Category Archives: women

The Season for Reminiscing

I guess it’s because of the holiday season that my mind is on food and who’s cooking.

It’s a puzzlement to me that I can only remember one meal that my mother cooked. I recall that the meal was very special even though there was no special occasion. She was just in the mood to cook something that we had never eaten before.

This was a rare treat that I longed to have repeated, but between her migraines, moods, and messy life, there was no time for simple necessities such as cooking. And further, she didn’t like to eat. Just toast and tea for breakfast, and if she decided to eat something in the evening it would be just a bit of food and more tea. With more than a little disdain for someone who she thought was eating too much, she would say, “We’re supposed to eat to live, not live to eat.”

Though my reminisces about my mother might seem harsh and unforgiving sometimes, I believe that the migraines, moods, and messiness of her life were the result of emotional and physical abuse, as well as a life that fell far short of her potential and ambitions.

From what she told me of her very early years, it is obvious to me that she had many gifts. As early as five years of age, when she first became a babysitter, she said that she understood that she was supposed to work hard, love, and have faith in God. I believe that she tried to do this.

Being an only child of sharecroppers “way back in the woods,” as she described where they lived, she had few interactions with other children. Her companions were animals found near where she lived. Instead of a dog like children usually have, she had a pig that she loved and was devastated when it was finally slaughtered for food.

During those early years, her only playmate as she referred to him, was a boy shunned and abused by other children because of the way he looked and his inability to speak normally. When others did not know what the little boy was trying to say, she would translate for him.

From what she told me, it seems that she had an innate sense for understanding both animals and humans and a natural empathy for those who were seen as outsiders or mistreated.

My mother had many virtues and attributes that one would only know by listening to her talk about her life. When I listened to her, I always got the sense that she thought that she was never loved enough.

During this holiday season, I want to think about her and be grateful that she was my mother. I hope that some of the goodness that was innate in her has been gifted to me.  

Invisible Leader

There was once a woman, in a land far away, who made a New Year’s resolution about how she wanted to best serve the organization for which she was given the privilege of being executive director.

While membership increase and satisfaction were always at the top of her mind, she wanted to move forward with intention on what some called leading-edge innovations. She wanted to play a role in helping the organization realize its potential.

When she was oriented to her position, it was made clear that she was not to think of herself as the leader representing the organization. She was staff in service to the board who represented the membership. Her role was to carry out the wishes of the board.

After being in the executive position for a while, it became clear to her that in addition to carrying out the directives of the board, she—in collaboration with volunteer members and the staff team—had an incredible opportunity to move the organization forward in ways that would meet members’ needs and be good for higher education.

On the occasions when she ventured beyond the boundaries of how the board envisioned her role, she was chastised and directed to pull back and stay within the bailiwick of what one in her position had always done. She was to keep the mechanics of the machine running smoothly.

These cautions and restrictions puzzled her because colleagues in similar roles were not only allowed visibility but encouraged and rewarded for exhibiting leadership. In her heart, she knew that those who hired her did so because they saw that she wanted to fly and had the determination and courage to test the power of the organization.

After moving forward and often standing up without permission, she eventually learned that in her position, if she wanted to survive, she had to shape-shift depending on the characteristics of the board as a whole and the agendas of specific members of the board.

When there were board leaders who had vision beyond merely maintaining the good standing of the organization, she knew that it was possible not only to claim the organization’s tag line, but to realize what it meant to be the leading voice for student affairs in higher education.

With these forward-thinking leaders, there were test flights into the unknown. Invariably, following such visionary leaders, however, there would be new leaders who thought they had a mandate to rein her in and ground her before there were future flights. They feared that there was too much change too fast.

 They thought that there were too many innovations, too many new partnerships outside of student affairs, too much attention to seeking grant support, and a need to be careful about positioning the organization in areas that other organizations had traditionally had a role.

Dismayed but not discouraged by these attitudes, she had faith that what, at times, seemed like the curse and most difficult part of her role was also the best and saving grace. Unlike many organizations with board members who had long tenure, members of her board rotated off in two-year cycles—except for the chair who, given their role as part of the executive committee, served for an additional year. She counted on leaders with whom she could work in partnership to help the organization move toward its highest potential.

In the end, it was not about being seen as a leader. It was about keeping those new year’s resolutions. Being the invisible leader worked just fine in this land far away.

Sensitivity

The sun is bright in a perfectly blue sky and the water aerobics class is in full swing. There are so many of us in the pool that we must keep checking to make sure we don’t kick someone. We all love this class with the music classics that give us the beat to help us move our bodies as if we’re young again.

Most of us just follow the instructor and try to keep up. I’m sure I’m not the only one who loves to hear the loud whoops and comments from one zany, fun-loving woman who makes an early morning class feel like an afternoon fiesta. She sometimes repeats what the instructor directs us to do as if she’s a microphone and sometimes she makes comments about what we love and what we dread doing as an exercise. She makes it fun and not work.

There must have been something in the air on this particular morning because a woman near me who seemed to enjoy the cheerleader on previous occasions said to me that she wished someone had tape for the mouth of our cheerleader. A short time later, another woman approached our cheerleader and said something to her about keeping it down. Then there was silence and it felt strange to be in the water going through our routines without our cheerleader.

Not long after the forced silence except for the music and instructions for the exercises, our zany cheerleader, apparently feeling admonished, made her way to the back of the pool. As she passed me, she said, “Some people don’t like the noise I make.” I said, “I love the noise you make!”

After she found a spot in the very back of the pool, I beckoned her to come back to her spot. She shook her head, no. The instructor who, like many of us enjoyed her cheerleading, asked her if she was all right. She nodded that she was. When I checked a few minutes later, she had left the pool.

I watched as a few people rallied around the woman who admonished the cheerleader, and I could see that she was explaining how minimal her comment was.

I felt sad for both women. As tough as women may be in making their bodies strong, as aggressive as they might be in their careers, and as in charge as they may be in their own household, there are not many who can allow what is considered a slight or admonishment to roll off like water.

Often onlookers of our shame and our reaction to feeling diminished will say that we’re “too sensitive.” Perhaps those of us deemed “too sensitive” are resigned to care too much about the connections between ourselves and others. For those who navigate the world immune to slights and prejudices, one wonders what the impact of this posture might have on their ability to empathize with those who are not immune to the judgments of others.

Rather than feel embarrassed about being described as too sensitive, one might feel sad for those who are not sensitive enough.

A Brief Period of Happiness

If I were to write a book about my parents, it would be about star-crossed lovers doomed to heartbreak and hardship. From what I’ve heard about their lives, they were misfits and all wrong for each other—yet there was something special between them. Over time, my parents—James and Lottie—seemed like stars crashing into one another, each time diminishing the other just a little more.   

It seems that they had a brief period of happiness living together. Mrs. Oma Lee Taylor owned the rooming house where my father rented a room to which he brought my mother not long after I was born. According to Mrs. Taylor, Lottie and James were as different as night and day, and probably should never have been together.

From what Mrs. Taylor could see, Lottie was a good Christian girl who got caught in James’ snare. Though James was a notorious womanizer, Mrs. Taylor said that after I was born, she saw a transformation in James. He took his responsibility as a father seriously and seemed to be living for something more than being with other women and his gang.

By my mother’s own account, she came to understand why James’ gang was so important to him, noting in her autobiography how James had told her “about how his father threw him outdoors and mistreated him and did not allow him to eat. His first stealing was stealing food.”

Lottie was a young mother estranged from her parents because she was having a baby outside of marriage. Though she didn’t allow James to visit her during her pregnancy, his guys kept tabs on her and he would show up wherever she went. When it was time to have the baby, the relatives Lottie was staying with called him.

He went to the hospital with her and followed as far as he could go. When she woke up after giving birth, he was at her side. He showed a tenderness that she had not experienced from anyone before, and he seemed genuinely enchanted by their baby girl. Beginning with the way James had protected her from afar during her pregnancy and his obvious love for their child, Lottie found herself falling deeply in love with the man she once hated.