I'm confused.
I'm confused about why men are not doing better. And by that, I mean doing better at being the best humans they can be.
I mean, I'm not confused by this deep and cyclical system of oppression woven into the fabric of society that continues to "put women in their place," and gaslights us into thinking that we're making shit up and being babies and crying wolf and -- basically insert any cliche about women making a big deal out of something that IS ABSOLUTELY A BIG DEAL.
I get that. That all makes sense to me. In light of the current political nightmare we're living in, dominated
by misogyny and the continued oppression of women, of women speaking up and out about injustices and sexual assault and systemic inequality and inequity, I guess what I'm actually confused about is why I continue to date. More accurately, TRY to date.
And I'm tired of being silent about trying to date and about feeling like I'm failing at it. About how very aware I am that this feeling of failure goes right back to the PATRIARCHY. That sometimes I'm even ashamed to admit that I want to find a great guy and fall in love. So this post is about how I got dumped again and was not treated with common human decency for what feels like the BILLIONTH time. How some guy withheld information that tipped the power dynamic of this new relationship -- a relationship that had barely just begun -- in his favor.
So yeah, instead of being silent about being dumped for the billionth time -- because I'm supposed to be embarrassed that I'm undesirable and gullible and didn't trust my gut and bought some asshole's lies -- here it is: I GOT DUMPED. AGAIN.
And while I know this guy is maybe not actually an asshole, and we were just getting to know each other, his behavior was unacceptable and the choices he made were poor ones. And yes, people are human and we all make mistakes. I'm all about the complexities and layers and multiple truths living in
each person that dictate the choices we make. It can be really hard to to make the right choices. I get it. But how about treating people with common decency and respect, EVEN THOUGH it can be hard? When it's hard is when
it counts. When it's hard is when it's the right thing to do. When it's hard
is what makes us stronger, makes us connect more deeply, helps us learn things about ourselves, and (gasp!) maybe even demonstrates that someone else is equally as important as you.
MEN: your ego is not more important than my ego.
And it is certainly not more important than my dignity and my right to
be treated with respect. DO
BETTER.
It's already tough being a 43-year old single, straight woman who has no aspirations of getting married
and having kids without adding the unacceptable dating protocol for men in 2017. Tracee Ellis Ross got it so right in her speech at the Glamour Women of the Year Summit last
week: "So here I am sorting out what MY LIFE looks like when it’s fully mine. It takes a certain bravery to do
that. It means risking being misunderstood, perceived as alone and
broken, having no one to focus on, fall into or hide behind, having to
be my own support and having to stretch and find family love and
connection outside of the traditional places." This could not be more real -- or more true -- for me.
And as this pertains to my dating life, I'm done being ok with mediocrity. I'm done being quiet about
my heart getting broken and the mistakes I make. I'm also done not
trusting my gut when I feel something's not quite right for fear that
I'll drive some man away. That MY LIFE and my fabulousness, which includes all of my
feelings and my beauty -- and yes even all of my flaws -- will come forth in full
force and I will not accept anything less than men who do better.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Thursday, April 6, 2017
I'm so over being pissed: The epic battle between empathy and anger
So, by now you know how I roll. Every few years I churn out a blog post. Apparently, 2017 is the year this time around. And yeah, not surprisingly, I have a few things to say about this new political reality this country is experiencing that I can't keep to myself. And also not surprisingly, I'm turning to you to share my thoughts, to hear yours, and to see where this might take us.
As you know, fellow Bad Jews, I consider myself to be a fairly open-minded, inclusive person. I've shared a lot about my perspective on traditional Judaism and making space for all forms of Jewish practice to be accepted as legit.
I'd also say my political views are pretty liberal. And yet I’ve always surrounded myself with people who think differently than me. In fact, I have many friends and loved ones in my life who do not share my perspectives on politics. So, I'm on board with empathy and listening to multiple narratives as ways to begin healing and, in some small way, closing the political divide that we Americans are so deeply entrenched in. Logically, my head gets it - and fundamentally, my soul does, too. It jives with my Bad Jew Nature.
But here’s the catch: It's not working. This effort I'm making to be less angry and more inquisitive; to be more open to hearing other perspectives so that I can work on compassion while also having my feelings is not working. Especially when those feelings are feelings of being bullied and scared; of being threatened and disrespected.
I still wake up crying angry tears most mornings. So of course it makes sense that it's not working. Because my heart is broken. And I'm struggling to make space for empathy. I feel betrayed and confused. Still now - all of these months later - it's just not changing or feeling any different.
And yet, I can't stop my quest - or my attempts - at seeking out others' truths that are not my truths with the intent to remember they are also human beings with feelings and stories. But holy shit. This new America we're living in is not my country. This place that is closing its doors to those seeking better lives for their families so they no longer have to live in fear or danger. This place that is dialing back the clock to a time when my reproductive health is public property and my choices about my body are no longer my own. And how we got here, to this new America, is so perplexing and complex that it’s blowing all of our minds.
Here’s another thing: it's really easy to be pissed. It's really easy to be angry. It's really easy to throw hate back at the hate I feel directed at me as a woman, as a granddaughter of immigrants, as a Jew, as a non-supporter of our new administration who feels bullied by every tweet and every mean statement that comes from this country's president. But I also know the easy way doesn’t feel authentic to me, which is super annoying at a time like this, when I wish I could just give into the hate.
A recent career transition brought me to this incredible organization, doing work in social change around the abortion conversation. For 15 years, Exhale has been working diligently to destigmatize and depolarize abortion by creating space for sharing personal abortion stories. Founder and Executive Director, Aspen Baker, calls this “pro-voice,” which she unpacks so beautifully in her book, “Pro-Voice: How to Keep Listening When the World Wants a Fight.” The concept and practice of how sitting in tension with one another around these personal narratives can change the abortion conversation and shape new political perspectives resonated deeply for me and, in a way, I feel like I’ve come home.
And this way of thinking is catching fire. I mean, other thought leaders are taking this approach, too. Take a look at the amazing work of Van Jones’ #LoveArmy. They’re seeking to create a different political reality through creating a culture of treating our opposition with love and kindness, by cutting out the name calling and looking through the empathy lens. Similarly, Arlie Russell Hochschild’s, “Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right,” provides us with a front row seat to her journey as a sociologist. Reaching deep into her personal empathy reserves, she has tough conversations and really listens to those who don't share her truths. And it’s not easy, but she articulates a narrative that reveals to us, as readers, that it’s possible to have compassion─even if we just don’t buy the story.
Yet here we are, those of us who believe in practicing pro-voice and are seeking to find empathy, wanting to be in the #LoveArmy, and wrestling with getting there. Even storytelling disrupters like Glynn Washington of the podcast, “Snap Judgement” have been very public about this struggle. A few weeks after the election, Glynn came over to Exhale’s headquarters and shared with the world through a Facebook Live session that he, too, is at a place where he’s questioning if he has it in him to empathize with those who voted for the new administration. If the guy who created a storytelling show to reveal multiple narratives as a way to tap into empathy and make us challenge the way we think is struggling with this, I feel pretty ok about struggling with it, too.
Does that mean my empathy button is broken? That the new America has rocked me off my foundational beliefs? No – I don’t think so. It means I have to work a little harder to get there and be compassionate with myself when I can’t. Because sometimes I just can’t. And that’s ok. Practicing some self-care around this battle has been tough, but here’s what I’ve learned these past few months:
• Breathe.
• Be patient with myself.
• It's ok to feel conflicted and angry.
• Pause to appreciate those feelings of compassion and empathy when they do appear so that I can recognize them more easily the next time they surface.
Because I believe in a next time.
As you know, fellow Bad Jews, I consider myself to be a fairly open-minded, inclusive person. I've shared a lot about my perspective on traditional Judaism and making space for all forms of Jewish practice to be accepted as legit.
I'd also say my political views are pretty liberal. And yet I’ve always surrounded myself with people who think differently than me. In fact, I have many friends and loved ones in my life who do not share my perspectives on politics. So, I'm on board with empathy and listening to multiple narratives as ways to begin healing and, in some small way, closing the political divide that we Americans are so deeply entrenched in. Logically, my head gets it - and fundamentally, my soul does, too. It jives with my Bad Jew Nature.
But here’s the catch: It's not working. This effort I'm making to be less angry and more inquisitive; to be more open to hearing other perspectives so that I can work on compassion while also having my feelings is not working. Especially when those feelings are feelings of being bullied and scared; of being threatened and disrespected.
I still wake up crying angry tears most mornings. So of course it makes sense that it's not working. Because my heart is broken. And I'm struggling to make space for empathy. I feel betrayed and confused. Still now - all of these months later - it's just not changing or feeling any different.
And yet, I can't stop my quest - or my attempts - at seeking out others' truths that are not my truths with the intent to remember they are also human beings with feelings and stories. But holy shit. This new America we're living in is not my country. This place that is closing its doors to those seeking better lives for their families so they no longer have to live in fear or danger. This place that is dialing back the clock to a time when my reproductive health is public property and my choices about my body are no longer my own. And how we got here, to this new America, is so perplexing and complex that it’s blowing all of our minds.
Here’s another thing: it's really easy to be pissed. It's really easy to be angry. It's really easy to throw hate back at the hate I feel directed at me as a woman, as a granddaughter of immigrants, as a Jew, as a non-supporter of our new administration who feels bullied by every tweet and every mean statement that comes from this country's president. But I also know the easy way doesn’t feel authentic to me, which is super annoying at a time like this, when I wish I could just give into the hate.
A recent career transition brought me to this incredible organization, doing work in social change around the abortion conversation. For 15 years, Exhale has been working diligently to destigmatize and depolarize abortion by creating space for sharing personal abortion stories. Founder and Executive Director, Aspen Baker, calls this “pro-voice,” which she unpacks so beautifully in her book, “Pro-Voice: How to Keep Listening When the World Wants a Fight.” The concept and practice of how sitting in tension with one another around these personal narratives can change the abortion conversation and shape new political perspectives resonated deeply for me and, in a way, I feel like I’ve come home.
And this way of thinking is catching fire. I mean, other thought leaders are taking this approach, too. Take a look at the amazing work of Van Jones’ #LoveArmy. They’re seeking to create a different political reality through creating a culture of treating our opposition with love and kindness, by cutting out the name calling and looking through the empathy lens. Similarly, Arlie Russell Hochschild’s, “Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right,” provides us with a front row seat to her journey as a sociologist. Reaching deep into her personal empathy reserves, she has tough conversations and really listens to those who don't share her truths. And it’s not easy, but she articulates a narrative that reveals to us, as readers, that it’s possible to have compassion─even if we just don’t buy the story.
Yet here we are, those of us who believe in practicing pro-voice and are seeking to find empathy, wanting to be in the #LoveArmy, and wrestling with getting there. Even storytelling disrupters like Glynn Washington of the podcast, “Snap Judgement” have been very public about this struggle. A few weeks after the election, Glynn came over to Exhale’s headquarters and shared with the world through a Facebook Live session that he, too, is at a place where he’s questioning if he has it in him to empathize with those who voted for the new administration. If the guy who created a storytelling show to reveal multiple narratives as a way to tap into empathy and make us challenge the way we think is struggling with this, I feel pretty ok about struggling with it, too.
Does that mean my empathy button is broken? That the new America has rocked me off my foundational beliefs? No – I don’t think so. It means I have to work a little harder to get there and be compassionate with myself when I can’t. Because sometimes I just can’t. And that’s ok. Practicing some self-care around this battle has been tough, but here’s what I’ve learned these past few months:
• Breathe.
• Be patient with myself.
• It's ok to feel conflicted and angry.
• Pause to appreciate those feelings of compassion and empathy when they do appear so that I can recognize them more easily the next time they surface.
Because I believe in a next time.
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