Dear friends and colleagues:

I am absolutely overwhelmed by your response to the blog post I wrote last night. I opened my email at the end of a rehearsal this afternoon to find some correspondence from a student. At the end of her questions, she wrote “thanks for your post, I’ve already shared it with my friends in Canada.” I haven’t been on Facebook for quite some time – my professional blog automatically cross-posts there – so I headed over to check things out. And I was stunned.

At first, when I saw people responding with sympathy and support, I felt totally embarrassed and uncomfortable. I had hesitated to write the blog post because I thought maybe it would be the worst of the Internet – something of the “this shocking public event is actually all about me” variety.

And I thought about how deep that conditioning is, that convinces us it’s better not to speak about parts of our lives. I thought about why, though I champion the cause of feminism, I hesitate to speak about some of the professional experiences I wrote about. I wonder if the reasons will sound familiar to you.

Because I’m really so lucky.

Because I have laughed and smiled in order to keep the peace.

Because I have sat silent to preserve my own place.

Because I have an idea of where my stories stand on the continuum of human trouble.

Because I watched a generation of women before me line up to say, no, they never really thought about being female in our profession, it didn’t really come up, it’s all just about the work.

Because nobody likes a complainer.

Because I can take it.

Because I have a sense of humor.

Because it didn’t slow me down.

Even as I hit “return,” I wondered if it was a good idea. And like I said, I’m just flabbergasted at the response. For one thing, I’m humbled by your collective kindness. For another, you’ve taught me how significant it is to put our stories out there. I’m floored, and I’m schooled.

And I really am lucky. Thank you.


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