I ran into a colleague today. I hadn’t felt the kindest toward her in the past—and there is legitimately no good reason for my behavior. Well, I know the reason. She’s younger, prettier, nicer, and has better hair than me—and I think the guy who broke my heart likes her. So, in the past, every time I’d run into her in the hallway, I’d roll me eyes as if she were a colossal waste of my time. I even had a secret, cruel nickname reserved specifically for her. I was really, really threatened—to say the least.
Today, I saw her in a meeting, and I felt the same pang of jealousy I’ve always felt toward her. I could feel my heart start to beat more rapidly when she said hello to me. I performed my most badass self, just to prove (To her? To me? Who knows!) that I was the alpha bitch in the room. I effortlessly rattled off expert knowledge on matters with which she’s had little to no experience. I challenged the ideas of my senior colleagues with my best blasé-blasé tone. I showed the fuck off, and I made that shit fashion.
Then, something strange happened. I realized that she purposefully would not look at me—and it wasn’t because of apathy or lack of feeling impressed by what I brought to the meeting. I realized: she was intimidated by me. I could feel it; heck, maybe I could even smell the fear pheromones she was giving off (Is that a thing? Let’s just say it is). I have the kind of job she wants, and is working her ass off to get. I get to act smug because I’m safely settled into a tenure-track position. She has to be cloyingly deferential, even to an asshole like me, because her future job security might depend on it. I’m past the point of worrying about getting people to like me. She has to make sure not to piss off the wrong people, or it could mean no rent next semester. Sure, I’m a fucking weirdo, but even that is a byproduct of a freedom and an independence that she doesn’t have as an adjunct.
I began to see her differently in that moment. Before, she was Sandra Dee, and I was Betty Rizzo. She was an annoyingly attractive and novel thing, and I was the beat-to-the-street bit of yesterday’s news—and that pissed me off to no end. In that meeting, I could see that we’re both Frenchy, just chicks trying our best to exist in a world where we’re constantly made to feel uncertain and insecure. I felt a kinship with her that my insecurity had quickly eroded away, originally.
So, after the meeting, I approached her. I began with a joke to ease the tension. I asked her about how the full-time application process was going, and we commiserated about what a bullshit nightmare the job hunt can be. I made her laugh—something that makes me really happy when I’m successful at it. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Her eyes changed from large and skeptical to calm and welcoming; she even looked in my eyes when we spoke. I no longer felt like I was secretly engaging in an artificial, social competition with her—one that never has winners, anyway. It felt really good, and I want to feel good more often in my life.
There have been countless women recently who have shown me endless goodness with no expectation of payback. I want to be like them. I want to be a better woman than I’ve been. I hope I can keep this up. I know I can. I will.
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