TALK ABOUT MANIFESTING…they hadn’t yet come out with the action figure when I was first called a “Cat Lady.” Besides, at 23, I was hardly the poster child for “a cultural archetype most often depicted as a woman, a middle-aged or elderly spinster, who has many cats.” I was young and dancing to the beat of some wicked good 80s music, just being me, coloring a little outside of the lines. And I only had one cat.
Truth be told, back then I thought “Cat Lady” was a term of endearment — sweet, soft, cuddly — not a derisive comment meant to make me feel less valid or valuable. Crazy, even; abnormal and somehow unable to abide by cultural expectations.
Poor Cat Lady. She always gets a bum rap. No one ever makes fun of Ernest Hemingway, whose Key West home was filled with cats — and he of a certain age. His strapping action figure includes a typewriter and a shotgun. Cat Lady? She gets six cats, bed head, and a ratty bathrobe.
Doesn’t she earn points for opening her heart wide open? for loving even the most unlovable? for her strong, independent nature; Her patience and acceptance? for her superpower ability to nurture trust, stillness, solitude, balance?
Her action figure should be quietly fierce. And wearing a purple silk kimono…just like me!
Curious? Then get your copy of the latest issue of MANFEST (zine) today!
Issue #2, CAT LADY CONFESSIONS
explores the oft-maligned life of the cat lady: crazy or contemplative? recluse or dancing to the beat of her own drum? You decide. Includes a curated Spotify playlist. (Color, 24-page booklet)