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Mamafesto
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

TIME FOR ONE THING: WE'RE A SORRY BUNCH | PAGE 2 OF 2

A lot of these apologies are reflexive expressions of empathy, a shortcut for "I'm sorry you had to go through that." As sociolinguist Deborah Tannen, author of "Talking From 9 to 5: Women and Men in the Workplace -- Language, Sex and Power," put it, women's apologies aren't so often literal, but a "ritual way of restoring balance to the conversation ... expressing regret that something happened without taking or assigning blame. In other words, 'I'm sorry' can be an expression of understanding -- and caring -- about the other person's feelings rather than an apology." (Tannen noted that in those instances when women are literally apologizing, they often do so in an Alphonse/Gaston kind of way -- I say I'm sorry, then you say you're sorry. Anyone who responds to the apology instead with "OK, I accept your apology" has shattered the social contract.)

While researching her book, Tannen actually sat in the back of boardrooms tape-recording what women say and how often they say it. She confirms that women are queens of ritual apology in the workplace. Does this orgy of self-deprecation exact a price? Tannen noted a situation in which she recorded a high number of apologies from one employee, the sole woman in an informal brainstorming session, who salted with a disclaimer each bright idea she wanted to toss into the mix. Tannen wondered whether these frequent acts of contrition had anything to do with the fact that the woman received a lower bonus than her peers despite the fact that they all agreed that she was the best in the group.

It's bad enough that most of us are probably apologizing for the nose prints we're leaving on the glass ceiling; what's worse is that, deep down, we may believe what we're saying. Our reflexive apologies freight our contributions -- at work, at home, anywhere -- with the subconscious message that these are not the fruit of our hard labor and native intelligence but random buckshot from loose cannons, some of which is shooting us in the foot. With our constant apologies, we discount our own merchandise as shopworn or unworthy, then are chagrined or amazed when vendors start remaindering it.

All this apologizing business is, to put it mildly, insane. I'm all for us feeling each other's pain, and I appreciate the role of apology as social lubricant, but I'm starting to feel that empathy is overrated. I'm just superstitious enough to picture some maternal divinity wagging her ectoplasmic finger at us and intoning, "You say you're sorry, young lady? Well, I'll give you something to be sorry about!"

This sorry stuff has got to stop. Here's my modest proposal, now in beta testing in the New York metropolitan area: Every time you catch yourself apologizing when you've got nothing to be sorry for, put a quarter in a jar. When the jar fills up, you must use the proceeds to buy yourself a facial, massage, manicure, pedicure or similar irredeemable self-indulgence. You're shooting for wonderfully pointless personal luxury here: bikini-line wax, black market Fen-phen, cotton panties, feminine hygiene products and dental floss are not considered acceptable purchases for this purpose.

I first proposed this idea to sociologist Martha Beck, whose work I cited above. From her interviews with over 300 women struggling to integrate contradictory social dictates that tell us we have to be independent AND breadwinners AND stay-at-home moms AND love machines, Beck concluded that most of us deserve all-expense-paid spa vacations, whereas in fact we're mostly sorry we're not weaving our hair shirts in record time. I'm determined that we all get ourselves to Club Med, one quarter at a time.

Break out your jars and get your girlfriends to do the same. Call each other on every pointless apology. Maybe if we start to notice how often we say we're sorry, we'll stop actually being sorry. It's worth a shot.

I realize there are probably a lot of confident, self-actualizing women out there who are reading this and saying, "Hey, I'm not like that; I don't apologize for anything." And to all of you, all I can say is this: I'm sincerely sorry to take up your time.
SALON | Jan. 6, 1998

Elizabeth Rapoport is executive editor at Times Books/Random House.

Do you say you're sorry too much? We're sorry. Talk it over in Table Talk.