Randy's Rant — You Do You
by Randy Kaufman, with research assistance from Dustin Lowman
I’ve had it with judgement — people judging others; people judging me. What happened earlier this month in Texas appalled me, and reminded me of many instances of judgment I’ve suffered over the decades. Often, they were thoughtless judgements, thrown out negligently, stinging like barbs.
No one has a right to make the assumptions that underlie these castigations — for example, that since I never wanted kids, I must be heartless. Maybe I couldn’t have children. Maybe I couldn’t afford to have children. Maybe my heart tugged me in other, equally valuable directions.
The truth is my business. Judgment is none of yours.
You Do You
I first heard the expression, “You do you,” in a Soul Cycle class a few years ago. I later learned the phrase originated in Black vernacular, though forms of it date back at least as early to Shakespeare, who wrote “To thine own self be true” in 1611 (more on him later). Some dismiss these phrases as clichés. To which I say, “You do you.” The phrase resonated strongly for me that day amidst blaring music, dripping sweat, and sweet-smelling candles.
A recent New York Times Magazine piece by novelist Colson Whitehead posits that the phrase “perfectly encapsulates our narcissistic culture,” characterized by selfies, mirrors, and millennial malaise. “Not my millennials,” as I often say. I don’t believe the phrase belongs to any particular generation. Rather, it applies to any of us who have the courage to stand up to social norms and live boldly.
I haven’t ranted since Joe Biden was elected President, when I waxed — eloquently or not — about bringing orange back to its rightful role as a symbol of light and joy. But then Texas passed an anti-abortion law which the Supreme Court subsequently refused to block.
My head exploded. My heart ached. Justice Sotomayor summed up my disgust brilliantly in her dissent:
“The court’s order is stunning. Presented with an application to enjoin a flagrantly unconstitutional law engineered to prohibit women from exercising their constitutional rights and evade judicial scrutiny, a majority of Justices have opted to bury their heads in the sand. ... Because the court’s failure to act rewards tactics designed to avoid judicial review and inflicts significant harm on the applicants and on women seeking abortions in Texas, I dissent.”
It shocks me that men still feel the right to legislate women’s bodies. It enrages me that our Supreme Court refused to block a blatantly unconstitutional law which uses vigilante justice to persecute women, healthcare workers, and Uber drivers alike. The Texas debacle made me think about how often others have judged me for choices I’ve made — choices that hurt no one, and that were entirely my own business. Chief among them: dogs always, children never.
All the Single Ladies
The judgment began in my 20s. Over the phone, a headhunter who had never met me said, “I just don’t understand how a woman as attractive as you isn’t married!” Despite our professional relationship, he felt he had the right to judge me, implying that something was wrong with my choice.
I wasn’t married, and didn’t intend to marry. My romantic relationships tended to last between nine and 18 months, just long enough for my boyfriends to insist that we take things to the next level. In other words, to move into my vision of the nine circles of hell: Have kids, decamp to the suburbs, and live in a McMansion with a white picket fence. Despite early and frequent avowals that I wasn’t going to marry anyone, the men I dated believed they’d change my choices.
Undeterred, I moved through my career and traveled the world, relishing the freedom that came with singlehood. I earned a reputation in the male-dominated world of finance and wealth management. The happier and freer my life became, the harsher my critics became. It seemed that my life choices somehow affronted theirs. I wondered, Why is my marital status any of their business?
Coworkers, many of whom were miserable in their own marriages and doing everything they could to spend as little time as possible at home, implored me to marry. “Why?” I wondered. “So I can be as unhappy as you?” One even admitted that, upon returning from his frequent business trips, he’d sit in the cramped airline seat for as long as he could after the plane had landed, dreading the thought of returning to his kids and his wife.
Empty Vessels
When I surprised everyone — myself included — by marrying at 38, I sought a tubal ligation from multiple doctors. I was a successful investment banker, running multibillion-dollar deals, but several different doctors refused to perform the procedure because they were sure I’d change my mind someday.
One female friend, who also had no interest in motherhood, endured similar dismissals, until one day, at a pool party in her Connecticut suburb, she’d had enough. Someone asked her why she wasn’t having children, insinuating that she was a freak of nature. This time, she responded, “Ovarian cancer.”
No law says that anyone has to have children, but women who don’t get treated like criminals. (Fortunately, the tide is shifting, albeit at a snail’s pace.) For our critics, childlessness is not a lifestyle choice; it’s an assault on the sacred cow of childbearing. Society views women as vessels for children, and women who don’t have them are empty vessels — worthless.
Just when I thought it was safe — with my childbearing years behind me — the perfect people around me found another choice to criticize: my choice of pets. I have always loved my dogs as if they were my children. I got my most recent dogs from a humane, wonderful breeder, who has become a dear friend. This choice provoked lectures from those who consider rescues the only humane choice.
Critics make assumptions about a person’s character based on one piece of information. In this case, because I purchased breeder dogs, I must not care about animal welfare. Little do they know, I’ve donated abundantly to animal rescue organizations over the years.
To Thine Own Self Be True
“This above all: to thine own self be true
And it must follow, as the night to the day
Thou canst not then be false to any man…”
While Polonius might have been spouting platitudes at his son, Laertes, before the latter returned to school, this one rings true.
The problem is twofold: first, that people feel the right to judge friends’, family members’, and strangers’ lifestyle choices; second, that they make sweeping assumptions based on a single fact. Women want abortions, therefore, they must be deranged. I didn’t want children, therefore, I must be a freak of nature. I own breeder dogs, therefore, I must support animal cruelty.
Bottom line: You do you. To thine own self be true. Or, to quote an even older text, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” Wanton judgment wounds people — puts daggers through their hearts, deflates their spirits. I encourage you to follow the advice of these so-called clichés, and to remember that you’re not the arbiter of right and wrong, nor credentialed to judge anyone but yourself. You’re a person — like me, and like all people — trying to carve a path through a challenging world.
Please consider pairing this post with one of my all-time favorite novels, Jonathan Franzen's Freedom. (You can see other favorite books of mine here.) While the novel covers many separate stories over multiple generations, its fundamental topic is the one I struggle with above, and indicated by its title: freedom, its meanings, its limits, its frictions.
Click here to download a printable PDF of this article.
And now for some uplifting music, here’s Arethra: