I recall an incident at a networking event not so long ago. I was a business school student like any other, trying to network my way into the corporate world, project my best possible self and hopefully secure a job after the program.
With previous experiences, both at work and life, I knew my strengths and weaknesses. As a new immigrant, I was naive about the work culture in a different country and was open to any and all advice that was given to me, regardless of the source, without filtering them through my brain. That wicked combination of confidence and vulnerability seemed to work alright until the issue of high-heeled shoes.
I’ve always been comfortable in my flats, with my feet firmly on the ground, that I never really missed wearing stilettos. Grapevine gossips in professional circles prescribed otherwise. High heeled shoes for women were deemed as the appropriate accessory to a formal three-piece suit, and I believed and followed unquestioningly.
The shoes that I wore were as new as my ability to carry them that my feet became blistered within the first two hours of standing. I found it hard to hold a conversation about my skills when pain shot threw my legs. Excusing myself, I rushed to the ladies’ room to change into the back-up plumps that I had packed for an emergency.
As I was hopping between footwear, a fellow lady student, with well-meaning intentions advised me to bear with the shoes until the event was over if I wanted to make an impression. I explained my plight; she understood and still emphasized her suggestion.
I was shocked and surprised at what made a sweet girl such as herself, overlook my pain and concentrate on something as superficial as shoes and why was it that what I wore mattered more than what was in my head. As I stayed processing my thoughts, there were other women in the ladies’ room who smiled at me with empathy, rolling their eyes over “things that women go through to make it” and kindly listing ointments to apply on my blisters after the event.
My question is, why was I being advised without anyone questioning the absurdity of what I was advised? Why did women have to “go through things,” at least things that aren’t important enough to make it? I am not against high-heeled shoes or any accessory that comes with the dress code for that matter. As long as a person is comfortable with what she wears, it is okay. Why make it a norm for everyone? Aside from posture-related medical issues, when a woman’s footing is restricted, and she is conscious of her stand (quite literally), how can she exuberate confidence that is the essential part of the entire event?
Too new to know better, I begged myself to obey the advice while my reasoning made a mockery of me. Unable to take the self-criticism from my head, in addition to the searing pain on my foot, I went into the stalls, changed out of not just the shoes but the suit as well.
With comfortable jeans and a T-shirt, I walked out of the networking event and got into Marble Slab ice-cream joint. Needless to say, I did not get the job, but the ice-cream was tasty and satisfying.
Originally published at https://autholish.com on August 29, 2019.
