Ok, so the thing with my employer was a nightmare. Most of us realize corporations are not saintly - and we have agency over who we choose to work for. I am reminded that it’s unlikely anyone deserves to be on a pedestal, whatever good actions they have done. We have seen this in so many “great” leaders, philanderers or abusers on the side.. or some other vice. Because none of us is perfect, perhaps the thing is to admire and celebrate a specific positive action, not the person in total. There are super humans, but no superhumans. The flaws are there.. lurking.. and sooner or later will out.
In Part 1, I listed the objects of my rage: work, family, friends, co-workers and the public at large. I want to focus on friends, because with friends, it’s personal. There is some unspoken expectation, with friendship, of listening, empathizing, having your back, taking your side.. certainly when it comes to the big things. And for me, the mandates were absolutely a big thing.
When my second daughter was born, in 2009, a friend of a friend started up a women’s wine club, made up of a dozen working moms who would meet monthly. At first, we put great care into planning the tastings, but over time it became clear what it was - a book club, without books! Every month but one, the one you hosted, there was no prep work, no food or wine to bring, nothing but the comfort of a warm, inviting home, wine to help us unwind, snacks to keep us from going too far off the alcohol rails, and the sisterhood that comes with shared experience, trust and time. For nearly thirteen years I hosted and attended, missing monthlys only for business travel or vacation, looking forward to our get-togethers and the way I would feel afterwards: energized, relieved, connected.. at peace. There really is something unspeakably powerful to belonging in a group.
So in August of 2021, when my employer started talking about possible mandates, I shared my burning concerns at that month’s wine club get-together. They all knew my medical history, and had supported me through it. They knew the importance of my income and that I needed - and wanted - to work. So when I shared my concern and was met with changing the subject and a passing comment that “it’s complicated”, I felt let down. But… it could just have been the flow of conversation that night, or perhaps I didn’t explain myself well. So the next month, which I hosted, after an evening of more of the same, I broke down in tears (privately, after they left). Was it that they did not care about me? Did not believe me? Was it the politics (Team blue in full pro-vax blitz mode)? Something else? All I knew was that I understood, now, how it was possible to be at one’s loneliest while in the company of others.
I think, for some, it was the politics. For others, the powerful fog of covid fear. One of my friends reached out and we had dinner. She said she was sorry that I was feeling not heard, and reiterated that “it was complicated”. I have to hand it to her for doing the right thing and acknowledging my emotions around the topic, especially because we were not particularly close outside of the monthly meetings, but had developed a mutal respect and affection, a sisterhood, over the years. Sometime around then, a friend who was one of my closest bonds in the group invited me over for drinks in her backyard. We got to talking about “the” topic, and I confided that the world had gotten to feel so unrecognizable and ominous that it did not seem completely out of the question that a particular woman in our wine club would out me for being unvaxed, and that a crowd of angry, local people would come burn down my house.. and kill me. Not that I felt this was likely.. but I did feel it was possible. Which is pretty f’ing disturbing! And so is what she said in response.
“I understand why you don’t feel safe”.
And then… “but they wouldn’t kill you”.
NOT….
a). no way, person x would never do that
OR
b) of course an angry mob would not burn your house down bc you are unvaccinated!
Then, at the end of the evening, as I was leaving, she said something like.. I know this is a big deal for you, but “climate change and racial injustice are much bigger problems”.
It was not long after that evening that I sent a note to the wine club letting them know I was leaving the group. It was a heartfelt, long note.. after which many responded that they were “sorry to see me go” and one with “that must have been hard for you to write” - but no comments on the vax policy topic.
What did I expect??? I expected what you would think anyone would do.. what I would -did - do, when I found out, months earlier, that one of my yoga classmates’ employer had put in a mandate. I listened, offered help and encouragement, empathized, checked in with her over time.. To turn wine club’s sentiment upside-down, “it’s NOT complicated.”
My therapist said it is common for people with childhood experiences like mine to stay in situations that are untenable, well after it is obvious they are unhealthy and rely on the wrong people, for things like friendship and support. Hmm.
When I step back and reflect more, it comes down to psychological safety. I looked it up.. here is the definition that resonates most, for me:
Psychological safety is a condition in which you feel (1) included, (2) safe to learn, (3) safe to contribute, and (4) safe to challenge the status quo—all without fear of being embarrassed, marginalized, or punished in some way.
We all need to have some predictability to what the people we trust will and won’t do. That if we share, they will listen and believe us. That they won’t let politics drown out our words, and create a wall between people. That they will, at least, try to see things from our perspective.
In Fall of 2021, my psychological safety rug full-out evaporated: taking my own path had put me at odds with my employer, my father, my friends, co-workers and the prevailing politics in the state of California. If I wanted to feel a sense of safety, a confidence that people would abide by what I viewed as basic values (people before politics, freedom of thought, of speech, of medical choices..), I needed a new job, new friends, a new relationship with my family, and a very different political environment.
By November of last year, my husband and I had decided it was time to move out of state. In August of this year, we did.
Hello "Critical Middle" I just want to say how much I appreciate your writing this article and sharing your experience. After reading about the rage you felt, I was remembering my own, and realized that a lot of it is still deep inside me. The thing that's bothering me now is that everyone is acting like it's back to business as usual, as if none of that happened. Not one of my friends has yet to have the courage to admit that they were "mistaken" (damn flat-out wrong) in their judgment of the situation. It's as if we just had a difference of opinion, no big deal. But let's not mention the reason we lost loved ones, what the real cause was, let's just offer our condolences and move on. It's hard to still feel the same about them, but why am I the one who feels guilty and judgmental? Go figure.
I can totally relate to this experience and have experienced many instances of shunning as an unvaxxed person. (Best decision of my life) I used to be part of a book club and a couple ladies lectured me on my selfishness, telling me I was the cause of hospitalizations. It was clearly ridiculously ignorant. I didn't argue I just quit and have no desire to be near such people. I am a first generation American and my European family was under Nazi occupation and then the iron curtain so I more easily recognize dangerous state sponsored/directed anger than most people. I know ordinary seemingly 'nice' people can become murderous in the right political conditions. I like your definition of psychological safety.