EVERYBODY’S PLAYING THE GAME
I would love nothing more than to leave all of this in the
past, as if women got more access to money and opportunity
and the patriarchy politely packed its bags and left.
But that’s not what happened.
Women have more access and more choice today. We can make
our own money, build businesses, lead organizations, and
decide how we want to live.
But having more choices doesn’t automatically release us
from the expectations we’ve learned to live by. And it
certainly doesn’t mean everyone around us has stopped
expecting us to follow the old rules.
The need to compete for a husband may have changed.
(Although has it, for all of us?) But the measuring continues.
We compare our bodies, our relationships, our businesses,
and our success. We pay attention to what gets rewarded
and who gets picked.
And the person doing the choosing isn’t necessarily
a man anymore.
It’s the client deciding whom to hire, the employer deciding
whom to promote, or the friend deciding whom to invite.
Those are ordinary decisions people make every day, but we
can turn their decisions into judgments about ourselves.
Take me, for example. I compare myself with my partner,
Ron, all the time.
Ron grew up on a farm, put himself through college, earned
his MBA, and built a very successful career. He’s ambitious,
dedicated, and committed. He’s worked incredibly hard for
everything he’s accomplished, and I admire him for that.
But our paths were different.
My mother didn’t have a husband providing for us in Mexico.
She had to find another way to support her children and
create a better life. So she went to America. That’s how
I became an immigrant.
Years later, I was raising my own children as a single mother
while building a business and making my own way.
Ron had his own obstacles to overcome, but he didn’t have
to navigate the same expectations I faced as an immigrant,
a single mother, and especially as a woman.
And here’s the part that makes me laugh at myself now.
For all my independence, I spent three years being mad at
that man because he hadn’t proposed. (I just wanted him
to put a ring on it, damn it.)
I’d built businesses, raised my children, and made my own way.
Yet somehow, to me, Ron putting a ring on my finger meant
something about my value.
The funny thing is, I don’t even know if I wanted to get
married. We’re not married today.
But somewhere along the way, his willingness to
marry me had become a measure of what I thought I was
worth.