Tool for Tuesday: Admit it. Sometimes You’re a Bitch.

When are you a bitch? And men, you can join right in.

When you admit that sometimes you can be a bitch, that you’re not always a saint, that you don’t always act like Mother Theresa, that even Mother Theresa didn’t always, always, always act like Mother Theresa, then you’re free to be yourself. You can be more you by being less you. You can be authentically you because you’re not struggling so hard to be the you that you think others want you to be.

Oh, I know the B-word isn’t nice and ladylike. It’s not 4 letters but it’s still 5. And nobody likes to be called one. But sometimes it’s OK to act like a bitch. I don’t have to be perfectly saintly – or saintly perfect – all the time. When do I act like a bitch? I’ll share if you share.

I act like a bitch in bureaucracy. I admit it I buck at rules. I buck at male authority fiugures. I don’t like incompetence and waste.

I act like a bitch when kids—mine or other people’s—don’t give me R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Respect for elders is up there in my list of 10 Commandments. I don’t have any patience for spoiled kids. I don’t want to be treated like an idiot because I’m an adult.

I act like a bitch in the face of racism or religious intolerance. I know I’m supposed to show restraint and be a power of example and I’m working on it.

I act like a bitch with men who think I’m dumb because I own a vagina. I know why your car tires squeak — because they need air — and it bothers me that you don’t want to believe me because I don’t own a penis. (See this great article about feminist Caitlin Moran here.)

I act like a bitch when I’m still being blamed for other people’s unhappiness. Especially if I’ve made amends. Especially if it happened yesterday. If they don’t want to get over it, that’s their problem. I’m not going to be pulled into the swamp with them so they feel better. They won’t feel better. They just want me to feel miserable, too.

Once I admitted that I sometimes act like a bitch I felt almost gleeful. It’s a hall pass to being human. It’s a relief not to try to work so hard to get everybody to love me. They don’t have to love me. They won’t always love me. I can do what I think is right. And if that means being a bitch then I’m in.

When are you a bitch? Hit Like if you think it’s OK to sometimse to be a bitch.

Tool for Tuesday: Admit it. Sometimes You’re a Bitch.

About dianabletter

Diana Bletter is the author of several books, including The Invisible Thread: A Portrait of Jewish American Women (with photographs by Lori Grinker), shortlisted for a National Jewish Book Award. Her novel, A Remarkable Kindness, (HarperCollins) was published in 2015. She is the First Prize Winner of Moment Magazine's 2019 Fiction Contest. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Commentary, tabletmag, Glamour, The Forward, The North American Review, Times of Israel, and is a reporter for Israel21C, and many other publications. She is author of Big Up Yourself: It's About Time You Like Being You and The Mom Who Took off On Her Motorcycle, a memoir of her 10,000-mile motorcycle trip to Alaska and back to New York. She lives in a small beach village in Western Galilee, Israel, with her husband and family. She is a member of the local hevra kadisha, the burial circle, and a Muslim-Jewish-Christian-Druze women's group in the nearby town of Akko. And, she likes snowboarding and climbing trees.
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