Revisiting Joe

Losing myself in the life of Joe March I stumble across the place I may have picked up on the idea of kind gentlemen opening the world to a deserving young girl. Was it not the uncle in Secret Garden who provided the "bit of earth" and Mr. Lawrence who allowed Beth the opportunity to play upon the grand  piano.  Even Jo had an enormous library to peruse, full of atlases and globes, that had belonged to her uncle. 

Are we not trained from an early age in are literature that the prince will rescue us.  Even if he is old or a relative?  Did I have any other example for a way to meet my desires and secret wishes?

But I wrack my brain for more relationships that provide a path to "possibilities" that I read as a child and I come up with the man in Little Princess and the uncle in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  

Mrs. Havisham is exactly what she is, a spiteful, bitter woman whose heart is not melted or changed from the goodness or hope of Pip, and instead preys upon his innocence.  Somehow, the men benefactors end up kind hearted and handsome.  Even Jane Eyre's Mr. Rochester ends up kind hearted and handsome, to her, in the end. 

Is it any wonder my daydreams consisted of these men's extensions?

I would propose we need empowered female role models, but lets take it a step further and have them be one's that encourage a young women to use her voice and gifts.  The older books most often reflect societies view of women in their day.  The idea of a woman "earning her keep" or "having a voice" was revolutionary in Joe Marches world.  And both the character and the author, Louise May Alcott, were grappling with the idea of women's rights. 

I am getting to the part where Joe starts getting paid for her writing and contributing to the family.  I know I did not miss this when I was twelve.  Alcott is the one I credit for my wanting to be a writer. 

However, the conflict was there.  It still is.  I find myself in between analyzing what influenced the option I picked, doing as I was told, and changing my familiar pattern to the possibility that lies outside that room, choosing an authentic self.