Shaken Shakespeare | RTC2023

The Seven Ages of Woman

Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak.
As You Like It

Shakespeare once wrote that in his life
A man has seven parts to play.
That might be so, but I can't help but wonder
What if women had been the ones on stage?

The bard was right at the start: first there's the infant.
A perfect porcelain doll dressed in pink and white,
The big-eyed innocent, the sweet baby girl,
Tell me, does she sleep well at night?

Then comes the schoolgirl, all sugar and spice,
And everything that is nice, too.
Hair in pigtails, tears in eyes;
He only pulled them because he likes you.

Disney princesses, Easy-Bake Ovens, Barbie dolls,
Gender roles in the guise of toys.
Handstands against a brick wall, skirt tucked into knickers.
Mind that skirt, though. We mustn't distract the boys.

Youth blooms with beauty
Like the spring blooms with flowers.
It's natural, or at least it appears so,
Despite the make-up routine that took her hours.

The standards change like fashion;
Too short, too tall, too fat, too thin.
She starves herself and squeezes herself,
Runs the race she'll never win.

Influencers and beauty magazines are there to help.
We're all in this together, honey!
As they tell her what to wear, what to buy, what not to eat,
And from her insecurities, they make their money.

Next, the working girl, or working woman,
Dolly's nine to five.
She works the same and still earns less,
She just doesn't have the same drive.

Besides, fifteen percent is not a lot,
There's really no need to rant on.
She has plenty to spend on luxury items
Like her tampons.

The bride enters slowly and exits the same day,
Blushing, pure, and veiled.
She looks perfect, and so is the wedding;
If it isn't, she has failed.

You can see that she is overjoyed,
Her tears only from laughter.
This is everything she's always been told she wanted,
It's her happily ever after.

Now with two rings on a finger,
Given from one man to another.
She reaches the fifth and longest-running role:
That of wife and mother.

She's responsible, but told what to do,
Each decision she makes is a test.
It's indecent not to feed a bottle in public.
Wait, don't you know that breast is best?

Housework isn't really work,
She has to want to have it all!
But doesn't she miss them when she's not home?
And when they're sick, who takes the fall?

A life that's lived for others,
Endless thankless sacrifice.
A man babysat his own children last week,
He's getting the Nobel Prize.

She might not think that life's for her.
Now, listen to the dismay!
She's being selfish, she'll never know real love,
She'll change her mind one day.

As the biological clock ticks its last,
Please, don't mind her menopausal rage.
At least she still looks pretty good
For a woman of her age.

Finally, there is grandma,
Or, perhaps, the witch or crone.
She's outlived her husbands (if e'er she had them),
They left her all alone.

From a mouth that's lined with wrinkles
She shares the wisdom life has taught her.
And though she's grown weak and forgetful,
She's cared for by her daughter.