Compassionate Leave, or Leave your Compassion

I got into a Facebook discussion the other day with a friend, and a friend of a friend. I think, and hope, it was civil on all sides; I know that they raised points that have made me think a lot the past couple of days.

The basic premise of the discussion is that the Democratic Party needs to get off its collective ass and fight to get back the vote of blue-collar, rural, (possibly) lower SES voters. The two sides were: a. that the Dems have taken too much for granted, and have given the impression of an elitist power-cell that doesn't care about the little guy; and b. that the Dems are the only party that speaks the "truth", and how are they to fight against the liars who say that coal/mining/steel/ jobs are going to come back, or that gays are evil, or that women need to subvert their will.

It's a tough call.

I will admit, I was on the, "OMG, are you kidding me? Trump doesn't actually give a DAMN about the little guy" side of the argument. But, I also know that Clinton, and the Democratic party, took an awful lot for granted this election. They assumed that they would carry certain states and demographics, didn't campaign the way they should've, and then lost those states and demographics. And I don't know what to do, because I do, truly, feel that much of what cost Clinton the election was a smear campaign in those areas...But she didn't fight against it.

Regardless, at some point in the discussion, the word "compassion" came up.

To me, as a woman, that word is fraught with double meanings. Hidden meanings. It is, in fact, one of those nasty back-handed, code word "compliments".

I hope that I am compassionate. I was raised in an area where many of my friends' parents worked whatever jobs they could to make ends meet. Where high schoolers occasionally suffered debilitating, and sometimes fatal, accidents because they were working to help their families. I've known high schoolers who logged to make ends meet, and who were injured while they were working. I've known young men who worked construction to pay for college, and were killed on the job. I've known people whose parents had to start thinking of Christmas in June or July or August, so they could put the presents on layaway. I hope that knowing these folks, who are good and kind and honest and who struggle in a way that I have never had to, has, in fact, increased my compassion.

But compassion can be an epithet, as well. Or a weapon.

On more than one occasion in my career I've been treated as if "compassion" is a negative. A downside. A trait that one has to work against. And, honestly, Clinton, and many other female politicians, have worked against this as well. When she was Secretary of State, there were those that wondered if she would be "tough" enough, or if she would be too "soft". Too "compassionate". If she would be strong enough. If she would, in fact, have the "cajones" to do what needed to be done. As if the only prerequisite to being strong, or tough, is a Y chromosome, and as if compassion is inherently soft or weak.

And she's not alone. I don't think it's just me who has felt at times that we have to fight against the notion of females as the "weaker" gender, or against some archaic notion of what actually constitutes weakness.

"Oh, you want to lead this project? It'll take late nights, are you sure your kids will be OK?" Yeah, I've been asked that, sometimes in so many words, sometimes a little more subtly. And, yes, thankyouverymuch, I know it's illegal, at least in the spirit of the law. Would you run to HR if it happened to you? Or would you just assure your boss that, yes, you know it'll take late nights, and it's OK, you'll deal with it.

I've seen bosses not give me assignments or projects out of a misguided sense of "compassion". Because they know that "I want to be there for my kids". Or whatever. So, yeah, I learned to not talk about the times I had to leave work to go to the doctor's appointments. Or made sure that the times I volunteered in the Science Lab coincided with my lunch hour (even though I'm an exempt employee, and don't, technically, have a lunch hour). Or made sure to mention how many times my spouse might've stayed home recently, making THIS time "my" turn.

And I did all of this regardless of the fact that, when I had a doctor's appointment I needed to take a kid to, or had signed up for Science Day, I either took time off, or worked early and late to make up the time.

And then the flip side is when I hear a boss praise a male colleague because he "does such a great job with his kids". Or because he's "helping his wife out."

Now, I was raised by my Dad. I have no illusions that women have the monopoly on nurturing, compassion, parenting, or anything else. From the age of 8, my Dad was the one who comforted me, raised me, taught me. He saw me through sickness, he saw me through puberty, he saw me through high school and off to college, and after I was a parent myself, he was there to keep my kids when daycare wasn't open, or when they were sick. He could make soup, and tea, and milk-toast, and cuddle, and sing, and watch Barney and Dora (God help him), and, honestly, love, with the best of them.

I have no illusions that compassion is a "female" trait.

But I do know that there are times when compassion is a double-edged sword for women. If we're compassionate, we're soft. If we're tough, we're not womanly. And either way, males are (frequently) praised for doing things that we are dinged for doing.

So, yes, I'm all for compassion. I frequently wish I had more of it. I know that there are times when I fall back on logic, or analysis, and rely too much on facts. And facts are, frequently, unkind and implacable things.

But, dammit, you can't turn compassion against me. You can't tell me to be tough, and then ding me because I'm tough. You can't tell me that soft is bad, and then ding me because I'm not womanly. You can't ding Clinton, saying she wasn't compassionate enough, without acknowledging all the times that she had to fight against that same adjective.

Sure, the Democratic Party misjudged a lot. They were possibly arrogant, certainly unaware.

But I don't think that a lack of compassion was the complete story.