I was asked to do this again, today, by a colleague. Someone that is highly respected in his profession. Someone who has a lot of experience that I don't have. And he asked me, wait...he told me....to ditz myself down. Why?
So that I don't lose my job.
What? You are kidding right? Those words bounce around in my cranium and push through the colorful neurons that make up my brain. They make my hearing so sensitive that my heart beats are banging so loudly that I feel dizzy.
The ugly truth is that he wasn't kidding. He was dead serious. I could tell by looking at his face. Our conversation didn't stop there. He had more suggestions for me. Recommendations on how a woman can stay alive in this shitty economy and job market. He elaborated. While you are dumbing yourself down, start laughing at the jokes that they tell about minorities. Laugh when they call female ex-employees "bitches" and "whores." Remember to keep it in perspective, he tells me. They pay your bills. Your mortage. Your insurance. They keep a lot of us alive financially.
"But, but, but" I muttered to him. Inside I am absolutely screaming. What about having a sense of pride in the workplace? How about extending that sense of pride to myself? That pride defines who I am and gives me perspective on the battles that I choose to fight. "Let them go" he says.
I can't let this shit go! I have been playing this game for far too long. The lines in the sands of my careers were drawn years ago. I can't stand by idley while sexism runs rampant in a workplace. I can't stand by while racism is the standard mode of operation. I can't stand by and watch as possible candidates for a position are judged, and determined, by the color of their skin and the type of sex organs they have.
That is fucking wrong.
But he reminds me; that is the way it is.
I thought about this all day. And now as I make dinner and think about how much wine I will need to swallow to make this craziness make sense in my head, I realize something.
He just may be right.
I think back to elementary school when I had to dumb myself down in front of the boys. I think of middle school when I was doing really well in Math but it was uncool to be the smartest girl in class. I turned myself off to something that I enjoyed doing. I willingly did it to myself. I did it again when I started dating. I didn't want to appear to be smarter than the guys I hung out with.
And it continued into my early adulthood, and, into my marriages. I ditzed myself into corners that I sometimes couldn't get out of. What is that they say? Old habits are hard to break? Maybe on some level I realized that this was the way of the world. That women, no matter how confident, smart, and, upwardly mobile they may be, will always be required to put a certain amount of ditz into their dialogues. Just enough ditz to get by. To take the eyes off them. To make it easier to work in relationships, office spaces and at the board room table. Just enough ditz to keep us under the radar.
I like this colleague. He seems nice enough. I believe that in his heart of hearts he was giving me, what he felt, was good advice. I can appreciate that.
He also recommended that I start talking about guns at work.
My head has been spinning since.