It is a lie
that is perpetuated that our struggles are not worthy of explication. For the
greatest minds face failure and feel it more deeply than most. Each tear, while
not necessarily dignified, changes the world. Nor does it contribute to a
collective ocean of suffering. We live in a province of the self where pain is
localized; not even empathy can completely erase the wall. What does it take,
you ask. In some sense, it takes your life and molds it like a piece of gum to
plug a hole in a leaking roof.
It is
Evelyn she thinks of when times get tough. A married mother of three, she had
her first child at 19. When the relationship fell apart in her freshman year of
college, she gave birth the summer before her sophomore year. After one
semester of academic leave, she moved back home and left Elle with her mother.
Cory even remembers shopping for breast pumps and baby bibs in between classes
with her sister.
Evelyn
takes the fast track to graduation—taking only the required classes, passing
barely, and finishing in four years (three excluding her leave). Only a few
friends in her close circle know about Elle. By the time commencement rolls
around, her mother is in the audience with her toddler who is already walking.
She takes
an admin job at a health insurance company in the city. Her mornings start at
6am and end with her singing lullabies and reading stories to Elle. Where does she get the time, her
coworkers think. She rolls up her sleeves and does the most meaningless and
tedious shit until it no longer feels unbearable. Some days she doesn’t even
feel the papercuts. But fuck it, it’s
better than being homeless and starving to death. She wants Elle to be a lawyer
so she never has to show up to court for child support proceedings. College is
expensive, so she sets aside money.
She makes it, barely, by the skin
of her teeth, and gets promoted to an HR coordinator and gets yearly raises.
Eventually she becomes a manager and gains headcount and hires an intern whom
she’s really tough on but loves like a second daughter.
On the weekends she goes on dates
and has more men’s phone numbers in her phone than she can count. David is
someone she chooses after a month of his trying to ask her out. He has
spectacles and a short beard but he’s drawn to her tenacity. It’s hard for him
because she only speaks when it is absolutely necessary. It’s only after six months that
she hints at feeling anything for him. But he gets the sense that she lives in
a space that is all her own. When he stares into her eyes he sees a vengeance
that sometimes startles him. It’s as though she holds a grudge against life—a
life that has confined her to work hard for a payoff that seems to mean so
little to her.
As she climbs the employment ladder
it’s not as though she plays politics at work; she has no time for games. Her
emails are beyond terse; they cut through social tension like a sledgehammer.
But far from alienating her coworkers, they cling to her like Elle does in the
mornings before she leaves. Every female on her floor knows her name and her
office becomes the unofficial confessional for male misbehavior, even if she
fires countless sexist pigs for their patriarchal bullshit.
She takes criticism and absorbs it
like a sponge. When she doles out punishment she’s clear about the reasons
she’s doing so. Each compliment she gives is like candy to a child. Her
colleagues are addicted to her lukewarm praise.
When she receives an award for
excellence she stashes it in a cabinet by her desk. When that fills up she
carts them to her home and has David store them in the shed.
Cory wishes that she had the same
kind of all-consuming and powerful drive. But she thinks: no excuses.
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