Its a Woman's World...If you Insist

My heels click ominously and I can feel the eyes boring down into my back..err backside. The corridor is decrepit and dingy, a red Zero watt bulb glowing at one end. I walk toward it wishing I hadn’t worn the snug pants today ( they did seem like a good investment). I enter the door, smile at the occupier of the office and probably one of the power centres of this country and gratefully sink into a sofa as he asks us to wait.
Its just another day at work and I dressed wrong for a visit to a government office. Reaching 37 is no solace, you should wear hanging clothes ( preferably gunny bags) when you visit the corridors. All those years of sitting on their backsides have equipped the endless peons with X ray vision. And the corridors are long…Anyway, the meeting starts and I enthusiastically propel forward and suddenly the man across the table winks! And I must give me credit, I continue without batting an eyelid but give him direct eye contact for another 30 seconds. And only women can empathise with this, your instinct tells you to get up and slap the jerk but you somehow miraculously finish making your point without losing your composure. So I then turn to the subordinate. He is a quintessential government servant, middle aged, paunchy and smug with bad English but continues to ramble on. And of course, he lives up to reputation. So he will not make eye contact..rather my chest seems to be the focal point. It’s a nice sensible cotton shirt and the saleswoman promised me that the buttonholes were slip proof so I steamroll. But you know, wishing that I could just quickly glance downward to see if ‘All is well’. I continue bravely despite a wink and a heave and the only relief is that it doesn’t rattle me anymore. (I later realized that the ‘gentleman’ in question was not staring at any ‘assets’ but just uncomfortable making eye contact with a woman!). We finish the meeting and I need a loo, I have a long drive ahead. It takes me 15 minutes to find one. It reminds me of my Granddad’s loo 30 years ago and I swear it had a chain!
I have never felt disadvantaged being a woman at work. First job had its sarkari overtones but I would charmingly smile my way with all the officers and even ensure that production orders were included after deadlines. I didn’t hesitate ever to use a smile..after all I could hardly back slap with the boss. And I refused to join them for a drink. I was teased about the inherent advantage but I would accept it as a strength. But I didn’t ever cross the line.
Fortunately 2 back to back pregnancies ensured that I was treated respectably and so it goes. It also helps to be a natural team player and ability to develop instant comfort with strangers. But last 3- 4 years have been an eye opener and the glass ceiling looms threateningly. The wrong heels, the tattoo showing and a genuine smile may suddenly interfere with you being perceived as competent. Suddenly, it seems sensible(and safer) to ask another woman where the toilet is and emotions at work are dangerous. You see when men can raise their voices they are only asserting themselves but women shouting or asserting is ‘Oh must be that time of the month again’.
It’s a constant dilemma and juggling of work and home life that we manage. And coupled with the fact that we live in an era of ‘lets make everything perfect’. I know that this is a hackneyed theme and feminist, been written about a countless number of times but the reality of it hits you only when you are in it. At the end of each day, I feel bone tired and wonder at the amount of pending items that I have closed but it still doesn’t seem enough. When will it be enough? Will the ‘Oh she is a woman’ tag always be a liability in the conference room? Or is it something that I must always work with and need to go the extra mile.
Parents brought us 2 sisters up never making us feel we were disadvantaged though Mom being Mom, would always sternly tell us to ‘sit properly’. As Mimi plays in the park without a care and I ask Mom to regularly courier bloomers ( they’re available only in small cities nowadays) so that she can be a free bird, it ‘s a daily dilemma I go through. What is the reality? Can she and I ever free ourselves of our gender and march onwards. Or is it a fine line? Or is it a myth?