Exploitation Is Not Love

When You Get Used, Exploited, Drained & Then Discarded

As the world around us unravels in surreal and bizarrely tumultuous ways, as the malignant narcissists of the world have their way with the innocent and vulnerable, as those in charge prove that they don’t give a damn about the future we leave our children, I feel quite somatically heartbroken. Like my heart is having contractions, just like a womb would during labor. I see this kind of abuse happening in fractals, from the very personal inside me and all around me to the very global and even cosmic. Let me start with a literary metaphor and then I’ll veer into the personal and the meta.

When I was an English major at Duke, Sister Carrie was required reading. Touted as the “great American novel,” it strikes me now as the epitome of what’s wrong with part of America today. Sister Carrie is the story of a midwestern girl who wanted to make a better life for herself than her meager upbringing. She moved to Chicago where she worked her way up the ranks with men, trading in the last one once she attracted the next tier up, then discarding the one who had gotten her to that level of status.

Each guy was simply a means to an end, a transaction meant to benefit her financially and move her up the social tiers as her ambition grew. Love was not on the menu, but she wasn’t transparent about her motives. Maybe the men were transacting too- she was young and beautiful, after all, and she ultimately became an accomplished actress. Having a woman like that on your arm is its own currency in the world of power and status, especially for men. Maybe she figured men traded up with women all the time, so why not turn the tables on the patriarchy? Why not callously discard someone when it’s time to upgrade?

Our excellent teacher at Duke facilitated a discussion about how we interpreted this novel. Some concluded that it was a social critique of the American dream and the narcissism and corrupt values around which our country was built. Others praised it as a feminist novel because Carrie outsmarted the men- using them first and trading up for self-interested reasons- rather than the other way around. Since men commonly trade in their first wives for younger, more beautiful women as they age (this is still more common than the other way around), some of the students saw Sister Carrie as a twisted kind of justice- turning the tables on the gender norms. (If you need a good laugh, watch SNL’s Meet Your Second Wife skit.)

I saw the point of why some people saw it as a feminist novel- that it busted the double standard, that men and women can both be ruthless and exploitative and that women can earn back some of their power by being as horrible to wealthy men with status as the wealthy older men are to beautiful young women. But my mother was right when she said two wrongs don’t make a right. Exploitation is not love, whether it’s men exploiting women, women exploiting men, or any gender identity exploiting anyone else. To suggest that it’s love confuses people.

Many other books I read in high school and college have faded from memory, but I have never forgotten Sister Carrie, a book about how men and women transact to gain power from their association with each other and how ruthless and transactional some people are willing to be in order to sleep their way to the top or show off their status by having someone beautiful or powerful by their side.

As a young college student, I hated Carrie and everything she represented- the manipulative feminine, the seductive siren, the power-hungry narcissist, the ruthless black widow, the kind of woman who causes so much mistrust in the men who become their transactional victims that the rest of us are left reeling in the trauma they leave in their wake. I hated it when men exploited women, of course, but I judged Sister Carrie extra-harshly because she was a woman. I expected more of women- more empathy, more tenderness, more affection, more bonding. To think that a woman could be as ruthless to men as men are to women was somehow primally disturbing.

I looked down on the women I knew at Duke who were trying to earn their “MRS” degrees instead of a bachelor’s degree and preferentially sought out men from rich families or men who were going to med school or law school. I felt disgusted when my med school fiance’s wealthy father told me I should drop out of medical school, since I had achieved my goal of landing a doctor.

Men Can Pull A Sister Carrie Too

It’s not just women who can pull a Sister Carrie. Men can seduce their way to the top too. I thought of Sister Carrie and how the tables have turned again when I met and married a man very quickly because I really liked him and hoped he would be my forever partner. We couldn’t keep dating unless he got married to an American because he was an illegal immigrant who had overstayed his visa by many years, and his passport was about to expire. Apparently, at least according to what he told me (maybe it was a manipulation), you can get away with being illegal in the US as long as you have a valid passport, but some technicality meant that once his passport expired, he’d have to go back home. And if he did, he’d never be allowed to come back because he had outstayed his visa by so many years.

I did not want to get married, but I wanted to date him. I barely knew him and really didn’t want to risk another failed marriage. But I was willing to become his wife if it meant we could stay together.  We had a beautiful wedding on the Summer Solstice, and eight months later, on Valentine’s Day, which was also the day of my book launch, he announced, with zero warning, that he was leaving me. Only two months earlier, he and my daughter had adopted a dog together that he promised he would raise for its lifespan.

I begged him to give me a reason, but he wouldn’t explain his sudden disappearing act. He asked me not to write about it because he felt embarrassed, and I honored his request until now. This is the first time I’m writing about it, because people who get involved with writers have permission not to wind up on the internet and he asked me not to. But since he no longer wants to be in my life at all, and since I no longer feel obligated to protect his privacy, and since it’s part of this fractal pattern I’m pointing to, I’m going to share part of our story here, although I will put the rest of this story behind a paywall here for subscribers only, just so it’s not Google searchable and readership will be limited.

[*As we’ll be talking about in my one day Zoom workshop Heal Others With Your Story, telling your painful story can sometimes help others heal. I hope mine helps some of you. You can join us to tell your story and help others heal here.]