By Gabi Stewart

Khaki pants, trusty tennis shoes, a bright, collared t-shirt that sports the company logo — all of these things are typical pieces of CEF-Durham member Sharon’s uniform for her housekeeping position at a local inn. However, without another piece — one imperceptible to the eye — Sharon’s outfit is incomplete. It’s a mindset, a personality feature, and it’s something that working women across all sectors feel that they’re defined and restricted by.

It’s her bossiness.

Last Wednesday, I had the privilege of sitting down with Sharon and discussing what it means to be a working woman in Durham. As a college freshman constantly immersed in the university environment, I find that engaging in discussion of gender in the workforce is pretty commonplace for me — whether in the form of a drafting a research paper on working women in Disney films, participating in class discussion on gender roles, or simply conversing with older students about their experiences, this sort of analysis frequently enters my world. However, what I’ve realized is that my insight on this topic is theoretical at best; it lacks the raw, honest power that only comes with experience. Experience and power that Sharon definitely has. Though usually soft-spoken and laid-back, Sharon kindly and passionately shared this insight with me as we spoke.

My first question was simply, “What does it mean to be a woman in the workforce?”

Ruminating on the super broad question, Sharon paused for a moment. Eyes narrowing with realization, she looked directly at me and said, “You gotta be bossy, you know.”

Intrigued by her answer, I asked her to explain.

“You have to let your co-workers know you’re in control and that you can do it.”

Jumping a little bit, I replied, “So would you say that women are bossy in the way that men are powerful?”

“Yes.”

The bossy/powerful distinction is definitely something that’s gained some media coverage over the past few years. And that’s great — coverage raises awareness. However, having never worked in a position outside of a summer job, I never really felt aware of this issue until I heard it firsthand from Sharon. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks; I was angry. Outraged, even. Sensing this, Sharon spoke up.

“But it’s all good in the job I have now, though. My boss, he’s really good.”

After that, Sharon went on to detail how her boss really empathizes with his workers. Instead of being hired immediately as a manager, Sharon’s boss had to “make that bed and clean that room” before being promoted. He shares a common experience with his workers. He understands. And he respects them when they assert themselves and their opinions, regardless of their genders.

Even though Sharon’s experience is certainly not a reflection of the entire work world of Durham, it stands out of a pocket of light in a sphere of society that can seem like a dark place. Yes, the societal construction of women’s bossiness versus men’s power and confidence is an outstanding issue that absolutely needs to be addressed. However, it’s not an ubiquitous, all-consuming issue; it’s something that we can tackle on a grassroots level. Together, as a community, we can empower one another and lift one another up on an individual level. And that’s an amazingly encouraging prospect.

By: Sarah Cohn

The thing about working with CEF is it’s not a job. It’s not even a great job, nor is it the best job. It’s something entirely different. Working with CEF is being part of a community every day, for about eight hours (give or take some), while also doing your job. From my very first day at CEF to my last, I felt a stronger sense of community than I’ve ever felt before. Maybe it’s sharing a common dream of what all people should have, or perhaps it’s simply caring to get to know one another. All I know is there is something unique that bonds everyone in this community – advocates, members, and staff alike – with a unifying strength I hadn’t known before. (Maybe this is the “special sauce” I hear reference to at CEF board meetings…) And only in reflection have I been able to realize that above all else, above the professional skills I gained, the challenges and resulting growing experiences I had, and even above the projects I accomplished, working with CEF has given me the opportunity to know what community feels like.

I got my first taste of the CEF community the summer after my sophomore year at UNC, when I began volunteering with CEF Latin@’s small business classes. A semester later, I joined the CEF admin team as a CEF Latin@ co-coordinator, and my involvement only grew from there.  As a part of leadership, I started spending more time working with members in the office, and the more time I spent there, the more I wanted to spend. Then, during one of the many moments in the Spring of my senior year that my mind spent wrestling with what I was going to do after graduation, it became suddenly clear to me that I was not ready to leave CEF. Applying to work full-time with an organization I wanted to spend all my time with anyway seemed so right, despite my resolve to leave the town I’d grown up in. More than a year later, I can’t imagine having done anything else.

If you ask me about the job I had for the past year, the first thing that comes to mind is not a literary descriptor, but a feeling. It is a literal, physical feeling in the chest and just a hint of a feeling behind the eyes, though I may not let the latter expose itself if I can help it. And if I have to put into words what that feeling embodies, I think – I’m pretty sure – that it’s the feeling of community. So, in reflection of my past year, I feel it is only appropriate to share what the community of working with CEF feels like.

To me, community feels like knowing everyone in the room and wanting so genuinely that it’s almost overwhelming to hear about all of their most recent triumphs and struggles. It feels like wishing you could slow down time amidst the buzz of productivity to fully celebrate with someone who just signed a lease on an apartment, or to listen and talk with someone who just learned of losing their job.

Community sometimes occupies a physical space in your body, or at least it feels that way when you can sense that the woman you’ve been meeting with every week is finally starting to believe in herself, and when after she moves away you receive a message from her just to thank you for standing by her, you are suddenly made aware that the phrase “heart swell” is not just poetic.

Community feels like an unstoppable smile taking control of your cheeks when you learn of happy news for a fellow community member. And when you subsequently realize that the most joyous moments of your day, as well as the lowest ones, are now most often vicarious, you can be sure that sense of community has something to do with it.

Community also feels secure in having the strongest network of support should you need it, and the mere thought of not being a part of that network feels scary.

Technically, we’re all a part of many communities: our city or town, our neighborhood, maybe our school or family or house or team. And while these communities are important, the one I’m talking about is not concretely defined by a geographic line or even a genetic bond. I think a true community is one that is borne out of love, gratitude, and appreciation for the commonalities of all of our experiences. (In CEF-speak: It really is all about the relationships.) A true community expresses itself in every-day feelings—feelings that build and go on to change the entirety of your expectations. I didn’t know the feeling of a true community until I worked with CEF, and I’m so incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity. Knowing this feeling, I don’t think I can go back. Thankfully, I don’t have to, because community also feels like something that will never leave you behind, no matter where your next “job” takes you.