I can’t believe it’s been a year since I freaked out over International Women’s Day. I think that was last year. Things have felt interminably long lately, so I could be off base there. Last time I spewed fire and venom about IWD, it was reflecting on the women of Ukraine. I was feeling a little spicy. Well, news flash, I’m still feeling hot under the collar. It’s along the same lines, but also, different. I don’t know. I suppose I wish I could take things more in stride, but I can’t. I won’t.
Mostly, I know that if I stop caring the way that I do, I’ll stop caring the way that I do.
You feel me?
I had a situation at work this week. I’m not getting into it, because all the little bits and parts don’t really matter. It doesn’t matter who it involved or what really happened, outside of the one thing I want to share. The only thing that lit me on fire and is still a fucking thorn in my side on a Friday night.
First of all, let me share that I’ve been MIA because I’m working on a big piece of writing right now. Sometimes I can multitask, but this time? I can’t. I couldn’t. I won’t. Except, that this thing that happened pulled me out of my singular focus cave. I couldn’t stay vibing only in that zone. Not with what happened, and not in light of IWD.
Someone at work fucked up. They fucked up not because they are human and we all mistakes (we are, we do), but because they are careless. No, it’s worse than that. They don’t give a shit. Is that the same thing as careless? Maybe. Not sure. Anyway, there was a mistake made. Okay, cool. You know what I do when mistakes are made, by me or others? I try and fix them, immediately. I assess the damage. I attempt to mitigate. I calm people down. I review the events. I troubleshoot a viable solution for ensuring it doesn’t happen again. I rarely point fingers, unless it’s my own accountability, and I try not to stay stuck in the head space of who fucked up. It’s not productive. At all.
Anyway, this mistake was sort of a doozy. Less due to the damage it caused (it was mitigated fairly quickly in the greater scheme of things) and more because of the implications. The massive “I do not give a shit-ness” of it all.
I was discussing the situation with someone (yes, I know- annoyingly ambiguous and vague) to workshop a game plan and BAM. I arrived at a massive fuck you. I arrived in a space where the professional was made personal. Rather than using words like competence and approach and skillset and authority, we used words and phrases like get along and relationship cultivation.
We know I love a good relationship, right? Outside of genuinely loving bonds with other humans, I also hate not getting along with people. Ironically, my job in its purest form makes me into the sort of evil character that people love to dislike. That said, I still want to win the hearts and minds of everyone who isn’t already in the ‘go fuck yourself’ camp where I’m concerned. And even where those people are concerned, I want to walk them over to the ‘I know you’re shit, but that’s only work you and the you, you is fabulous’ plot of land.
I try not to be fake or phony in this endeavor. To the contrary, I try to be as authentic as possible. And so, I win some and I lose some.
But my aptitude in winning the affection of my co-workers was not at issue. This was not a personal squabble. This was not a snap judgment.
And yet, it became that. And yes, you know what I’m going to say: it became that because I’m a woman. It became that because the other people involved were women.
I didn’t have a true voice in this scenario. The second I raised the issue, there were questions lobbed at my that really were trying to get to the root of whether or not I care for this person.
Let me let you in on a little secret: it doesn’t fucking matter whether I like this person or not. Not even a little. There are people I have no great love for, but I will not hesitate for even a second before telling you that they are brilliant and hard-working, and meaningful contributors.
Vice versa. There are some humans that I truly enjoy being around who I wish were not my co-workers.
These facts have nothing to do with what happened.
And still, agenda, agenda, agenda.
I see a lot of memes and content that talk about or represent being proud of being bitchy or emotional or complicated or outspoken. I agree with all of the above. I think we can’t spend too much time worrying about the categories that people shove us into with brute force because of their sexist, backwards ideologies. It can hurt you, and it will, but I would spend as little time dwelling as possible.
That said, I want to be able to wholly separate those notions, as follows: I can be emotional and complicated and outspoken, and that doesn’t make me a loony female. But also, I can have moments where I am addressing a professional issue or situation and nothing I’m saying or doing should be attributed to my emotions.
When I say that someone doesn’t know what the fuck they are doing, that doesn’t mean that I don’t like them. It means that I think they do not know WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE DOING.
And yes, I’m going to say this is a load of sexist horseshit, because there is zero chance the same approach would have been used with a bunch of bros. Zero. Would never happen.
When a dude in my workplace complains about anything, I imagine for the most part, it’s addressed. And if someone thinks it’s bullshit and unworthy, it’s dismissed. But it is NOT degraded and demeaned and reduced to hurt feelings and a friendship gone awry.
Here is my question: how do we, as women (including those who identify), proudly own that our emotions are beautiful and real and should not provoke criticism, while also cultivating the understanding that not everything is about them?
It is 2023, and I’ve been in my industry for twenty years. Do you think I still need to explain that my concerns about a process or a person have nothing to do with their personality traits and everything to do with the fact that they are falling down on the job?
So yeah, International Women’s Day pisses me the fuck off. Every dumb as dirt corporation in this country and around the globe has created some contrived post about “its” women, and yet, still cannot figure out how to treat them like equal humans.
This leads to my grand finale. My coup de grâce. I’m boycotting IWD. I celebrate the women I know and love and admire every fucking day. But, I’m not signing on for a corporate day for women until they figure out how the fuck to treat us like our counterparts.
Let me know when that happens.
I’m waiting.
Impatiently.
X
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