What happens when a woman cries at work? Does it ruin her credibility, showing that she cannot transcend her emotions in a professional setting? Or does it allow an opportunity for people to see how important something is to her, how vulnerable she can be, and how human condition follows us, even when we’re in a board room?
I guess it depends on who you ask.
I actually googled this topic a few months ago, following a work event in which I had to stand up to someone for treating me disrespectfully. I shocked myself when my voice shook, as I truly did not realize how vulnerable I felt telling someone that I deserved to be treated with respect and professionalism. I recognized the knot in my throat as a symbol of all of the times I had held back my tears, swallowed my anger, and laughed away general unpleasant comments associated with being a woman at work.
I found an article on HuffPo that shared what 15 female CEOs and business leaders thought about crying at work. While some renowned voices like Sheryl Sandberg said she thought it was okay and had personally cried at work several times, others stated that they had regretted if it ever happened and believed that tears need to be left for private spaces at home.
And according to this read in Time magazine, “in spite of the cathartic physiological benefits, women who cry at work feel rotten afterward, as if they’ve failed a feminism test. In contrast, the male criers in our survey tended to report that after their crying, their minds felt sharper, the future seemed brighter, and they felt more physically relaxed and in control. In short: according to our survey, women, who have a biological predisposition to cry more, feel worse after crying at work, while men feel better.”
So, it seems that the problem with crying at work boils down to which gender sheds the tears. It also seems that women have a greater responsibility to appropriately control their emotions than men. While it’s socially acceptable for men to yell in angry outbursts or shut down and blame stress, these emotional acts do not garner the same cringing as a woman who cries at work.
And that’s not fair.
So, I’m going to share an experience that I had while teaching yoga last night. I fully recognize that my audience in a yoga class is extraordinarily different from collared shirts in a conference room. So while this experience is comparing apples and oranges, it is still noteworthy to consider the power in being able to sit with emotions- your own, or others’.
I’m currently piloting an Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT)/Yin Yoga series, “Uncovering Buried Traumas,” in which the objective is for participants to explore their bodies through long yin poses and release negative attachments and memories using the EFT (tapping) technique. Last night was our second meeting, and I wanted to expand on how to use tapping. One specific method I use with clients is called “Tell the Story,” as nearly everyone suffering from emotional distress has a story attached to it that causes them to feel angry, guilty, depressed, anxious, etc. I asked the class for a volunteer to demonstrate, and would you believe no one volunteered? 🙂 Thinking on my feet, I decided I would use myself as the example, and quickly accessed a memory that I had previously tapped on with my own teacher.
I reasoned that since I had tapped on it before, there was no more negative emotion tied to it, and I would be “safe” sharing it in front of the group. Don’t you know that when I started telling the story, my voice changed from a steady, instructional tone to a shaky, vulnerable projection of this story? And I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop it. That emotion was real and it was getting more visible with each word I spoke. My class saw it, too. I think they were as surprised as I was, and I had to remind myself and them that the point no trophy would be given for maintaining my composure at class. The anger became even more apparent as I spoke of a time I had been treated unkindly and unfairy. I started to tap away that anger, but as quickly it had showed up, the anger transformed nto sadness. And I was crying. Big, fat, crocodile tears. Rolling down my face. Nowhere to go but into the very yoga mat which conjured them in the first place. Sadness for being left out, embarrassed, and rejected. It was leaving in streams down my face, in front of my class.
When I finished the tapping sequence and looked out into my audience, I responded with as much grace as I could muster, trying to laugh off the unexpected situation that had just occurred. I grabbed tissues and asked through a nervous laugh if my make-up was all over my face. And from the class I heard,
“You look beautiful.”
All the feels. Not only had my class sat in encouragement with me during this emotional display, but they also celebrated me at my most vulnerable. What if we all were given that grace when we need it the most? What if instead of being judged, we were loved, held, supported? What if we let down the guise that we are superhuman and our feelings are replaced with steel the moment we accept a job?
When I scrolled through social media after class, I saw my photographer had posted this thought: “Anger is sadness’s bodyguard.”
It resonated. Deeply. Poignantly. Synchronistically.
Anger was sadness’s bodyguard for me in the memory I shared, and even though I was at work, I chose to feel that sadness fully. I felt it so I didn’t need to feel it again. I felt it so I could show that courage and vulnerability go hand in hand. And, I shared it because I no longer wanted to carry that 17-year-old sadness with me. So I let it go.
Each time you cry, you are simply letting something go, whether it’s frustration, anger, sadness, or fear. And when you let it go, you cleanse your spirit and allow yourself to see more clearly, with bright, tear-cleansed eyes. Even if it’s at work.
And you will look beautiful.
xojf