The Hazards of Being a Woman Who Cares a Lot

I got a present in the mail yesterday. It was a t-shirt with one of my favorite quotes on the front.

“I care. I care a lot. It’s kind of my thing.” –Leslie Knope

It was a gift from a friend who grew up in a fostering family and now runs an organization that provides support for foster parents and the kids they serve. She and I have never met in person, but we get each other. We are both women who care. We care a lot.

When I saw the shirt, I was surprised that it knocked something loose in me. I am not a very emotional person, although I am a very passionate person (if you find that confusing, so do I). Sometimes emotions are sitting in me somewhere and it takes something I wasn’t expecting to knock them loose and send them through my heart and that’s when they turn into tears. Music does this to me regularly, but yesterday it was a t-shirt.

Rebecca Tredway Photography

I tried to figure out why. It was the sweet thoughtfulness of the gift. It was knowing I have community on this foster care advocacy journey. But it was also something more. It took me a lot of hours to figure out that emotion was coming from the validation of what it means to be this kind of woman. It is both a blessing and a curse.

I am a woman who cares a lot. As proud as I am to be that kind of woman, I also know it creates problems for me. There are so many times it would be easier to not care. Caring means you spend hours researching and then writing emails to advocate on behalf of people or policies. Maybe that turns into action. Maybe it doesn’t. Caring means you sometimes cry in meetings where nobody else is crying (and being a not very emotional person means you are angry at yourself for crying in the first place). Caring means you sometimes make enemies when you’d rather make friends. When you care a lot, it’s hard to remain silent in the face of what seems like injustice even when that would make it easier to get along. Caring means you want things to be better and you believe problems are fixable. It isn’t an option to sit back and hope things turn out for the best, even when you know your attempts at problem identification and problem solving are going to make people uncomfortable.

On my best days, I’m praised for being tenacious, enthusiastic, hard-working and passionate. On my worst days, I’m criticized for being too intense, too direct, for causing problems and hurting feelings. If you don’t know me well, you may only know me as friendly and funny and warm. If you engage me on the subjects I’m passionate about, I will become more intense and opinionated. And if you hit one of my trigger issues, I will become direct and a little heated. All of these responses come from the same heart of love and a desire to see this world made right. All of these responses are part of me. But it has come to my attention that not everybody wants to have to deal with a woman who cares a lot.

I can hurt feelings without knowing it. I can silence dissent that I need to hear. I can come across as judgmental or superior. This is not what I want to be and it’s not what’s in my heart, but it’s what comes across when I care a lot. I’m not sure how this would be different if I was a man who cared a lot. I’m sure they have struggles too, although I feel like some of my problems in this world are rooted in the expectation that women should be nice and get along. Sometimes I’d rather be kind than nice. Kindness is speaking the truth in love when niceness just wants to keep the peace.

Maybe that’s why I love Leslie Knope. Her character wasn’t just passionate and successful, she was passionate and obnoxious. She was passionate and she failed. She was passionate and she was wrong. She was passionate and she hurt the people she loved. She was passionate and sometimes, SOMETIMES she made the changes she felt so passionately about. It was an accurate picture of what it’s like to be a woman who cares a lot. It’s frustrating and humbling and annoying and sometimes it’s perfect.

I try not to wish I was a different kind of woman, but it’s a struggle. I wonder what it would be like if I didn’t care so much, or if I was better at expressing my passion in ways that didn’t alienate those I’m hoping to convince. I know this will be a struggle as long as I live and that I’m slowly making progress. I’m not the woman I was when I first learned to use my voice. I have figured out that diplomacy matters and people want to know they’re loved and heard before they’re interested in working with you to solve problems. My hope is that I will continue to get better at this. But I never want to lose that core of who I am— the part of me that cares. She cares a lot.

God has used that part of who I am to be a voice for those who need it. I’m thankful to know I’m not too much for him to use, not too direct, not too intense. He made me this way for a purpose and there are few things I enjoy more in this world than using my passion in ways that allow me to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God. I feel most alive in those moments. I don’t believe God wants me to stop caring, even when that caring makes other people uncomfortable.

For other women who care a lot, I want to stand with you both in how hard this life can be, and in how important it is that we continue to love enough that we speak when others are silent. Conviction makes us passionate and it can also make us outsiders, which is painful. We have to learn how to apologize when we’re wrong, and sometimes even when we’re right, but we’ve hurt the people we love. We have to persevere even when we wish we could stop. We persevere because we know the cost of eating our passion and swallowing our convictions. It’s rarely worth it.

I’m writing all this to you and to myself. Someday (I’m sure in the not too distant future) when I’ve rocked the boat and then I’m left feeling the awkwardness or the pain or the guilt, I want to remind myself that I am loved and this passion in me wasn’t an accident. It isn’t just a liability. It’s an asset. There will be those who see it and can help me direct it where it needs to go. I need to follow them. There will be those who understand and value it and want to stand with me. I need to lead them with humility and wisdom. There will be those who aren’t ready for it. And that’s okay. I can have grace for them because I need them to have grace for me. Sometimes we have to be the squeaky wheel and continue to push even when people aren’t responsive. And sometimes when we see that people aren’t responsive, it’s time to take a step back and channel our energy in another direction.

I don’t always like being a woman who cares a lot, but I didn’t choose this. I trust God made me this way because he intended for me to use this gift wisely. I pray that’s what I do.