Appearances Can Be Deceiving

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

Twice in the Past Week, I've Been Reminded of That

This morning, I was previewing "The New York Times" on Twitter and saw an item that intrigued me. I looked at the kid's picture -- he looked Semitic -- and his name sounded Jewish; I assumed he was an MOT ("Member of the Tribe").

And then the article mentioned that he was learning Arabic, originally with the intention of going to the Middle East as a Christian missionary. Huh?

It turns out that his mom was Jewish, but had converted many years ago to being Baptist and so he's Baptist.

The First Time

Earlier in the week, I scanned the roster of the section I was facilitating for our leadership development program dedicated to new executives. Reading through the names and locations, I was a bit disappointed that the section did not include even more geographic diversity than it seemed to do (only six countries apparently) while execs. were coming to the IBM Learning Center for the program from 23 countries.

Within the first several minutes of the first afternoon together, I was reminded not to make assumptions. It turned out that the exec. from Fishkill, NY actually was from Costa Rica until he came here for grad school and stayed, and the one from Somers, NY was on assignment from Korea. And another American exec. previously had been on assignment in the Netherlands for a number of years. And the exec. from Waltham, MA hailed from South Africa.

Most people, I think, make split-second assumptions about others based on what they think they see at a quick glance, and it takes an article or a conversation to undo the assumption. My friend Sarah Holland says, "The individual is the enemy of the stereotype."

Ladies Room Scene

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Intimacy Not Bargained For

Pat and I order at the Indian restaurant in the Clubhouse and I excuse myself to go to the bathroom -- the same one, where I met the woman, likewise trying on items last Sunday. I push open the carved, dark, wooden door and witness the most exciting scene since my arrival in India:

A gorgeous woman is squeezing the white, capri-clothed thighs of another, who's sitting on the sink, legs dangling. The squeezer whips her head around and looks at me with deep embarrassment. I try to pretend I'm invisible as I slink into one of the individual rooms with a toilet.

I close the door, daring one more quick peek and then my antennae droop: It's a mother, comforting her teenage daughter, and trying to help her pull herself together in a British-from-Britain accent. And she looks at me with horror because she doesn't want any of the clubhouse members to see any of her family losing control of her emotions. Ugh.

I'm so gross. How could I have thought that they were a couple? No, I'm just so hungry for lesbian imagery. In the States, we can watch TV and see ourselves portrayed, and we can get together with any of several couples of lesbian friends and just be nearly ordinary. Here, I feel so rare. I do need to call the lesbian and trans couple who my friend connected me with when I was here on my own in 2005.

As I exit the toilet and head toward the sink, there's no avoiding the mother-daughter unit; the daughter shifts just slightly to the left to make room for me to wash my hands. She's sniffling and I go ahead and look right at her while applying liquid soap.

"A few weeks ago, at the Windsor, I was eating breakfast with tears streaming down my face," I say to her watery blue eyes. "I just couldn't cope anymore."

She looks at me with surprise and then a touch of gratitude. Her extra-gorgeous mother looks at me with pure gratitude for distracting her kid.

"Yeah, the croissant-server knew to stay away from me. I scared her."

The girl laughs through her tears.

"I hope you feel better," I say, tossing my paper towel into the bin. Her mother rewards me with a huge smile.