Again, I had all sorts of intentions for today’s post and then, ta-da – life got in the way. I was speaking to a friend of mine about her work situation. I’m not going to get into any great detail, other than to tell you that it’s bad. The kind of terrible, awful, and no-good that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The worst part about it, is that it’s completely undeserved. I know, I know, I just proclaimed that no one should have to suffer and then I throw in that last little tidbit. Let me clarify.
No one should have to deal with the kind of shit that she is facing, but given what a sweet and kind person she is, it seems so much worse.
My friend is, in all ways, a model employee. She is dutiful and diligent and respectful and hard-working and loyal as shit. In fact, when I first met her, I felt intimidated and maybe even a little resentful. I’ve always struggled with the easily liked. I’m a challenge and so, I envy their admirable qualities and the way in which they move about in the world. But then it happened, she charmed me. More than that. Charm is indicative of a spell or a manipulation, and it was nothing of the sort. I saw how goddamn hard she works. I saw how much of herself she gave, she gives. I saw how she genuinely appreciated those around her who contribute in a similar fashion. Her worst flaws are working herself to pieces and making life too easy for those who have not earned such grace.
Holy shit. I wish those were my issues.
Anyway, I’ve become friends with this woman and I feel lucky to know her, so in true L fashion, my heart broke into a million pieces when I bore witness to the nightmare that has unfolded over many months and continues to not just rear its ugly head, but poison and tarnish everything in its path. A monster of indescribable proportions.
My first thought was to rage on this post. I wanted to unleash a fiery torrent of criticism; not just for her, but for other women who have experienced the same plight (and many who continue to). Overlooked, ill-treated, unappreciated, marginalized, disrespected, and lied to. I wanted to spit venom and fire. I wanted to create a split in the earth, dividing the harmed and righteous from everyone else, with my adjectives and nouns and verbs.
I can’t though. I can’t because as much as I want to do that, it doesn’t help her. Or me. Or anyone else. I am not just angry but I’m hurt. I’m scarred from my own experiences and I am deeply pained to see the wounds caused to her and others. It causes me unimaginable distress to consider the path forward from here. How do WE fix this? How can WE stop this? How can WE get things to shift, to change?
I am doing my part. I’m working with some folks to promote activism and expression. I’m finding my own way to respectfully stand up and push back. I’m trying to make it so that it’s a little bit better for someone else. For everyone else. When I see young women who want a voice, I’m trying to help them find an appropriate platform. When I hear of young women who make good and brave and tough decisions, I try to acknowledge and recognize those choices and commend such bravery. Fine. Great. What else?
Well. I felt lost when considering that question and more so, the answer. I felt frustrated. I felt pigeon holed. I felt helpless. Then I realized that the only way out of this goopy, dark hole is love. Don’t you roll your eyes at me. It’s true. I can’t change anything she is going through. I fucking wish I could. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could lay down on tracks for her. I wish I had enough sway and all the right words. I wish that I was more likable so I could get the right people to heed me. I’m not. I can’t. But I can love. I can love harder and better and bigger. I can be the love that balances out the yuck.
So, here we are, a big ol’ sloppy pot of love. Are you ready for this? First you must set aside your preconceived notions and your jaded sensibilities and your hopelessness. There is too much of that already, so you have to tuck it away. For now. For just a moment. You have to take a deep breath and brace yourself for good stuff. Only the juicy, yummy, warm stuff.
This is my ode, to my people. This is my poem to the women who I adore. I love me some men, but THIS is not for you. Not right now.
This is for the mothers and the daughters. The business women and creative sorts. This is for the risk takers and the safety officers. This is for the team leads and the skillful collaborators. This is for the tall ones and short ones and thin ones and curvy ones. This is for women who love men, and women who love women, and women who love everyone and women who can only love themselves. This is for the women who have a big soapbox and then mostly, it’s for the women who have no voice at all.
I see you.
I respect you.
I commend you.
I love you.
The world is a dark and scary place. It is filled with light and joy and rainbows and it is also filled with hatred and intolerance and sexism and discrimination and fear and anger and all the darkness. I want to tell you that the good stuff is relentless, but sadly, that’s not often the case. It’s the murky, discomforting shit that stays floating on the surface. You will have to spend your life skimming it off the top. Your arms will get tired and you will get sunburned and you will lose faith, often. You will turn to your people and they will shout words of encouragement, and rub your sore arms, and tell you to keep going. Sometimes you will find yourself alone and it is in those moments where you will find yourself tested. You will have to dig very deep to find a place where you persevere for your people. You, your family, your friends, your children, your co-workers, your fellow women.
People will talk about how things are getting better and you will think this sentiment laughable. You will not understand how in the face of what you are dealing with, anyone could make such a statement. You will be aghast at the grandiosity of such a fib. Then maybe you will understand that some things have gotten better. There has been progress. Not enough has changed, but change has happened. You should not feel grateful for such things, but you should understand that without forward movement, we are standing still, and even a teeny baby step forward is indeed movement.
I will never ask you to be thankful or indebted to those who came before you and also suffered. I will just ask you to continue. To keep going. To rest and then try again. This is not about feminism. This is about human decency. This is about a place in the world. Your place in the world. Don’t give it up to someone else. It’s precious and it’s yours and yours alone.
Take a breath. Take a break. Take a step back. Get some rest. Try again. And again. And again.
Have a good and brave and restorative weekend.
xo
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 