- Hamas is a terrorist organization who spent a year planning a Pogram in Israel and it carried out on October 7, 2023. The slaughter of innocent Jews was horrific and far too reminiscent of Nazi Germany. The more than 200 hostages still held by Hamas include babies and the elderly, as well as children who are now orphans.
- October 7 emerged as "the deadliest day for the Jewish people since the Holocaust."
- Worldwide antisemitism appears to have exploded since October 7th and officials are issuing serious warnings about our safety.
- The response to that attack has left thousands of Gazan's injured and dead - without food, water, and electricity.
- The majority of Palestinians DO NOT support Hamas. Just 27 percent of respondents to a recent poll selected Hamas as their preferred party.
Living Life Loudly
I make no excuses. This is who I am. I live my life out loud.
Monday, October 30, 2023
Waking Up Hated
Wednesday, September 28, 2022
But why?
Growing up I was, as I am now, not a kid who went unnoticed.
I was loud, silly, and opinionated. My parents told me my body and voice were
mine and even as a kind in the 70s, I knew that I was meant to question when things
simply did not make sense to me. I was raised to believe that if I asked good questions,
I would get good answers. Mostly. I clearly recall an exception to that rule. It
was the “but why” exception. Often when I asked my mother “but why” about any number
of things – why can’t I have ice cream, why can’t I watch that show, why can’t I
stay out later - her response was “because I said so.” That phrase made
absolutely no sense to me. I was a scientist’s daughter – I knew why the sky
was blue and why baby bird sometimes fell out of the nest and why sedimentary rock
could tell me how old an area was. So how was it possible that the answer to other
very important (to me) questions were shot down with no explanation.
It enraged me so that I remember knowing even at 10 or 11
years old that I would never say that to my children. That even small, they were
people, and all people deserve a why. That understanding my reasoning, would
help them understand me. Hopefully one day understanding me would help them
navigate the world of adults.
I kept that promise. I assure you that there are 1,000
others I did not. Bribery – anything to make them stop crying on an airplane, junk
food – it will not kill them, R movies – I will take bad language and sex over gratuitous
violence any day. But that one I kept. Partly because I have a vastly different
communication with my kids than I had with my parents and partly because I cannot
handle not knowing why.
Ask my wife and she will quickly tell you that I need my
world to make sense. I think one of the reasons I never gravitated to science
fiction or fantasy is grounded in my need for things to make sense. I have a strong
commitment to fairness, reality, and a disdain for lying, fakery and a lack of
why. Even as an adult when something happens that does not compute for me, I need
to try to get to the bottom of the why. This is where the growth happens for me.
I should be clear; this need is not esoteric. It is not a why did this person have to die, or why is there antisemitism, racism, or hurricanes. I am humble enough to know that those are answers are way beyond me. This more personal, more soul searching and reflective. It is the why that require someone else to provide an answer they are often unwilling to give. Why aren’t we friends anymore? Why didn’t I get that job? Why would you say something bad about me behind my back? Knowing these answers would allow me to reflect on my own self-improvement as well as to recognize that many times when it feels like it’s about me, it actually isn’t. I tell my kids all of the time “no one thinks about you as much as you think about you.”
But those “whys” hurt as much now as they did as a kid.
It is the knowledge that someone could provide the answer but chooses not to. It
is the self-flagellation I go through trying to determine if it is me or them
or none of the above. It is the deep dive into my self-confidence. It is the NOT
KNOWING that keeps me up at night.
I know I am not alone, nor am I paranoid. I simply want
things to make sense to me. Countless people (especially women) feel this way. That
makes perfect sense to me. What makes absolutely no sense to me are the people
who can move on with a “I am sure there’s a reason,” “it is not about me,” etc.
I was clearly not born with whatever that gene is.
I also never want to burden someone with my needs. I try to
ask for constructive feedback when something does not work out and I mean it. I
would give I the same if asked because I want to honor the way that a lack of
why impacts people.
I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse to be a person
who questions. I know it makes me a better mom, a better wife and friend. It
also makes me a better marketer to ask why – it helps me get to the insights
that matter, the nugget that will make us matter. Unfortunately, it also leaves
me regularly frustrated when a why is just not going to materialize no matter
how much I want one.
So, I am left with questions. How does someone not turn inward
when there is no why - not assume it is about them or try to unbox the puzzle
that likely cannot be unboxed? Rationally I know that not everything has a why
and not all things make sense, but damn if I am not stubborn enough to want them
to.
Sunday, September 11, 2022
Peripheral Grief
Today two of my camp friends will fly to attend another friend's funeral. The irony that they are flying on 9/11 is not lost on any of us. Tomorrow I will attend the same funeral virtually. The irony that COVID is the reason that is even an available option is not lost on me either.
On 9/11 I was a New Yorker in
the Midwest. Completely freaked out and so far from "home." It took
hours to confirm that those closest to me were alright, though no one was
really alright. I was here and yet my pain was real and raw. In reality
though, it was peripheral. Do I have college friends who lost spouses and parents,
yes. Did a mom from my hometown never come home, yes. Did that day change me
more as a lifelong New Yorker, also yes.
Your peripheral vision is your
side vision, the ability to see things outside of your direct line of sight.
And so often, such is our grief. My friend lost her sister, a boy lost his
mother, and a father, his daughter. They are the mourners. They are the ones
with the right to cry and scream and curse the sky. They are the ones who must
put aside their grief to plan and organize and respond to questions. So why is
my heart so heavy when I had not seen this friend in 30 years? Why did I have
to be physically restrained from driving to my mother in New York 22 years ago
today?
I used to think that everyone
felt as deeply as I do. That they felt the pain of others and their own grief
was not based on how recent or frequently they connected with someone who was
now gone. I have come to understand that is not the case for everyone, that I
am both blessed and cursed with peripheral grief.
If you have never attended
sleep-away camp, it is a difficult concept to explain. It is hard for someone to
wrap their minds around the bonds built in such a short but intense time
together. It is hard to imagine that neither time nor distance can diminish how
it feels when someone you grew up with in that environment is struggling. It is
peripheral grief, and it is heavy.
If you have never felt your city in
your bones, then it is equally hard to imagine why anyone who was a New Yorker,
considers themselves one for life. That when something or someone destroys the
fabric of what makes it the greatest city on earth, New Yorkers around the
globe mourn. It is peripheral grief, and it is hard.
I still cannot wrap my brain around
the idea that Randi is gone, or that Amy has lost her sister. I was just
texting with Randi on July 20th as she shared the astonishing news
that the pharma company was going to cover her immunotherapy. I had reached out
to her as soon as I knew she was sick and then again when she was fighting the insurance
company with ideas with the little expertise I have in the area. I cannot wrap
my heart around it either. It is peripheral grief, and there are times when I
feel guilty for it. Who am I to have the right when those so close to her are
the true mourners. But then a text dings or a call comes through, and it is another
camp friend, and they share the same hurt and I know that we can find comfort
in each other. In the past. In the knowing.
Earlier today I responded to one
of the women flying today – “I know you are flying to the funeral today of all days,
and luckily you have a newly anointed angel watching over you.” And while I do
not really believe in g-d, or angels in any literal sense - I do believe in
camp friends. I believe in cities that are part of our fabric. I believe in our
collective peripheral grief, and it makes us all a little less alone.
Friday, September 24, 2021
Thoughts for my Daughter (and maybe yours) on the First Day of Being an Adult
It is 5:58 am, and I cannot sleep. I have been awake since just about the
time you were born on this day 18 years ago. Let's blame muscle memory. That
day started out calmly with an induction (God forbid you'd come out on your own
before 40.5 weeks) and ended in chaos. That epidural I tried to push off, but
which was eventually given, sent us both downhill and we wound up in an
emergency c-section. I remember that my OB was on the gurney with me as they
wheeled me into the OR, she was trying to hold me in a less dangerous position.
They almost left your dad in the hallway, but I asked for him and they ran and
got him right before they cut you out of me. When you didn't cry, I panicked.
And I will never forget your dad saying "well, she's not crying, but she
is staring right at me with the widest eyes."
I share that story of your beginning, because it was not at all like we'd
planned or imagined. In the end, it gave us you, and in that way, it is
exactly like life.
Today according to the law, you are an adult. We've said that before when
you were Bat Mitzvahed and on that day according to Jewish Law you were
"an adult" (take that with a grain of salt because when the Torah was
written, most women didn't live past their 30s). Today though, you earn the
right to vote and die for your country - odd when you have not yet technically
earned the right to drink legally and in Texas you wouldn't have autonomy over
your body - but don't get me started on our archaic legal system.
Instead, my love let's focus on real advice I can give, and hope that you
can reflect on as an adult.
1. It takes a long time to feel like an adult and once you do, you
will realize you've been doing it for a while. It's not so much the bills and
jobs and rent/mortgage etc. It's the realization that you are responsible for
yourself and others. It is in being counted on and looked to, and the weight of
that responsibility. It's a blessing and a burden, and being an adult never
ends.
2. I will love you no matter what. Nothing you could do would ever change
that. You will find only a handful of others who will be your "ride or
die" people in this life. You will know then when you find them, hold on
to them for dear life and show up for them no questions asked. Your sister is
one of them, so you already have an example by which to recognize the rest.
These are the drop everything, where are we burying the body, here is my kidney
kind of people. You can face anything in life as long as you have them.
Large groups of friends are overrated and inconsistent. These are your people.
3. You owe NO ONE an explanation of who you are and where you are going. You
are just at the beginning of the journey in figuring this out, and I assure you
that it will morph and change 100 times before you feel yourself in your skin. Do
not let anyone make you feel like you owe the world an explanation. Your gender,
your sexuality, your passions, your major, your path, your friends, your
journey - they are yours alone. I might not always understand or agree, but you
will ALWAYS have my support.
4. Stay weird and curious. You have been from day one, uniquely you. You are
brilliant and funny and work harder than anyone I know. Your thirst for
knowledge is endless. You are the most curious person I know. These traits
sometimes make you feel different or awkward, but they are neither. They are
what make you exactly who you are, and I hope that never changes. We spend far
too much time conforming to be who we think we are supposed to be, and that will
never make you happy. I learned this lesson way late in life, and my wish for
you is that you never feel the need to change for anyone or anything. The world
will try to change you. I promise to be here to remind you that just because
someone you love doesn't understand you, does NOT mean the burden is on you to
be different.
5. Listen to your gut. Drinking and drugs are a normal part of being an
adult. This means that you need to do your best to not be an idiot. But since
that is inevitable, this is where friends and kindness come in. Never leave a
friend alone over a toilet - grab water and their hair and know that next time
it could be you. Never leave a drunk or high friend alone in a questionable
situation, if your gut says otherwise. Do your best to avoid situations that
feel off. And it's not just drinking and getting high. Your gut is the single
best North Star you have. Listen to it anytime you are unsure and know that 98%
of the time it will be right. For the other 2%, call me. My advice is free.
6. Sex is awesome. Trust me here, eventually the awkward fumbling in the
dark becomes something intimate, empowering, and even fun. But sex is power,
my love and people will use it in all kinds of ugly ways. So, make sure that
you are always in charge of your heart and your body. There should be no shame
in sex, no blame and no will ALWAYS FUCKING MEANS NO. But again, sex is power,
and people will abuse that. So be safe (never count on anyone else to keep you
safe), trust your gut, be kind, have fun, be generous with yourself and others,
but please be careful.
7. Your anxiety can be a strength. This is a lesson you have taught me. I
was wrong to believe that your anxiety was only harmful. While it's important
to help moderate it, you have taught me that it is also your superpower. It
motivates and drives you. It pushes you to excel and learn. It is, in essence,
your driver. However, anxiety can also be crippling and so can perfectionism. So,
try to find a balance as best as you are able. Cut yourself some slack as you
move into college and find things that make you feel alive and are not centered
around achievement. Grades are such a superficial measurement and even though
they mean everything to you now, I promise you will never remember what you got
in AP Bio 10 years from now. And this applies to humans too. Remember that
everyone is just as nervous to make the first move or send the first text.
Don't let the "what ifs" stop you from adventure.
8. You are beautiful. I know when you read that you will roll your eyes.
That won't make it less true. But it's also because you look in the mirror and
only see your insecurities looking back. The world sees something else. And
while I think you have a shayna punim, that is not what makes you beautiful.
It's the way your eyes shine when you tell us something you are passionate
about. The way you laugh with your sister at jokes that only make sense to the
two of you. The way you light up the minute the littles get on FaceTime to talk
to you. The sense of calm that comes over you when you snuggle a kitty. The
fire in your belly when you fight injustice. The way you cry when you are
overwhelmed and done. You are an old soul, and all of it makes you beautiful.
9. Your voice is your future. You are so incredibly passionate about social
justice, environmental destruction, the importance of critical thinking,
storytelling and adventure. When you chose to use your voice as an advocate, a
change maker and a disrupter, you are on fire. You are the epitome of my
favorite quote "well behaved women rarely make history." Own your voice,
use your voice.
10. You can ALWAYS come home. Home is not a place, per se. Home is the
people, the feeling, the history, home is your family. And no matter when or
where, you can always come home. Today, tomorrow and every day for the
rest of your life - my door, my arms, my lap and my heart are yours, Talia. You
can always come home.
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
All of my exes live in Texas
I am still extremely close to my ex-husband’s sister. Her sons are every bit my nephews. But a few weeks ago when introducing her to another friend, I called her “my ex-sister-in-law.” She was appalled and smacked me in the arm, saying “I NEVER refer to you that way.” She’s right and I promised her it wouldn’t happen again. Over the next few weeks I was with my ex's family often - both of my kids celebrated birthdays, two Jewish Holidays etc. We all celebrated each of these occasions together. We have always gotten along well enough to do so, and we know how much it means to our kids. What I didn’t realize was how much it also meant to me.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
What I Will NOT Do for My Daughters
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Out of the Office Closet
I am an extroverted extrovert, no matter which version of any personality test I take, the answers are nearly identical. Within five minutes of meeting me, you will know I am a transplanted New Yorker, a mom to two teenage girls, Jewish, and typically very open. Within ten minutes, you will likely find that I am witty, warm, and a hugger. Oh, and if we aren’t meeting at work, you’ll quickly know that I’m not straight.
Coming out in my personal life was essentially easy. I was not a teen living in fear. I was not bullied or afraid of being thrown out of my family. I did not have to fear loss of my job, my home, or my loved ones. Coming out after 40 is received with more of a shrug and a “huh, OK.” I had the advantage of being at a place in my life where I knew myself too well to be discouraged.
Though I am openly out and proud in my personal life, I agree with writer Megan Evans who said, “I slip under the radar of both the straight and gay community and experience ‘femme invisibility’ and the assumption of heterosexuality.” (Huffington Post, Megan Evans). I struggle with the fact that anyone who does not know me well assumes I am straight, especially at work.
I have fantastic work relationships. Our atmosphere is friendly and everyone discusses their personal lives and asks about mine. They knew I was married to man, and therefore assumed I was straight. It was too awkward to correct them. I found myself feeling defensive and on the offense at the same time. For me, the craziest part was that I found my extroverted-extrovert-self, quiet and unsure. I was not being authentic or true to myself.
However, the office is like Thanksgiving dinner; there are three topics we do not discuss - sex, politics, and religion. My sexual orientation manages to hit all three. You are likely reading this and thinking “so what, I have so many out LGBTQIA colleagues, its 2018 and my office has an anti-discrimination policy?” Not so fast…
The turning point for me came after a long drive back from an even longer client meeting. I was seated in the back with a female co-worker whom I both adore and admire, but I did not know all that well at the time. She’s been married for a long time, and was asking me about the pains of online dating, and how the apps work. I handed her my phone, not thinking and told her scroll through. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that profiles of both men and woman were appearing and awkwardly mumbled something about an error in the app “I have no idea why there are women’s profiles, how weird.” She looked at me oddly for a moment and then moved on.
That moment felt like a year. I was sweating and nervous and coming undone. I felt sick and silent for the rest of the drive home. Who was I? This was SO not me. I am authentic, I am open, I am an extrovert, and a sharer. I write a blog called Living Life Loudly, for goodness sake. In that moment, though, I was small and my secret was too big to share. I felt exhausted.
I thought about what I would tell my daughters if they were facing the same dilemma, and I knew that was the last time that would happen. There was no widespread proclamation or announcement. After that day, I simply found my own ways to gently correct people’s assumptions – “Are you dating?” “Yes, I have a girlfriend.”
The truth about coming out at work is that the nature of the dynamic environment I work in means that my team often changes, and I wind up “coming out” again and again. Sometimes I can address it head on by repeating the word “girlfriend” two or three times until I can see it click on the coworkers face (since women often use it to refer to a close friend). Other situations are harder - after several offensive remarks, I had to approach a colleague with, “please don’t assume everyone in the room is straight when you speak.” They had the typical deer in headlights “I have no issues, I have tons of gay friends,” response. That one stayed awkward for a while. All of that said; I have not one regret about my decision. No one needs to waste that kind of energy - it is unhealthy and unproductive. And while I’ve had many uncomfortable moments, I can say that I have not faced anything I would consider true workplace discrimination since coming out.
OUTstanding found that 85 percent of those that answered they are closeted at work found that they are wasting too much energy pretending that they are heterosexual. Furthermore, 61 percent said that subsequently, they do not work as hard for their company. I never want that to be the case for me.
Goldman Sachs’s CIO, Marty Chavez once said, “Gay people are happier, healthier, and more productive if they feel they can bring their whole selves to work.” In an internal memo from 2011, he explained, “being authentic is crucial for peace of mind. There are connections that you can build with colleagues and clients based on being candid and authentic."
I couldn’t agree more. This journey, however, is not a sprint; it’s a marathon. I long to see this addressed openly at the highest levels of business and at my own office. Too often, the topic is so fraught with controversy, we avoid it altogether - the only people vested are those who are already part of this community. So that is this year’s commitment to self. Starting this fall, I will ask questions and inspire change. I will become more educated about all of the policies that affect my identity and my employment; I will push for more visibility. I will focus on how I can be part of the change I want to see and feel steadfast in my commitment to being all of me at work, even when it scares this extroverted extrovert.
So, what is my hindsight wisdom? (Caveat – this is not for everyone. Depending on where you live, where you work and safety in your environment - coming out at work might not be for you. Not to worry, you do you. Your reasons are yours; you do not owe anyone anything.)
For me:
- Being all of me in all facets of my life has made me a significantly happier person. I am more productive, more engaged, and more creative. I bring a different perspective, and am perhaps more sensitive to issues coworkers might be struggling with.
- I can be an advocate. I want to do more to bring uniquely LGBTQIA concerns to our leadership. In my experience, it is not that people do not care; often it is that they do not understand.
- Being brave is a process. Sometimes that means baby steps, other times it means wearing your truth to work on a t-shirt the Friday before Pride. In the immortal words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “you don’t have to see the whole staircase to take the first step.