Project Alamo: The Misogyny Myth
Okay, folks, today I’m going to talk about something much more serious than snow cones and titties and gnarly ass smell. Today, I’m going to talk misogyny and p-grabbing and how we poor, helpless women who were at the mercy of the Trump campaign were subjected to…
…a pretty fucking good environment, if I do say so, myself.
Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble, guys, but despite the media, the p-gate pablum and all who continue to attempt to crucify Trump with their sad, pointy pink p-hats with accusations of sexism and misogyny, I never, ever experienced it, not even once during the campaign.
In fact, Trump, along with Digital Director Brad Parscale, were a few of the fairest (and most demanding, by the way) bosses I ever worked for — both male and female.
Not saying I was buddies or ever shared Chick-fil-A (or in his case, KFC) with the 45th president. I didn’t work with him on a day-to-day basis, but I did work with Brad on a regular basis, who worked with Trump on a regular basis. And while Brad is a lot of things, sexist is NOT on that list.
You know what they cared about? Getting shit done.
If you got shit done and you got said shit done well, you were totally Kool and the Gang. If you didn’t? You were either fired or demoted to an Office Space, Milton-esque role, complete with a sad, red stapler and basement office (okay, I exaggerate — you couldn’t keep the stapler).
And believe me, I saw a few of the latter, and if I were one of the few peeps making shit sandwiches at Project Alamo, I would much rather have been the former.
Many of the power players in the room were chicks — an owner of a very well-known and successful business, writers, digital content experts, data scientists, analysts, graphic designers, web gurus, social media moguls and neuroscientists.
We definitely weren’t slackers, and we sure as hell weren’t grabbed by the pussy or called “sugar tits” or whatever else many people seem to conjure up in their minds when they think of Trump (and I’ll tell you what, if any of us were, I will say what my late mother-in-law used to say, without a doubt, someone would have drew back a stump).
Where on earth did all of these awesome women come from? Brad and Trump, that’s where.
Brad doesn’t care whether you have a vagina or penis, he doesn’t care about your boobs, he doesn’t care what bathroom you use or what you identify as or what your sexual orientation is — again, and I can’t reiterate this enough — he only cares about results.
He knew these women generated results — like, big league results — and he wanted the best. So he — and ultimately mean, old, misogynist Trump — hired us.
I’ll even go further than that. Coming from a political background myself, I believe because these two people weren’t politicos — because these two people weren’t indoctrinated into the old, tired system and hierarchy often found in politics — they inadvertently shattered any remnants of that proverbial glass ceiling.
We weren’t told to bring our chair to the table — we were welcomed — hell, our chair was already present. And that, in my opinion, was incredibly empowering and refreshing.
Am I oversimplifying? Nope. That’s the way it was. We were an army of extremely capable, badass women who knew how — and were allowed to — get shit done at a very high level. And I am privileged to say not only did I work side by side with them, I learned a hell of a lot from them, too (and today, honored to call many of them friends).
I owe a lot to these incredibly strong, fierce, smart women. I also owe a lot to Brad and Trump — they welcomed these incredibly strong, fierce, smart women — and boy, we did not disappoint.
Speaking of boys. I want to give a shoutout to the many fellas I worked with at Project Alamo. This isn’t meant to be some reverse “He-Man Woman Haters Club” kinda blog — I met, worked, laughed hard with and shared a whiskey or two (or three or four) with some brilliant guys — all who treated me with respect and as an equal.
That said, now that I’m back in the “real world,” instead of already having a chair at the table, I find myself once again, having to bring my own, sometimes. There is no doubt that misogyny and sexism exists — it just didn’t exist at Project Alamo. Oh, the irony…
Welcome to Project Alamo Chick, an ongoing series of thoughts, musings, ramblings and observations. This isn’t meant to be political (although at times, it probably will be) — it’s simply sharing how an Alamo City Chick crossed the line in the sand and joined Project Alamo.