Hands-Off Policy
The Distaff Side
"If there's anything worse than a drunk, it's a woman drunk!"
That was a bartender talking, several years ago. He meant me, and thousands of my sisters-under-a-skinful. I blushed, and teetered quietly to the next bar.
Came the dawn, came the light, came A.A. Here was a whole new life with a group of people who didn't point the finger at a female lush. Another gal guided me through the complex simplicities of A.A. "initiation" and an A.A. wife became my warm friend. Thus was I launched on a neat pink cloud with the whole "family" cheering. I loved everyone. . .A.A.'s male or female, wives or husbands. . .everyone! I became a part of the first women's A.A. group. They were wonderful, too.
Hands Off Policy
Before A.A. women had never been a real part of my life. Most of the girls I knew were acquaintances only. By mutual agreement, we maintained a "hands-off" policy. My drinking finally took me beyond the pale of local society and into bars which were chiefly populated by men. They seemed more friendly than my own sex. . .maybe they were just less discriminating! Thence to solitary drinking in one of those rooms to which drunks gravitate, thence to A.A. None of these experiences prepared me for life among the anonymi. . .though they did prepare me for A.A.
After a few sober months, several girls from the nearby workhouse were channeled to the women's group. Some of us respectable A.A.'s were horrified! Must we accept girls like that? Of course, their only crime was drinking, and they were unluckier than most in not having friends, family or money to cushion them against the harsh world of alcoholism. But some of us dreamed of the past, filled with fabulous friends and fictional glories. Cliques developed, personalities clashed and the group rocked. Some of us got drunk and returned to the group with a new definition of humility. We needed and received help from those very women we had once scorned.
For me, this marked a turning point. I became grateful to those new and different A.A. gals who had rescued me from my snobbishness. I could no longer say that I didn't like women; it would have been totally illogical. After all, I was included in that category of women. Given half a chance, these "drunken dames" were not only good A.A.'s, but good friends.
It occurred to me that I needed to do a lot of work on myself. There was the matter of "First Things First." Well, then, I was a woman first and an alcoholic second. Selfishly, I had to learn to live without alcohol or die--it was that serious. I received my help from "women." It therefore seemed reasonable that I could best "carry the message" to another woman. I had to get the chip off my shoulder.
Some A.A.'s whose opinion I respect say that women alcoholics have great difficulty in learning to departmentalize their lives; men apparently grow up with more orderly ideas about the distinction between home and business, work and play. Our feminine logic is often half emotion, half instinct. We may find it difficult to tackle A.A. on an impersonal basis, to work with others on a basis of justice without jealousy. Could it be that women have a special problem, or maybe that special women have a problem in A.A.?
A.A. women, operating in their own groups, or just as individuals, have set a wonderful example for us to follow. I'm grateful for all the help which the Women, God bless 'em, have given to me. As the margin of time between my drinking career and the happy life of today widens, I'm trying to give expression to that gratitude by fitting into the overall A.A. picture in some helpful way.
There are a few heartening indications that I may make the transition from frustrated prima donna to one of the girls without bloodshed or halo cramps. My standards are tilting upwards, and the old false front has dropped away. I married an A.A., which qualifies me twice in the A.A. circle and ought to help me to see both sides of the Wives vs. Women debate. My story doesn't entitle me to throw stones at anybody, and the slingshot arm feels mighty quiet these days.
I no longer worry about being a woman drunk. My only fear is that other A.A.'s will cast a skeptical eye in my direction and announce. "She probably wasn't an alcoholic anyway. . .or at least, that wasn't the whole trouble." That sentence is guaranteed to start a first class A.A. battle, anywhere.
Maybe the A.A. who says "I can't understand women alcoholics" just means "women," period. But it's more important not to misunderstand us than to understand us, anyway!
L.T.
New York, New York
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