Trivia and The Squad

For the last several summers, a group of us have gotten together to play Trivia each week. It's kind of a different, eclectic group. We range in age from 30 to 60 -- 3 men, 6 women, when we are all there, which is rare.

We surfed around enough to find the most conveniently located place and where we are at least somewhat competitive, and for the last 2 summers, we've landed at Drake's on Monday evenings. We're usually pretty strong until the last question, which is kind of a 'winner takes all' deal. Even with that albatross, we've managed a couple of 2nd and 3rd places over the seasons.

This last Monday the traditional group text let us know early in the day that Robert and Cheryl were not going to be there (we all knew that was a hit for any geography or medicine categories, but we could muscle through this dilemma). About 45 minutes from the start, Will, our sports aficionado, sent his regrets., which served as another big hit.

By this time, some of our team was already assembled at Drake's and we were starting to look a little shaky. The final nail in the coffin came 15 minutes before playtime when Walter texted he would not be there either.

If you remember details and are paying close attention, that meant that no men would be playing on our team. This was the very first time our team had taken this particular form.

Now for the bad ass women that sat at the table you wouldn't think that would even be a problem, but , I'm sorry to say, it actually caught us a little off guard.

Very quickly, we all decided we would enjoy dinner with one another, if nothing else. We decided we would at least start out the night and play at least until we were finished eating. Not so secretly, we had zero confidence and Bonnie dubbed our teams name "OMG Where's the Rest of Our Team!"

First question, usually the easiest, was a Muppet question. Walter is our muppet expert. Walter wasn't there. I was ready to stop playing, but Kelly responded, I think a chicken. Ding. Ding. Ding.

We quickly took a selfie to post on Facebook so we could honestly say we were in first place. We were elated with our one correct answer.

In the next few rounds, we came up with answers like Parris Island, Sony, Caribbean Sea, Kilimanjaro and British Columbia. Ding. Ding. Ding. End of first half. We were in first place by five points and were seemingly drunk with victory although Diet Cokes and water were the drinks for the evening.

At half-time we knew 4 of the 5 colleges with the most number one seeds in NCAA history. (Bye-Bye, Will.) The second half was a blur but out of 27 teams we were in second place before the final and ended with a solid 3rd place - thank you for the 2 free appetizers! We high-fived and yelled and delighted in ourselves.

As I continued to revel in the glory, long after the sweet victory, I couldn't help but remember how doubtful we had been at the start. Honestly, we were giving answers to questions that we would not have even listened to carefully had the men in our group been there. And there was no natural inclination to acquiesce to another team member even when we weren't 100% sure. We took chances and cheered each other through some tough decisions. We were wrong occasionally, but mostly, on this night, we were right.

Now the part of the story you need to know and I need to remind myself is that the 3 men we play with are the most kind, Hillary-voting, non-misogynistic men you will ever meet.  Robert and Walter read more novels than watch sports games, and Will retweets more from the Dali Lama than even his beloved U of L Cardinals. These are not masculine men, and I say that with the greatest love in my heart.

These men don't overpower the conversation or take the charge of the game -- except for the mishap between Cheryl and Robert and the difference between Viagra and Cialis which we will never let Robert live down.

In truth, the 6 fierce women who round out our team usually (quietly) assume that the men have a better shot at the right because of the way our society has taught us to think and behave. We don't even do it on purpose. Our voices come forward only when there are no male voices present.

In a room full of women, I assume I'm as smart as anybody else, but there's something almost primal that causes me to unknowingly doubt myself when there are men at the table, even these 3 compassionate, giving guys.

Anyway, my newfound awareness of my own female hang ups make me love the Congressional "Squad" even more. I don't necessarily care that they are showing divisiveness in the party or spending time verbally sparring with the president. I don't even care that I don't agree with every idea they propose.

What I do celebrate is they are young American women from a variety of ethnic groups and they are speaking. Out loud. In front of powerful people. They are not shaking their heads in agreement as they stand near their fathers or brothers or husbands. They are giving voice to their ideas and thoughts and feelings, and they are doing it with a belief in their hearts that they have the right to not only speak, but be heard as well.

This is the world I want for my daughter and granddaughter. I want the same chances for them to be heard and respected, to make and learn from their mistakes without shame, to take their seat at the table where my sons and grandson have a guaranteed seat just by having simply been born white and male.

A simple game made me realize that many of us are waiting for an invitation or until we have everything figured out. "The Squad" is pulling up their own seat, with an ante of their own. I want that for Lula.

I haven't published anything in this blog in the last several months because my last post was a little controversial and I balked. I decided to keep my writing, my voice to myself because not everyone would agree or I might be making a mistake.

But since "The Squad" and my granddaughter, Lula, have entered the world, I'm grabbing my own tired chair and elbowing my way to the table, hoping that for Lula, the chair will already be there.