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In July of 2007, I attended the BlogHer conference in Chicago. While I enjoyed the conference itself (and met a lot of very cool ladies), I didn't have a very good time overall. You see, I was preoccupied -- and when a person’s thoughts are a thousand miles away, it's hard to concentrate on the awesome time you’re supposed to be having.
I wish I could say I was preoccupied in a good way, but the truth is...I was going through an unpleasant time in a relationship. It was the first time I’d left my home in Virginia since he and I had started seeing each other, and he thought the fact that I’d left (for 3.5 days, mind you) meant that I was suddenly going to become a world traveler or something -- and he couldn’t handle that. So I spent a fair amount of time trying to convince him otherwise.
(And yes, just in case you’re wondering -- I look back on this situation now and say, “What the hell was I thinking?”)
While I was at this conference, I was trying to assure him that leaving for a few days didn’t mean my feelings for him had changed. If there was a break, I’d go outside and call him. When I was sitting at a table inside, I'd send a text message.
There was one woman who witnessed this behavior and called me out on it -- BlogHer Community Manager Denise Tanton. I’d known her via her blog and through email for at least six months, but it was the first time I’d met her in person. Once she found out I was spending so much time talking to a guy, she had no problem yelling “Patriarchy!” every time she saw me with my phone in my hand. (For those of you who have met Denise in person, you’ll understand the humor behind that word...it’s something she says quite often.)
I would respond, “Oh, no, Denise. It's not patriarchy!” Or I would just smile and go back to talking, or tapping on the tiny keys of my phone.
A year later, traveling as a single woman once again, the next BlogHer conference I attended was so much better. Denise was the first person I recognized when I got to the hotel in San Francisco, and one of the first things she asked me was, “You’re not going to be on your phone the entire weekend, are you?” I assured her that I would not, and indeed the only time I used my phone over the next few days was to get in touch with people who were actually in attendance at the conference. It was wonderful.
All of this came rushing back a few days ago when Denise sent me a headshot that was taken at the conference last summer (the same photo that you see at the top of this post). My previous profile photo -- the one I’d been using for the past few years -- was just a straight-on shot of my face. I like this new one, but since I’m holding my head so high I was afraid I might come across as a little bit “snotty.”
(Childhood memory: walking around with my head held high, age 12. I was tall, 5’9”, the same height that I am right now. I was told on multiple occasions by people in the church my family attended to “stop thinking so highly of myself.” Apparently some of the ladies thought I was stuck-up because I wouldn't walk with my head down and my chin in my chest.)
I emailed Denise: “I think I look kind of snotty with my head all held-up high like that, but I'm not opposed to it.”
Denise’s response: “I really liked you with your head up high. I don’t think it’s snotty at all, I think it’s confidence. But…when I see you without your head up, I’m reminded of you talking on the damn phone to some stupid boy.”
That final line stopped me in my tracks. I read it three or four times before it sunk in…before I realized what it was that was making my brain scream. It's because I don't want to be like that. I don’t want to be the woman who puts up with being treated in a way she doesn’t deserve. I don’t want to be the woman who apologizes for
