Strong Women

I have been watching the US Supreme Court confirmation hearings for Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson with interest, in the light of our South African Constitutional Court Judicial Services Commission hearings which treated Justice Mandisa Maya so poorly also, and once more feel outraged at what women and, in both these cases, black women in particular, endure despite being highly qualified and respected.

Make no mistake, I do believe that all applicants for judicial appointments, especially those that are ‘for-life appointments, as US Supreme Court positions are, should be rigorously interviewed and their suitability appropriately probed.

However, and it’s a big ‘however,’ these are the things I have noticed as a distant observer:

1. There was an enormous amount of electioneering and very little actual questioning of Judge Jackson on the first couple of days. Congratulations, Donald Trump, for completely severing the ‘united’ from the United States. What a horribly divided nation America is. When Republican senators were questioning her, they frequently referred to ‘this side of the floor’ as if they were actually in Congress, and at other times, one could be forgiven for thinking one was at a Republican campaign meeting, or a GOP political lecture because there were long speeches, clearly about issues wannabe presidential nominees and others were going to exploit as rallying calls in the 2024 elections, but which seldom resulted in actual interrogatories of the candidate for the bench. Every question which resulted in often-interrupted answers by the candidate (It is sooo annoying when (men) do that.) was preceded and followed by lengthy harangues about policies which judges do not have control over, and are clearly political issues, not legal ones.

What was this smart woman thinking as she endured hours and hours of these petty potentates raging on about their own agendas (CRT, pornography, Guantanamo Bay) on her stage? The committee was not supposed to be meeting for them to hijack the public’s right to hear about her competence to act on the supreme court, by using this platform to bang on about their pet political peeves; it was about hearing her, not grandstanding for potential voters.

Ted Cruz trying to make the hearings about Critical Race Theory

2. Men do this around women. When supposedly trying to elicit information from women, they talk far more than they listen, often berating women as if they are wrong before even hearing their opinion. We have learnt to sit still and silently through men’s bombast. It is hard to hide one’s ‘I-don’t-suffer-fools-gladly’ face, but sometimes they believe we have told them what they want to hear at the end of it because we endure their tirades placidly. Judge Jackson was dignified and stoic through it all. Her patience was a model of compusure under pressure.

She should play poker.

It wasn’t only the Republicans though who were so partisan: the Democratic Chairman was quick to use his ‘chairman’s time’ to mansplain what he believed Judge Jackson would have answered. I was struck time and time again by the men’s club that the lefties were nobly allowing a woman to join.

3. And then they turned on themselves in a testosterone-loaded power struggle, forgetting the poised professional in front of them:

This is why women often feel as if they are the only adults in the room.

4. Despite that, Jackson was treated to significant head-patting about how great it would be be if she, as a black woman were to be confirmed, not quite as bad as the saccharine condescension and outrageous sexual innuendo Justice Mandisa Maya experienced in her appearance in front of the South African JSC, but sufficient for it to be obvious. It is one thing to celebrate ‘firsts’ in terms of being the first black woman to join a particular body or institution and indeed we must celebrate these milestones, however to reduce accomplished women to their gender or race alone is to subtly ignore their significant scholarship and stature as highly qualified and experienced, graduate professionals. It’s a nuance that men in high places should take note of because it sends a subtly patronising message to all that the women in their presence are fortunate to join their illustrious company and at the same time sidelining their voice to tokenism, and gives men permission not to take contrary views too seriously. Such patriarchal attitudes rob society of the significant impact that women and people of colour bring to top institutions.

It speaks to a certain insecurity of [some] men around strong women. Some years ago, I was once asked by several men whether I was not concerned that my choice for a manager reporting to me might be problematic because she was strong-willed and that she might be difficult to work with. I was astonished because that was exactly why I had supported her appointment. I wanted someone who could be their own person, and she was not a yes-woman, thank goodness.

5. Women are so often accused of being too emotional in the corridors of power or too irrational to have weighty authority vested in them. Yet, Senator Lindsay Flip-Flop Graham, who stormed out after a rant in which he hoped Gitmo prisoners died in jail, was certainly not a good example of masculine decorum; neither was his colleague, Senator Ted Cruz, who got in the face of the chairman after being told his time was up. In the face of these outbursts, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson was particularly gracious. I wonder how many times she thought, ‘WTF?’ Her serenity was exemplary. My face would have given away my outrage.

6. Something that always irritates me when anyone is not hearing what they want to hear, they attempt to browbeat the strong, in this case, female opiner. Senators tried very hard to rattle Jackson suggesting she wasn’t answering their questions, when she had – rather well I thought – clearly and succinctly. I mean, I understood straight away her explanation of the difference between policy making and interpreting it, and judges’ challenges in applying fairness along the sentencing guidelines according to the laws Congress is responsible for passing. (And I’m just a teacher.) It’s not rocket science. It’s logic, however perhaps the interlocuters also clearly did not understand the concept of ‘asked and answered.’ They didn’t come away looking smart – rather they just appeared to be trying to bully a strong woman who stuck to her guns politely.

Notwithstanding Senator Cory Booker’s maturity and ability to bring some sense to the hearings, these were a sad couple of days for America.

Thank goodness though for arbiters of jurisprudence like Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson. I hope she is confirmed and I hope her educated, experienced, public defender’s (and black female) voice holds sway on the US Supreme Court. Her South African counterpart was not afforded this opportunity. We live in hope still.

sleeping together

Not me.

I’m told I snore.

Now as a fine lady, I deny this allegation completely and submit that should I emit any nocturnal sound at all, it is a mere gentle purring, not the bear-like grunts I stand accused of (despite the evidence on my husbands bedside table: a pack of bright orange ear plugs).

My poor partner suffers from insomnia rather badly though and is often prowling around the house at 03:28, (Why is it that insomniacs always waken at the same time?) having woken up and not been able to fall back asleep. He is also mosquito averse and will always be the one to be bitten, and I do sometimes get pulled out of my dream where I am meeting Brad Pitt in a Cadbury’s factory, to find my beloved balancing on the bed with a T-shirt in hand as he bounces around trying to swipe at the kamikazi insects, who leave little bloodstained epitaphs on our ceiling as they gasp their final farewell whines.

I confess that I have no such problems and if I do get disturbed, I can easily drift off again after responding to the inner calling of an abdomen that has survived five children pounding on its bladder with their little Irish Dancing womb-booties. But I can empathize with his nightly struggles.

Ironically, it is the Maestro in fact who introduced me to the habit of listening to YouTube as I fall asleep. We used to have QI on and enjoyed both the knowledge and humour of it before dozing off. Now, I just hear that music anytime of the night and I’m Pavlovian asleep again. It no longer helps him though, so being disturbed by my soft snuffling must be really difficult for him.

When I was a newly separated young single parent (before the Maestro had the joy of my gentle murmurs beside him) I played the radio all night as company – it made me feel less afraid. So I am comfortable with voices as a soporific aid. I do not need to be a sheep accountant. He has that kind of brain though that once he is awake, he starts to obsess about the next teaching day’s challenges… and… and… and…

The Maestro is tolerant of my musical mouth-breathing up to a point. I know he has reached the moment of considering a migration to the spare room when he sits up and demands I roll over onto my side, insisting, ‘That’s enough now!’ But I have done several things to make it better, like puffing on Vicks inhalers before bed, sleeping on my side, and even using hideous tasting drops; I don’t smoke or drink. To no avail: I continue to saw logs with the artistry of a seasoned lumberjack. They say one should lose weight as well.

So, I may have to give up chocolates.

But that would be admitting I snore.

9 Things I learned on a corporate getaway to De Hoop Nature Reserve

Epiphanies on a leadership retreat in the bush

1. Try everything three times…with a friend

We went sandboarding.

They say one should try everything once (Google what Sir Thomas Beecham said about that!) I discovered that three times is the minimum: once because you should overcome your initial fear; once adding variety, and once pushing the fear factor.

Now in my middle age, I am no longer a daredevil physically, but I was itching to hurtle down the virgin slopes of the coastal dunes, and discovered that no more am I the first person to put up my hands for athletic feats. In fact, I was anxiety-ridden, not about making a fool of myself (That was inevitable) but of actually hurting myself. However a colleague and I plucked up the courage and went down (sitting) together in a ‘race.’ Well ‘down’ is an exaggeration. I slithered to a halt one metre after the guide stopped pushing me. But once we got going, what fun!

Then I tried standing up – for a while – and quickly realised that making like Kelly Slater on sand would be the quickest way to return with a broken ankle, but at least I can say that I rode the slope. (Two seconds is a while!)

Behind us was an almost sheer drop which three of us braved together – I participated in that madness only because I figured there were no bumps on the slope to stop me – I forgot about my behind – leaning back in fear of tumbling head over heels, I managed to embed my personal rear bump firmly in the hill and I had to paddle to the bottom, only to have to clamber on shaking legs back up the cliff.

But what exhilaration to conquer fear just a little. And sans Sally, I would not have done that.

2. Baboons share my sugar addiction

Baboons often damage protea plants seeking the sugary nectar beneath the flower head. Thankfully they stayed away from the chocolate stashes in the restaurant kitchen, but this chap was very interested in our cottage. Thankfully we had been warned to keep doors and windows closed.

Photo Credit: Sally Langerman

The delicious food at the Fig Tree Restaurant certainly kept us well fed and the chocolate splendour of the final dessert elicited enjoyment utterances akin to that scene in ‘When Harry met Sally.’

3. Sometimes you should just dive in fully clothed

Returning from an entertaining game drive, I joined fellow heads of schools, who were hot and exhausted after a walk through the fynbos, at the infinity pool on the cliff. Our costumes were far away in our cottages and after some splashing from the wildlife already in the pool, we threw dignity to the gentle breeze and dove in fully clothed, like children.

So often as heads of schools, we are called on to be solemn and proper, and decorous; at school we are always on display, but it was good to be real and have unadulterated fun. I think that childlike activity added years to our lives and reduced several therapy sessions worth of stress.

There’s a life lesson in that.

4. Fynbos and women

Our guide jokingly told us, as he pointed at the cones on the (female) fynbos plants he was showing us, that here the women have the… er … cajones (The euphemism is mine – he was a trifle blunter). It struck me looking at the smattering of female faces in the group how necessary it is in life for women to have ‘cones’, and not just at work. Listening to the stories of the women around me, I marvel at the capacity of women to maintain stressful careers, raise their families and run their homes simultaneously. If I have learned anything working in my job and seeing the struggles of so many single (and married) mothers, it is that there is a core of strength within us that is indestructible. Tired, yes! Defeated? Never.

5. Fynbos and fire

And that brings me to the miracle of fynbos: as anyone local to the Western Cape will tell you, fynbos has to burn every 8 – 14 years in order for the seeds to germinate. We women are certainly forged in powerful fires if you pardon the mixed metaphor. It’s a bit sad though that we sometimes only come into our own when we have to face disaster. If I think how many women are defined by their single-parenthood, breast cancer survival; or rape survival, rather than being recognized first for their strength of character or talents. But perhaps it is only in a crisis that women allow themselves to show their steely core. Don’t mess with a woman who has been betrayed: she has learned she can live without you.

But the fynbos is not merely a metaphor for the might of women, it is a sign for all of us that sometimes it is trouble that makes us fruitful. We are most creative when we are under pressure. In every tragedy there is an opportunity – that is how we tap into the creative power of the Almighty.

6. Saying no is powerful

Our itinerary involved an exciting afternoon walking along the shore and snorkeling in crystal clear waters. I wanted to go, and suffered severe FOMO by not going, but I decided to listen to my body which was screaming ‘Kan nie meer nie.’ Strong people sometimes battle to say ‘no’ or to ringfence free time for ‘sharpening sword’ activities. I chose myself that afternoon and slept for 3 hours. As a woman, as a leader, and as a female leader particularly, I frequently feel I ought to, should do, have to do, must do it all so I do not appear to be under-performing or lazy and sometimes it is a potent decision to take back my own power and just say ‘no’… and I didn’t get sunburnt.

7. Conferences versus connection

I am so grateful that the organisers of our conference put the emphasis on ‘conferring’ and connection rather than on lecturing and instructing. What made this gathering unique was the absence of powerpoints and workshops, the focus being on relationships – and funnily enough, watching the finance guys rock the slopes on sandboards was infinitely more instructive and entertaining than spreadsheets; chatting late into the evening and hearing another head say, ‘Wow you are describing exactly the challenges my school has!’ was as beneficial as formal training on collaborating about how to solve similar problems; and shared laughter was a balm for tired souls at the end of a long term.

8. Don’t lean on stone walls in the veld

Mice and goggas live there…and therefore so do snakes. There is probably a metaphor for life in that, but there endeth the lesson!

9. Life comes full circle

Arriving home was like returning from a school camp, having bonded with colleagues rather than merely shared a conference venue. I think we came back more friends than peers, a powerful thing in a post-Covid world.

And as I climbed off our overland bus, there was my son, Michael, standing at his vehicle like a Viking with with his blood-red beard, ready to take mom home, just as I had done so many times after tours and camps for my children.

Life is good with friends and family.