In the Hole

I was watching a show the other night, and there was a scene where several women were imprisoned in a hole. There was a shot from above and I could see them all arrayed around the perimeter, like they were in a big, deep well. The main character was trying to get out, and her friend started bemoaning the fact that they never would. My mind launched off at that point, as it often does when I’m watching late-night Netflix after having smoked a nice green bowl, and I started problem-solving the women’s plight.

When I was a kid, I had a friend with a big, four-story house that included a laundry chute that connected from floor to floor. So one time when he and my brother and I we were playing hide and seek, I hid in the laundry chute with my back braced against one wall and my feet on the other, so I could inch down between the floors. Incidentally, it was the best hiding spot ever and no one ever found me!

I remembered that and wondered if it could work for these women. What if they all linked arms and used each other’s legs and feet to push off of, and kinda inched their way up, out of the hole? If they could use each other as a literal support network?

It became such a firm image in my mind that I really wanted the show to go there -- to have  these women triumph and free themselves. Of course it didn’t. They were eventually rescued by a man. Naturally, because that’s always what happens.

But I was really taken with my idea, and it became a metaphor in my head for feminism in general. I absolutely believe that male allies are crucial, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have so many amazing men in my life (not the least of whom is the one I married!), but I feel like the key lies in each other. The other women in the hole. We’re all down there, and only we can get out of it, but we all have to work together. We have to use each other’s strength and determination as we link arms, brace ourselves, and lift each other up.