Hi Friends,
I took my son to his friend's birthday party the other day. They played musical chairs and when each child was out they were told to come to me to get a piece of candy. All the girls who came over to the bowl which I was holding asked if they could have two pieces. None of the boys did. The boys simply assumed they were only allowed one. The girls however, wanted two so they asked for it. I was so struck by their confidence. To them it wasn't about being bold, it was simply about asking for what they wanted. It wasn't about the fear of being rejected or being told no or being cheeky or being smart. They simply saw candy and felt one piece wasn't enough so they asked for more. It made me think, at what point in our lives do we as women stop asking for what we want? At what point do we stop being who we are?
When I was a little girl, I was known as a Chatty Cathy. In fact, that's what was often written in my early report cards--"...she's an inquisitive girl who loves to learn, although she is a bit of a chatterbox." So it was good that I was inquisitive, bad because I wanted to talk about it. My mother would often tell me that I shouldn't be loud or ask too many questions. I shouldn't be argumentative or "too bold." Perhaps she was afraid that I would get a reputation for being "difficult" and then nobody would marry me. Because no one likes a girl who is bold, argumentative and difficult.
I think deep down, my parents have always admired and respected those qualities that they said were not socially acceptable. Even as a child when on one occasion I shouted away some bullies who were picking on my big brother (my brother however, wasn't too pleased with me), I could see the pride in my mother's eyes. My mother raised me to be independent and strong in every way. She taught me to go after everything I wanted. I watched her build two businesses of her own while managing another multimillion dollar business for someone else. I watched her go out and get clients, close sales, and collect cheques. I watched her deal with receptionists and secretaries who looked down on her because she chose, on occasion, because she felt like it, to wear her traditional Punjabi outfits, only for them to realise she was there to see not their boss but their boss's boss. She had and has a spine of steel. So it would only make sense that, as my primary example of how a woman is, I would be like her even though I still have a long way to go.
Yet despite my mother's strength, she would tell me the world isn't always kind. It doesn't always see or respect us for who we are. Sometimes we have to play a game where the rules are designed and implemented by others. And if we want to succeed in life, those rules and games have to be followed. That didn't sit well with me.
I have always been one to ask for a rational explanation to things I don't understand. Things like being judged for the colour of my skin, my gender, even my position in a company. However, as women, being someone who questions things isn't always celebrated. Being honest about our views on things isn't always welcomed. Even an elite athlete like Naomi Osaka faced criticism when openly stating her needs in respect to her mental health--being called "narcissistic" and a "spoiled brat" for protecting her health and well-being. It's as Jessi Gold, M.D. M.S., assistant professor in the department of psychiatry at Washington University in St. Louis writes, "we exist in a culture, especially as women, that prizes putting other people's needs before our own."
It isn't easy being ourselves. Whether in our personal lives or professional ones, we often feel we have to tweak, temper, or change who we are to fit into a pre-fabricated box. I have often felt that I don't, nor have I ever, fit into any box. At times I thought I had to "fix" what I thought was wrong with me. When relationships failed, I thought it was solely my fault, or I was just "too much". In my past work life, I had to "toe the line" even though at times I felt that line fundamentally conflicted with what was healthy for me. I felt what a strange existence we live in when an adult is expected to feel as though her objections and concerns were not worthy of being considered and respected without fear of that being held against her.
I