At a very young age I was keenly aware that I was “different” and also introverted; not by any visual depiction but by a strong inner sense. I believe that the introversion was more self-preservation borne out of my sense of “difference” and the desperate need to protect myself.
Navigating through public school was sometimes challenging, but I loved to learn and got lost in the work, staying quiet and not drawing attention to myself and everything remained right in my world. That was until I left elementary school and the familiar faces that accompanied me from kindergarten through sixth grade and stepped into this alternate reality that was Junior High, where my attendance was required for the next three years. Here, I observed various behaviors, cliques, and attention that I was not familiar with nor that I fit into. I went straight home after school every day so that I could babysit my younger siblings and get dinner on the table. No room for connections with my strange new entourage, no chance at any extracurricular activities. And I didn’t really give it any thought.
I clearly remember the first of many incidents that would introduce me to the cluster of pretty and popular girls that would prey on the weak and those they deemed “different”; different in how you looked, both in your physicality and/or fashion or how you acted. At that time I had nothing; transitioning from the awkwardness of puberty to whatever was going to occur, that was a crapshoot and uncomfortable enough, but clothes, forget about fashion. It was hand-me-downs, doing with little and not being able to do much about it so I let go of caring. As far as how I was; I didn’t go along with anyone for any reason and so I continued to do the one thing I knew how to do well. Hide.
I was in the girl’s locker room, changing into my gym uniform along with the rest of those scheduled for that class. Not yet comfortable with my body nor these unfamiliar faces, I kept my attention to the locker straight in front of me and really tried to get changed as quickly as possible, not engaging in anyone around me; head down, eyes fixed on the task. At some point, my attention was pulled out from in front of me to back behind me, on the other side of the room, where I heard cruel words and laughter being directed at someone. I turned cautiously to see if they were talking about me. I immediately saw a group of four very confident and pretty girls standing by the lockers, making fun of and gesturing towards someone else. As I followed their gaze, I lost sight of them and came upon their latest target; a new girl that I had not seen in the locker room before. A “different” girl because she was deemed by the group as not being attractive. Sigh.
She was sitting on the bench across the room from me, alone, and I watched silently as she hung her head, facing the locker, trying not to cry, helplessness, anguish, and hurt coloring her face. As the barbs and laughter continued, I felt all of her distress, her raging emotions and ached for her but was terrified for myself and remained silent, shamefully so, believing that if I dared to say anything in her defense, they would then “see” that I too was “different” and turn their ire on me, even though outwardly I presented no such vision.
This bullying and nasty behavior would continue in the locker room as well as out in the halls, classrooms, and lunchroom. They were relentless, but not only to her, but to others, the “misfits”, as I would come to see, and I secretly prayed for them every day, for strength, for perseverance, for anything that would help them all get by. Later on, I would come to know that she and I shared the same name, only my middle name of Frances was her last name and she spelled hers with an “i”. I wasn’t sure what to make of that but I knew it meant something.
Outworldly, she wore her difference while I wore mine inside, hiding in great fear and always protecting myself, but we both were paying a price for it; she was the more courageous one, I the coward. And there we both were in a fish tank full of piranhas, swarming from victim to victim with frenzied excitement. And because my mother could be quite caustic, derogatory, and mean, I now knew that there were a lot more of them out there and I better steer clear; both at home and now in school and I did.
From there I stayed pretty much alone and isolated until I made it to my sophomore year in High School. There I split my time between High School and Vocational School where I found my people; the Island of the misfit toys. And it was here where I did start to come out of hiding, socialize, not feeling as vulnerable because we were all different, coming from all different schools in the county, looking different, coming from all different backgrounds, all with different ways of looking at things, handling things. And it was this new diverse confidence that found its way over into connections with my fellow males in the public school, as well. I still remained a no-girl zone. No no!
There was no gossip, talk about who was dressing the best, looked the best, most popular, hanging out at the mall. We talked about art, music, (I was in band and orchestra), cars, how things worked, fishing, science, siblings, our teachers, baseball, football, each other, upcoming Regents exams, and of course, about girls. And here is where I proved most valuable; giving them the other perspective or just talking relationship stuff out with them. And because I would always keep their confidence, I developed very close and supportive relationships with my brothers and it was all good.
And so it was to be this way and continue into my work life until one day, in my early thirties when I became a Manager and my team was composed of all females. The game had now changed on two fronts; not only did I have to stand up for myself to my peers and the higher-ups, but I also had to stand up for my staff because they would be deemed a reflection of me. Urghhhh. Where do I begin? I’m not sure if I could trust them. Would they trust me enough to have my back while I was having theirs? Would they be honest with me and their peers? Would they all get along? Would I get along with them? Could I like them? Would they like me?
Always being one with food, I began where I was the most comfortable and held a Friday evening dinner at my home to close out the workweek, a few weeks in. I made it mandatory so that they all had to show up. We ordered take out and each found a place at the dining room table; there were ten of us. I wasn’t sure at first how this would go, but eating, talking, laughing, and calling each other out regarding events at the job filled the room, everything said with warmth and affection. It was so successful that it became a monthly event without mandatory attendance. And during those dinners, when there were really hard subjects we didn’t want or know how to talk about or venting that they needed to do, I learned how to talk about the most uncomfortable things, I listened to them and learned compassion, I answered all of their questions, even if I had to tell them I couldn’t answer that one, share with them confidential information because I felt they needed to know and I trusted them to keep it, and apologized to them when it was warranted. I found my voice as a leader, and they found their leader in me and those dinners came to be something we all cherished and talked about for many years to come.
As I graduated to other companies and higher positions, I would grow in my relationships with these women and others, some of whom have now been in my life for over twenty years and I now find that the scales have been tipped in the other direction. Though I cherish my very close and long relationships with my male counterparts, I am so thankful for all of my beautiful sisters who love and care about me; I could not see being in this world without any of them. On one of our girl’s weekend, I asked two of my “sisters” if they thought I was a good boss. And their response, “You were a tough boss, you expected us to do our jobs, but you were always honest and always fair”. I’ll take that.
Recently, I found myself in a corporate setting, rife with female piranhas, witnessing assassinations and carnage they were leaving behind while focusing on themselves. “Why have I been thrown back into this tank?” I kept asking myself.
I remember meeting with the Senior VP of HR and when asked how I was doing, I related to him how I found that the culture there was enabling female leaders to be more concerned about their upward trajectory path than making the right decisions for their staff and the business and it was truly disheartening and alarming. Sigh. He did welcome more detail, in which I wholly shared, but alas, most companies do not take stock in their little fish.
Yes, the piranhas are still in the workplace as well as the mall, at the reception desk, in the theater, at the supermarket, on the other end of the Help Desk line, everywhere. But I found that when I finally could stand up for myself, I could then stand up for others and they can sense that absence of fear.
Sushi anyone?
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