Every once in a while defiance gets the better of me.
But if it can be well channeled, it's not all bad. In a world where a girls' voice is meant to be seen and not heard, that streak of stubbornness, framed differently, is assertiveness and perseverance. In my own history though, defiance has gotten me in trouble.
The most prominent memory I have is during the time I worked for a national clothing chain. I was unhappy there because I was targeted by a few coworkers to do jobs they disliked, that were, in truth, extremely boring and never ending, and they felt I did not contribute enough. But, oh well. I was one of few who knew all the merchandise, who was called by name to specifically help high end clients, and who could actually tell the expensive clothes from the cheap clothes and put them back on the rack accordingly. But, what do I know? Just that I was going to get out of there and never look back once I had my degrees in hand.
I've always been anxious in social situations but I never understood how this affected me in a broader sense until I began to work with teenagers who have social anxiety. I knew it as shyness, as having a discomfort to talk to people I don't know, or an unwillingness to participate in group activities. Yet, give me something to sell and I'm the top sales person. Ask me to put a name tag on and I flip out. That's what happened.
Every day, I was met in the hall way leading to the sales floor with a magnetic board of name tags. There mine sat, day after day, week after week, until one day I was met with the HR Director who kindly asked me to wear the name tag. I thanked her and told her I would do so after I put my personal things away. But, I didn't return to get the name tag. Instead I rationalized in my mind that I had been carried away by a discussion with another employee, or called to the cashier for a price check and simply forgot because magical thinking. Day after day I was met with the same request and day after day, I found new reasons to delay and not put it on. Unsure of what my resistance was about, except that the identification of my name meant that people could call me by name even if we had never met before. To the socially anxious person, that's like giving someone permission to point at you, stare, and shout.
The HR Director had finally had enough. She became more directive and asked me to come to her office. She asked me why I refused to wear the name tag. But because of social anxiety, I could not tell her why as that would open me up to ridicule or some other horrible fate the socially anxious person thinks is in store for them. All I remember about the meeting is her becoming more and more frustrated with me and my counting the months until I could give notice. Once I promised to put the name tag on, she followed me to the foreboding hallway and watched me. I had no out. I put it on and went out on the sales floor.
I hid for most of the day, probably pouting. I came to dislike immensely the power my superiors had and vowed I would never be in that kind of position again.
Another symptom of defiance is my dislike for the inclination that someone who is famous, or well known in some way should be treated differently than the rest of us. So, when the owner of a national shoe store chain came to my store, I wasn't up for bowing. Unfortunately for management, he came over to talk to me. I was polite at first, but the longer we engaged, I began to feel a pull that I was supposed to be respectful to this person because he wore the halo of owning the company, or subservient, recognizing my lowly position, or something I couldn't quite put my finger on, and it pissed me off. I'd like to see him wear their uncomfortable women's shoes for ten hours with no arch support in a style they disliked, and carry large boxes of shoes up and down a narrow and steep flight of stairs just once a week. And, after being accused of faking a back injury, the one that bothers me as I sit writing this over 20 years later, and prevented me from performing, I was feeling less a need to be overly respectful or grateful for the opportunity to work for his company. You know, it was just hard to find a balance of respect and dignity.
I really have no idea what I said to him, but a couple of weeks later the manager of the store took me out for coffee to tell me she had been asked to resign because it appeared she wasn't managing her staff very well. The fact that I had been disrespectful to the owner came up. Oops.
I have to share this final example, but certainly not the last.
A couple of months after I joined Daily Kos, Glen and I met up with navajo, Meteor Blades, citisven, catilinus, and BentLiberal for the Farm Worker's Reality Tour. Following the tour, we went out to dinner together. This was my first experience at a meet up. My husband was very excited, and in typical Glen style, anxious. He explained to me who every one was and I was supposed to remember and act accordingly because, just because. "The Diva…" Hmmm, we'll see about that, thought the ex-ballerina. And something about a journalist/activist that Glen really admired. The same ache in the pit of my stomach was present that I felt every damn time I tried to harness some personal power only to have it washed away with the tide as if I was never there. I felt the conflict of my own personal turbulence as well as Glen's expectation that I would be his saving grace of propriety and maturity. This should go well, I thought.
There was no safe place to hide at dinner. I ended up sitting across from MB and next to navajo. Disliking small talk, I hid my head behind the menu. And then this…
Me to MB: "So… you're a writer?" In my head - not much is going on there except a few fleeting expletives; in my stomach, there is queasiness.
Glen: he's silent... man, it's quiet at this table.
MB tells me he is Daily Kos staff... and it is now evident I had not read the front page ever, or was lying about not knowing who he is.
Tranquilizer, please.
But this story has a very good ending that would inspire my first (real) diary on Daily Kos just a couple weeks later…
When we believe in something deeply enough, we can overcome what we must to achieve what it is we want - just as we would not hesitate to dive into freezing waters to rescue a drowning child - and not notice the cold or fear. Perhaps the defiance I experience from time to time is really a misguided sense of needing to assert myself before I feel swallowed by the indignities that shyness can invoke. With time and continued empowerment, the defiance becomes less an unconscious need and more a vision of how personal empowerment is really the key to the painful world that is social anxiety.
To the young individuals who are facing their fears by sharing their world with me and allowing me to see it through their eyes, I can honestly meet you there and tell you how wonderful it is to to know what finding one's voice really means: that learning the value of "us" is the challenge that life presents when we have something amazing to offer.
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Kitchen Table Kibitzing is a community series for those who wish to share part of the evening around a virtual kitchen table with kossacks who are caring and supportive of one another. So bring your stories, jokes, photos, funny pics, music, and interesting videos, as well as links—including quotations—to diaries, news stories, and books that you think this community would appreciate. Readers may notice that most who post diaries and comments in this series already know one another to some degree, but newcomers should not feel excluded. We welcome guests at our kitchen table, and hope to make some new friends as well.
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