I’ve been noticing stories about women lately knocking other women down in overt and covert ways. And I can’t help wondering, WTF. Isn’t it hard enough being a woman without getting clobbered by the sisters who should be lifting you up? Ladies, don’t we have enough on our plates already?
The stories have always been there; I know that. But they seem louder lately: a cacophony buzzing relentlessly in the background like audio feedback. Or, worse, like the theme song to a horror film turned down low enough that you can just hear it and feel the anxiety it’s supposed to produce.
The buzz I’m hearing is nothing like the warm, nurturing song of the cicadas I grew up with in the South; their songs rise and fall predictably, lull you into a happy state of nature-filled nostalgia. There is nothing happy or soothing about the buzz I’ve been noticing lately and it’s impossible to ignore.
Around the neighborhood, I hear stories. At work, I hear stories. I read stories in the news. I see it on social media. I see it at the f’ing grocery store. What it comes down to is this–we judge each other. We critique and criticize, sometimes out loud and sometimes only in our heads. But we all do it. I’m guilty of it in ways I’m sure I don’t even see.
Last year, when my youngest started school full time, I decided to rediscover my passions, find a part-time job, in a nutshell, put myself out there. And I’ve learned something that is so important I gotta share it. I have learned to have more empathy for women. Yes, even the twenty-three-year-old who interviewed me and asked if I was comfortable working with twenty-year-olds, cause, ya know, I’m so old.
Let’s face it, being a woman is hard. Beautiful, but hard.
So, you might catch me gossiping from time to time (working on that one). But I can’t say it enough. Let’s support the mamas (read: all women). Yep, all of them, in whatever endeavors they choose, wherever they are in life. All of them. Every day. Raise ’em up. Think about it. Just sayin’.