Sheryl Sandberg, China & Me

by J. T. Gilhool

  I’m not going to tell you the details of my shopping list, or whether or not I purchased everything on that list, or whether it was just a fun way to kill some time. But I will tell you that $300 can go a long way and, if you’ve had a couple of cocktails, you can really have a good time shopping. And, why is that such a big deal, really? It was, in fact, a helluva lot of fun and an incredibly judgment-free experience.

  Back in China, the conversation up on the roof with my girlfriends from somewhat less puritanical European and Oceania countries has become much more interesting after Fifty Shades and a few bottles of wine. At 45 and with 20 years of marriage under my belt, a little adventure isn’t such a bad thing.

  After all, when I arrived in China I dropped 30 pounds, cut my hair, bought a stable of wrap dresses and decided to always wear 4-inch heels to the office. Do you think I did that just for me? Or, for someone at the office? No, I did it for the man who waits for me to come home at night . . . he likes my shoes.

  Along with that $300 that I may or may not have spent in Thailand, that self-transformation is one of the best things I ever did for me. I’m not just the bread winner, the mother, the lawyer, the director, the travel agent, the cog in the wheel of commerce. I am — still — a woman. A woman who wants to feel desirable and be desired.

  There is nothing anti-feminist about that. Nothing is that simple. I am as complicated as the next creature. I don’t want to be taken for granted, and I don’t want to take my partner for granted either. I didn’t re-make myself just for me. There are perks for both of us.

  Fifty Shades didn’t turn me into something new or different. Truth be told, I never finished the book. I couldn’t get past the red room of pain. Hey, if that’s your thing fine, but I have a thing about women being portrayed in such a submissive and dismissive way. Giving up control isn’t a sign of weakness, but kneeling down with your head bowed awaiting your Master is just more than this woman can stomach. Still, those few chapters provided a needed distraction and the impetus to think differently about things I already thought about . . .

  I remade myself long before I ever heard of Christian Grey. I did it on my own, on my own terms. As it turns out — like most women — I already knew what I wanted in and out of the bedroom.

  “Oh . . . a lot of one and some of the other.” — E.L. James, Fifty

  Shades of Grey

  Anonymous Perspectives

  November 2012

  Melbourne, Australia

  Most things do depend on your perspective. A picture taken from a particular vantage point can make it appear that angels are bowing to commerce, for example. And this might suggest that commerce has taken over even the purest of intentions, minds and souls.

  When you work for a large conglomerate, you can often feel like you are nothing more than a cog in the wheel or you might think you are a rock star. It depends on your perspective.

  To help with this issue of perspective, most large companies today use a tool known as the “360-Degree Feedback Process.” It is a process by which the people to whom you report, those who report to you and others with whom you work provide anonymous feedback on your job performance. It is meant to be constructive. But, like most things, this too, depends on your perspective.

  I never really liked this process at the Salt Mine because it comes too close to performance reviews. Part of the process requires that you self-nominate your raters. People tend to nominate people from whom they expect overwhelmingly positive comments to bolster their own performance review. And, frankly, the anonymous option is crap in my opinion; it’s gutless. People love to hide behind anonymity.

  I have long suspected that I have been working with a bully. From the moment I met this guy, I have had a bad feeling about him. Admittedly, I find it very hard to work with him. I truly do. We’ve even had a conversation about it and, of course, we agreed “to start over.” So, in the spirit intended by the 360-Degree process, I nominated him as one of my reviewers.

  Given our track record, I didn’t expect a glowing review. But I hoped for a modicum of professionalism in response to the olive branch I had extended. Nope. He’s a bully and he put it in writing:

  “You are lacking in both emotional resilience and professional maturity. You have created a work environment characterized by poor morale, fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. Your team is not empowered to make decisions. I never know what to expect from interactions with you. Sometimes you are rational and other times you are emotional, negative, and irrational. Your first priority in everything you do is to put yourself above all else including [the Salt Mine]. You speak negatively about others and don’t realize how quickly this gets back to them. You are on your best behavior with Senior Executives and poor with everyone else.

  You are unable to accept even the smallest amount of feedback for improvement. You attack the person providing the feedback and do not seem capable of self reflection.

  You look to others to act rather than taking ownership of issues.”

  My Dad would tell me that he’s jealous, intimidated and threatened by me. He would say that I am smart, beautiful and have more ability in my little finger than most people do in their entire body. Of course he would, he is my Dad! His perspective is skewed.

  Still, when you read something as venomous as that, you begin to wonder if this is really worth it. You wonder if bowing to the power and seduction of commerce — like the angels — is worth the price you pay. You wonder if the glass shards that tear at your soul as you try to crack the ceiling are really worth the pain. What’s on the other side? This guy? Seriously — this is the guy you let into the club? This is the kind of leadership that is valued?

  And then . . .

  You come home and find your oldest daughter back from a week in southern China with her classmates. Jane’s trip was designed to bond the kids, show them a beautiful area of China and challenge them physically with hiking, rafting and biking. Something like “Outward Bound.”

  As it turns out, Jane enjoyed all the activities but the most rewarding part of her experience happened at a remote village where children invited them to play and even share a meal. Unable to really communicate with words, Jane still made friends.

  She simply lit up when she told the story of how the girls were playing one of those clapping, singing “my mother had a whatever” games. Jane didn’t know what they were saying in Chinese, but she knew the game and played it. She was a hit — as she would be — she is magic, after all.

  It changes your perspective. The bully — to quote Taylor Swift — is never gonna be anything other than mean. Me, I get to be the Mother of Jane (and Henry and Bella). And, according to the rest of my 360-Degree Report, I am also a pretty good person to work with and I’m good at what I do. More importantly, according to the woman who stopped by my office today, I am an inspiration to her and many other local Chinese women. That ain’t bad.

  So, while one vantage point makes it appear that even the angels have sold out; a different vantage point can make it appear that commerce is flying on the wing of an angel, perhaps even guided by her. For me, it is a means to an end . . . and listening to Jane talk about the children in the village makes it worth it. For today, anyway.

  Merry Merry . . . Very Very

  November 2012

  Shanghai

  In Shanghai, every “Western” restaurant is offering you a chance for a traditional American Thanksgiving and even a traditional Christmas Feast at top dollar. It will be nice, I am sure, but I have to work on Turkey Day and the kids go to school (British International School). The Brits don’t seem all that excited about our American Thanksgiving for some reason.

  We will celebrate Thanksgiving on the Saturday after Turkey Day. We will gather around the table with friends from Louisville. The meal will come from our Australian butcher — yes, an Aussie will prepare our turkey and deliver it to our door. Our friend “Louisville Slugger Sue” and I will make the “supporting” dishes but it won’t exactl
y be like Thanksgiving in the States.

  I know that my Mother is shaking her head as she reads this — her grandchildren are having a half-baked Thanksgiving. But hey, it is the best I can do. I will be in Taiwan the week of Thanksgiving, arriving in Shanghai on Friday.

  Saturday morning, I’m squeezing in a final crown fitting for a root canal that I had to have this week. I should be done in time to get the side dishes prepared because we have to eat before Sue needs to leave for the Girl Scout sleepover. And on Sunday, well, I hit the skies again. India for a week and then straight to Australia. I return on December 10th.

  I really don’t want to do Thanksgiving at some restaurant or hotel. The only picture that comes to mind is from the classic Christmas movie: A Christmas Story. Yep, that one. You remember the scene at the end of the movie — just after they cut the duck’s head off, the waiters come out to sing Christmas carols . . . “fa ra ra.” I know this is culturally insensitive but that is what is rolling around in my head. I can’t help it.

  So, as you sit around complaining that Christmas decorations were out at Halloween, I envy you. If it were not for Spotify, we would not have any Christmas music at all. I didn’t pack ornaments, Christmas music, nothing. (Never claimed I was mother of the year . . .) I really miss those Christmas classics like Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer and Dominick the Donkey . . . seems crazy, I know. Where is Andy Williams when you need him?

  To ease our pain, at 3:30 p.m. Shanghai time on the 10th day of the 11th month, we did the unthinkable . . . we put up our Christmas tree. I am using the term loosely . . . the “Christmas tree” was purchased at IKEA. Henry is taller than this tree. We only had enough blinking lights for half of it and the lights play some nutty Chinese song. The star on top leans to the left and makes the tree look like it could topple over. It is not exactly a Charlie Brown Tree. It’s more like a Charlie Brown Tree that had too much eggnog or watched too much Rachel Maddow on MSNBC. Yes, my tree leans to the left . . . just like me. I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT!!

  I love it because our children dance around that tree like it was some enormous Blue Spruce.

  Back in the States, my favorite family tradition is the Saturday after Thanksgiving. On Friday, we’d have two trees delivered to the house. They bring the smell of evergreen and pine and Christmas into the house. They usually arrive late in the evening from our former nanny’s Christmas tree farm. Jessica, who now has two of her own, visits with the kids while we drag in the trees.

  That Saturday afternoon I untangle the lights to go on the “main” tree. This is the family tree. I make dinner and cookies and we have hot chocolate and start the process of dressing the tree. It takes hours.

  From the time they were in the womb, the children’s grandparents have been purchasing unique and personal Christmas ornaments for them. The kids also collect them as we or they travel. Each ornament is marked with the year and their initials. We open these one by one by one.

  The kids squeal in delight when some of their favorites appear — Batman, the taxi from New York, the music box. Each ornament is a story, a memory that comes to life as the owner recounts the story while placing the ornament on the tree. We even have ornaments that Jack and I made as children (because our Mothers were, and still are, Mothers of the Year!).

  It is hours of pure joy for me. There is nothing I love more — it is Christmas. The Saturday after Thanksgiving is one of my favorite, and possibly my single most favorite, day of the year. The people I love most in the world sharing their lives with each other.

  It is bliss. And, it will not last much longer. Jane is 15. We have not done it in 2 years . . . remember, I failed to pack the ornaments. But, I digress . . .

  As the ornaments are unpacked, we are all waiting for the “first” one. The “ornament that started it all” as Henry would say. It’s the ring box disguised as a Christmas ornament that held my engagement ring all those years ago in Chicago. Our basement studio apartment; we thought it was heaven on earth. Jack hung it on our Christmas tree that we bought the day before . . . a tradition born.

  So, I beg your indulgence as we revel in putting up a Christmas tree on November 10th, playing all the Christmas music we can get our hands on, and starting our Secret Santa shopping before you’ve even ordered your Turkey Day pies. It had to be done.

  We actually miss 24-hour non-stop Christmas music, we miss all those old Christmas specials like The Year Without A Santa Claus and Miracle on 34th Street, we miss the Christmas lights and the smell of nutmeg and peppermint sticks. Of course, at this time of year, we miss our family and friends most of all.

  In 37 days, on the 17th day of the 12th month, we will travel more than 5,000 miles. It will take us three flights totaling more than 15 hours and almost as long in lay overs to get to the President’s home state of Hawaii, but it will be worth every minute.

  This year we get to spend Christmas with family. Thanks Uncle John, Megan, Sarah and Nana and Papa — you are our gifts. Because living in Shanghai has taught us to appreciate each other and you so much more than we ever did before.

  And while we are busy appreciating you, could you please pick up some old Bing Crosby music and a copy of the Polar Express and put it in your luggage for us . . . thanks.

  Votes for Women

  November 2012

  Shanghai

  It was we, the people; not we, the white male citizens; nor yet we, the male citizens; but we, the whole people, who formed the Union . . . Men, their rights and nothing more; women, their rights and nothing less.

  ~ Susan B. Anthony

  Now that the election is finally over both in the States and in China, I have been thinking about all that rhetoric and how it shapes people and perspectives. How the things said and done today will shape the future and how we will view our world, other nations and even individuals.

  How do I explain the phrase “legitimate rape” to my daughters and my son? What makes a person, not to mention one of our nation’s congressional members, put those two words together — legitimate and rape?

  How do we value people in our society? There are many ways to answer that question but in terms of a fiscal society, we tend to assign value based upon their pay. One’s income, in many places in the world, determines their place in society, their access to education, access to health care, access to legal representation — it can, in fact, determine their level of civil and even human rights.

  And, how do women do in this category? You might be surprised to hear that we aren’t doing as well as men. The glass ceiling is firmly in place in many countries, even my home country. Why is that important? Because it means we are not equal. And, those who are not equal have no standing in the debate. Those who are not equal can be easily dismissed. Those who are not equal are, quite simply, worth less.

  When women are paid less — just because they are women — the implication is that they are worth less. This is why closing the gender pay gap is among the most important fronts in our fight for equality in the workplace and beyond.

  But we can’t fix what we can’t see. . . . With few exceptions, pay gaps remain entrenched — for now.

  1) In the United States, the gender pay gap remained unchanged in 2011. Women earned 77 cents, on average, for every dollar earned by men — a number that has barely budged for years.

  2) The six jobs with the deepest gap in pay between women and men in the United States are all within the financial sector: insurance agents, managers, clerks, securities sales agents, personal advisers, and other financial specialists.

  3) The gender pay gap hits women of color particularly hard. In 2011, the earnings of African American women were $33,501 — 69.5 percent of all men’s earnings — while Latinas’ earnings were $29,020, or 60.2 percent of all men’s earnings.

  4) Looking globally, the gender pay gap remained relatively unchanged in this past decade in 26 countries.

  5) China and India have particularly steep pay gaps.

  Women in Chin
a earn 69 percent of what Chinese men earn, while Indian women earn 66 percent as much as Indian men.

  [Source: “Take 5: Pay Gap,” Catalyst blog by Illene H. Lang, Oct. 10, 2012]

  Like many Americans, I have smirked at the sex trade in some parts of Thailand, like “Walking Street” in Pattaya. But I was naive. I didn’t understand the plight of these women, or at least I didn’t fully appreciate the horror of their situation. They take incredible risks on a daily and nightly basis. I should not have been so glib.

  I don’t know how many of those women — girls, actually — are there under duress or will find themselves in a situation where they will be taken by force to some other location in Southeast Asia or even the States. Does that seem impossible to you? It shouldn’t. It happens. It happens all around you. You just aren’t looking, so you don’t see it.

  The Protection Project, based at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, has documented the rising trends in the sex slave trade.

  • More than 15,000 women are trafficked into the United States every year, many of them young girls from Mexico.

  • Asian women are sold to brothels in North America for $16,000 each.

  • Almost 200,000 girls from Nepal, many of them under the age of 14, are working as sex slaves in India.

  • An estimated 10,000 women from the former Soviet Union have been forced into prostitution in Israel.

  • Some 60,000 Thai children have been sold into prostitution.

  • As many as 10,000 children aged between 6 and 14 are virtually enslaved in brothels in Sri Lanka.

  • Some 20,000 women and children from Burma have been forced into prostitution in Thailand.

  I spend time in Thailand and India and I’ve been to Malaysia, Vietnam and Cambodia. I have seen girls walking the streets day and night and find it hard to look directly at them. It is hard to look them in the eye because I don’t want to pass judgment but I also don’t feel comfortable. I wonder if the girl walking arm-in-arm with a man old enough to be her grandfather is safe. And then, I heard some of the campaign rhetoric from back in the States.