“Apologies” for the Past-- with a Conniving Twist

On my way to work two days ago, I was obviously reading the iPhone version of the New York Times that I had so brilliantly pre-loaded before my subway went underground. In the section that hosts the “Most Popular” articles, I touched the article on the top of the list. Turns out it was about Anita Hill, the woman who, in 1991, accused Supreme Court Justice-to-be Clarence Thomas of sexual harassment. She testified under oath that he had subjected her to comments of sexual and pornographic nature. Thomas still managed to receive the nomination to the United States’ highest court, but his ordeal with Hill has perhaps forever tainted the opinions many Americans hold toward him.

So in case you’ve been living under a rock for the past couple of days (I don’t think any of my readers are starfish or worms, but who knows...) let me inform you that Hill was back in the news because of another interesting situation. Apparently she arrived to work at Brandeis University one morning last week, only to find a voicemail waiting from Thomas’s wife, Virginia. Virginia had decided that one morning at 7:30am just 19 years after her husband’s battle against Hill would be a good time to call Hill to “make amends.” Hill, upset and concerned for obvious reasons, called campus police who later informed the FBI. But, like any girl would, she made the situation explode even further: she also called The New York Times to let them listen to the message.

“Good morning Anita Hill, it’s Ginni Thomas,” she said in the message. “I just wanted to reach across the airwaves and the years and ask you to consider something. I would love you to consider an apology sometime and some full explanation of why you did what you did with my husband.”

She went on to tell Thomas to “have a good day.”

If I were reading that out of context, I’d have assumed that Thomas were asking Hill to apologize for something that happened yesterday or maybe the day before, but not nineteen years ago. I also would have thought (rather, hoped) that someone married to someone as much in the spotlight as a Supreme Court Justice might have a little more tact and understanding in terms of which battles to pick and when.

As I went to bed that night watching the news, I realized that this situation wasn’t going to blow overly so quickly and that Virginia’s message is still reaching “across the airwaves.” Yet another newscaster was providing their commentary on the story. Now, let’s be honest. Virgina must have been able to predict that her message would have become public, and she certainly couldn’t have thought that Hill would have kept the instance private. She had to have known that this would become a rather large and well-known scandal in itself.

At least in my eyes, this is the classic scenario of not only girl-to-girl bullying, but also a pathetic cry for attention on the part of Virginia. (Likewise, we could probably argue that to some extent Hill was vying for attention by publicising the occurrence.) I would have hoped that women of their age could have matured enough to avoid not only such a public spectacle, but a public spectacle nineteen years after beginning.

But, here’s what it boils down to: sometimes apologies (or some semblance of an apology to some degree) come when you least expect it. Maybe both women were instigating their own drama, but the situation shows that people revisit the past when the timing seems unusual or random. No one knows what triggered this event, perhaps marital problems between the Thomas’s, but what matters is that the Hill-Thomas situation was revisited and, even though it involves two prominent women, they still managed to slide in a conniving and girly twist. Apparently I was wrong in thinking that women grow up. Figures.

Summing up my post: WHY I DON'T WANT TO RELY ON A MAN TO SUPPORT ME.

Kick-Ass Quote of the Month...

Comes from a woman who listened to the KQED interview Michelle Cove did this month about Seeking Happily Ever After, her new documentary about women getting married later in life. Her comment:

"Being single in your 30's or older simply means you have to WORK to CREATE your life. True, it's probably not for the weak, lazy or uninspired. I've always chosen to create my life than to fall into a cookie cutter plan society has mapped out for me. The result? Passion, purpose, growth and a lifestyle most people I know say they envy. I consider myself blessed to walk the 'road less traveled.'"

WHY I DON'T WANT TO RELY ON A MAN TO SUPPORT ME.

I’ve got a problem. I’ve become a feminist. I’ve never been a feminist before and, quite honestly, I’m not really sure what to make of it or how to deal with it. Before you go off thinking that I’m about to be burning my bra and protesting the male race, hear me out.

It recently occurred to me that I value my education, acquired skills and the mere fact that I have a job and an income. At this point in life there are very few things that are worth more to me than being able to support myself financially, pay my own bills and, as a result, not have to answer to anyone or anything besides myself. Maybe that’s being selfish, not feminist, but I personally still think it’s a little bit more feministy than I’ve ever been in the past.

I have to take a step back and wonder why this whole overarching “job” and “career” and “financial stability” concept is so important to me right now. Why this second? Why do I care?

First off, I realize that at some points during my educational career I worked hard for my grades. Sure, in college I slacked off plenty, but just being in college (physically) was work on its own-- both emotionally and academically. But moreso emotionally. (Hey, it’s tough to learn how to share a living space with conniving girls or to deal with that best friend whose idea of a good time is to get wasted and then destroy property!) Second, I realize that I’m goddamned lucky to have a job during these years that are so difficult financially for most Americans.

After considering these two things, I then think about so many girls my age whose only wish (whether or not they have yet fulfilled it) is to get married and have babies. Now, I’m not about to argue that either of those are bad things in themselves, but I will defend my opinion to the death that there is a proper time and place for these things to happen in our lives. Just as much as it wouldn’t have been appropriate to pop out a few kids in high school, it wouldn’t be the ideal time in my life now, either. I’m 23 and baby, I’ve got this decade to live without the hassel of raising my own family. I need to raise MYSELF before I can be responsible for anyone else. I just envision myself encouraging a child to make their bed or maintain a healthy diet when I don’t yet do it myself. Those alone provide an instant reminder that I’m not ready.

I also have decided that if I were, in theory, to just quit my job to get married and have kids, it would demonstrate a complete lack of ambition. Don’t get me wrong, I understand how challenging it is to raise a kid and maintain a household even without a job. As Oprah says, being a mom is the hardest job in the world. But if I were to marry someone in order to have kids right now for any other purpose other than for love, it would not only be not only unfair to the guy, but really unfair to myself. Why shouldn’t I be in a position to strive to improve upon or advance in my career? Do I really want to have to trust one person’s dealings at work to ensure my own monetary stability? Why should he have to do all of the work outside the house to support me when I have a perfectly worthy college degree?

All in all, it comes down to one thing: I don’t want to be lazy. I’d like to think that I have more personality, education and intelligence than to just give up my outside world to rely on some husband’s paychecks so I can clean toilets and do laundry all day. There is absolutely no reason for me to resign myself to a life at home watching soaps while the baby sleeps. It’s early enough in time that I can still prove myself as my own person out there in the working world while saving time in the future to both have a family and a career.

Besides, the workplace is often the best place for me to get story ideas. And we all know I wouldn’t get to maintain this blog, one of my favorite things to write, if I didn’t have interesting stories. I’d rather be writing from my Cloroxed cubicle than from a rocking chair as a baby spits up on me, thank you very much.

Sometimes a Girl Just Needs Her Space-- Her OWN Space!

Back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and our grandparents were getting engaged, it wasn’t acceptable to become too intimate with a boy before marriage. It definitely wasn’t socially acceptable to be canoodling or, worse-- engaging in sexual relations-- with anyone before the papers were signed and the deal sealed.

But living together? That had to have been than just worse than just intercourse itself. It’s like a blatant statement to the outside world that WE ARE HAVING SEX. Almost as bad as if the girl were to get pregnant. But maybe not quite. At least there wouldn’t be an illegitimate child to forever be holding a neon sign saying “I’m here because my parents made a mistake before they were married!” It might even have flashing lights and ringing bells.

Now we’re in the year 2010 and, as we all know, the public opinion and trends in terms of living together before marriage have both changed drastically. According to the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development, “just over 50% of first cohabitating couples ever get married.” In fact, they also write that “Cohabitation, once rare, is not the norm: The researchers found that more than half (54 percent) of all first marriages between 1990 and 1994 began with cohabitation.”

So, for the purposes of this post, and because I think it’s fair to believe that the numbers have surpassed 50% almost 20 years later, let’s say that, on the whole, more people than not cohabitate before marriage. Not that there’s a pressure to do so, but it’s more acceptable if it’s the choice a couple makes. And, believe me, most people are curious about what their partner is like to live with. Does he clip his toenails in a nausea-inducing manner in front of her? Does her dog destroy all underwear that she can get her paws on? Pair that curiosity with society’s acceptance towards living together and we’re certain to get more and more people trying it out before making any legal commitments. And we have.

What if, though, living together is what you both want to do, but, at the same time, it freaks you out a little? What if you feel smothered for space? Or what if you’re just worried about going to the bathroom with your lover on the other side of the door?

These all represent legitimate concerns, that’s for sure. It’s hard to adjust to living with someone new, especially if you’re sharing a bed, eating your meals together, using the same closet space etc. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a solution to these concerns.

OK-- not maybe-- there IS a solution! But you might judge me for it. Or simply say that if a person opts for this choice they’re just not yet ready to move in with the person they supposedly want to live with. (I, on the other hand, maintain the opinion that it’s good to stay independent, whether you’re living together, single, married, divorced, whatever.) What can you do? You can each maintain your own space.

What do I mean by this? I mean that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world for each person to have a part of the home that they could call their own. His space could be where he keeps his Little League trophies and action movies. Hers could be an escape where she keeps her bed dressed in fresh smelling sheets, covered with her childhood stuffed animals and bordered by bookshelves featuring her favorite chick-lit. What both places would have in common, though, would be that each would represent a place to take a time out, to take a break from communal living space. Because sometimes, a girl just wants to sit on the phone with her best friend and gossip, not worrying about her partner’s input. And we all know that tons of men rely on their video game time, but that most women don’t want to be involved in the . At least in my opinion, these diverse interests make for healthy relationships. After all, we can’t spend all of our time (or even a majority!) with those we love most.

Of course when I brought up this idea of separate bedrooms or individualized spaces with my friends, most were shocked or even horrified. Why would you move in with someone if you don’t want to share a bedroom? Isn’t that the point of moving in?

Yes, I’d argue that in general it is. But, that said, I’m not arguing that people who select this choice wouldn’t be sharing a bed on a nightly basis. I’m not even saying that they wouldn’t spend time in each other’s spaces. It’s just that sometimes being alone is the most rewarding and luxurious time of all. We all need it and that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And for couples just moving in together, of course living in such close proximity is an adjustment. So why not, like with most other things in life, start off slowly? You could then gradually combine your spaces and things over time.

I bet you can imagine some of the specific reasons why it might be beneficial to maintain separate spaces or even separate bedrooms. I found a great article, “8 Reasons Why Married Couples Should Have Separate Bedrooms,” and it’s certainly worth considering. See here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/270260/8_reasons_why_married_couples_should.html?cat=72. A couple of years ago, in 2007, the Huffington Post even called this concept of married couples having separate bedrooms “all the rage.” See here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2007/03/10/separate-bedrooms-for-mar_n_43118.html.

Life’s not a rush, nor is it a competition or comparison between people. Do what you need to do. But no need to be assuaged by the masses. After all, if we were to allow the American public to sway our decisions, we’d all be spending our lives eating McDonalds and watching NASCAR. Let’s face it, both are bad ideas. So maybe we can cohabitate in the not-traditionally American way, too. It really could benefit all of our relationships.

Significant Strangers

A few years ago the NYTimes ran an article about a group of commuters from Long Island. They had all been riding the same trains together roundtrip daily for over a decade, more or less because of similar work schedules and because they lived in close proximity of one another.

Every Friday afternoon on their trip home they'd celebrate. Celebrate making it through another week in their meaningless jobs, rejoice in the fact that they had dealt with their boss's vicious comments and outrageous demands for another five days. One girl would bring a bottle of wine, another would bring fresh bread from the hot baker she'd flirt with as she passed his store window daily. One of the business men assigned himself the weekly duty of picking up gourmet cheese, and his buddy would usually grab a six pack from the package store outside his office building.

But what was so unique about this gathering? None of them knew each other outside of their daily commutes-- they had all met after seeing each other regularly. Maybe they realized they were sitting next to the same people each morning or afternoon, or perhaps someone haphazardly spilled coffee on another person one day, prompting apologies and ultimately leading to a conversation. Who knows. The trajectory of events doesn't matter so much. They made friends with the people around them-- people who in the end they probably spent more time with each day than their own families.

I think about this sitation when I notice myself eye-raping that gorgeous man with the ultra-short brown hair on my subway ride each morning. Being the sicko that I can be, I've picked up on the fact that he gets on somewhere between three or four stops after me. I also know that he hops off the train one stop after me. I mean he must-- that's the train's final destination. Today though I got my hopes up and thought maybe, just maybe, he was getting off at my stop and I could happen to "bump into" him on my way above ground. Really he just stepped off to let a flood of people exit without having to maneuver around him. And that just made him that much more dreamy-- a guy with manners!

Now I'm not trying to imply a connection between the first part of this story and this man that I'm going to marry in about six years. (Yea, we're getting married and having three kids. Obviously.) Not at all. But what I am trying to say is how I'm starting to realize that these seemingly meaningless people that we see regularly maybe do mean something.

Take for example that disgusting couple who commutes together every single morning. They always wind up in my car. They're not disgusting because they're ugly or forgot to shower-- they're actually so lovey-dovey they probably already took two showers together this morning. Who knows, maybe it's out of some deeply repressed form of jealousy that I end up despising them, cringing at the very first sight of them at 7:43 each morning. Without without fail though, when I'm BBMing with S, she gets an abrupt message from me-- right in the middle of our morning conversation involving me coaxing her out of bed all the way from a million miles away-- that says "UGH, that gross commuting couple is here AGAIN."

Realistically, do I ever expect to approach Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome? Of course not. And am I ever going to tell that couple, the girl with her cutesy winter hats, the man with his rugged North Face backpack and scruffy facial hair, that on the surface I find them repulsive but I'm really hoping for happiness as simple one day in MY life? Again, of course not.

The story of the New York commuters represents a rarity-- something nice developing after years of potential misery on the Long Island Rail Road. The people I see daily-- well, they're not going to become my drinking buddies for 5pm on Friday nights anytime soon, but as weird as it is, after months these complete strangers have become fixtures in my morning routine.

Carrie Bradshaw once said that "It's romantic when someone offers me a seat on the subway." So for now it's important to notice the simple little gestures and then maybe in the future, if GOD FORBID I'm still doing this daily ten years down the line, the couple will do that couple-y thing, move to the suburbs and a new revolting pair will replace them. And I can do more than just intensely stare at my piece of eye candy. Hey, a girl can dream, right?



XOXO,
R.