My day job is at a financial firm. It's quite old-school, socially. The majority of high-level employees are white males. The entirety of the admin staff is female. However, there is a ray of hope...
I sit near two young analysts. One of them is putting together a recruitment dinner. He's insisting on having a female analyst join them. He's been reaching out to literally every woman on his team. For one reason or another, none of the women can join, but it's really great to hear this finance bro really making a concerted, deliberate effort to put together a diverse group. It gives me hope for the future.
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I got a glittery teal eyeliner pencil this weekend. I wore a pretty heavy helping of it on Monday, which happened to be my boyfriend's birthday. While taking off my makeup at night, I realized he hadn't said anything about it. He really likes teal, so I thought he might actually notice. I wandered out of the bathroom and asked him if he realized that my eyeliner was a different color than usual. After an entire evening spending time together, he hadn't. So I turned to his roommate, with whom we had hung out for a while, and asked him if he noticed. His response: "Eyeliner comes in colors???"
Their responses, aside from making me giggle, reminded me why I wear makeup. Not that I ever really forget. My makeup is for me. It is my process of discovering who I feel like being today. It is my warpaint. It is my chance to create a small, temporary work of art. It is my affirmation: I am worth the effort. It is my personal reminder; if I am feeling ugly inside I can look in the mirror and remind myself of my inner beauty. Also, makeup is fun. If I were a man, I would wear three-piece suits. I like looking good. I also like minimal effort. With a three-piece suit, you have the major components in your outfit taken care of. Just pick out a shirt and tie that don't clash too horribly and you're set. I would probably have lots of charcoal three-piece suits, white shirts, and black ties. Also pinstriped suits. So many pinstriped suits.
However, in my sister's words: "Actually, if I were a guy, I probably wouldn't wear three-piece suits." "Why not?" "Because I'd be a guy." "Hi! How are you?"
"Fine. How are you?" "I'm good." That word: fine. What a layered thing to say. What most people mean when they say "fine" in response to an inquiry into how they're doing is, "I can tell you don't actually care" or, "I don't want to explain how I'm really doing." We all know this. We all accept this as an answer. This one little word speaks volumes. Sometimes I think it would be grand if people stopped automatically inquiring into each others' well-being. What if we only asked when we cared? "How are you" (or, alternatively, "how's it going?") is constantly tacked on to any greeting. I find myself saying it, this flippant question, this conditioned word-vomit, this now-meaningless phrase, and I laugh at myself. I think, "what if that person actually told me how they are doing? Would I really want to hear it?" That's kind of a callous question to ask yourself, because you really hope that your answer would always be "yes" and you find yourself ashamed of how often the answer is really "no." "Fine" is the guarded response to that indifference. A fun way to catch people off-guard is to throw different words and phrases in there, but not go into any detail. "How are you?" "Deeply dissatisfied." "How are you?" "Super excited!" "How are you?" "Hungry." Some people are put off, others become intrigued and delve into why you are feeling that way, and my favorite people laugh, consider the answer, nod their heads, accept it, and move on. |
AuthorMaayan is a Manhattan-based opera singer. Archives
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