The Waiting List

In May 2011, the class that entered college when I started my current job graduated.  This class inspired change on our campus; from participating in protests and rallies to becoming student leaders in residence life, student government, and cultural clubs, they literally took over the campus and turned it into a positive, more diverse environment.  However, the beginning of their senior year was fraught with emotion: elation at making it to senior year when some of their cohort didn't, sadness at the thought of leaving the place they'd called home for four years, and worry over what their future held, especially in these tough economic times.  I had grown extremely close to this class over the past four years, so I attempted to help them through the transition from college to "The Real World".

Many of these optimistic "Generation Y"-ers wanted to do something that would make a difference in the world, much as they did in college.  As college students, they raised awareness about issues affecting people around the world, studied abroad learning about healthcare and education disparities, and spent their own money donating to enterprising women in developing countries.  They applied to jobs and internships through various non-profit organizations. Throughout this process, some of them expressed their concern about not finding something right after graduation.  Some of them watched as their peers got accepted into programs or internships or got jobs.  While they attempted to support each other as a group, individually their anxiety was mounting as graduation day grew closer.

A few of these students were placed on the waiting list for positions they had interviewed for.  I received this news from them along with a mixture of hope and disappointment.  My duty as a counselor was to remain positive and tell them that they were great and would be chosen for their coveted positions.  I also attempted to convince them that, in waiting, they could rest and spend time on leisure activities or on personal growth experiences.  Of course, as they waited, I also held my breath in a figurative sense.  These students were such amazing people who brought me joy just by their mere presence and could transform the atmosphere of any room they walked into.  One by one I received emails and text messages saying, "Ms. G, I got in!"  And my response was, "Well of course you did, what did you expect?"

The "waiting list" is one of those concepts that evokes a multitude of conflicting emotions - worry and anxiety, relief and hope.  It can cause self-doubt, have us wondering why we weren't chosen first, even lead to a lowering of our standards and expectations.  The process of waiting can also be an invaluable experience.  In waiting, we can rest, recuperate, and reflect on our past experiences and what we want to take with us as we move forward in our lives.  In waiting, we are growing in the safety of a cocoon that we know, even while that very cocoon might start to become uncomfortable as we grow and transform.

I have been waiting a while for certain things in my life.  At this point, I've been "chosen" to receive some of my desires, but I'm still waiting for some to be fulfilled.  In the process of waiting, I've learned that everything I want might not be what is best for me at this particular moment.  I've learned to let go of expectations that had nothing to do with my personal values and were more learned behavior.  I've learned to accept myself for who I am while holding on to the perseverance and resilience necessary to move forward in life.  Although I still wait for some of my heart's desires, I appreciate the lessons I'm learning in the process of waiting.

Recently, I spent time with someone who I had been dating on and off for a while.  We'd both been divorced and were guarded and cautious about committing to a relationship.  I told him that, despite our strong connection, I knew we were looking for different things out of life, and I shared that I desire marriage and children.  After having time to think, he told me that, although he never considered remarrying, my desire for a family is causing him to rethink his perspective.  Of course, the process of "rethinking" for him translates into a process of waiting for me, if I so choose to.  Much like my students, the idea of waiting brings me anxiety and hope - anxiety that I might be waiting for something that might never happen, and hope that somehow, it will.

Most recently, he and I took a walk on a beautiful pier, and as I felt the breeze and listened to the waves gently rocking against the docked boats, I said to him, "This is the life I want to live."  His response: "You're living it RIGHT NOW."  Those five words put waiting into perspective for me.  I'm actually NOT waiting, I'm LIVING.  And, as all living beings do, I am growing, learning, evolving, and maturing.  So, although I might think I'm on the waiting list, in reality, I'm right where I need to be at this very moment, and I choose to enjoy it.  This moment, RIGHT NOW, was worth the wait.

Acceptance

Over the past few months, something shifted inside of me.  I thought at first that I had stopped caring, that I had given up, or maybe I went back to the comfort of not allowing myself to feel.  Not to sound cliché, but I had fallen in love, been disappointed, and attempted to move on and heal.  I threw myself into work to the point of exhaustion and made plans for my future - alone.  

I will hit a milestone birthday in three months.  Since my birthday last year, I've thought of this milestone birthday every day.  I'm not kidding.  And sometimes, I've thought about what I'd hoped I would have by this time in my life.  A husband, children, a nice home in a suburb, a stable job that I enjoyed, no financial issues.  The only thing on that list I can say I have is the stable job, which I do enjoy, although on occasion I feel like getting in my car, driving away and never coming back to work.  I've had friends whose husbands or close friends throw birthday parties in honor of this milestone.  I can say with confidence that no one is going to throw me a birthday party.  My family and closest friends are spread out in different areas of the country, and it takes about a month of planning to meet up with my friends here for a simple dinner, much less planning a party.  I'm not asking for a party; my point is that I don't have what most of my friends have at this point in their lives - a family of my own.  Which I really thought I would have.

What I do have, though, are some things I'm not sure very many of my friends or family members possess.  I have the ability to decide for myself what my life will be like going forward.  I have the ability to change my job, my living situation and my geographical location pretty much on a whim.  I have had, over the course of the eleven years that I've been separated and divorced, plenty of opportunity to reflect and grow as an individual.  I have developed self-assurance, self-sufficiency, self-esteem, and self-confidence.  I have been given the opportunity to learn how to love myself.  I am still in that process, but I recognize self-love now, and I embrace it.  

I chose to open up two years ago after being closed off to love for almost ten years.  I was emotionally unavailable and aloof.  I did not develop relationships because I didn't want people to disappoint me the way my ex-husband had.  The process of opening up was painful, and I'm still experiencing it.  Over the past two years, I have felt deep pain, but I have also felt joy and peace.  I learned that I could not expect perfection from another human being, especially if I was not perfect myself.  I learned that I could not expect someone to constantly reassure me that he would always be there, especially since I wasn't a hundred percent there myself.  I learned that in life, we don't always get what we "deserve", which could be a good or bad thing.  What we are guaranteed is a lesson that we were created to learn to help us grow and move forward in the self-actualization process.

I learned one of the most important lessons of my life over the past two years.  I learned that I had to be more accepting of people.  However, in order to be accepting of others, I learned that I had to accept myself first.  No more beating myself up or expecting perfection of myself.  I learned to accept my flaws, to work on what I needed to change, to let go of what I could not change, and to be as kind to myself as I am to others.  Self-deprecating thoughts have been replaced with self-affirmation.  I set personal goals and achieve them.  I care more about my health and personal appearance, and have actually taken the steps to do the work needed to improve in these areas.  Most importantly, I realized that the only person I had to seek approval from was myself, and only in the sense that I understand that who I am right at this moment is who God created me to be.  Because He is perfect, I know that I am no mistake.  I am exactly who I was created to be right at this moment. If that's alright with God, then it's alright with me.

I learned that I hadn't given up, or closed myself off, or stopped caring.  I merely looked at myself for who I am, and said, "I accept you."  From there, I found the freedom to accept others, and this opened up my heart to love others like never before.  And there's nothing more beautiful on this earth than to love and be loved.  

What Is Trust?

Trust can be defined as"reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence"; "confident expectation of something; hope."  To place your trust in someone or something means to believe in that person or thing.  To believe means "to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so".  Trusting, hoping, and believing are not tangible; you cannot go to a store and buy trust.  You cannot manufacture hope or belief.  It's not possible.

If trust is not a tangible thing, where does it come from?  Whenever people are asked to name a quality they seek in the people they choose to partner with in life, one of the first responses most people give is "trust".  Why is trust so important?  How did something so immeasurable become so essential to our relationships?

I believe that I never really understood what trust was until my trust was betrayed.  I'm sure I've been disappointed by people in the past, but never really thought that I couldn't trust them anymore.  Betrayal, however, means I can never trust that person again.  At what point does disappointment become betrayal, breaking this sacred trust?  

I ask these questions because, as I continue my journey of self-discovery (which seems never-ending), I've come to realize that my definition of trust is never static.  In the past, my ability to trust has been based on my expectations - what I believed was right and true for me.  When I felt disappointed, hurt, or betrayed by someone, it's because that person didn't meet my expectations.  That person didn't do what I would have done.  In other words, that person is not me.

In my last post, I mentioned that my expectations were largely to blame for the failure of my relationships.  As soon as someone didn't meet my expectations, that relationship was irreparable for me.  I felt unsure and began to perceive the person as unreliable, therefore, unworthy of my trust.  That is a lot of pressure to put on someone.  Imagine starting a relationship telling someone: "You must prove yourself worthy of my trust."  That's arrogant, and borders on narcissistic.  But isn't that what we ask of others, when we "test" them in the various ways humans like to play games and manipulate each other?  

If trust means "confidence", "belief", "hope", and those things are intangible, how can people prove themselves worthy of trust?  How can people prove something that has no "absolute proof"?  

I continue to ask questions about trust, because it is an important concept to me, and because I know I do not have the answers.  However, there are some personal truths relating to the concept of trust that have begun to guide my life:

• God is my Creator.  He is the One I must trust, for He knows my beginning, my end, and everything in between.  
• People were not placed on this earth to meet my expectations. No one is required to prove him or herself to me. Anyone who comes into my life is there to teach me a life lesson, not to stroke my ego.  
• Speaking of ego, I need to remember that no one is me. I AM ME. No one else.  And therefore, I cannot ask someone to think or act like me.  Just one of me is more than enough for this world!
• I am certain that nothing is certain.  Someone in my life today could be gone tomorrow, by the mere fact that I do not hold the knowledge of what could happen tomorrow.
• My journey is mine, and for the time others are a part of it, I must accept who they are and where they are on their personal journey.
• Belief, hope, and confidence come through consistency.  I can only control my own consistency, no one else's.  Therefore, if I am consistent, others will begin to have confidence in me.  And I can only trust that what I put out into the universe will come back to me, even a hundredfold.
• Sometimes, trust holds fear's hand.  This happens because we were created to question, doubt, investigate, internalize knowledge and wisdom, and then decide to trust.  This is the moment when trust can drop fear's hand and walk on confidently.

As we walk through life, our experiences teach us who to trust, and for some of us that number dwindles with  time.  However, the most important thing is to remain open to who and what God has placed in your life in that moment, to let go of fear's hand, and to know that, above all, "Trust involves letting go and knowing God will catch you." (Dr. James Dobson)

You don't have to trust me, and you don't have to believe what I'm saying. That's what is so beautiful about this journey, called life, that we are all on.  It is our own.  

I Give Up! (aka That's IT! I'm breaking up with you, Mets!)

Maxim/Getty Images

I'm watching the New York Mets get hammered by the New York Yankees, and my heart is breaking.  I've loved the Mets since I was a kid.  I have five brothers, and I have fond memories of watching Mets games with them, playing wiffleball in the park, and of them trying to teach me how to play sports despite the fact that I was a girl and deathly afraid of getting hit in the face by a ball.

My love for the Mets grew when I was a teenager.  Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling were my darlings; I thought they were so dreamy.  The 1986 World Series was an amazing experience; the Mets really were "The Amazin's" that year.  My favorite song that year was: "We've got the teamwork, to make the dream work, let's go, LET'S GO METS!"  I'd listen to baseball games on the radio while doing homework, and I'd watch whenever it was on television.

Then the abuse began.  Little by little, the players I'd known were traded or moved into coaching positions, and I broke up with them for the first time when Daryl Strawberry was traded.  Don't ask me the details, and yes I know he loved him some drugs.  But for me, he was the embodiment of the Mets' magic.  Watching him play baseball drew me in and kept me riveted.  When he was gone, the magic was gone for me.

Many years passed, and I moved on.  But a few years ago, Jose Reyes came into my life.  He became my new Daryl Strawberry, Keith Hernandez, and Ron Darling all rolled into one.  He played with the "oomph" of Daryl, was a leader like Keith, and smooth as heck like Ron.  From about 2007 to 2009, watching the Mets was exciting and reminiscent of the 80's, and I was falling in love all over again.  Then, with injuries to leaders such as Reyes and Carlos Beltran in the 2009 season, the Mets started abusing me again.  I'll start off excited about baseball season, start watching for a bit, then the Mets break my heart and I stay away.  Today's one of those days.  The Mets were up 3-1 when I turned the game on in the 3rd inning, and they kept that lead until the 7th inning. I had some hope, but somehow I knew they would let me down.  Sure enough, the Yankees scored EIGHT (8) (ocho) runs in the bottom of the 7th, and the Mets lost 9-3.

I can't.  Every season when these huge losses happen, I tell myself I can't continue loving this team.  However, I know that I'll forget, and next season I'll be excited again, I'll be nostalgic for my childhood team, and I'll want to watch.  And as long as Jose Reyes is on the team (doesn't seem like it will be much longer), I'll feel compelled to watch.

My love affair with the Mets reminds me of romantic relationships.  We get into relationships hoping that this time, we'll win the championship.  We have expectations, rules, standards, and boundaries of this new person we are allowing into our lives.  Sometimes we overlook certain negative traits because, overall, this new person is bringing some "oomph" into our lives.  He (or she) brings the magic, like Daryl or Jose did for me.  But eventually, we start to see that this new person may not meet our expectations or standards.  He may not fit into the intended outcome for our lives.  When the relationship is drawing to a close, we may feel as if our hearts are being ripped out and stomped on.  At this moment, we tell ourselves "I won't put myself through that again."

Maybe I'm just talking about myself, so I'll write in the first person.  There have been a few men in my life who have walked in, completely stomped on my heart, walked out, and tried to walk back in.  After healing from heartbreak and learning whatever needed to be learned, I've allowed them back in.  People constantly tell me that I shouldn't, mainly because they're concerned that I'll get hurt again, and God bless them for caring so much about me.  However, I think that the reason I let people back into my life after they've hurt me is because I continually learn that my expectations were a huge part of the reason the relationship didn't work out.  Truthfully, I've broken up with most of the men I've dated because they did something I didn't like, or they didn't meet my expectations.  My desire to control the outcome of the relationship led me to break up with them, then I would cry because I missed them and felt hurt and heartbroken.  Now I see them as human beings, just like me, who aren't perfect and make mistakes.  Just because we didn't live happily ever after doesn't mean they were bad people.

When it comes to relationships, we're all dealing with past hurts - ALL of us.  In the past few years, I've come to understand that men are not intentionally hurting me.  They're just not meeting my expectations.  So maybe I need to give up those expectations and learn to enjoy each relationship for what it is teaching me about myself.

The past two years are a perfect example.  My most recent deliverer of "oomph" was my first boyfriend ever at the age of 12 (who also happens to love the Mets, by the way).  We reconnected two years ago and started dating.  It didn't work out as I'd hoped; he didn't meet my expectations, had his own issues, no one thought he deserved me, and I pushed him away repeatedly.  However, I've come to realize that, primarily because of how he's challenged me in our time together, I've grown personally, creatively, emotionally, and professionally in the past two years.  I've become a much better version of myself; more open to others, less judgmental, more loving, and more expressive of that love.  I even tell my mother I love her when I see her, which is not a part of our upbringing.  So, could it be that this person played a role in my growth without meeting a single expectation of mine? "Amazin'"-ly, yes.

Right now, the Mets have broken my heart.  But I'll be nostalgic for the "Amazin's" again eventually, even if they're not so "Amazin'".

Resistance Is Futile (Get Comfortable with Change!)

By Hugh MacLeod

About two weeks ago, I bought a new laptop.  My old laptop has been hangin' tough with me for almost eight years.  It never crashed, I never lost anything I'd written, it never got a crazy virus that wiped out my hard drive, nothing.  Granted, I am pretty careful about downloading and I barely used it for more than online surfing and creating documents, but in eight years, I cannot say I'd had any major problems with it.

But I needed a new laptop.  The old one just didn't have enough memory to even watch a video.  I couldn't download new programs or update my old ones.  I asked my nephew, who is about to graduate with a master's degree in computer science, to take a look at it and help me pick out a new laptop.  He said, simply, that my old laptop just didn't have enough memory.  It wasn't that I had put so much stuff on it that slowed it down, it just wasn't capable of giving me what I needed at this time.

I gave in, and bought a new laptop.  I'm using it right now.  But this laptop...well, although my nephew assured me it was a pretty good laptop, and all of the reviews were positive, so many people who had previously bought this brand did not like it at all.  People told me stories of how quickly the battery dies, how hot the laptop gets, how it crashed within a short time after they purchased it.  There were so many opinions about this laptop that, every time I turn it on or use it for more than an hour, I get a little anxious.  I haven't truly enjoyed my new laptop.  I keep wondering when it's going to "go" on me, or what will happen if I download iTunes, or if I'm not understanding how to use it, and will it break because I don't completely understand it yet.

The new laptop doesn't have any of my pictures, my music, or the books I've started to write.  It doesn't know anything about me.  Sometimes I have to go back to the old laptop to retrieve information.  It requires effort to plug it in, turn it on, and wait for it to start up to get what I need from it.  The new one and I are still getting to know each other, but the old one knows me, and I understand it.  But I just can't get what I need from it anymore.  Times have changed, technology has evolved, and I must change and evolve as well.

In life, as in technology, we must change; we must evolve.  In order to progress as individuals in our personal or professional lives, we have to be open to new people, ideas, circumstances, feelings, and mindsets.  Sometimes the job you've had for a long time has provided you with comfort, stability, and a good paycheck, but it's not helping you grow as a professional or providing intellectual challenges.  Sometimes the people who have been in your life the longest are easy to keep around because you know them, but they are not willing to support you, or don't listen to you, or they don't want to change or grow, much less deal with you if you're trying to change or grow.  Sometimes the thought patterns you've carried throughout your life are comfortable, but there's always an out of place thought that pops up, telling you that this isn't working, there must be something else, something more.

It's easy to remain in our comfort zones.  It's hard when people don't understand our desire to grow and to move in a different direction. It's frightening when we think we have to start all over again, that if we start a new relationship, we have to create all new memories, or if we start a new job and it doesn't work out, we've lost professional or financial stability.  We hold ourselves back when we continue to live with the fear that what's ahead of us will not work out.  But if we could understand that change is inevitable and will help us grow, we would embrace the new while appreciating the old that carried us through to our present point.  Resistance is futile.  Fighting change is like swimming against the tide, or trying to walk up the left side of a crowded New York City subway staircase.  All it does is keep you in the same place, like a hamster in a wheel, running but going nowhere.  Futile. 

This new laptop is pretty cool.  I will enjoy it for the time that I have it, and if and when I need a new one, I believe that God will make a way for me to get it, just as He made a way for me to get this one, just in time for me to start a new adventure - a doctoral program.  That's pretty much how the universe works, isn't it?

Oops, I Did It Again!

Over the past weekend, I attended the Heal a Woman to Heal a Nation conference in Baltimore, MD for the second year in a row.  This time, I brought a group of young women from the women's leadership group I advise.  During last year's conference, the keynote speaker talked about securing our own oxygen masks before assisting others.  I promptly came home from the conference and wrote a blog post about how much that concept resonated with me and how I was going to make some changes so that I could be more effective as a counselor, beginning with learning how to care for myself. (You can read that blog post here.)

A year has passed, and in that time, I have accomplished some things that indicate that I am moving forward in my life.  I began to write more, which is not a hobby, but as much a necessity for me as breathing.  I took some time off from ministry, which had become more like something I had to do than something I got to do.  I moved, and in the process of moving I purged things from my past that no longer had any place in my life.  I stopped trying to hold on to a relationship where we were obviously both on different pages.  I helped plan a successful women's leadership conference for the third year in a row, this time with Michelle Obama's former chief of staff as our keynote speaker.  I attended a leadership institute for directors and aspiring directors of college opportunity programs.  I applied for a doctoral program and was accepted.  Just in the past week, I helped plan activities for two groups of high school students who came to visit our college on the same day.  I also completed the arrangements for the trip to Baltimore with eleven young women from the leadership group.  All of this planning occurred in the midst of my regular job duties and my plans for implementing a new student initiative.  Moving forward.  Full steam ahead.

If you're reading this, I would expect that you would be tired by now.  Or have a headache.  Or you might be thinking about all of the things you have gotten done, or need to do.  It's okay!  I have a paradigm shift for you!

First, let me acknowledge that I'm not sure I ever kept the promises I made to myself to take care of myself before trying to take care of others.  Okay, I know I didn't.  I know this because in the past year, in the midst of accomplishing so much, I cried so much.  It was never more evident than two weeks ago, when I found out I'd been accepted to a Ph.D. program in Higher Education.  I was so happy on the day I found out, then two days later, I freaked out.  I thought about how close I am to achieving this dream I've had my whole life, and how at this point in my life I thought I would have had a husband and children, and going back to school would be the icing on the cake.  In reality, I was feeling like school was going to be the cake, and might keep me from having the family I want more than anything.  Freaking out. 

As I was sitting in the workshops and listening to the panel discussion at the Heal a Woman to Heal a Nation conference, every once in awhile tears would well up in my eyes.  Every time the tears came, I stopped to ask why they were there.  And every time the answer was the same: I had done it again.  I had put everything and everyone before myself.  I had adopted the fighter's stance once again, striving to hold on to everything I had worked so hard for.

During one of those high school visits I mentioned above, I gave an impromptu testimony of my life to local high school students.  I talked about how my family lived in a shack in Puerto Rico, and my mother had never been allowed to go to school, so she couldn't read or write.  I recalled being in the first grade, walking to my home in the housing projects in Brooklyn thinking, "I am going to do well in school because I don't want to live in the projects for the rest of my life."  I knew that I had to be the best and that I had to work harder than anyone I knew in order to succeed.  I told the students that my parents were on welfare and disability, that I could not even afford college, but that I made it, and that I am starting a doctoral program in the fall.  They applauded.  Applauded.  All the while, I was thinking, "This is for them. This is so that they know they can make it too."  All of my accomplishments, especially those of the past year, have been applauded by others. Two things came out of that testimony for me: I fight because I grew up thinking I had to, and I don't do it for me, I do it for others to know that nothing is impossible.  But all of my accomplishments, while moving me forward professionally and personally, haven't brought me happiness.

Then I heard the words I needed to hear at the conference.  Right before lunch, a short documentary about successful African-American relationships called "Black Love Lives" was screened.  Although I didn't have the opportunity to watch the entire documentary, I heard a phrase from the film repeated several times by the visionary director of Heal a Woman to Heal a Nation, Inc.:  "Before you find your soulmate, you must find your own soul." 

In the last six words of that phrase, I had found the cause of my discontent.  I need to find my own soul.  Not my purpose; my purpose gets lived out every day.  Not my spirit; my spirit has been revived and shines brightly in me as a reflection of my relationship with God.  Not my heart; my heart has been opened up and I've learned to genuinely, unconditionally love others.  My soul has been lost.  My soul is that place within me that is only mine.  The place where only one or two others speak the same language.  The place where I celebrate myself, and know that I am not my accomplishments.  I'm not my failures.  I'm just me. 

Last fall, when I made the decision to cut back on ministry, I automatically looked for something to take its place.  I looked at the books I'd started to write but hadn't finished.  I asked my writer friend for advice, because I wasn't sure that I even wanted to go back to those books I'd started.  He said that I needed to do nothing for awhile so that I could hear from my soul.  I asked him, "Do you mean my spirit?  Because I hear from God all the time in my spirit."  He said something to the effect of, "No. Your soul. Your spirit is where God speaks to you.  Your soul is where you speak to yourself."

Here's the paradigm shift: I propose that we are not our accomplishments, though they make us feel better about ourselves.  We are not even our purpose, although that is how we are used by God to impact others.  I propose that we stop to listen to our own souls, because if we don't, we are ignoring the very place God created for us to become our authentic selves; the true place of happiness.

So I ask myself now, "When will I commit to finding my own soul?"  Because as long as I don't, I will strive and fight for everything I have and everything that I want.  And I will cry, because the tears are my soul's message to me that it longs to be found.

And Ain't I A Feminist?

Let me begin with a disclaimer.  I don't claim to know anything about feminist theory.  However, it's starting to feel like I'd better learn.

It all began with a few incidents.  A few months ago, I'd heard that a male student was talking about me, and among the negative things he said, he mentioned that I was a "feminist".  Of course, no one would tell me the worst things he said, but the underlying idea was that calling me a feminist was a really, really bad thing.

Then one morning a colleague mentioned that, regardless of her planning ahead and packing the night before, his wife will repack her bags the morning of a trip.  I responded that he just needs to accept that women will plan, but think about what they might need or forgot throughout the night, so they need to repack in the morning.  He said, "Wait, I thought you said you were all for gender equality and no gender roles and all that."  I asked, "When did I ever say that?"  He didn't know; he just assumed that was how I thought because I'm the advisor for the women's leadership group on campus.

Then, just a few weeks ago, I got a phone call from someone who claims to love me.  He called me a nickname, which I asked him to repeat because it was a new one.  I remarked that people are always giving me nicknames, and he flippantly asked, "What about bitch?"  I replied, "No one calls me that", to which he responded, "Not to your face."

All of those incidents, especially the last one, kept replaying in my mind.  All night in my sleep, I could literally hear him calling me "Bitch" (Bitch...Bitch...Bitch).  (Okay, sometimes I think my life is a television show.) Granted, my friend's humor is usually pretty crude and tasteless, but I don't allow anyone to call me that word, even as a joke.  I just can't comprehend how any man who says he loves a woman would call her anything with such a negative connotation.  We could debate the word bitch, and how some women have redefined it to mean something positive, but this is my blog, and for me, it's completely unacceptable.

I recall an incident years ago with a male student who worked for me.  We were discussing something I was knowledgeable about, and I spoke with confidence in my knowledge on the subject.  He asked me why I was becoming so aggressive.  I never raised my voice, but I wasn't tentative and I wasn't giggling or smiling as I spoke.  (If you know me, you know I'm prone to laughing and smiling A LOT.)  I told him I wasn't being aggressive, I was just stating my opinion, and he continued to accuse me of being aggressive and getting angry.  Nothing about my tone or affect changed; but his face was turning red and he was obviously offended.  By my confidence, knowledge, and serious demeanor.  Hmmm.

I have been described as a strong, assertive woman. I wasn't always that way, but I've always been fascinated with learning, and as I grew older I gained the ability to learn quickly and apply whatever I learned successfully.  With knowledge and experience, I have become the kind of woman I never really knew I could be when I was a child.  Why wouldn't I be confident?  After working so hard all of my life to achieve many of my goals, why wouldn't I be strong?  After dealing with the adversity that comes with the territory of being a Puerto Rican woman, growing up in the projects of New York City, subsisting on food stamps and getting the ugly eyeglasses that Medicaid paid for, why wouldn't I become assertive enough to go out and get what I want?

I struggle with calling myself a feminist because of the negative stereotypes that have come along with the term.  However, I find myself reaching for whatever feminism means, because I've been feeling slapped in the face by sexism and chauvinistic assumptions about who I am, what I think, and what I'm supposed to accept. If a feminist is someone who is confident, I'm a feminist.  If a feminist is someone who believes she should have the right to be called what she wants to be called, then I'm a feminist.  If a feminist is someone whose life has given her no option but to be strong, then I'm a feminist.  If a feminist is someone who is proud of her achievements, then I'm a feminist.  If a feminist is someone who doesn't wait for anyone to give her anything, but goes out and gets it for herself, then damn it, I'm a feminist.

Sojourner Truth, the black abolitionist and women's rights activist, in her 1851 address at the Ohio Women's Rights Convention, said,
 
"That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?"

Then she stated,

"If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them."

I truly believe that my purpose is that which I was created to do on this earth, though I assist my Creator in designing how I carry it out.  I believe that my purpose is to empower myself and those who come behind me to turn this world upside down and get it right side up again.  As I watch the young women I work with burn with the passion and the compassion to change the world, I ask myself the very thing I am accused of being. "Am I a feminist?"

Well, ain't I?


*"Ain't I A Woman?" address by Sojourner Truth to the Ohio Women's Rights Convention borrowed from the Modern History Sourcebook of Fordham University. http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/mod/sojtruth-woman.html