Learning to be a bitch

I’m getting better at being a bitch. I always was a bit of a bitch, but with some conciliatory impulses built in for padding, some sugar coating the pill.

I’m not there yet. By any means. But getting better. And I’m learning day to day from two older women, both lawyers, both my bosses.

One is in her mid forties and the other early fifties. They don’t even know that it’s controversial among younger women to be feminists. They’re not making a statement when they say they’re feminists – it’s as simple a statement as saying they’re women.

One is married to a stay at home dad, refuses to do housework and revels in her absent-mindedness — much like most men with such faults, she pretends it’s less her handicap than others’ problem if they don’t pick up the slack. The other is a single mom.

(There are two other lawyers whom I don’t work directly for but talk to often: One is a former military wife, originally from Holland. She runs up hills for fun, can hold her own in a fist fight, assembles motorbikes in her living room (and rides them) and refuses to marry her boyfriend. Plus, my fellow paralegal was a traditional Greek stay at home mom until her husband left her on Christmas day to marry his mistress. She went to work, built herself a career and raised three girls on her own. She’s single, attractive, happy and takes no shit from anyone.)

Back to my bosses… there’s something in their voices, a quality of how they speak when they are issuing orders, disagreeing, taking an antagonistic position. I believe it’s what people call “strident” when it’s coming from women and “authoritative” when it comes from men. And I’m serious: it gets me fucking hot.

I actually get a high surrounded by these strong women. What’s the smiles of men approving of my tits compared to the knowledge that kick-ass, strong as hell women have my back?

They don’t give an inch. They win arguments. They carry their points. They aren’t afraid of retorting sharply to the condescension of a man. They’re bitches. And you bet, they’re seen as such by most of the people they deal with, but damned if they care.

I’m learning. My voice has always, at times, acquired that strident quality but only if the situation was right. I still keep it consciously out of my voice very often because I have more superiors than juniors (as an aside, gaining worldly status – professional, ideally – is absolutely necessary to achieving full bitch status). But the bitch inside me is not very well-hidden. When I recently tried to tell one of my bosses that I was “easy-going” she gave me a funny look and then said, “Yeah, I get that a lot too,” and then we both burst out laughing.

I’ve noticed. You get old enough, you’re a woman – an intelligent woman – for long enough, and you become a bitch. There is no way around, unless people’s attitudes regarding powerful women change. Your voice and manner become strident acquire authority. People may not like you, but you get shit done, people do as you say and yes, you get respect.

I’m very much looking forward to a few wrinkles and sharper cheekbones. I don’t want to be young and conciliatory much longer — my inner bitch wants out.