I'm Fine and Neither Are You

by Camille Pagán

“Penelope, dear, can I give you a bit of advice?” “Please do.” “Stop trying to make it look easy.” “Um . . . is that what I’m doing?” I knew the minute I said the words that it was. “Do you see men acting like that?” She clucked her tongue. “Maybe it’s changed for your generation. Judging from your colleague’s behavior, I highly doubt it. Most men, they pretend to sweat over every single detail and then tell everyone it was even harder than they made it. If life is rough

for you right now, act like it. You tripped back there, but you picked yourself back up and continued on, didn’t you?” “Yes,” I said. She laughed. “What you should be saying is, ‘Yes, it was hard, but I did it anyway, and now I have the biggest female-generated endowment in the medical school’s history to show for it.” “You mean—” “God knows Harvard doesn’t need my money.” The bit of hope I’d been clinging to blossomed into joy. “Thank you,” I said. “That really means so much to me, and the medical school.” Nancy smiled at me. “Thank yourself.”