Where is She : Is she like me?

How Role Models Make us Feel; even the cold bronze ones!

When I first saw the old woman sculptured by Auguste Rodin I felt all the breath escape my lungs. My reaction was visceral, emotional. Her figure was so painful to look at and yet I wanted her to turn her gaze up toward me. I sensed a gentle, wry smile hidden there; like she knew that I too would one day look like this. That time could ravage us all.

I had not long lost my Nana when the Old Woman moved me so and I missed the warmness of Nanas hand in mine. But no other sculpture or artwork since has moved me as she did. 

Is it because there are so few monuments to connect with here in my hometown? As Megan Whelan says in the book, "Women Now" (edited by Bronwyn Labrum) there are more monuments to animals in Wellington (two dogs and a horse) than women! And while I adore Paddy the Wanderer and John Plimmer’s Fritz, I can't relate to them.

No monument in Wellington represents any part of my life, not even the elongated woman of words on Lambton Quay. I do feel grateful for her and more so for the silhouettes of Carmen and Kate which have usurped the green man at our pedestrian crossings, but where are all our other Mana Wāhine?

Why does it matter?

We are a social being, us humans. Even as an introvert with a close, comfy relationship to her couch and nana-blanket, I still crave belonging sometimes. My, and most peoples, wellbeing depends on that connection to an in-group; their network. Jan Hill of Head, Heart + Brain describes it as our uncanny ability to read others behaviour and click with them. 

They're like me + I like them = I feel safe

We know that we even spend longer gazing on images of similar faces and feeling higher levels of empathy for those we feel a connection with, and those are just images on a screen.

Now, mimicry, followers and craving belonging can also lead us down the path to exclusivity, exclusion, walls, hate, stones and bombs. But when our strong bonds are partnered with Dweck’s Growth Mindset then our tribe becomes a safe space in which to share and challenge our thinking; where we can pull out our bias and inspect the not-so-great ones. 

All this from one role model!

Back in 1991, I wasn’t about to throw Rodin’s sculpture under my arm and run away to set up a cult in worship of her. But I did want to reach out and touch her shoulder to reassure that none of us are ugly or alone.

I want more of that feeling of connection in Wellington; more monuments for us to be challenged by, connect with, see myself in and, yes, to be proud of too.