The ways they call you crazy*
*Crazy is a dangerous word. I use it throughout this week’s letter to stare back at maddening memories, not because I believe crazy people exist.
Durban, South Africa. 1996.
Mrs. Leslie told me to love myself in front of the whole class during 3rd period English. Mrs. Leslie with the short haircut. Mrs. Leslie who liked foreign films and Panasian cuisine. Mrs. Leslie who had no business singling me out when I was already the only Black kid in 4A1. We read Walkabout out loud that year, jumping from student to student until it was my turn to let the racist language wash over me and seep into the cracks in my desk. You’d be crazy not to love your beautiful, golden brown skin. Mrs. Leslie let my arm go and I watched her chiffon skirt shuffle towards the blackboard.
Philadelphia, USA. 2004.
We left the city for the weekend and drove to his parents’ house in a nice town along the Delaware River. He took me to Ringing Rock to re-live his childhood and make out in the woods. At breakfast, his mother looked at me with suspicion and I shot the suspicion right back. Who are these women making waffles and raising Boy Scouts in America? He wanted to turn my sadness into a movie and I wanted to distance myself from his, so I called it off one morning and rode my bike home from his house on Spring towards the Ben Franklin statue. I ran into him in the snack aisle at Trader Joe’s a few years later. He told me he was proud of me for getting a great job at a local nonprofit, which made me feel crazy because what right did he have to be proud of me? I reluctantly accepted his offer of a ride home with my groceries. Somewhere on a bridge over the Schuylkill, I cursed myself for being in the passenger seat of a Boy Scout’s car.
Hong Kong, SAR. 2014.
I hate that cover letters still exist, but I sure know how to write them.
Let the opening sentence breathe by giving it its own line.
Immediately acknowledge the role and confirm that you’re the best fit because really, you’ve been working towards this moment your whole career.
Hit the highlights in paragraph three but don’t elaborate on more than two bangers. You want to seem enlightened and mature, not insecure and robotic. There’s a difference between a list and a thoughtful reflection on all the incredible steps it took to get to THIS. VERY. MOMENT.
Data helps but if you don’t have any, use humour. And for heaven’s sake, keep it short.
Finish with professional detachment because desperation scares people. Less Sincerely, more Regards.
I’ve used this formula countless times with considerable success. Once it got me in trouble with an Australian man who loved my cover letter but lowballed me at the offer stage. I called to say no thank you to the insulting salary number and he blew his lid. YOU’LL REGRET THIS! He vowed he’d be successful without me and that I was crazy for throwing away an opportunity to write for his blog.
Somewhere far away, 2021.
The two men in suits hated each other but loved to tell me the same thing in the exact same way. “You’re too smart for your own good.” Did they know how threatening they sounded? The ways they call you crazy!
You’re too smart for your own good.
You’re too smart for your own good.
You’re too smart for your own good.
Staring back at maddening memories can be very difficult. In my experience, talk therapy helps put thoughts in perspective. As a working mother and living human with very little time for commuting, I recommend Better Help.