Ladies, can we stop apologizing for over-explaining our work? As nurturers we crave rapport, and pooh-poohing ourselves is a form of bonding. At best our intent is humility, but it conveys, "Forgive me for having thoughts."
When I was coming of age back in the '70s, Andrea Dworkin described herself as a feminist, but "not the fun kind," and I understood that I was going to represent the other side of that spectrum: I was going to be a feminist, but the really fun kind.
Women rarely admit our ambitions out loud not only because we fear failure -- a fear we share with our male counterparts -- but because wanting to succeed might make us seem less feminine. That's the tricky part.
Let's cast our gaze outward rather than inward. Let's look at the what the world expects of us and let's see what expectations need to change to accommodate our lives and ambitions -- let's not waste more time figuring out how better to contort ourselves.
What I carry from him, like coins in my pocket against the poverty of his loss, is an understanding that all any of us has is whatever is left of the day. And I make the most of it, hay while the sun shines, and I raise a toast to life.
Her heroines were witty and perceptive even while being vulnerable and appealing; they were independent and capable, yet filled with that weird fear of overdoing everything or doing everything wrong that engulfs the most stunningly competent woman.