Here’s how I thought things went.
You have a baby, spend your one-year maternity leave in spit-up-covered bliss, then return to your desk after tearlessly installing your bundle of joy at daycare.
It’s just what people do—“people” being driven women who care about their careers and independence.
But that’s not always how it shakes out, is it?
Here I am, back at my desk after a second (and, yes, final) maternity leave: part-time and heartsick over leaving the sweetest little 13-month-old crying with strangers.
All this has had me thinking lately about a theme that keeps popping up as years keep whipping by: we’re so quick to judge others when we have no idea who they are or what their lives are like.
I’ll admit it. Pre-kids, I judged stay-at-home moms a little. Didn’t they have career dreams? How could they let themselves be so dependent on a partner? Isn’t it boring looking after kids and keeping a house all day?
Now, having experienced a taste of it, I can wholeheartedly say the work they do is often harder than working a desk job (their bosses are cuter, but more demanding)—but also, in a way, more fulfilling. And, no, it’s definitely not boring.
But this logic applies to nearly every uninformed opinion we so strongly hold. Drivers who hate cyclists who creep too close to the shoulder line. Cyclists who hate drivers that are too aggressive behind the wheel.
We judge people who have too many kids. We judge couples who don’t have any.
When people have their dogs off-leash, we take to our keyboards and write angry missives in Facebook groups.
The truth is, we think we know why people are making the choices they do (usually, “because they’re idiots”) but we have no idea. And, let’s admit it, sometimes it feels really cathartic to have a reason to yell, in-person, behind closed doors, or virtually, at a stranger you’ll never have to see again.
As we get into another provincial election cycle, it would benefit everyone to take a deep breath and remember we are all people living in this beautiful province and we want what we think is best—for ourselves, our families, and this place.
It’s hard, though. Even while writing this, I saw an unflattering photo of BC Conservative leader John Rustad holding a parrot and my first thought was, “Look at this turd and his bird.”
It takes practice to remember that just because someone doesn’t believe the things I do, it doesn’t make them a bird-holding turd.
Often, this aggressive Pavlovian response comes from a place of fear. In this era of scorching hot summers and wildfires, I truly fear a government that doesn’t prioritize the environment. The BC Conservative platform includes “get pipelines built” and “encourage mining”—and just a whole bunch of anti-activism rhetoric (that’s from their website).
But, I do also fear the utterly insane rising cost of living and wonder how my kids will possibly afford anything by the time they reach adulthood. And while I might not be on board with Conservative policies, if we were at a dinner party together, I might find some common ground with their candidates on that front.
Am I going to vote for them? No. Does that mean my blood pressure should shoot up every time I hear a candidate speak on these issues? Probably not.
(Let’s also take a minute for the segment of the population who probably have some choice turd words after the BC United debacle.)
I don’t know what has happened in someone’s life to shape their political views or the issues they prioritize. I mean, except BC Conservative voters who are probably old, rich and—oh crap, I’m doing it again.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
While I don’t usually love sharing my personal views in print, I will be amused if this column provokes some spicy comments.
So go ahead and call me a granola-crunching tree hugger. I’ll respond with the truth: I grew up a dirt-bike-riding, bush-party-going good ol’ gal in the heart of oil-rich rural Alberta.
Like I said, you just never know.
