We have a new person at work, who I will refer to as "NP" for purposes of this blog. NP has an infant. Today NP's boss, one of the highest-ups in the food chain where I work, blithely stated that NP would be assigned to work on an urgent assignment this weekend, without the slightest hint of prior consultation or consensus with NP. NP sat there with a shit-eating grin and did not protest. It sucks to be new.
Whoa, Nelly.
I thought to myself that if my boss had similarly committed me to work this weekend without consulting me, I would have said, "I have plans." Because I do. And I plan on having plans for the weekend for the next fifteen years or so years.
Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB) and I are getting closer to adopting a toddler-age sibling set through foster care. As we get closer, I am alternately excited and nauseated at the prospect of what our life will become as late-life parents to young kids. We're marking some major milestones as of late -- BMNB turned fifty last year; I will turn fifty next month; and we'll mark our tenth anniversary five days after my birthday. If all goes as planned, we'll be parents by the end of the summer.
All of this has brought about what I'd call a tectonic shift in my priorities.
It is now more important to me than ever to have my weekends free for the family I'm trying to build and the life I'm trying to create for them. I don't want to be told with little notice and no opportunity to refuse that my weekend will be yanked out from under me. That's one of the reasons why I hated litigation -- the lack of control over one's schedule. When BMNB and I got married, we agreed there could only be one trial attorney in the family, and since I didn't want to be the trial attorney, it worked out well.
It is also more important to me to create the kind of family life for my kids-to-be that my parents created for me. We always ate dinner together as a family, and my mom cooked almost seven days a week. McDonald's was a treat for us because we only went there once a month, if at all. We ate huge Sunday dinners as a family, so much so that we were spoiled. We got to the point where we kids were turning up our noses at roast beef, turkey and ham. I'd give my left arm for my mom's roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy right about now. Hell, I don't even know how to make gravy.
Unlike most women my age, I've never taken time off to raise children. I've never had a maternity leave. My one and only pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, brought on in part, IMHO, from stress doing -- you guessed it -- litigation.
I want more living and less working. I have the nerve to expect more of life at this stage in my life. I actually feel I deserve to be happy in my career and home life, and if I can't be happy in my career, well, two tears in a bucket; motherf*** it. It just doesn't matter as much to me anymore.
I'm not like BMNB. He's happier than a pig in you-know-what practicing the law he practices. He has more freedom than I do -- an alternate work schedule, the freedom to work from home, and no bosses looking over his shoulder. It works for him.
Me, not so much. And I know that I'm running out of time to figure out how I'm going to make this all work because, sooner or later, that urgent assignment will come in, it will be my turn, and I will be expected to work over the weekend. My refusal will be considered insubordination. I'm already wearing a target on my back at work (it's a long story -- let's just say I'm in someone's cross hairs); any misstep can and will be held against me.
How much time will I take off to get our kids acclimated? How much time can I afford to take off?
Do I quit altogether and see if we can make it one BMNB's salary alone, even with the debt we have? That I can even consider such an option is a blessing that most women don't have, and I don't take it lightly. Do I just jump into motherhood and a new mother-friendly career (ahem, blogging?) at the same time and let go of the possibility of a pension, 401(k) and health care benefits in old age? What will our social worker think?
While other women are contemplating leaning in, I just feel like collateral damage in the so-called "mommy wars." Working moms and working-at-home moms (I think the term "stay-at-home mom" doesn't fully capture all the work that the term entails) seem to still be working this motherhood and career conflict out on each other instead of together opening up a can of whupass on the labor market to better accommodate parenthood. I would have thought that by this stage of the game, all the things that women need to parent and stay in the work force would have been standard issue by now in America -- paid parental leave, a child care center or pre-school on every corner, common and accepted part-time and shared work situations. But they're not, and each woman contemplating motherhood is left in a feral state to try to patch together some semblance of work-life balance. Lean in? At this stage, I don't care to lean in. I'd rather lean back, hold my kids-to-be, and read every single Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein book to them without worry. It is no longer a priority of mine to impress my superiors at work and continually prove myself to people whose opinion of me, in the end, doesn't really matter. What really matters to me is to know what it is to love children of my own and to share that love with BMNB. Everything else pales in comparison.
And the irony of it all? NP's boss is constantly out of the office with her sick children and doesn't work weekends. How's that for leaning in?
I don't know how this will all turn out, but I'm excited about what the future holds for BMNB and me.
Stay tuned.
President Obama's Comment About Attorney General Kamala Harris: I'm Not Offended, and Ain't I A Woman?
President Obama lauds California Attorney General Kamala Harris by saying she's brilliant, tough, dedicated and "the best looking attorney general in the country."
One of the local news channels here, CBS 13, showed a video of interviews with women -- and a guy or two -- asking them whether President Obama's remarks were offensive to women. The women gave mixed responses.
None of the women were African-American, which pisses me the hell off because, as an African-American woman, I've got a way different perspective on this and I'm tired of white women being the voice of all women. In the words of Sojourner Truth, ain't I a woman?
My perspective is different because I saw President Obama's remarks not as a gendered commentary, but a raced-and-gendered commentary, if you will, and an inside joke between friends. I don't recall President Obama ever making a comment about the looks of a non-African-American female, which is why I, as an African-American woman, respect him -- because his choices in women affirm us African-American women. I know this sounds anything but feminist, but hear me out.
I am one of the few African-American women who served on the Harvard Law Review with the President long before he became president. We weren't buds and he couldn't pick me out of a lineup, but I have to admit -- I expected that he, like many African-American men poised to be successful and powerful, wouldn't even choose an African-American woman as a mate, much less revel in the beauty of African-American women.
Many African-American men like President Obama are told that, precisely because they are successful and powerful, they don't have to "limit" themselves to African-American women. One African-American male student I met while attending Princeton told me that men like him could "trade up" and didn't have to date African-American women. In fact, he even deigned to tell me in so many words that I was lucky he was paying me any attention.
When I see so many powerful and successful African-American men date outside our race, I have to admit -- although I believe love knows no color, I wonder whether they ever considered dating an African-American woman or whether they bought into the message about "trading up." When you see Tiger Woods' parade of women past and present, it's pretty clear that he does not find African-American women attractive.
So when the Leader of the Freakin' Free World not only habitually gushes about his African-American wife's beauty -- a beauty that has been repeatedly derided in the mainstream press -- and goes on to compliment the beauty of another intelligent and powerful African-American woman, I'm not offended. I'm affirmed, strangely enough. So much of what appears in the media about African-American women is negative in so many ways -- like pictures on the internet comparing the First Lady to a chimpanzee -- that I'm happy that the one man who could pretty much choose any woman in the world revels in the intelligence and beauty of African-American women. No offense, but I don't want white women's experiences to be the barometer of whether I should be offended. They don't experience the world as I do. Never have, never will.
I'm not offended, and ain't I a woman?
The President was wrong, though. Eric Holder is the best looking attorney general in the country.
One of the local news channels here, CBS 13, showed a video of interviews with women -- and a guy or two -- asking them whether President Obama's remarks were offensive to women. The women gave mixed responses.
None of the women were African-American, which pisses me the hell off because, as an African-American woman, I've got a way different perspective on this and I'm tired of white women being the voice of all women. In the words of Sojourner Truth, ain't I a woman?
My perspective is different because I saw President Obama's remarks not as a gendered commentary, but a raced-and-gendered commentary, if you will, and an inside joke between friends. I don't recall President Obama ever making a comment about the looks of a non-African-American female, which is why I, as an African-American woman, respect him -- because his choices in women affirm us African-American women. I know this sounds anything but feminist, but hear me out.
I am one of the few African-American women who served on the Harvard Law Review with the President long before he became president. We weren't buds and he couldn't pick me out of a lineup, but I have to admit -- I expected that he, like many African-American men poised to be successful and powerful, wouldn't even choose an African-American woman as a mate, much less revel in the beauty of African-American women.
Many African-American men like President Obama are told that, precisely because they are successful and powerful, they don't have to "limit" themselves to African-American women. One African-American male student I met while attending Princeton told me that men like him could "trade up" and didn't have to date African-American women. In fact, he even deigned to tell me in so many words that I was lucky he was paying me any attention.
When I see so many powerful and successful African-American men date outside our race, I have to admit -- although I believe love knows no color, I wonder whether they ever considered dating an African-American woman or whether they bought into the message about "trading up." When you see Tiger Woods' parade of women past and present, it's pretty clear that he does not find African-American women attractive.
So when the Leader of the Freakin' Free World not only habitually gushes about his African-American wife's beauty -- a beauty that has been repeatedly derided in the mainstream press -- and goes on to compliment the beauty of another intelligent and powerful African-American woman, I'm not offended. I'm affirmed, strangely enough. So much of what appears in the media about African-American women is negative in so many ways -- like pictures on the internet comparing the First Lady to a chimpanzee -- that I'm happy that the one man who could pretty much choose any woman in the world revels in the intelligence and beauty of African-American women. No offense, but I don't want white women's experiences to be the barometer of whether I should be offended. They don't experience the world as I do. Never have, never will.
I'm not offended, and ain't I a woman?
The President was wrong, though. Eric Holder is the best looking attorney general in the country.
Baby Boomers Are Asking Themselves, "What The Hell Am I Doing Here?"
I'm at the tail end of the Baby Boom and am ineligible for retirement under my retirement system. I've had to sit back and watch those at the head of the Baby Boom make the decision whether to continue working or retire. Sometimes that decision comes down to finances, sometimes it comes down to health. For those who have the finances to retire and the health to enjoy it, I am increasingly seeing them ask themselves this question about their workplace:
What the hell am I doing here?
From what I've observed, this question is triggered in older Baby Boomers when workplace conditions become more onerous (like a bad boss), the pay becomes less (like furloughs), or they see someone in their age cohort with the same number or fewer years of service retire. It's as if they see a proverbial clock of their lifespan on the wall inching toward midnight, and parts of their lives outside the workplace become a powerful counterweight against remaining in the workplace.
Like grandchildren. Or a retired spouse. Or an ailing parent. Or just longing to do something more meaningful.
I've mentioned before that I have two siblings who are retiring this year. One will have 40 years' worth of state civil service, the other over 30. One is planning on going back to school and becoming a travel agent. The other is weighing his options, I think.
I can't retire, but I, too, feel the tug of other countervailing considerations in my life. We all go through different life stages, and different things matter more to us at different stages of our lives. Whereas most people my age have children who are leaving or have left the nest, I'm preparing to begin parenthood. I now realize that I don't want to spend a boatload of time at the office. I don't want to be the "go-to" person. I don't want to bring work home and I don't want to discuss work at home when I have my family in place. I want to be able to come home in time to fix dinner and sit down with my family and eat. Yes, fix family dinners. Feminists fix dinner, too. I totally get the "What the hell am I doing here?" question that older Baby Boomers are asking themselves.
Once the "What the hell am I doing here?" question is asked by older Baby Boomers, their spirits demand an answer. I've seen older Baby Boomers start to do the math -- figuring out how much they will draw in retirement, how much they can live on, the amount of Social Security they will get at 62 versus 65, whether they can downsize their home or if they will be doing something else after retirement to supplement their incomes. When all the right factors align to give them the answer they want or can live with, they pull the retirement ripcord and parachute out of the workplace. I am in awe of each and every one of them, especially those who slogged through soul-sucking jobs for years on end. I'm in awe not because they retired, but because they had the courage to ask themselves, "What the hell am I doing here?".
Rock on, Baby Boomer retirees. Rock on.
What the hell am I doing here?
From what I've observed, this question is triggered in older Baby Boomers when workplace conditions become more onerous (like a bad boss), the pay becomes less (like furloughs), or they see someone in their age cohort with the same number or fewer years of service retire. It's as if they see a proverbial clock of their lifespan on the wall inching toward midnight, and parts of their lives outside the workplace become a powerful counterweight against remaining in the workplace.
Like grandchildren. Or a retired spouse. Or an ailing parent. Or just longing to do something more meaningful.
I've mentioned before that I have two siblings who are retiring this year. One will have 40 years' worth of state civil service, the other over 30. One is planning on going back to school and becoming a travel agent. The other is weighing his options, I think.
I can't retire, but I, too, feel the tug of other countervailing considerations in my life. We all go through different life stages, and different things matter more to us at different stages of our lives. Whereas most people my age have children who are leaving or have left the nest, I'm preparing to begin parenthood. I now realize that I don't want to spend a boatload of time at the office. I don't want to be the "go-to" person. I don't want to bring work home and I don't want to discuss work at home when I have my family in place. I want to be able to come home in time to fix dinner and sit down with my family and eat. Yes, fix family dinners. Feminists fix dinner, too. I totally get the "What the hell am I doing here?" question that older Baby Boomers are asking themselves.
Once the "What the hell am I doing here?" question is asked by older Baby Boomers, their spirits demand an answer. I've seen older Baby Boomers start to do the math -- figuring out how much they will draw in retirement, how much they can live on, the amount of Social Security they will get at 62 versus 65, whether they can downsize their home or if they will be doing something else after retirement to supplement their incomes. When all the right factors align to give them the answer they want or can live with, they pull the retirement ripcord and parachute out of the workplace. I am in awe of each and every one of them, especially those who slogged through soul-sucking jobs for years on end. I'm in awe not because they retired, but because they had the courage to ask themselves, "What the hell am I doing here?".
Rock on, Baby Boomer retirees. Rock on.
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