“WOW”, what a gorgeous dress!” She greeted me when I entered her college office. I slowly twirled in place, letting her eyes scan me back to front.
“I bought this dress for a business meeting,” I smile at her. “I have a row of dresses like these in my closet that I’ve bought for important meetings”. Her eyes were wide and questioning. I continued. “Yes, I’m not the type of feminist that burns her bras – I’m the type that buys excellent bras, attractive dresses and I use all the tools in my toolbox”.
Criticism. Even self-criticism. Who has read this and thought to herself, “A tool box including legs that open?” Perhaps even I have considered this, so I’m not angry, nor am I insulted. I’m only making sure we’re on the same page. No, the toolbox does not include opening my legs. At least in my career up to now. It’s not a path that suits me. My tool box contains, among other things, my common sense, my education, my life experience, my intuition. Tools that definitely include my communication skills, my empathy for others. And yes, tools including this smile, which has opened many doors for me and countless opportunities. Bringing out something inside through my eyes. All these tools are wrapped in one package: a woman’s body.
Body. The human body is much more than a package. It has purpose. The purpose of our bodies is to protect, to contain, to support and to inflame the spirit and the soul within it, to serve as a vessel for memories, to fill us with emotion. To enable us to feel the ground beneath our feet. To let us feel heights, the crossing of limits, a sense of exhilaration or depression.[1] We don’t always give it the respect it deserves. Judging excessively. Underestimation. Contempt. At least with me. Even today, after twenty years of work on awareness, even if a little less vigorously now. Even if.
Contempt. In 2006, I represented a committee for store owners in negotiations with the municipality in a move for facilitation of the urban assistance law. Among other responsibilities, my representation included contact with city officials. I had no reason to suspect anything when my secretary reported that the city official’s office had called to arrange a meeting regarding the Traders Committee. I was asked to find a free morning when we could start out early, so the trip wouldn’t take up all my day.
6 a.m. Five minutes of quiet and then the day begins. I get ready for work. I wake up my young daughter and infant son and get them ready for their day, driving each one to their respective frameworks. A 30 minute drive from the moshav to the city. A little music, a few telephone calls. I’m in the city. Hello. I sit down. Minimal small talk. I ask if we can move on to the reason for our meeting. He begins: “I just finished a Swedish massage course. I have a treatment bed and everything, and I wanted to practice on you. For free. What do you say?”
Speechless. I don’t know what to say. I search quickly through my toolbox… equipped with the skills of improvisation, acting and being wonderfully courteous in any situation, I say: “No, thank you.” With my head held high, I leave the room. And then come the tears. Frustration. 33 years old already. A lawyer with a firm of my own. Practical through awareness.[2] Why is this happening to me again? How could he be so disrespectful of my time? How could someone be so disconnected? He didn’t see me at all. Hasn’t regarded himself for a long time either. And me, why did I keep my mouth shut instead of telling him what I thought of him? When I got to the office, I was angry. At him, myself, at the entire situation. I called a legal colleague and told her the story. The more excited she became at representing me in a legal complaint, the more my excitement receded. I chose to stay silent. I buried this story in among a whole bunch of others.
Others? The major boss at an electrical company who grabbed my shoulders from behind ( I was 18 then) and rubbed his groin against me. I ran from the room crying and humiliated. 1991, seven years before legislation of the Prevention of Sexual Harassment Law. They moved me out of his office and considered the situation handled. The feeling of disgust burned. The bar owner, married and father of six, in Kiryat Ata. The army officer, because of whose behavior I took an officers course earlier than I had wanted. A higher-up in the legal system who texted a limerick to me at 3 am. There were others. And there will probably be more. That’s the way the world is. At least, ,for now.
Question: Yesterday, I watched an interview with Barbara Corcoran, American businesswoman and TV personality, who related a minor anecdote, as she put it, where Trump compared the size of her bust in her pregnancy to his own wife’s. Accompanied by hand gestures for illustration. A personal experience for Barbara, who believes in the many complaints against the Republican nominee. Barbara’s choosing to mention this made me wonder how she might have felt if she had been a young woman and not yet a successful businesswoman. Does it matter?
Over 40. I have just returned to Israel and I am searching for a specific business collaboration. I set up a meeting with a colleague. We are casual acquaintances. I pull a dress out of my closet. A little makeup. I haven’t worn heels for years. An hour of conversation. I am focusing on the possibilities for collaboration. Ask for a lead. He gets down to brass tacks. Tells a lot of irrelevant stories. We agree that he’ll think about what we might do. I thank him and go. On the way home, I get a text message: “Clear and focused but the electricity…”. Furious. I won’t be getting any business out of that meeting.
Proportion. The row of dresses in my closet is one of my more profitable investments. Over the years at countless business and other interactions. They have wrapped the woman’s body that wraps me in the most containing manner, flattering and mostly as much me as they can be. Girly girl, and in them I felt as confident and complete as I could at that moment. The most prepared, the most accurate for that moment. The most woman exactly as I was in that same moment. Most of the people I’ve met, men and women, respected and saw much more than my dress that day. I experienced admiration. Business has been, and is, good. No, of course I don’t attribute my successes to a row of dresses. Or to any other external element. At least not on its own. I attribute my successes to all of the things I am, including being a woman. A woman who is proud of her femininity, a woman in body and in spirit.
What’s the problem? These days, there isn’t any problem most of the time. Occasionally, you have to understand that the creature in front of you (btw, this creature could be in a woman or a man’s body) looks at you and sees an object. An empty body. A vessel to further his interests and personal desires. Don’t let this confuse you. You are so much better than that.
Tomboy or girly girl. Mini, midi, maxi. Casual or elegant. All are great choices as long as you feel comfortable. Don’t change. Don’t lose your confidence. Don’t be afraid to go out to interactions exactly as you are. And if you happen to encounter a limited creature that hasn’t been able to see past the hole of his own cutout…please, don’t berate yourself. Don’t take responsibility for his limitations. Answer him in a manner that suits you, if you even feel like replying. It’s a right and not an obligation. Do you feel like engaging the legal system?….good luck. Do you feel like doing something big, like American journalist Danielle Berrin, who, with complete elegance, made Ari Shavit take responsibility and impose a punishment on himself that no court would find proportional?….. go for it. Every woman and her own path. The choice is yours. You are free to choose what is good for you. And no, we don’t care what anyone says.
Education. Times are changing for the better. The level of awareness is rising. I learned at my own expense. Lula and Guli learned at their own pace in kindergarten regarding the existence of the human sphere, its differences, on gender and sensitivity. At least in theory. We are all continuing to learn to implement all of these in the practicalities of life. How to behave when facing a breach of any of these things. There is no better way to eradicate unacceptable norms than a combination of education and personal example. Every woman and every person can be the ambassador to a better world. A more respectful world. A strengthening and more unifying world. Improving our vision. Seeing beyond the dress. Beyond the physical body. Seeing ourselves and each other. Quickly and today. Amen.
