Feminism Is About Equality, And I Do Want It

Feminism Is About Equality, And I Do Want[1] It

In the last few months, there has been a percolating undercurrent in American culture against feminism.  Search for “I don’t need feminism” or "Women Against Feminism." You will see not just the radical minority listed in the results but results including mainstream major news organizations.

I don’t know what women against feminism think feminism is.

Feminism is “the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”[2]

At its core, feminism is about EQUALITY. To be against feminism, is to be against gender equality.

I can’t believe women really don’t want equality. (I shudder at the thought.) I have to believe they are simply ignorant of the definition or perhaps living in blissful bubbles of equality rendering the concept's necessity strangely foreign. 

The world I live in is still completely gender biased. I need only make one statement to illustrate this fact unequivocally: I now regularly speak to the CEOs and VP of companies, and there is not a woman among them, not one.[3] (People… it is 2014!)

I will admit (no doubt needlessly), I am a feminist.  I am what I call a Nouveau feminist.

As with any movement, beliefs change over time.  The feminism of my mother’s era, what I would call 1980’s feminism, meant women got to compete in a man’s career world, if they conformed to the man’s world, clad in a boxy gender suppressing suit, with an overcompensating aggressive persona. Nouveau-feminism means I get to wear flowy pink dresses and the men in the room still have to treat my ideas EQUALLY on their merit, regardless of the pink attire, the gender beneath, and/or the happy-go-lucky attitude.

Let me tell you what feminism means to me, a woman, with a man’s[4] job, in the man’s[5] world of software development, with a man’s[6] college degree (physics).

Feminism means I get to be anywhere my ability warrants. I am EQUALLY entitled to be in an engineering program as any man, if my scholastic capability qualifies my acceptance. And chances are, I am going to be better than some men (AND WOMEN), and worse than other men (AND WOMEN).

If choose not to have a career, in order to raise well-adjusted citizens of tomorrow, I am both respected and valued for my contribution. And feminism is also about the fact that choosing not to have a career, in order to raise well-adjusted citizens of tomorrow is an equally respectable and valued contribution by a man.

Feminism is about equality in policy. Health care expenditures around my sexuality (such as birth control) are equally covered to health care expenditures around a men's sexuality (Viagra).

A woman's choices are equally valid to any man’s. Her choices are equally respectable. Her pursuits are of equal merit. And her decisions should be absent of societies gender based stereotypes.

Feminism means anything, choices, pursuits, decisions are of equal worth regardless of her or for that matter his gender. The anti-feminist movement concerns me because feminism is not about femi-nazis (with a supremacy streak) or victimization (with a coddling air) or entitlement (bending the rules to falsely enable parity).

Feminism is about equality and respect, not because we are women but regardless of the fact we are women.

And if that is in fact what women do not need, then the nicest thing I can say is that I very much hope their movement and clout is very short lived.

Stupid: Viral social movements based on ignorance.

Cool: The fact that feminism of yester-year has created the world where I can be me, a smart, ambitious, cheerful, professional, clad in pink regardless of the fact I am a woman in a field still regretfully predominantly of men. And the last portion of the sentence is why not only I NEED feminism, but you do to. (After all, the AIDs virus was discovered by a woman, Francoise Barre-Sinoussi, nuclear fission was discovered jointly by Lise Meitner, groundbreaking fundamental stem cell discovers were by Gail R. Martin…. We are stronger together, equal.)

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[1] Forgive the semantics, but I am going to replace the mainstream movement’s use of “need” with “want.” Technically no one needs feminism any more than they need freedom, love, religion or equality. These concepts are not needs; they are conceptual and culture constructs we want.

[2]  https://www.google.com/search?q=feminism&oq=feminism&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.1430j0j7&sourceid=chrome&es_sm=93&ie=UTF-8

[3] My experience is arguably an accurate representation of the greater American economy where only four percent of Fortune 500 companies are run by women. A girlfriend of mine would be irritated by this statistic and my resulting conclusion that the world is biased. She would say, maybe women just don’t want to be CEOs. I very much respect her view. I even agree with the hypothesis that the percentage of women pursuing the CEO career path may not be nearly as high as the percentage of men pursuing the CEO career path. Nonetheless, I still believe the number of women in major CEO positions underrepresents the number of women who BOTH want to be CEOs AND are legitimately qualified.

[4] I consider my job a man’s job, because the vast majority of people who do my type of work are men.

[5] I consider software development a man’s world because the majority of people who work in software development are men.

[6] I consider a college degree in physics a man’s degree because the vast majority of recipients are men.

18 Days in Ljubljana (April 20th – May 8th, 2014, posted from Portland, Maine)

As great fortune would have it, I spent 18 days in Ljubljana, Slovenia for work.

The Slovenians are, by and large, I would say an exceptionally passive, slow to smile (unless drink is involved) people and they will not smile at all if they are of the older generation. Lamenting the government is a national pastime, which seems very odd to me as the country appears in excellent running condition with fabulous roads, people living in generally comfortable if modest means, with very little evidence of crime, disrepair or poverty. Talking about the seaside is also a national pastime, which would make you think they have as much coastline as California, instead of the 30 miles they actually have.




They are a quiet, practical people, with bland Italian food, missing the produce aspects (tomatoes and lettuces and olives) heavy on the pizza and pasta, but illustrating an exceptional amount of creativity when it comes to pork products. (They have a pork based meatloaf like dish, with multiple different pork preparations extruded through the loaf, and then sliced. Creative.)

Slovenia is far north compared to the States making for exceptionally long days as you approach the summer solstice. Combine that with the frequent light showers (which lead to the Slovenian word that roughly translates “April-ish” as a weather description for anything goes with lots of showers) and the lush green foliage abounds in every direction.

And they make use of that, directing you to the lush green with lots of Pot signs. The Slovenian word “pot,” displayed every where by where I stayed, translates to “trail.” I had the great luxury of renting a flat perhaps three miles from Ljubljana, the major city center of Slovenia. My flat was also feet from a natural park perhaps seven miles in circumference, with miles and miles of pot(s), up and down hills, over streams, to ski jumps, to a church at the peak and a pub at a look out. The park, weather permitting, was packed full of runners, hikers, bikers or all ages. I was stretching at wooden outdoor gym equipment, when I thought I heard an approaching downpour. This confused me, as it did not feel like rain was coming. Then, turning the trail/pot corner, came a pack of twenty fifty-something year old women, all with hiking poles pattering against the trail just akin to the patter of pouring rain, much to my surprise.

In a strange way, I have never felt so at home. This is perhaps why I stayed so long. Eighteen days in a single city is perhaps the second longest time I have spent in one city in well over eighteen months. (San Francisco from January 25th to February 15 perhaps being the longest stay I have recently had in a single city.) My flat, with double French doors, looked out upon hectares of forest. Exiting my flat, and turning left provided an amazing view of what I believe are the Slovenian Alps. Church bells from up the street regularly punctuated the time and logistically, there was a market just a block away.

I am a world traveler. At this point I would say I have a friend in perhaps half of all western countries. I have many friends who call Austria home. So Sunday, taking a midday break from work, I decided to drive half way across Slovenia to meet a friend in Austria for lunch. (Note, driving half way across Slovenia takes approximately an hour and a half.)

The drive was amazing. Slovenia boasts not just steep, plentiful, dense forested hills but downright vertical snow-capped Slovenia Alps. Somehow, the first week I was there, perhaps in all my attentive observation of the foreground, I completely missed this beauty in the distance. When I suddenly did see the glorious sentries to the north, I dumbfoundedly exclaimed, in downright astonishment, “Oh my god, where the hell did those mountain come from? Where they there last week?”  My coworker, driving, was amused in his sedate Slovenian fashion, but did show the slightest hint of a smile.


Slovenia, was, in truth, about work. In my 18 days, I doubt I averaged working less than nine hours a day; those days were filled with phone calls to London, St. Petersburg Russia and Miami.

I am a woman, and a loud somewhat gregarious California girl, in a quiet man’s field (software development), and in Slovenia a country that is fairly quiet, understated and subtle in its manor. I imagine the serine quiet of the Ljubljana development office will be glaringly apparent in absence of my loud laugh, easily heard for miles. (I imagine this quiet may be MUCH to the relief of my coworkers).

I am going to miss the boys, the lovely Italian cappuccino at 10am, the miles and miles and whole country of incredible green foliage, miles of trails (pot) steps from my doorstep, and the gloriously inviting forest through my double French doors.

I must admit that I am kind ok with leaving behind the pizza, pizza, pizza and creative pork products for a good Californian salad. I am definitely ok leaving behind the workload. (But I will take the chocolate covered marshmallows.)

I am amazingly grateful for two lovely Sundays in a row, once with the great hospitality of my VP and his girlfriend at their home enjoying the most amazing meal of octopus and risotto. The following Sunday spent in great company, perched, somewhat precariously, in a winery’s restaurant above steep sloping Austrian vineyards.

As I fly from Ljubljana to Frankfurt, on my way to working in Nova Scotia, I am so grateful for the experience my life delivers.

A big thank you to Matej Jaksa, the Ljubljana boys, and Stefan Fröhlich.

Stupid: So much work!
Cool: The experiences work provides, amazing friends, and amazing places.

Bed Counts, Miles Flown and Tales Told - Part 1 (Posted from Amsterdam April 10, 2014, written all over the place)

As I sit, on an empty ship, traveling, somewhere by Bordeaux, up a river I have been on so many times yet cannot name, I am very aware of the strange month I have had.

Bed # 1 – San Francisco

Arguably, my month started with me packing up my belongings and leaving San Francisco.

Bed #2 – Santa Barbara

There was a pit stop in Santa Barbara, truth be known, for chemotherapy. (I don’t think of it as chemotherapy. And anyone who has every had chemotherapy would not say it was chemotherapy. But apparently my insurance company considers it chemotherapy.)

The J.P. Getty Center and 405 from the Cessna.

But my real adventure began upon greeting my Swiss friends, after they parked their Cessna at Van Nuys Airport in the San Fernando Valley (Greater Los Angeles Area).  After hugs and pleasantries, they asked me what my schedule for the day was. I said I needed to be at LAX by 4pm. An LA girl, in some ways, I then launched into why I needed to be at LAX at 4pm and traffic implications.

They quickly said, “We can take you.”

And with that, I skipped the 405 and hopped a private ride from Van Nuys Airport over the Getty Center and Bel Air to LAX.

Bed # 3 – Some Hotel at LAX as I needed to be at LAX at 4am

From there, I flew to to Linz, Austria.

(Miles Flown ~ 6000)

Perhaps the most surreal experience was getting into an Austrian cab and curving swiftly around the narrow streets of this little Austria town, listening to Gloria Gaynor sing, “I Will Survive.” What a global world it has become.

Bed #4 – Linz, Austria The Arcotel upon the Danube

Although I work in one of the most geographically dispersed industries (cruises industry), it is also, strangely, among the smallest in terms of spheres of people. I arrived in Linz to the greetings of my company colleagues, Barry, Jasminka, Florin and Josef as well as expected former colleagues from a company had worked for previously, Ulrike and Attilia, but also unexpected colleagues from the past Thomas and Valerie.

It is always such a pleasure to see old friends and so strange too, especially when their presence is unexpected. These are people I met on oceans far and wide, not a single one of them near home in Linz, Austria, and yet here we were, once again, crossing paths on a ship.

(Montage of the Arc Electronica Center through its various stages from The Arcotel Hotel)

Bed #5- Aboard a ship, and though only a short month later, I can’t even remember the ship’s name.

Work was hard and the hours worked RIDICULOUS. But I must recite my favorite quote from the trip.

I was speaking with an IT colleague who proved to be amazingly proficient.  Eventually I asked, if he studied computer science at university. He responded “No, veterinary medicine.”

That left me a little dumbfounded, and finally saying, “Those aren't exactly similar, computer science and veterinary medicine.” 

I think his exact reply was, “I quite disagree. Think about it. Both are basically about debugging, but the interface is a bit different." (Perhaps one of my favorite quotes of all times.)

On my way to my next assignment, I carved out time for dinner with an old friend and her family in Munich. Taking the train from Austria to Munich, I was awed by the small scenic European towns in the foreground, the meadow lands of the middle ground, and the ghostly apparition, angular white Alps in the distance.

So wonderful to catch up with old friends in new homes, nearly a world away.

Bed #6 - Hotel in Munich

Silly me, I did not get a picture of us at dinner, but I did get a picture of the pastries at the train station the next morning. (If you know me, you would know this is apropos. I love my friends, but I LOVE my pastries.)

I am absolutely certain I arrived in Miami and although it was merely two weeks ago, I could not tell you a think about the flight, the airport, or even what airline I flew. I hope I earned miles though.

I can tell you about passport control. I am a Californian. Any time I have lived in country, in the last three decades, I have lived in California. So it was quite a surprise, when going through passport control, I was asked, “What part of New York are you from?

New York? “New York?” My brain was muddled.

It was effectively the middle of the night for me, after a grueling week of work. “I am from California.”

That raised the alarm with the physically quite sizable, austere, passport control official. His eyebrow arched, and his very deep voice sternly said, “Your passport says you are from New York.”

Or course it does. I was born there. But saying I am from there is quite nominal and hardly something my 3am brain was ready for.

That was a little sticky to untangle in my groggy, sleep-deprived haze. Luckily, as a thirty something white-woman, who is quick to instantly flash a broad smile, I can easily work my way through these things. (I think I would still be there if I was of middle-eastern decent.)

(Miles Flown ~ 5000, running total for this trip: 11,000)

In Miami, my mother picked me up at the airport. My mother, god love her, is fulfilling her obligation as a New York born Jew, and has moved to Boca.

Bed # 7 – Mother’s guest bedroom in Boca

Although I etched out some time to see my mother and my good friend (long ago colleague Jaylene), Florida was all about the cruise industry trade show Sea Trade.  This too proved the cruise industry is a small one. I ran into people I knew from my first ship, fourteen years prior!

The trip was also an excellent opportunity to brainstorm with my colleague who provided the second memorable quote of the trip. We were discussing program logic and trying to join program logic with the user business process mindset in a step-oriented methodology. (Blah blah blah, bland business software speak, blah blah blah.)

But the wrap-up was fabulous.

Excited at the prospect and the successful conclusion of the brainstorming session, Danielle concluded, “Great! Then all we have to do is add a Sherpa! And… we’re done!” Hands clapped together and thrown apart.

(And thus was born the new programming standard of shipping small Himalayan Nepalis instead of “wizards.”) (Maybe you had to be there.)

Bed #8 - A fabulous house in Coral Gables with my coworker care, of my company, and well worth the brainstorming that it fostered around the pool.

And with that, I was off to the airport to catch a plane to Amsterdam.

Imagine, a dark arena, and a boxing ring, the spotlight on a large suitcase in one corner, the PA loudly announcing, “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, in this corner, despite not having a scale herself, proving herself a worldly traveler, weighing in at precisely 49.3lbs….”

If you travel a lot you know that limit is 50lbs. So coming in at 49.3lbs, without even checking, it a true skill.

And now as you judge me for 50lbs of luggage, I would like to say: one winter coat for Austria, one week winter smart business attire Austria, some light weight and color business casual for Miami, three suits for the conference in Miami, etc. All in all, six weeks, business formal, business casual, just plan casual, Miami heat to Austrian winter, doing all that in one fifty pound suitcase which included American gifts for colleagues, is a freakin' SKILL! (I hope to get to 49.9lbs by the time it is rightly recognized as an Olympics sport.)

(Miles Flown ~ 5000, running total for this trip: 16,000)

The journey, bed count, and miles flow continues in Amsterdam with the next installment of Stupid Cool.

Stupid: Oh my goodness am I tired.

Cool: Um, start at the beginning and re-read… 

Challenge for You (like you need another one, right?) (Portland, Oregon - March 26, 2014)

After a positively grueling month at work, I sent the following email to several co-workers:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Undisclosed {Company-Name Omitted} Recipients, (there are many of you on this list, all receiving this for something you said to me, somewhat in confidence)

I would like to tell you a 100% true tale and then challenge you.

In the not distant past, I was diagnosed with cancer, had surgery, and spent six months undergoing chemotherapy and radiation.

A few short years later, I once again had cancer. The first surgery was six hours. Chemotherapy was far more grueling the second time around. And then the second surgery, of the eight required, was thirteen hours on the table. It was days before I could stand again.

It was weeks before I could comfortably walk about the house without being exhausted.

But slowly, as I recovered, I would take short walks, a few times a day. I would walk a couple houses up my street. After a few days, I could walk a few houses further up the street. Eventually, even though it often required a nap after, I was walking two miles (3km) a day.

At some point, I committed to myself to walking two miles a day outside and away. (Outside being easy for a California girl.) I would literally walk away from my home, walk away from concerns, walk away from reminders of going-ons (a doctor bill on the coffee table, pills on the night-side table, etc). I would look and really see my surrounding; I would see the flowers and the birds, notice interesting bumper stickers, or kids’ toys in yards.

Despite theoretically being very ill, I started feeling better than I ever had.

I decided I needed to commit to this as a life-style.

For the most part, I have.

But life does rear its ugly head and we get easily entrenched in it. We are all entrenched in work. We are all OVERLY entrenched in work.

I am hoping the most difficult part is past, and I think it is time to force this to be the case.

For me, that means reverting to my commitment of walking away, literally, by at least a mile, every day. It is not just the health of moving away from the computer, but the mental step away from the responsibility.

So, with that tale, I would like to challenge all of you too, to commit to both literally and mentally moving away from work for some time every day. Do something physical to get the blood moving. Do something mental where words like should, must, finish, do, etc, they are all banished from your thought stream.

It is time to re-establish your well-being, and remember you are ENTIRELY entitled to your well-being.

And thus, I challenge you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Stupid:  That we forget (to take care of ourselves).

Cool:  That we remember.

2014 Traveling Statistics Thus Far (Amsterdam, March 16, 2014)

Countries this year: Mexico, Austria, Germany, Holland.
Miles flown this year ~ 18000.
Number of beds I have slept in (minds out of the gutter people) this year = 11 
Time for a day off = YES!!!!  

Accommodations in Amsterdam .... AWESOME.

Stupid: Lack of a day off and the number of hours I am working.
Cool: I like my life.

Trade Offs: File Under The Grass Always Seems Greener… (Chicago O’Hare, Feb 22nd, 2014)

There is a serious divergence, if not outright conflict, between the life I want to have and the life my friends want to have (or think is awesome).

My current schedule for the next month:

• February 23rd: Linz, Austria
• March 3rd: Munich (dinner with Gretchen)
• March 4th: Miami (brunch at some point with Jaylene)
• March 16th: Amsterdam
• March 17^th: Basel, Switzerland
• March 18^th: Marseilles, France
• March 19^th: Seattle, Washington (hang out with Kirsten and hopefully see Nikki)

And that is just the next month.

What I am missing for this work schedule includes an engagement party for Adam and Christine (congratulations Adam and Christine, so bummed I am missing the party) and Katie’s super fun bachelorette weekend at the happiest place on earth (congratulations Katie and Andy, super disappointed to be missing the festivities).

As I sift through Facebook, I see photo after photo of funny or dirty or mischievous or adorable children and listen to my girlfriends lament running from schools to lessons to play dates.

Everyone I interact with is jealous of my life. (I have started to wonder as friends cancel or can’t make time for me in the rare moments I am home, if there is not an element of hostility or jealousy behind bailing.) I feel the need to remind everyone the grass always seems greener in someone else’s yard.

In a previous post, I tried to point out that the grass is always greener. My friend Dan was quick to point out, “Yeah, but you could be eight-to-fiving in a cube.”

Yes. I could be. And I do chose to do this life over that.

But again, I am not sure it is worth the trade-off.

When I went for my MBA, I said to my Dad, “What if it is a complete waste of money (investing in tuition for an additional, expensive, degree)? What if I graduate, work a year then pop out and run after kids for the following ten years?”

He said, “Yeah, and what if you don’t?”

Here is the thing though. I did not feel getting an MBA precluding meeting someone and having a family.

I do feel my career now precludes meeting someone and having a family.

So I am constantly questioning this choice.

While yes, I do like racking up the frequent flyer miles, and stopping by to see friends in Munich, Miami and Seattle, I am reminded that each one of these four girlfriends has at least one daughter (Sabine, Meridian, Sigrid, Kate and Margo) and one also has a son (Soren).

I absolutely love my life. I love seeing so much.  I am exposed to so many things which that broaden my thinking and just plain fascinate me. I meet amazing people everywhere. I love counting how many countries I will see in a year. I feel worldly. I feel important. 

What I am not sure of, is whether it is worth sacrificing the potential of a life I feel I would enjoy more.

The problem here is with the word potential. (Here is where the data scientist comes out and the romantic sticks her fingers in her ears and sings.)

If I could say there was an 80% likelihood of meeting a great guy if I became a desk jockey, I would do it.

But I just don’t have the data. I am doing it blind.

The romantic in me says chose my plane seat assignments like lotto numbers. You never know, you could get lucky. The thing being, I have been choosing my seat assignments for, well, too many years, and I have yet to get lucky. (This is where the MBA says, don’t run after a sunk cost.)

I say this clearly hasn't worked; it might be time to try something else.

But this isn't like college though, where you can roughly determine the benefit of studying over partying on achieving the outcome you desire.

It is entirely possible for me to put in the drudgery and not achieve the goal. What if trying something else means being unhappy AND it doesn't pan out.

And here I sit… on a plane, to Chicago, thinking of the next month, with something like 40,000 miles scheduled, five European countries (an empty bed in each one), and the acute awareness that if I was hit by a bus, work colleagues I have never even met would, potentially a day or two later, upon my missing a meeting, be the first to notice I was gone.

Stupid: The conflict between enjoying life today and having the life everyone else aspires to, versus putting in the time for the perceived greater potential of achieving the life I want tomorrow.

Cool: At least I enjoy it today.

Cool Addendum: A week after being in Linz, Austria, I am pleased by how little my industry is. It has been a true pleasure seeing old friends again, Attila, Jas and Ulrike.

The Trust Economy (San Francisco, February 4th, 2014)

I am not an anthropologist, but I play one on my blog...

I recently went to a lecture on the peer-to-peer economy.  In America, we talk about the peer-to-peer economy as this newfangled thing. In China, it is just the economy. But already, I am digressing.

America has, for a century, been a b-to-c economy, meaning business to consumer. Big businesses make stuff; consumers buy stuff. There were little offshoots of consumer-to-consumer, think flea markets and garage sales. However, the business-to-consumer was, for all intents and purposes, the entire economy.

Then, in about 2000, came eBay, the first mass consumer-to-consumer market in America.

I think the most bizarre thing about the emergence of eBay is how long it took to replicate in different business verticals. But, now, for the first time¹, comes the first really viable addition, Airbnb. Airbnb is a private rental platform where by people with spare bedrooms are competing with hotels, peer-to-peer. 

While I was at this talk the other day, the speaker asked, “Why is this (the peer-to-peer economy) emerging?”

There are two obvious answers, economic reasons (economic hardship) and technological reasons (the internet can now facilitate these interactions). Lots of people can, have and do write on this. All the reasons are fascinating, but I feel there is an additional cultural reason rarely discussed.

There has been a quiet cultural revolution at play in the last decade. I am at a bit of a loss as to what to call it; but I am going to go with the us-and-us revolution.

To understand this cultural revolution, I, with virtually no history education am going to begin in the early 20^th century. In the early 20^th century, with greater and greater mass migration and “fast” transportation, a monumental, global us-and-them ethos arose. Sure, many things led to both world wars, but I would argue that migration and transportation, resulted in an us-and-them ethos contributing to escalation. Before the 20^th century, people were just far less likely to interact with people from 100 miles away let alone thousands! Suddenly there was no implicit contract which had, here to date, been provided by the communal village knowledge of people’s reputation. Without that knowledge, transience people could take advantage of their transience (or just simply do things in ways that were not locally acceptable) and non-transient people rightly would distrust outsiders. This bred the deeply rooted us-and-them ethos.

Us-and-them ethos + some differing beliefs (+ hostility)  = wars

Hence, world wars. Eventually these world wars took their toll on the global ethos, and the cold war started. Everyone focused on their own portion of the globe and their own people. “You don’t cross this line… and we will all go about our way focusing on our own backyards.”

But these were just lines. In America, men brought home women from Asia, in Europe families sought to be reunited across lines despite having new very separate lives.  And then kids starting backpacking through Europe. Tendrils across these us-and-them designations grew and grew.

I would argue that slowly, between 1980 and about 2000, the concept of us-and-them got progressively harder to determine. The other day, I hear on the radio (ok... streaming podcast) that there was a Korean vs. American soccer game. The announcer asked who the Korean American’s were rooting for?  This was an excellent question and the root of the us-and-us cultural revolution. Who is us? Who is them?

And then came Marc Zuckerberg. (Happy Birthday to Facebook today, February 4^th, by the way.) I am not super fan. I think he is smart and I think he was mostly in the right place at the right time. But I am about to credit him with significantly affecting global change.

I think Facebook dramatically eroded the us-and-them ethos. I have friends who post their political views. Some of those views I absolutely fundamentally disagree with. They are still friends. In the end, the pictures of their kids are still cute and I know that although I think they are entirely wrong on their political choices, their choices are rooted in the same deep-seated hope and desire for a better future.

With mass travel, cheap telecommunication, ridiculously easy sharing (and over sharing), we still entirely believe in the concept of us-and-them, but we also have come to realize the lines are utterly arbitrary, fleeting, and constantly changing.

Now add to it the growing “small world” effect we are becoming aware of, also frequently illuminated by Facebook. I work in the cruise industry, so it is not a huge surprise to me when I realize a friend in Sweden knows a friend of mine in Australia. But at this point, I think more than half of people on Facebook have had the experience where suddenly they realize a childhood friend, from perhaps a state away, is a mutual friend of someone they only recently met at work. Our large networks are folding back over into themselves. We are more and more aware it is indeed a small world.

I am loosely a Santa Barbara girl. In Santa Barbara, an area of roughly 140,000 people, you generally can’t make it through a week without running into someone somewhere. I don’t even live there and when I am there, generally, within a few days, at the mall or the grocery store, I run into someone. The entire town of 140,000 is a collection of individuals one degree of separation from one another.

When you are one degree of separation from every person you interact with on a daily basis, the social contract strongly inhibits negative action. You just can’t screw people over twice in a town that small.

And I think this is what the internet has done. It has expanded the enforcement of social contracts to entire strangers. Yelp being a great illustration of this.  A car mechanic that constantly does poor work will inevitable be exposed even in a city with millions of people.

Thus I feel we have entered the era of trust and the trust economy. When I go onto eBay and buy something, I generally trust I will receive it as advertised. Don’t get me wrong, I think there are people out there (Nigerian princes) trying to defraud people. But I also think there are radically fewer of them than there are of people just honestly trying to sell their used items on eBay.

And as people have more and more decent interactions with strangers, facilitated by the internet, I think only better things are to come. These acceptable positive interactions are like an economic lubricant.  The more acceptable internet based economic transactions you have with complete strangers, the more you choose to engage in.

The talk I was at was hosted by a vaguely environmental group.  Part of the argument here is that this will lead to a better use of resources. I don’t want to buy a $100 drill for the ten minutes I am going to use it this weekend, but would rather borrow it for $20. This leaves me with $80 to spend on other things. (The concept of “better” resource use is left to the be{er}holder.)

It is still going to take the legal system quite some time to figure out how to assist ensuring honest peer-to-peer interaction. (After all, if the drill breaks was it because I was using it improperly, probably, or because it was improperly maintained?)

But all in all, I think we are on the cusp of a momentous shift in the economy, and while economists and technologist speak about all sorts of reasons, I think our growing awareness of membership in one humanity, with a bazillion arbitrary groupings, is not a negligible component in the emergence of the peer-to-peer economy.

Stupid: The once imperative necessity to distrust.

Cool: The growing emergence of trust.

Footnote 1: I can  hear my friend Aaron Brown contesting the “first time” claim in the statement above. I believe Airbnb is the first, mass, peer-to-peer platform selling something other than eBay’s specialty of small consumer goods. Craigslist is not a platform, but rather a listing service.

Plans, Honesty and Failure (Posted from the West Coast of Mexico, January 16th, 2014)

This year started with a plan.

The montage of the obscure
photos posted to Facebook.
 (The license plate is Swedish,
by the way.)

I was going up to San Francisco for the seven weeks of non-travel time, through February 19^th.

I got two places through airbnb.com in the city.

I signed up for a meetup.com event every day.

I drove up on January 2^nd. I checked into my first place, which by the way had absolutely the most awesome dog in the world. My first meetup was a bust as I never found it.

But after that, I worked every day, posted an obscure picture taken within the city to Facebook to keep my friends guessing as to what city I was in, and went to a meetup every weekday evening or in the afternoon on the weekends.

(A quick review of my meetup highlights: I saw the trails of San Bruno, learned about comic strips as a method of communication, did a walking tour from Ferry Building to North Shore, saw a three set comedy act on being single in the city, learned about software pricing strategies from some economists at major software firms including Microsoft.)

And yet…

When I got a text, out of the blue, with no preamble: “can you go for a few days? Puerto Vallarta, possibly Honolulu?”

Like a jonesing addict, my twelve day stay in San Francisco came to an abrupt end.

Out of the car came my “just-in-case” suitcase of summer clothing, into the car went the winter clothes, and off to long-term parking went the car.

Literally on my way to the airport, another email came in which essentially said, “Can you be in Germany for the end of January?”

I loved San Francisco from January 2^nd to January 15^th.

Personally I am at a state of extreme conflict. I really fundamentally LOVE my travel life.  I love my thick passport. I love sitting here on the plane writing. I love the fact I will have a great dinner with old friends/colleagues in Puerto Vallarta tonight.

But my girlfriend in Sweden could really use a hug. My girlfriend in LA would really love to grab a cup of coffee. Neither of whom I will see any time soon.  I dropped plans with multiple friends who by good fortune were supposed to be visiting San Francisco this weekend.

I rarely make plans for more than seven days in the future.

And I have a love-hate relationship with all of it. After all, I would not have my fabulous Swedish friend had I not been a traveler, but that very same traveling prevents me from being a good friend.

At this point, I am aware that I am dancing around the hard, cold, somewhat anguishing, real truth.

I know the real truth.

But whether to share the real truth, heart on my sleeve, with the world…

Well I guess so….

The real truth is, I would give up this life up, in a heartbeat, to curl up every night with the right person.

But coming home, night after night, to an empty bed, it is soul crushing. So like most addicts, the fix dulls the pain. If the bed is in a luxury suite overlooking the Mediterranean (as it was in December), the fact that it is empty is not glaring.

My friend Kristin is convinced that since traveling is the life I love, I will meet someone enjoying this life. Fifteen years into this life, I know it is not true.

So, I started this year with a plan: seven weeks, in San Francisco.

Work.

Enjoy the city.

But perhaps to be honest with myself, meet people.

Male people specifically.

Intelligent, stimulating, fun, enjoyable to hang out with, single male people.

And yet, here I am, on a flight to Mexico.

Cool: As addictions go, it is not a bad one to have.

Stupid: Failure, this profound sense of failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure

Failure

Failure

Alone, over Mexico.