They Call Me Girl, That’s Not My Name

I don’t remember the exact day I realized that being called “girl” was demeaning. I wish I could say it was one particular scenario in which I felt infantilized, but it is very likely that I slowly came to the realization that I am indeed a woman.  I was ecstatic when I turned thirteen, and expected everyone to address me by my new age group; teenager. With age comes pride and the feeling of accomplishment; whether it is an actual accomplishment or the feeling of having survived:

the feeling that you are closer to being autonomous, emancipated, and in control of yourself.

As a Latina, I dreamed of the day I would be a Quinceañera; meaning “one who is fifteen years old” in Spanish. A Quinceañera party is not just a big hoopla, it is a rite of passage from girlhood into womanhood. My Quinceañera symbolized my development into a woman, and it was marked by a meaningful ceremony. The ceremony consisted of a religious service where I received a blessing and gave thanks for the gift of life.  My father changed my shoes from flats to high heels to signify that I was no longer a child, and my mother put a rhinestone encrusted tiara on my head to present me to the world as a queen.

My parents went through such an extravagant and expensive ceremony, just to present me to the world as no longer a girl, but a woman.

Embracing womanhood at the age of fifteen was historically necessary in the Hispanic community because it was the appropriate age for a woman to marry and bear children. In modern times, the idea that a fifteen year old girl is emotionally and physically mature to become a wife and mother is debatable, but the symbolism remains.

I didn’t feel as if I had an adult identity, or more specifically, an identity as a woman, until I finished college and entered the professional world. I was the only female, aside from a much older administrative assistant, in my department in an engineering firm. Being the only female engineer and the youngest person in my group made me realize that I wasn’t going to get respect just for being there, I had to earn it. I was immediately, the “new girl,” then “the girl working for…such and such,” and finally just “the girl that sits by the plan desk.”

It would have been inconceivable for me to call any of my colleagues “boy” because to do so would be insulting and suggests that they are incapable of handling adult tasks.

While I excelled in my career and spoke to all my coworkers as my equal, the term “girl” stuck with me. It was demeaning to have men who could be my father refer to me as “girl.”

Although I felt infantilized by my peers, I was more conflicted because I felt guilty. I call adult women, including myself, “girls” without giving it a second thought. Social outings with other women are a “girls’ night out,” and I cannot remember a time when I did not start an email or a text to a friend with the phrase “hey girl!”I have noticed that informally men and women are called “girls and guys,” especially when referring to adults in their early 20s, like most of the individuals in my social circle, and for this reason I do not see anything wrong with calling other women “girls” in an informal setting. It’s a playful expression of youthfulness, equal to “hanging out with the boys.”

But, I draw the line at calling women “girls” in a professional setting, or any setting where males are exclusively referred to as “men.”

It took me months to stand up to my colleagues about the way they addressed me, but it was the best thing I could have done for myself. Adulthood is messy and complicated, and no one truly wants to grow up, but it is part of living.

I am an adult. I am a woman. I am a self-respecting, sexual, independent, free-thinking, smart, feisty, woman.

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

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xoxo,

PATRICIA پاتریشیا

Note: This post also appears on Patricia’s blog, check it out!

 

You Don’t Scare Me

Hey joonies,

Sorry we’ve been a little more MIA than usual.  October and November tend to be my busiest months at work than the rest of the year.  I love my job, but it really took me awhile to get there.  It took me time to be able to adjust and get comfortable with people.

Despite being outspoken and blunt, I have a tendency to start out shy with people I don’t know.  My potty mouth is reserved for friends only and the tattoo-ed, women’s rights advocate, and proud Iranian side of me are usually put away when I first start a new job.

My philosophy: you never know how people are going to react – better to start out observing than to be sorry in the end.

Clarification: I will never apologize for who I am.  But in order to be professional, you have to choose what parts of your personality you should highlight in the workplace.

My resume is dominated by my experience in Middle East studies.  In college, I went from one journalism internship to the next.  After college, every professional experience I’ve had is related to Iran or Middle East in general.  In fact, I only moved to D.C. to pursue an internship in Iranian politics.

By graffiti artist A1one in Tehran

When I began to apply for a permanent job – my dad said, “Farrah, you should erase all of your Iran experience from your resume because you will be discriminated against when employers look at your resume.”

My first reaction — Fuck that, I love the experience I’ve had and if some employer is going to discriminate against me for it then I don’t want to work there anyway.

My second reaction — Shit, if I erase all of that from my resume, I’m basically left with my college degree.

So I refused.  I didn’t talk to my dad about the lack of calls I got from the many jobs I applied to.  I didn’t talk to my dad about my struggles with finding a job.  Instead, I lied to my dad about getting another unpaid internship in D.C. focusing on Middle East democracy and told him that I was working temporarily elsewhere.

And when I finally got an interview with the current organization I work for, I didn’t tell my parents until after I had the confirmation email that I got the job.

I learned something valuable from the first interview at my job and my first year there.  My experiences at work have only reaffirmed what I’ve always believed in:

Don’t apologize for your culture or your background.  It’s what sets you apart.  It’s what makes you unique and it gives you an advantage. [Read more...]

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