As someone with no stable income, I barely go to Rangoon Tea House. I mask my inability to afford the food with my support for more traditional local cheap teashops. I went there recently with two close expat friends of mine for dinner and drinks.
“What local teashop would be set up like this and serve good wine?” one of them says after my rant about the prices. As I sip wine and whine about my life to them, I keep staring at a table across from ours, occupied by an expat girl and a local guy on a date. But I dwell on my conversation with my friends until I hear the girl say, “But that’s not what feminism is!”
My ears are attuned to important social matters, hence I eavesdrop. No judgment, but the guy has nothing smart to say in response. And because his back is facing me, I can’t see his face, and yet the girl is clearly impassioned. She continues to talk about how it is bullshit when society implies women are using feminism to get ahead in their careers. “Yeah, I don’t feel that way. I respect women,” the guy finally answers. Awkward.
“Eddie, do you want a smoke?” one of my friends asks me, drawing my focus back. We have a short cigarette break. Back at our table, I’m unable to decipher what the daters are now talking about. My responsible friends lecture me about my irresponsibiliness. I hope no one is eavesdropping in on this. I do what any youngin does when presented with hard cold facts; I dissociate.
“The organization I work for really cares about gender issues,” I learn the girl works for an NGO because of course she does. “It’s empowering, to be able to see the change in these girls’ lives,” she goes on, to which the guy responds, “Of course, that’s incredible.” A prolonged silence followed by “It’s about to close up. Should we get the check?” from the guy. Awkward.
While they are waiting for the check, the guy asks about plans for the rest of the night. The girl is going back home. “When are we hanging out again?” The girl smiles and responds, “I’ll let you know.” She is not letting him know.
I giggle and tell my friends I have been listening in on that date, one reassures me it is a fun thing to do. To the girl explaining what intersectional feminism is to this guy, just know you are also doing important work outside of your actual work. He may or may not have gotten it, but you said what you wanted to say and kudos to you. To the guy, at least try to be interested.
The bill comes and my friends offer to pay, reminding me that I do not have a job. Damn you, I think; thank you, I say. We say goodbye and I start walking home. Awkward.
