Bitch Rant Rave

Ditzing myself down.

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.

Women over 50 like to have sex.

Yes.  I typed it.  I have put "it" out there.  If you are a mother of a daughter who is over 50, a daughter of a mother over 50 or a spouse/partner/friend of a woman over 50 and you don't like thinking about that 50 something woman in your life liking sex, read no further.

But if you are okay with it, read on.

I am over 50.  This year has marked quite a few "firsts" for me.  Some I don't mind talking about and some, quite frankly, are only my business.  But having said that, I will share that I experienced my first ever pedicure this past week.  I sat next to one of my dearest friends on the planet.  We talked, laughed and enjoyed each other while two very sweet 20 somethings painted our toes.  Our conversations varied.  We talked about our kids, our partners and spouses.  We talked about life, love and things that make us happy.  We shared these conversations with the lovely 20 somethings. 

But when we started talking about sex (yes, women over 50 like to talk about sex, too) the 20 somethings ears perked up.  They gazed at us in wonderment.  Their eyes glossed over as they asked us questions about relationships that we have with men.  My friend is happily married.  I am no longer.  My pedicurist told me that her mother, also over 50, has a boyfriend that she doesn't like.  We talked a little about that.  She relayed that the boyfriend was nice to her Mom, that he treated her well but that she just didn't understand why her Mom needed a boyfriend.

I was amazed that she was amazed.

I told her that I like being with my partner; that I like sleeping next to someone I care about and love.  But then I dropped the bombshell - I boldly stated that I like to have sex and that maybe her Mom does too.

I watched the color run from her cheeks.  

She thought about what I said and then replied "You know, you may be right. Maybe my Mom likes to have sex."

And maybe that is the whole reason she didn't like her Mom's boyfriend.  Somewhere deep in the back of her mind she had her Mom up on a virginal pedestal. 

I am going to enjoy my 50's.

 

 

Abuse of power on the Cain Train

Herman Cain is suspending his campaign.  I don't care what he calls it.  I am just glad he is gone from the political arena. 

I despise him.  And men like him.  I don't care what political persuasion they may be.  I don't care what color their skin is or how much money they make.  I despise men who get into positions of power and take advantage of women. 

I don't care if they cheat on their wives.  What goes on between two adults in an intimate relationship is no concern of mine.  I have always believed there are two sides to every story.

But I do give a shit about men who sexually harass their female employees.  Or, females they work with.  Or, females that they meet in the boardroom, the lunchroom or at conventions. 

Cain has been accused of sexually harassing, not one, but many women.  He fits the mold...the pattern.  Men like Cain do this because there are no consequences.  They do it because they can.  They are congratulated at happy hour, on the golf course, in the mensroom.  They are patted on the back and given raises because of their cocky attitudes and ability to freely womanize in and about the work place. They turn sexual harassment into a game.  A hunt.  They pick up their weapons and set their sites on a female form with relentless pursuit.  They are then surprised when the woman defends herself or files an action with the EEOC. 

The worst part about sexual harrassment in the workplace (there are so many things that reek about sexual harassment, but, for me, this is the worst) is the financial aspect of being sexually harassed.  That position of power is destructive to the woman who is being pursued.  The fear of retaliation, for saying "no", is overwhelming for a woman being harassed by her boss.  The harasser holds the woman hostage to her financial situation.  They are worse than drug dealers; they victimize and take advantage. No one should ever be forced into a situation where they have to even consider sleeping with someone they don't want to because they could lose their job.

Good bye Herman Cain.  Good riddance.  I hope your wife kicks your ass and you disappear from the public view. 

The ultimate feminist act...or not?

I have been following the Montana Fishburne story with much interest.  Not because I follow porn stories consistently, but, because I am interested in the relationship between the adult female porn star and feminism.  Before you get your panties, and thongs, all in a twist, know that I am writing about an ADULT's decision to enter the porn industry as a career choice.  And, what does this say about female porn stars' careers in relationship to the feminist notion?  I am not talking about children who are forced into illicit and illegal work against their wills. 

Montana has stated she has wanted to be a "sex kitten" since she was 16.  I question whether anyone really "knows" what they want at 16, let alone whether they want to be a porn star.  Who knows for sure?  For the sake of argument though, maybe Montana was sincere in her desire to play out sexual desires on the silver screen.  Or, maybe she was full of hormones and a silly notion became an obsession.  It is anyone's guess at 16.

But, now that she is over the age of consent, her decision to engage in sexual acts on film is generating much discussion about her reasons.  Is she doing it for the money?  Is she pissed off at her parents and has chosen to do this as a final my-childhood-was-miserable-and-I-want-my-parents-to-suffer act?

Or, maybe she just wants to.  And, maybe just wanting to do something that is regarded as taboo in our society is the ultimate feminist action.  A woman doing whatever she wants to do, when she wants to do it, and, get paid for it.  As long as she isn't being coerced into the industry, it is her decision.

The ultimate feminist act...or not?

No, you can't call yourself a feminist if you sleep your way to the top.

I realize many women do this.  And I am sure there are many men who do the same thing.  But this rant is particulary directed at women who call themselves feminists but work their asses off (literally) sleeping their way to the top.

I've got news for you.  You aren't a feminist.  You are an opportunist.  You use your sexual prowess and bad judgement to get what you want.  Your intelligence gets lost in the shuffle between the sheets, or on top of the desk, in your mad stampede to control your destiny or your man. 

You aren't just hurting yourself...I could really care less about what happens to you.  But you set the rest of us back several hundred years in the work place.  It is difficult for a woman to move ahead in the corporate environment.  Hell, it is difficult for women to move ahead in very few business environments.  But when you sleep your way to the top you put yourself, and the rest of us, between a rock and a hard spot.  Our abillity to be taken seriously, in the work place, is seriously undermined.  Instead of being seen as thoughtful participants in the harsh business world, we all just become boobs and vaginas.  Our credibility is lost.

...and, calling yourself a feminist drives a stake through the heart of feminism.  Too many women worldwide have worked way too hard for you to call yourself that.  You are an opportunist.  You are not a feminist.

Queen Bitch