leaning in to road rage

I am writing a post about the fifth birthday party scene, but I must pause first and tell you separately what happened to me yesterday. I've begun listening to Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead while I carpool the kids to various shindigs, and it gives me a nice pep talk in the car. Some parts I disagree with (e.g. "50% of men should stay home with their children." What the what? Do we really want a society in which this happens? Just, no.), but I am enjoying her anecdotes from the workplace. She describes many incidents in which women colleagues demur for no apparent reason at all or are shushed by men when trying to speak. I have definitely politely demurred to men in my office. But no more! Watch out world, another feminist is being let loose.

So I'm having another pep talk on the way to school yesterday morning, and I'm pondering the ways in which I put myself second on a regular basis. Bear with me while I set the scene, I am going somewhere. To get to Vivi's school, I drive from one exit to the next on a little access road that follows our highway. It's a quick drive down this access road and gets me to my destination a full 3-4 minutes faster than the back roads, and the only minor annoyance is when I meet with the ramp coming off the highway. The access road has two lanes, and I use the left lane because I make a left turn at the exit. The ramp off the highway also feeds into this left lane, and because I am already in the lane and there is no yield sign, I assume I have the right-of-way. Note that when I am the one coming down the ramp, I slow way down and make sure no one is already in that lane before I merge. But most a$$holes do not do this slow-down maneuver. Instead, they barrel through at the same speed they were driving on the highway and expect you to slow or swerve out of their way.

But today, Reader, I did not demur. I saw a big honkin' truck coming down the ramp, but I continued on my merry way ahead of him, chin held high, blaring Sheryl Sandburg at full volume. This man did not want to yield and continued playing chicken for a minute, but I knew he saw me and would slow down eventually. But Oh ho ho! What I didn't know is that he would then lay on his horn, swerve into the right lane, roll his window down (this was a nice morning so we all had windows down), and scream--in plain view of my two small innocent lambs--"Learn how to drive, BITCH!" and THEN cut me off and slam on his brakes.

Reader, it was at this exact minute that I had an epiphany.

The road is not the place to lean in. There are, in fact, probably lots of locations where it's wise--for either safety or sanity's sake--to step back and let the boys do their thang. Even if their thang happens to be screaming at pretty ladies on the highway. From now on, I'll be taking my Sandburg in smaller doses, and never on the highway.

Have you read her book yet? What did you think? If you're a woman, do you feel like you demur to men's opinions or their place at the table? I think I do, but I'm not sure it's such a bad thing. I mean, they need the big piece of chicken, right? Let's chat about this stuff, ladies.

I have no photo to go with this post, so here's me showing my bud the b-day party tie-dye battle scars.