 15th, 2008 at 7:51 pm
Joy, that was amazing.
November 15th, 2008 at 8:27 pm
Not to mention you’re closer to bombshell than you describe.
November 18th, 2008 at 6:20 pm
[...] Mad Men is a critically acclaimed US TV drama that was lauded here in England with its first series last year. It has a small following: 270,000 viewers watched the first episode of series 1 in the UK and nearly 2m in the US watched the first episode of series 2. However, with a cult following, it has a loyal fans, with this blog Basket of Kisses for example. [...]
November 18th, 2008 at 7:38 pm
Re #12 … wow, what a gift. And a surprise!
Ever since the departure of Rachel, I have this terror of losing every Mad Men woman forever. Sheila dumped Paul; I think we’ll never see her again. That’s pretty much the way it goes. The smart women (e.g., the Rachels) finish their business, and move on.
That intrigues me, every bit as much as watching the more trapped women — like Betty — either flounder, or tread water. I still want to see where the other women went and how they’re doing.
And of course race matters. My closest friend at work, who watched Mad Men in Season 2, is having a hard time with Season 1 because she can’t find a way in. I get it: she’s a Black woman, and that was a tough season from her perspective. Silence is not my friend’s thing, and the silence from her side of the stands (so to speak) in Season 1 was deafening.
Still: here comes the good news. How very far we have come. A Betty type and a Sheila type can argue about who jacked the desk candy one day, and cry and hug over our new President-elect the next. Who happens to look more like Sheila than Betty — for once.
Are these better days? Ohhhh yeeesss.
November 18th, 2008 at 7:57 pm
Hi everyone, I wrote #12 on the blog and linked back here.
Just like to say that I love this blog. Nice to see lots of attention go into following a brilliant show.
@Anne B, I see what your friend means. I am a black woman and I think one of the only reasons I can relate to Mad Men now is or should I say was Sheila’s character. But in the 1st season, I related to the gender portrayals to a small extent.
Thanks,
Aulelia
November 18th, 2008 at 8:22 pm
aulelia, thank you for the mighty worldwide linkback! and the very kind words.
There is something for everyone in Mad Men, but not everything for everyone. My mom is basically Peggy’s age; born in 1939. And also from Brooklyn. But this very waspy world is quite foreign to her Jewish experience. Some things she relates to, but most of these people are unfamiliar to her.
November 19th, 2008 at 11:59 am
[...] blog article linked to us, and subsequently we learned that the author is a Basketcase, but I wanted to make sure everyone sees it. Aulelia is a black woman based in London, offering a [...]