Things I Don't Know How to Say

If I've talked to you recently, then you know about the irritating profile assignment I was given in my magazine writing class. I was paired with a classmate I don't know very well, and we tailed each other all weekend. If I wasn't cramping her style, she was cramping mine.

I did learn some interesting things about being interviewed: the importance of asking the right questions and of paying close attention to everything the interviewee is saying, both with her words and her silence.

My partner was here Sunday, observing me making supper for some friends. She took photos of my apartment, wrote down the names of books on my bookshelf, investigated photographs. She asked me questions in rapid-fire succession. Two of them stood out to me. First, about my apron, a simple white smock with a gray tabby cat slinking around the bottom. It is worn and stained all over with yellow and brown war wounds from years in the kitchen.

Partner wanted to know who gave it to me.

Don't remember. I've had it so long.

I know this detail is going to show up in her profile on me. She will probably conclude that I am cat crazy and leave readers (my other classmates) with the impression that I am the type who collects cat figurines or buys cat calendars. What I wanted to tell her about my unattractive cat apron but didn't know how is that I wear it because like mashed potatoes and green peas, conversations with my parents, Sunday afternoon naps, and evenings spent with good and loyal friends it just feels like home.

She also asked me if I would consider myself a "big feminist." I said I would, but I was hesitant to tell her so. I followed up saying that I don't do anything to support the cause, and even as I was saying it I knew it wasn't true. I've given money to Planned Parenthood, I illuminated women's issues on my beat last quarter and, perhaps most importantly, I live my life as a big, fat feminist. In that moment, though, with just that one question and no follow-up, I didn't know how to admit how I really feel, which is that I don't do enough.

Needless to say, all of this has made me rethink the conclusions I came to about her.