Some days, to be honest, I sit and sigh. I sigh at the state of the world, of our country and maybe, just a bit because my natural optimism is being eroded. And I hate it.Despite a conservative economic leaning and a history of voting for Republican candidates more than the Democrats, I am fairly liberal, otherwise. I never quite understood why who we loved mattered to anyone other than those involved. I embrace openness to others and how they live their lives. Oh hell, I was in Up With People! Openness notwithstanding, the truth is I feel lost these days.
A bit lost. But a lot sad.
I’m sad because there are things I’d like to say, but can’t. I can’t say them because I haven’t earned a place at the table. Just as when MEN start to weigh in on abortion and WOMEN say, “Who are you to tell us what to do with our bodies”? But of course, they have opinions; and mothers, wives and daughters.
I haven’t earned a place at the table of women’s outrage over Bill Cosby. For which I’m thankful. But I have an opinion. And I don’t believe, as one of the accusers said, that her fear over exposing a black man (as a black woman) is any more important than the other accusers’ fear. It’s just different, perhaps.
I certainly haven’t earned a place at the Ferguson table. Or, the Staten Island table. I completely understand that as a white woman, my experience can’t be the same as the black experience. And I mean no disrespect in saying this, but I highly doubt that all blacks have the same experience. I know that all whites don’t. I want to say that economic viability and education are important components in creating a stable and thriving environment. I’d like to say that my heart breaks for all in any community who feel oppressed. It’s almost impossible to find your potential when you live in fear daily.
I haven’t earned a place at the LGBT table. I have many friends who have, however, and I watch the often double-edged sword of confusion and pride. I can’t know how much courage it takes to come out, or to make your body look on the outside like it feels on the inside. I’d like to say that I am in awe of the resolve to live an authentic life, but my words carry no weight. I haven’t earned it.
I sigh about all of that.
But I also sigh because I have my own struggles that make me unique, and make my experience mine. I’m Jewish. We lost family members in the Holocaust. I’m a single mother, and raised two children from ages 6 and 7 to the 21 and 22 years they are now. I’m in my late 50’s and my body and face are changing in ways that never stop reminding me that time is growing short: ageism in this economy is real, I assure you. I have spent a lifetime in male dominated businesses, and have experienced date rape attempts, outright discrimination and loss of upward career mobility, simply because I had the wrong body parts.
I sigh because I’m not sure where my table is. And in the midst of all of this, I’d like to say that our differences will always separate us, if we let them. It is our humanity that can bring us together, if we’d just let the table be a bit bigger.
You and I will never have the same experience in life. Even children growing up in the same household have differing experiences of their family life. And yet, to have any kind of meaningful dialogue, don’t we need to accept all voices that come to the table? Our experiences are different, but don’t all of them count equally?
I don’t want to sit at a table of voices all echoing what I say, feel and think. I’d far prefer to have a dialogue with people who want to find similarities despite our differences; some common thread that illuminates our humanity.
Let’s find a table where we all have a place. Can we start there?
Ilene Slatko is a published writer and expert on business, investing and marketing. She has been a featured speaker at numerous conferences around the country, speaking on a wide variety of topics. Her seminar, "Women and Their Money", has been met with critical enthusiasm.