erinstidham

Its now strange to me that I had not thought about certain things prior to entering law school: how to handle success and failure when everyone is striving toward the exact same goals, or how to build genuine friendships when your colleagues are your competition. At Rutgers, luckily, the ‘competition’ element is moderate, but I’ve heard horror stories of students at other schools giving bad information, not sharing notes, and otherwise undermining their colleagues so as to improve their place on the dreaded ‘curve.’ At Rutgers, there is certainly the emotional component–she got WHAT on the midterm–but no active undermining as I understand it.

In a number of ways, I have been extremely lucky to do well in law school. Sure, I did the readings and participated in class, but I happen to have a writing style that generally works well on law exams. Maybe even more fortunately, I really love the process of going to school and studying, and I think my love of the law school process makes a difference.

As graduation looms, I am fortunate enough to be headed towards a job at a large firm where I will get to work on really interesting and complex matters. But I always get a little weird and deflective, when colleagues or family ask me about my post-graduation plans. Some part of me is perhaps not sure about the formal etiquette of giving good news to people who might have had a long streak of bad news. But more honestly, I’m not sure if I’m being humble, or being inauthentic in a way that is making myself small and diminutive.

I still don’t know how to discuss success in law school, but I think about this idea of perceived versus authentic humility a lot. I don’t think I’m the only one who struggles with this, and my gut tells me that the concept of humility is tricky for a lot of people, and particularly a lot of women. [Obviously, this does not apply to all women or exclusively women–but hear me out.]

Whether we accept that biological sex differences influence a person’s ‘nature’, we can probably at least agree that the process of being raised as a boy or a girl influences one’s personality and skill set. One thing I love about the way that women are socialized, is that we are often in charge of managing social relationships. Women typically arrange gatherings, such as showers or birthday parties; women call one another with family news; women often keep track of their children’s school calendars and arrange for bringing whatever treat or making whatever costume the child needs for class. We are brought up to specialize in these interpersonal ‘soft skills’, and we are good at it. I love this about women.

But I think sometimes we’re not so keen on un-interpersonal communication. While our social skills often have us talk about the good things in our lives, how often does it shift to the successes of my life?

Perhaps I am overgeneralizing and overreacting due to my own struggle with humility versus deflection. And that’s fine. But what happens when I think I’m conveying humility, but I’m actually belittling the spiritually important changes and growth in my life?

I am a lover of C.S. Lewis, and often find his writing can cut through and clarify ideas I that haven’t fully sieved through. In reading an excerpt from Mere Christianity this morning, ideas about identity, success, plans, and our reactions to them came into sharp focus. He writes:

“Of course we never wanted, and never asked, to be made into the sort of creatures He is going to make us into. But the question is not what we intended ourselves to be, but what He intended us to be when He made us.

. . .

We may be content to remain what we call ‘ordinary people’: but He is determined to carry out a quite different plan. To shrink back from that plan is not humility: it is laziness and cowardice. To submit to it is not conceit or megalomania; it is obedience.”

C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

I’m not quite sure where to go with this. I’m hesitant to declare that I know what God’s plan for my life is. I don’t find it particularly helpful to say “well, God decided that I should go to a big law firm,” especially to those who either don’t care what God has to say, or to those who were hoping He’d have a similar plan for them.

But I do think that there is a need, again, for women, to be bold and believing in the steps they are taking forward in their lives. Whether it be in our careers, our families, our participation in church, our social circles, our health goals, our anything, I think its important to examine our attitudes towards ourselves. Am I making myself little because I believe I’m little?

I think a lot about the Imposter Syndrome, the feeling of inadequacy despite success, often accompanied by fear that someone will ‘find out’ that you’re not qualified for a certain position or commendation. Is this humility? Or is it more like cowardice?

It is true that I am quite content to remain an ‘ordinary person’, but that’s not what is asked of me, and I don’t want to let a false idea of humility get in the way of what good and glorious things my God will do in me and through me as I am paying attention, being bold, and saying yes.

Perhaps you feel this way too. Perhaps, like me, you often think of the word hubris whenever you perform confidence. Perhaps you’ve internalized “Blessed are the meek” as a command to be passive. Perhaps you believe that humility means being small and fearful and just grateful that nobody has seen your inadequacy. Perhaps not. I just hope that the next time I feel unsure about where I am, where I’m going, or how to talk about it, I’m remember that I’m not just speaking for myself. I am speaking as the person God is calling me to be, and I don’t believe that person should be fearful and small.

Today is my first day of law school orientation. Usually, I’d post a filtered photo, because my husband, who is one year ahead of me, is driving with me to school to take care of some back to school things as I learn the lay of the law school land. We happen to have coordinated outfits. They were unplanned, but are undeniably adorable.

Today doesn’t seem to be appropriate for that. Friends are hurting, friends are sad, and I haven’t contributed to the conversation on social media to express concerns or help soothe or rally, or muse about the activity surrounding the removal of confederate statues in public places. I am a registered democrat, an empath, and the descendant of Confederate soldiers. And I am, because of many factors, able to begin a juris doctorate program at a school I love.

Today I begin my path toward public service, wherever law school leads me. In the midst of a turbulent political climate, I am hesitant to celebrate the beauty and excitement in my life, because I don’t want to appear unaware or dismissive of the real pain that my friends and countrymen are feeling this morning.

Today, my contribution has to be one of love. I am praying for you. I know thoughts and prayers is not an excuse for inaction for our representatives, but I do think it has genuine value when it is lived out by everyday individuals. Whether or not you believe in the power of prayer, I think the world would be much better place if are thinking of their neighbors.

Remember that in a world of hatred and anxiety, there also exists beauty and hope. Today, let’s be beautiful and hopeful and radically loving. Because love wins when people live it.

In fact, I was at my heaviest weight I’ve ever been when I got married this past New Year’s Eve.

Like most American girls, I have issues with food and body image. Over the last ten years, I’ve oscillated between overweight and underweight, depending on the intensity of my exercise routine and the consistency of my bulimia. When I got engaged and knew I had just over twelve months to get ready for the day, I had a pretty bold plan to go from a size fourteen to a size four. In a year, people can lose fifty pounds, right?

Here’s what happened instead: I moved. I tried an internship in NYC. I started a new job. I wrote a book. I campaigned.  I paid college loans. I got rejected from Seminary. My (now) husband started Law School. My car broke down. My best friend got married. I started running. I stopped running. I started yoga, and got really good at it. I took the LSAT. I reapplied to Seminary. I got married. I did not lose fifty pounds. I didn’t even lose one. (Perhaps I lost a dress size or two, but the scale never moved. I even bought a new scale.)

My wedding day was still the best of my life. I wore glitter sneakers, and married my favorite person. We had an after-party open mic, and my husband and I got to throw a mini concert for our family and friends. It was truly magical.

…And then the pictures came back. One of my biggest concerns had become reality: my arms didn’t look toned. Initially, I compensated by making my profile picture one where my arms (and most of my body was covered).

It’s still a beautiful photo (shot-out to Emma McMahan Photography!), but that’s not really what I looked like. I looked like this:

I didn’t want to show anyone my photos, because I worried they didn’t reflect the way I felt when I got married. It was as though all the love at my wedding made me feel like my fat arms or big booty didn’t matter. I felt like I had tricked myself into thinking I was beautiful on my wedding day, and that the photographic evidence proved otherwise.

And then I realized that on my special day, I looked like my grandmother.

My grandmother joked that she was born a forty-two-pound baby, and was heavy her whole life. Really, she was only ever not overweight at the end, when the cancer had destroyed her body but not her spirit. My grandma was the most caring, fun-spirited, faithful, and loving and person I’ve known. I only got a few years with her as a child, but she was one of the purest sources of love and goodness in my life.

My grandmother was fat, and so am I.  I hope I also inherited her kindness, her devotion to her family, her love of God, and her joy. I get sad when I think that my grandma was probably sad about her body. Especially since she’s gone, it seems like a silly thing to spend much time in your life worrying about.

Through further looking at old photos, I realized I also looked like my grandmother’s mother. (She’s the classy gal seated).

Turns out, most of the women in my lineage were thick.

I have had wild swings of weight in the past, but in my post-college life, I get my 10,000 steps nearly every day. I do my yoga, eat 80% vegan meals, and balance my carbs, proteins, and vegetables like nobody’s business. I have an excellent resting heart rate, normal blood pressure, and a body that does what I ask it to do. I’m still fat.

I was fat on my wedding day, and maybe I won’t be come New Year’s Eve 2017, but I’m not too worried about it.

My pen pal grew up a hop, skip, and a jump away from my historic home in the trite small town USA.

He was too good for me as a boy, and too bad for me as a man.

with sandy combed-beach locks and humbling stumbled eyes,

course hands from a hard day’s labor and a stiff back from too many hours reading at the desk,

my pen pal had a knack for telling you everything at a glance, and nothing with a stare.

I’m not sure if he believes in reincarnation,

Though I’m certain he wouldn’t rule it out if you gave him some literature, a pack of smokes, and some time to meddle through it,

but I think we might have been in a war together.

There’s not much more that brings two people together than the atrocities of man;

it is a bond that not even the Romantic lovers could understand

(unless of course you were in the war and were also lovers, but I’m not sure many companions know of that).

I don’t know how he takes his coffee or what his hair smells like,

but I know that if God had gifted me with the ability to paint,

he wouldn’t have a mere poem.

I’d make him something worthy of the Met, but it’d be on the back of some todo list

both because our pursuits do not lend well to earthly values

and because that is what he is, a masterpiece you’d never expect.

Only the curious would check both sides before discarding what appears to be ordinary.

My pen pal could write these words better than I do, but he wouldn’t because I don’t know if he feels the kind of love that gives your ribs tiny tiny stress fractures because it doesn’t crush you at once, but slowly, and with repeated wear and tear restructures your framework

(and also it’s a bit rude to dedicate poems to oneself).

So I would not dare display hubris in the sight of the divine,

for every human thinks that his and her own story is worthy of record and tale,

but if the good Lord did grant me that monastic virtue, and I could truly see

that this boy really is worth the songs of old,

I’d serve as bard or muse only as

he is the reason of composition.

So, to you, my wordsmith, I send the deepest praise that a scribed secret can capture,

I wish I had your gifts, but I will always offer you mine,

be good.

 

 

I tried to make my fiancé a sweet Valentine’s Day present. Instead, I accidentally made an angsty break-up song via Beach Boys.

A few weeks ago, a Yelp employee wrote about her financial struggles, and was fired. I won’t stake my reputation on claiming that those events are related, but that seems to be the general consensus. She spoke negatively about her company, and then, two hours later, no longer worked for that company.

I don’t want to talk about employee rights or the minimum wage or the first amendment, because, well, I haven’t gone to law school (yet? maybe I’ll go eventually, dad) and generally anything posted about the Bill of Rights will be bombarded with some encouraging and discouraging examples of internet users freely utilizing the hallowed first item on the Anti-Federalist’s itemized list. I want to talk about the response to this story.

As a complete sucker for clickbait, I followed a link on my newsfeed titled “29-year-old millennial rips 25-year-old Yelp employee who got fired for complaining about her salary.”(Note: it was picked up by Business Insider). I was sad to read the kind of hostility towards a woman who reported as struggling, lost her job, and then received unexpected internet fame/infamy overnight. The author of the “rips” piece, a writer named Stefanie Williams, mocked the millennial for not being poor enough to classify herself as destitute, and not doing enough to get out of the situation. She compares her own story to that of the Yelp employee, and even though the stories are surprisingly similar, she makes outlandish conclusions about how the Yelp employee is probably mooching off family, has no work ethic, and, strangely, is immodest and unskilled.

She starts off:

“It sounds like you’ve hit some real post Haitian earthquake style hard times, so maybe some advice will help while you drink the incredibly expensive bourbon you posted on your Instagram account and eat that bag of rice, which was the only other thing you could afford!” Logic being, if any poor person has anything worth any amount of money, regardless of how they got it, they deserve to be in the financial situation they’re in, because they’re bad with money. Even if this girl spent her first paycheck on a celebratory bottle of booze, which probably wasn’t the best financial decision, it doesn’t change the fact that 80% of her wages were going automatically allocated towards her rent. And, who knows, that could have been a gift, something she also brought with her with the ten pound bag, or not even her possession. In any case, the fact that she took a picture of some bourbon, doesn’t mean she’s not hungry.

She goes on:

 

“The issue is that this girl doesn’t think working a second job or getting roommates should be something she has to do in order to get ahead after three months of an entry level job in the most expensive city in the country. She believes Yelp should cover the cost of the financial decisions she’s made which include living alone and accepting that salary, two options that any sane person would never make.” Read: if you make little money, you shouldn’t have taken that job, and, since you’re poor, you don’t deserve a living space of your own.

Obviously, I found Williams’s piece infuriating. But, even if you completely agree with what Williams wrote, I think you should be troubled by the manner in which she writes her response. Stefanie Williams reads a blog post from some girl she’s never met who is unhappy with her compensation, draws unwarranted conclusions based on very limited evidence, and then writes a scathing, smug, and patronizing piece about her. She attacks her for the decisions she’s made, and mocks her for being in her situation that she’s in. Williams assumes that if only the girl had made better choices–if she made the kinds of choices this successful, humble, health-insured writer had made–she’d be better off.

Here’s what this has to do with Rape Culture.  While, of course I am not likening the kinds of attacks made on the former Yelp employee to anything akin to rape, it is important, I think, to recognize that the underlying attitudes and assumptions that went into Williams’ “rip” are those that are both symptoms and perpetuations what could rightly be  identified as Rape Culture.  Victim-blaming is a product of Rape Culture. Deciding who is and isn’t allowed to identify as a victim, or even as a person struggling, is a product of Rape Culture.  A lecture to stranger about how they deserve everything they receive without exception, is a product of Rape Culture. Publicly shaming individuals for their negative situations is product of Rape Culture.  Rape Culture says the person in power (i.e. professional writer) gets to tell the story without even making any attempts to understand the story of the person not in power (i.e. unfamous aspiring writer/former Yelp employee).

And probably a good number of people who recognize that a culture where rapes and sexual assaults are wildly underreported, underprosecuted, and undersentenced for a number of reasons, where the process of accusing someone of a sexual crime opens the plaintiff up to an unreasonable amount of scrutiny and ridicule, and where 1 out of every 6 women and 1 out of every 33 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes, would agree that that culture is one that promotes, or at least tolerates a Rape Culture. But Business Insider picked up Stefanie Williams’s response, and Forbes writer Liz Wiseman wrote an article about what the former Yelp employee could have done differently, and this girl, who says she’s so hungry she can’t sleep, is bombarded by individuals advancing their own writing careers by condemning her.

 

Fortunately, for the former Yelp employee, she’s already received at least one job offer as a direct result of her letter. Her story may just have a happy ending. But as for the larger problem? Our attitude towards suffering cannot be that all misfortune is justified or inauthentic. We have two options when someone asks for help: to help them, or not to help them.  Anything else is aggressive, unwarranted, and unacceptable.