San Francisco can be a real asshole to single moms. I came out here in 2004 from Colorado; I was 23 and my son had just turned 1. My new colleagues openly made faces when they found out I was a mom, and would ask rude, personal questions about my “situation.” I was discriminated at work — I was “exempt” from the office remote work policy at two different companies, even though I was salaried and my position wasn’t one that required being present (like a receptionist). One boss was concerned that I would be home with a sick child; when he became a parent, it was common for him to conduct remote meetings while he was home tending to an infant with an ear ache. Meanwhile, my PTO was consumed by ear aches and childcare providers’ vacation days. I often worked harder than my peers just to prove myself, sometimes bringing my son into the office after day care closed at 6 p.m. (Popeye on YouTube + headphones + Goldfish crackers = squeezing in a late meeting with a visiting exec, who cancelled twice earlier in the day) Even landlords told me, “a person in your position” should consider living in other places, like Oakland.

I smiled at everyone and silently told them what they could do with themselves. I kept working my way up, even found a nice Greek family looking to rent their gorgeous, large 2-br flat to a hard-worker looking to stick around for awhile. Now I do live in Oakland, in a house that I own. It’s a long way from where I started 12 year ago; I couldn’t imagine doing all of it now, with the way the city has changed. But cheers to you for being brave and not giving up. People can comment all they want about your choices, they don’t know the sacrifices you’ve had to make or why you’ve had to make them. All that matters is the strength and compassion you’re modeling for your son — hopefully making one less asshole in SF.