Any woman who survived early coeducation at our Alma Mater, Dartmouth College, has my undying respect, and Gina Barreca not only survived it, she wrote a book about it.
As for how we met, I’m not sure which came first:
- I saw Gina Barreca at the Erma Bombeck Conference website.
- I saw Gina Barreca posting frequently and with enthusiasm in the Women of Dartmouth Facebook group.
- I realized that Gina Barreca was the author of the soon to be reissued, I Used To Be Snow White…But Then I Drifted.
It’s all a social media blur, but in a good way. Once I became familiar with Gina Barreca, I decided to invite her to join the giveaway. She’s exuberant, funny, and fabulous. And from her example, I think any woman writer, writing humorous or not, can find a great model of how to wield irreverent intelligence shrewdly enough to stand out in any crowd.
Introducing Gina Barreca
Gina Barreca is most recently the editor of Make Mine A Double: Why Women Like Us Like To Drink (or Not) published by the University Press of New England in 2011 and author of It’s Not That I’m Bitter: How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Visible Panty Lines and Conquered the World (St. Martin’s, 2009). She has appeared on 20/20, The Today Show, CNN, the BBC, NPR, Oprah, and Dr. Phil, to discuss gender, power, politics, and humor.
Her earlier books include the bestselling They Used to Call Me Snow White But I Drifted: Women’s Strategic Use of Humor (which is being reissued in a “classic” edition by UPNE in 2013) and Babes in Boyland: A Personal History of Coeducation in the Ivy League; her books have been translated into several languages, including Chinese, Spanish, Japanese, and German.
Gina, whose columns from the Hartford Courant are distributed worldwide by the McClatchy-Tribune Syndicate, is Professor of English and Feminist Theory at the University of Connecticut. Her B.A. is from Dartmouth College, where she was one of the first classes of women, her M.A. is from an all-women’s college at Cambridge University, and her Ph.D. is from the City University of New York. Gina blogs regularly for Psychology Today, The Chronicle of Higher Education, and The Huffington Post; she has also written for The New York Times, The Independent (of London), Cosmopolitan, The Harvard Business Review, and other newspapers and magazines worldwide. She grew up in Brooklyn, lives with her husband in Connecticut, and has friends all over the place. www.ginabarreca.com
Le
arn about They Used To Call Me Snow White…But I Drifted by
UPNE May 2013
Published by Viking in 1991 and issued as a paperback through Penguin Books in 1992, Snow White became an instant classic for both academic and general audiences interested in how women use humor and what others (men) think about funny women.
Barreca, who draws on the work of scholars, writers, and comedians to illuminate a sharp critique of the gender-specific aspects of humor, provides laughs and provokes arguments as she shows how humor helps women break rules and occupy center stage.
Barreca’s new introduction provides a funny and fierce, up-to-the-minute account of the fate of women’s humor over the past twenty years, mapping what has changed in our culture–and questioning what hasn’t.
I asked Gina three questions about our giveaway’s theme topic, self-expression:
1. Is self-expression an important part of your life today, why or why not?
The stories we tell about ourselves and our lives not only reflect our worlds: they create them. The perspectives we bring to an event or a situation shape its meaning. What will be hysterically funny and light to me, for example, might be something you see as weighty and sentimentally significant. Neither perspective is more correct or accurate because they are both expressions of our individual selves.
I tend to bring the party with me for several reasons, one being that my mother died when I was very young thereby inadvertently teaching me to see the joy and absurdity in every moment of every day whenever possible–but I have friends whose visions of the world have a more shadowed nuance, and who play better after dark than I do and their work is of great value. Every form of expression is self-expression so, yep, it’s important.
2. What does self-expression mean to you and how do you do it in the world?
When I learned that I could speak up, speak out and stop apologizing or feeling embarrassed for telling the truth about my own experiences, emotions, ambitions and needs, I realized I could write the way I always wanted to write: with joy and generosity. I’ve learned to write from the heart as well as from the head; as a scholar and professor, my early training helped me discipline my research and my writing habits but as a writer of humor, memoirs, personal essays and now as a national columnist, I’ve had to change my relationship to the very act of writing. It’s become more of a conversation and less of a lecture.
Only within the last ten years have I come to realize that when I talk about what I’ve always regarded as my deepest eccentricities and weirdnesses, I’m talking about stuff everybody–or at least every woman who is too old for work study and too young for cremation–will understand.
3. How does your self-expression impact the world—your family, your friends, your readers, and everyone else?
I write and I speak; I pretty much do both as much as I can and I know my vocation is to help others do both better, too. I teach at UConn and I give lectures about women’s writing and the importance of women’s humor in venues around the country–and around the world. When 300, or 3000, women in a room start laughing together, we raise the roof and we raise the sense of possibilities in our lives. When we work, speak, and laugh together, we all benefit. The best self-expression embraces others.
And Now, Your Turn…
You remember how this works right?
Please read the complete rules at least once!
I ask you a question.
You answer in the comments for your chance to win a book each day.
Please just respond once, even if you make a typo. 
Answer in the comments in 50-200 words (no less and no more to qualify to win one of today’s books).
What is the funniest thing that has ever happened to you? Maybe it is only funny now, in retrospect. Whether funny then, now or both, you are invited to share a story that tickled you funny.
Ready, set, comment! I will hold the drawing tomorrow and post the results here in my blog.
Thanks for participating in the Writer Mama Every-Day-In-May Book Giveaway!
And thanks for spreading the word. We will be giving away great books by wonderful women authors all month.
View the complete list of authors and books.
View the giveaway Pinterest board.
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Oh boy! There are so many funny moments to choose from!
I recently had the great fortune to get to know one of my elderly neighbors. Mr. Will looks just as you would imagine a kindly elderly gentleman would. On my most recent visit with him he said to me, “Elizabeth you are the most naturally beautiful woman I know. I like to tell everyone you are my girlfriend.” Aww sweet, right? Well on a later visit with Mr. Will and his daughter she mentioned the he has macular degeneration and is legally blind! Oh well! I appreciated the compliment on my beauty even if he can’t see me.
Mom’s dementia was advanced, her responses unpredictable. The day she went into the nursing home my sister and I worried she would resist . Could we bring ourselves to leave her there if she resisted? Her room and clothes were ready. It was time. We hated it. Our hearts breaking, we approached each step with trepidation: the drive in, the elevator which she hated, and walking her to her room. What a relief to reach her room without confrontation.
Mom’s response was to take off exploring-so unlike her. Sitting on her bed looking down the hall, we waited for her to return. As we were about to look for her she came walking towards us-with a “new” purse and sweater over her arm. Our mother, who if she found a penny would try to find who lost it, had been in and out of rooms scoffing up what she liked. We were rolling on the bed, laughing and crying. Inappropriate to some, but comic relief for us that our worst fears were gone. It was one of the funniest and saddest moments of my life.
Elizabeth I think he gave you the greatest compliment. He finds you beautiful from the inside out! Lucky for him and you.
It is so difficult to weed through my life as it feels as if there’s a funny incident daily. One that has stayed with me and provided a chuckle fest to me and my girlfriends involved me sneaking chocolate. I was sleep deprived and craving chocolate but did not want my children to know. They were at the kitchen table having their healthy after school snack. Yes, I know, do as I say, not as I do. I found a stash of chocolate, supposedly good stuff my husband had won and hid a few pieces in my hand. As the kids ate I was also clicking and treat training my dog. One treat for puppy, one for me was the plan. I chewed my treat and it tasted a bit like sawdust and thought wow, not the high end taste I was expecting. I confess it took me more than one bite to realize I was eating the dog treat. I burst out laughing and had to confess to my children. They still says, “Mom remember when you ate the dog treat?” I no longer hide my eating.
This is definitely only funny in retrospect. When I was first dating my husband, I was living for a year in Bolivia where I volunteered at a non-profit. One night he took me out to eat sausages from this guy selling them on the street. You guessed it. The next morning I was at my little street-front office in the slums of La Paz, when I felt the desperate urge to use the lavatory. Our office didn’t have one and the public restroom we usually used was locked. There was truly nowhere to go. I started walking towards my apartment when the floodwaters let loose. I was a nineteen-year-old, 5’10, white girl walking down the streets of La Paz, sobbing hysterically, with diarrhea in her pants. Adding absolute insult to injury, a long line of street dogs followed behind me, eagerly sniffing my butt. Dogs, I will add, that I was terrified of since I had recently been bitten by a rabid dog and had to get rabies shots. The words Bolivian street sausage to this day send shivers through my body.
When I was new to town, I joined a moms’ group at my church. One day when I was checking in, I pulled my diaper bag up to the check-in table, and there stuck to my diaper bag was the peanut butter side of a PB&J. Not only was it embarrassing to see what looked like an entire peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuck to my diaper bag, I suddenly realized that my child was eating only the jelly sides of the PB&Js that I was giving him to eat in the van.
The first thing that comes to mind is a day at Long Beach last summer. The waves were wild. It was hurricane season. A few feet in and you were being tossed about like dumplings in soup in a bicycle delivery basket. I am feeling strong and enjoying the challenge of being in the warm whirlpool when a big wave comes and envelopes me, tosses me up, down all around, i get exfoliated at the bottom of the ocean and I come up for air. Once my husband and children realize I am safe they relax. I decide to come out and then another wave knocks me down. I crawl out of the water and stand up. I feel heavier. Everyone is laughing at me. No, my suit did not come off, it is a one piece, but I seem to have grown an extension. My husband says he thought I was a woman when I jumped into the briny. Sand had accumulated in just the right fashion to make me look like a man in drag.
You know how when you’re not supposed to be laughing at something it makes it even funnier? Well, we typically attend a 9:30 modern fusion worship service at our church and the kids go to Sunday School during that time. One morning we all had to attend the more traditional 11:00 a.m. service together and my son was getting fidgety. After all the robed choir members finished their final song, my 6-year-old son turned to us and send “Are all the old people done singing yet?” Did I mention there were three elderly men sitting right behind us? My husband tried to quietly shush him but I couldn’t help it. I was shaking with laughter and tears were rolling down my face while my husband was giving me the sternest look he could muster.
It was when I
participating in the “Running of the Cups” for Dunkin Donuts. Yep; trying to
raise funds for my kiddos’ school, for a playground. I was dressed as a cappuccino
(a LARGE foam cup that went over my had, covered all of me down to me knees, and my arms poked out the sides), foam cap,
straw, and all. I looked ridiculous. I also had HUGE foam shoes over mine and,
well, I tripped, kinda plopped over in front of traffic, cops, everyone. I was
flailing my arms and legs because I couldn’t get up, laughing my a—off because
I could just envision what I looked like. The cops did help me up as they were
laughing at me. Said I’d made their month, perhaps their year. The funniest
thing they’d seen in some time. They’d have come over more quickly if I’d been dressed as a donut. I’d embellish this, but I have a 200-word
limit. 😉
After a day trip in Seattle, my sister, neice, my three boys and I headed to the bus stop. We were behind a group of big, mean girls. The gist of their conversation, “I’m gonna kick that bleep, bleep, bleeping, bleep.” Darling ten year old son, was mocking them. We told him to cool it, so they didn’t smack him around. At the bus stop, my sister spotted a higher end commuter bus, higher fare. We jumped on. The bus took off, I did a head count, and another, we’re down a kid. I envisioned my 10 yr. old getting beat to a pulp back at the bus stop. I leapt up and screamed bloody murder, “Stop the bus, I forgot my son!” The bus braked hard. I raced out the doors, we were a hair over a block away. I didn’t see son, I ran back on the bus yelled for my sister to grab the kids and get off. She pointed to the back of the bus. Dear son slunk up to where my sister was sitting. I took my seat, after apologizing profusely. My son says, “I can’t believe you did that.”
i can’t think of anything particularly funny that happened to me, but I have such a wonderful memory of laughing with my mom. When my sister, brother and I were growing up, every once in awhile my mom would get giddy and start laughing hysterically. Something would just strike her as funny and off she would go, peels and peels of laughter till the tears were running down her face. And it was contagious – everything that was said at that point would strike us all as hysterical and we would all just roar.. couldn’t speak, sides hurting. It was such a wonderful feeling and we all loved those moments. It happens to me sometimes now with my kids – the same thing. Usually after a build up of some tension and then we all just let loose laughing. Best therapy ever!
We got a goat when I was three, and the next morning I came charging back into the house demanding a bucket. Why? Because there was blueberries all over the yard. Yes, my mom checked to make sure I hadn’t eaten any goat turds. Fifteen years later I was speaking at my high school graduation, and this was the story my mom provided the announcer for my introduction. That story was hard to follow. I didn’t think it was funny at the time; I was horrified. But I can laugh at it now. Nobody says the word “blueberry” in my family without snickering.
I was in charge of a large sales meeting in Chicago with close to two hundred reps attending three days worth of marketing meetings, plus nightly entertainment. I had one assistant I shared with another manager in our California office. The preparation and details were overwhelming. I was exhausted. The day before the meeting I board the plane after working all night. As the planes backs out, II ask the person in the next seat if she’s going to Chicago on business or pleasure. She says, “Chicago? This plane isn’t going to Chicago. We’re going to Denver! I totally freaked out and screamed, “Stop the plane!” as I tried to open the emergency door. Can you believe the pilot actually pulled back into dock to let me off the plane and radioed the flight to Chicago to wait?. That would never happen these days. The funniest thing is that once I was on the correct plane, the captain asked over the intercom, “Now is there anyone on this flight who doesn’t want to go to Chicago?”
About 30 years ago my husband glued my thumb and index fingers together the week before Christmas, as a joke (ha ha). We had no acetone in the house. Being the trusting wife I was, I allowed him to try to separate my fingers to he could cut the glue with a razor (ask me if I’m a trusting wife now!!!). Of course, he cut my finger, so I got my neighbor to babysit while we went to get acetone. Well, he got it and w/o thinking, put it on my fingers (oops, forgot about the cut) and I nearly went through the roof of the car. It was about 10:45 at night and we stopped at a pizza place. There were about 8 people in the restaurant plus the staff. I asked where the women’s room was and both my husband and I walked in. So, he put the acetone on my finger and I quickly put it under the water so it wouldn’t sting. At the same time he put it on my finger, I’m yelling, ooh, ooh. After a few minutes the waitress knocked on the door and wanted to know if everything was alright (hee hee, it must have sounded like we were having a great time…). He told her the story. When fingers were unglued, we walked out and everyone in the restaurant applauded. We have so many laughs over this story now!!
My extended family is gathered for a reunion. Everyone is a wee bit nervous about how my grandmother, the family matriarch, is going to receive the two Latin men newly added to the family: my cousin’s husband and my sister’s boyfriend. As we sat down for dessert,, Grandma, found herself between the two men in question. She looked them both up and down, then turned to my sister’s boyfriend and said: “I hear Latin men make wonderful lovers…” then turned to my cousin’s husband “but truly terrible husbands.” Then she grinned widely and went on eating her cake. My sister and I barely made it out the door and into the garden before falling into spasms of hysteria.