“Yes, of course,” Louise said, and everyone nodded solemnly for a moment before she continued. “So let’s get started! Everybody, find a partner.”
Libby squeezed my arm. “Shall we?” I scanned the room as the other women in attendance paired off. I caught Margot’s eyes on me. Did she want to be my partner? No, she’d already linked up with a willowy brunette. She was just . . . watching me. Maybe this itself was part of the test: how enthusiastically I participated, or simply whether or not anyone chose me. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Libby.
“We shall!” I said.
“First things first,” Louise said, as everyone turned to face her in their pairs. “Women can be hesitant to take ownership of their own achievements in the workplace.” She held a hand to her chest and widened her eyes, as if scandalized. “Bragging is so unladylike. Better to share the credit, so no one thinks that you’re bossy.” She shook her head, dropping the charade, her voice turning wry. “I guarantee you that men aren’t thinking that when they do something amazing.” The women in the audience tittered knowingly. “So pretend you’re with one of your closest girlfriends after a great day at the office, and tell your partner honestly what a badass you are.”
With Louise’s blessing, the pairs of women around us began to chatter with gusto. Libby and I looked at each other, her with an unexpectedly shy expression.
“Ooh,” she said. “You can go first, if you want!”
“No, no, you go for it,” I said. “What’s your story?”
“Okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Oh my gosh, okay. Why I’m a badass . . .” She hesitated, thinking, and then pulled a face. “I don’t know why this is so hard!” Now Caroline was looking over, as if to check on our progress.
“Yeah, it feels weird to be like Hey, nice to meet you, here’s why I’m amazing. But we can’t disappoint Louise,” I said. Then I winked. “After all, she’s friends with Oprah.”
Libby smiled. “Good point.”
“From my brief observation of you since we’ve become the closest of girlfriends, you seem very motivated,” I said, indicating the fizzy water she’d been handing out.
“I am,” she said, her spine straightening. “Thank you. I lugged all that water here tonight!”
“It was probably heavy to carry,” I said. “So you are literally a strong woman.”
Delight rose in her face as she laughed. And then, floodgates open, she began to catalog her achievements for me. “I was brave enough to take a leap of faith and start over in a place where I didn’t really know anyone.” She blinked a couple of times, cleared her throat, and went on. “I came up with the idea for Fizzi all by myself, but then built a team where everyone is treated with respect and kindness. I hadn’t been sure whether the cans should feature Africa, or images of powerful women like Frida Kahlo, but I made the call for Africa, and it seems to be the right decision because we’re getting more orders all the time!”
Maybe, in accepting her offer to be my partner, I’d been doing her just as big a favor as she’d been doing for me. She didn’t seem to fit entirely into this room of women. She was too guileless. She came across as younger than everyone else even though she didn’t look it, like a career gal in her twenties had body-swapped with someone’s kid sister, Freaky Friday–style. I wondered how she’d gotten her Nevertheless invitation. Her water company must have been making a big difference.
We switched, and I tried to be as enthusiastic as a camp counselor as I listed my own attributes.
“I’m a very hard worker!” I said.
“That’s so impressive!” Libby said, her own camp counselor energy much more natural than mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a couple of other women I didn’t know, but who also seemed to hold some kind of sway here, watching us.
Next, Louise had us reflect what we’d heard back to each other, because we couldn’t tell how “truly amazing” we were until we saw ourselves as our friends did, apparently. (A woman next to us told her partner, “You are such a powerful witch goddess.” Hmm, I could understand why Caroline was apparently so bothered—the witch stuff was already getting to be a little much.) Then we had to do power poses like Wonder Woman. With our hands on our hips and our feet firmly planted, we bellowed, “I AM WORTH IT.”
All of this validation was like a self-help conference, a far cry from the rumors of shadowy doings. It was self-interested feminism in the extreme, and the women around me were loving it. Our collective voices were so loud, it seemed inconceivable that this clubhouse could remain a secret—surely the neighbors were wondering from whence this battle cry was coming. But it had to remain a secret or else the power of it was gone. Take away the secrecy from tonight, and what you had was a celebrity sighting and some mutual masturbation.
“And finally, it’s time for some role play,” Louise said. “Not to worry, it’s the safe-for-work kind. I’ll play the boss. Who wants to negotiate with me for the equal pay she deserves?”
Dozens of hands shot up, a natural result in a room full of Hermione Grangers. Next to me, Libby’s arm flew into the air, and I got a whiff of her shower-fresh deodorant. But Louise picked a woman nearer to the front, the same woman who had spoken up earlier about her paltry $300,000 salary. Business Casual Maya.
“Thank you for coming in today,” Louise said, giving her a firm handshake and indicating that she should sit in the other wingback chair at the front of the room. The two of them began to act out a salary negotiation. Though Maya was clearly awed by her chance to talk with the Louise Boltstein, that didn’t stop her from going
