Claire Adele and I went to see Hidden Figures this weekend. This is the movie about three African American women who worked at NASA in the 1960's. She wanted to see it. She wasn't sure if any of her friends wanted to see it as they are mostly interested in "chick-flicks," so she asked me to go with her. Jack was working and the Boy was off skiing with friends. He wants to see this movie but plans on going with a group of kids from his Rocket Club.
The movie was pretty good. I talked to a friend who saw it and thought it was inspirational. I saw it and was kind of pissed off. Not only did these women have to deal with the prejudices and biases of being a black in segregated Virginia, they also dealt with the prejudices and biases of being women. Argh.
Argh. Argh. Argh.
My friend Julia published an article on LinkedIn about how the working world is "designed by men for men." There are scenes of rooms full of white men all wearing white dress shirts. Of the two women in the room, one was a secretary and the other was beyond brilliant. What about plain old regular competent women? Where were they? While things better for women and people of color than they were in 1960, we still have a long way to go.
I digress. My movie was a success because it made me think and feel, even though my thoughts and feelings were not happy or cheerful. Claire Adele liked it, too.
I was talking to a friend who saw it this weekend with a group of her friends. Another friend posted on FB that she was going with a group of work colleagues to see the movie. After I saw those comments, I was kind of bummed that I didn't go with a group of women friends. Most of my friends are busy on the weekends with their families, so I often don't reach out.
Then I thought about it. Eighteen years ago today, I would have given anything for my Sunday afternoon, taking my teenage daughter to a movie. Eighteen years ago, I was grieving the loss of my daughter, Ada, a full-term stillbirth. I was terrified that I might not ever become a mother. As much as I lament my career situation, I would never have traded it for my kids. The women who went with their friends have sons. I am lucky to have both a son and a daughter.
Sometimes we don't recognize our happiness, hiding in plain sight.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
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