Vacillate

I need a shower.  Not to clean off the sweat and mud from the 7-mile trail run my racing comrades ambushed me with this morning, but to rinse from my soul the foul residue lingering from the venomous venting to a female colleague and friend I did yesterday; the simmering pot of unfairness in the workforce finally boiling over and scalding my ever-hopeful heart.  Like the hangover that follows an evening of raucous overindulgence, I woke up this morning, hurting in a shameful guilt, wondering how I could have let myself get so out of control with such selfish narcissism. 

I find myself swinging between the desire to fight tooth and nail for more, justified in the name of equality, and the will to exercise humility and gratitude for the privileged life I lead.  I have enough, do I really need more?  The uncharacteristic, deliberate and pointed lashing out I did while consciously avoiding all attempts to see the situation from any vantage point other than my own has embarrassed me.  My behavior reeked of disappointment in myself for my repeated failure to fight successfully for what I believe is my due.  Yet there is this feeling that I have so much more than others, I should be quiet, thankful and somehow content. My pain over yesterday’s outburst stems from this unbroken tension.

My faith tells me I should just continue to work hard and not worry about the rewards; I will be taken care of. The fighter in me says that if I don’t speak up for what is fair I’ll be viewed as a weak and ineffective advocate.  If I don’t stand up for myself, who will?  Will inaction or resignation send the message that the situation is fine the way it is?

I’ve been in this space before, attempting to balance letting it be with taking action.  When I find myself here, I often refer to Ken Follett’s “The Pillars of the Earth”. An epic novel set in feudal times, it’s the story of the building of a cathedral.  Follett’s Prior Philip says this when faced with a similar conundrum:  “Having faith in God did not mean sitting back and doing nothing.  It meant believing that you would find success if you did your best honestly and energetically.”

I’m fully aware that Pillars is a work of fiction built around spiritual beliefs that everyone does not share, but there is something in this statement that has a real world application for me and so aligns with my moral compass that I am cleaved to it. What it says to me is that we do have some obligation to help ourselves along; we don’t have to submit to the fates that surround us; we have voices because it’s presumed we’ll put them into service.  What is it my oldest son says?   “If you give me freedom of speech you need to expect that I will use it.”  Out of the mouths of babes; my babe, actually.  Can you feel my pride?

Venting the toxic thoughts in my head yesterday to a friend who creates a safe environment for that to happen is, in a way, me exercising a sort of kindness to myself.  Her sympathetic ear and validation gave me the courage to say out loud that the inequity and exclusion I am faced with in the workforce is real and hurtful to me explicitly.  I get to feel bad about it.  I get to make it personal. More than that, I don’t have to submit to this like a rug people continue to traipse over. We all need to accept that which we can’t change, but acknowledging it is unjust is far different than trying to make it okay by saying it doesn’t matter.

As ugly as it was, purging the hurt leaves me better equipped to see more clearly my next move. I’ll have the meeting the head of our D&I council requested after reading my e-mail on inclusion. I’ll be able to leave my personal pain at the door, and speak intelligently and emphatically on why this matters. I want to be solution-oriented even though I know the solution will not make a material difference in the time I have left in the workforce.  I’m slowly becoming resigned to this reality.  But it’s an injustice that sears. 

I recently devoured a blog post that challenged the readers to consider who they surround themselves with.  Are you spending time with people who push you to be a better person?  There was nothing I needed more this morning than a good, long, challenging run.  While I hadn’t planned it, I found myself pushing hard to stay in it.  It’s just good for my soul. 

When I sent the text of apology to the girlfriend who listened to yesterday’s rant, I was rewarded in her riposte with more validation of my feelings.  We are kindred in our pain, but she’s been doing something about hers.  She speaks up, out and often to make visible the injustices and exclusion in the workforce.  I admire her bravery.  She inspires me to stand next to her in this cause.  She makes me better.