Goodbye SheSaid: Haddayr Copley-Woods’ last column
"Perhaps a few of you thought: 'I really made her day telling her how much I enjoyed her column!' Well, you're wrong. You made my week. "
by Haddayr Copley-Woods
I have decided to leave the Minnesota Women's Press.
The decision was agonizing; I've loved writing for the Women's Press over the years. But I've been finding it more and more difficult to come up with columns that are mutually agreeable, and less and less satisfied with the final product. I have several longer pieces I've wanted to finish (my time is so tight), and I've been neglecting my fiction.
So, last month I got into my car and drove determinedly to the office to give Michele St. Martin my notice.
We were both politely tense, at first. She accepted my resignation, saying she would miss me in the kindest way possible. Very cordial, very professional. Everything was settled.
Then, we sat and talked about our kids for an hour.
I still like you, we were telling each other. I find you interesting; I don't want to hurt your feelings.
Afterwards, a few of my female friends said: "I would have done the same thing. Don't you hate that girly 'please-don't-be-mad' impulse?"
Yeah, I said. Whadda girl. I should have kept it short and sweet.
But then I thought more about it. And as much as the urge to be nice has caused me trouble many times, I don't hate it.
If I'd gone in and said the equivalent of I'm leaving dammit, and she'd said the equivalent of don't-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-ass-as-you-go-out, it might have been a cleaner break. But it wouldn't have been me, and it wouldn't have been Michele.
The impulse to personalize, to reassure, to restore connections and to care about other people's feelings sounds wimpy. It sounds mealy. It sounds ... young. But I don't think it's any of those things. It's simply uniquely female. And it's me.
All sorts of magazines and books tell us not to do that in the workplace. Don't smile too much, don't worry so much about people's feelings, get aggressive in going for what you want (that advice is juxtaposed with studies showing that women perceived as aggressive in job interviews don't get offers, but someone else will have to write you a column about that). Don't get personal, don't get weepy. True grit is never having to say you're sorry.
Well, I did get personal, and so did she. (I even pitched her a few story ideas, so please keep an eye out for a feature story or two in the coming year.) We were trying to mend what needed to be mended, and clip what needed to be clipped. I used a sewing metaphor, people. Woman stuff.
What bothers me most about leaving, though, is not my relationship with Michele. It's my relationship with my readers. I have been continually astonished to discover that some people actually read my column. I will always be grateful for those of you who have seen me and told me how much my column meant to you. For a writer to make a connection with someone out there reading her stuff ... it's the whole reason we write. Perhaps a few of you thought: "I really made her day telling her how much I enjoyed her column!" Well, you're wrong. You made my week.
After I gave Michele notice, I went for a swim to decompress. And I noticed something about myself I'd never thought about: I close my eyes so I won't see the moment my head turns from the water to the air and back again. There is something about the transition that I avoid. I've done it before: leaving jobs without staying connected, moving across the country after a carefully chosen fight to end it fast. Waiting to pack until the last minute so the frenzy will distract me from the awkward liminal spaces.
Swimming that day, I forced myself to keep my eyes open. I watched the interesting movement of the water's surface move across my goggles, and without continual intentional blindness, I swam better than I had before.
So I don't want to do it here: run off with my eyes closed. If you have anything you'd like to say to me about my column (even if it's "good riddance"), please email me at haddayr@gmail.com. And if you'd like to keep up with my stories, please keep tabs at www.haddayr.com.
I will miss my readers very much. And I will always be grateful to you and to the Women's Press for giving me such a wonderful place to speak out. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Editor's Note: Thank you Haddayr! We'll miss Haddayr's columns in MWP. To read her 42 past
columns go to www.womenspress.com, type Haddayr in the search field and change the range of dates to July 1, 2003 to present.
Reader Comments
Posted: Monday, June 11, 2007
Article comment by:
Ka Vang
Dear Haddayr,
From one writer to another, you are an inspiration. Your words and views on life encouraged me to see issues in a different light. Thanks for everything.
Posted: Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Article comment by:
Trout
I'd like to think that hiring Haddayr to write for MWP is one of the smarter decisions I made as editor. I will miss your warmth, your wit and your wisdom, Haddayr. Your columns often brought a much needed dose of humanity and humility into my daily life.
Thank you. I look forward to reading more of your fiction.
Very best wishes,
Trout Lowen
