The Invisibles

What happens when you stop being you and become a Significant Other or SO, a two-letter-word person defined by someone else? And how to re-emerge as Someone Outstanding two years later?

Here I was — right in the middle of Town Hall at the GSB waiting for my husband to come after online marketplaces class and enjoy an overpriced lunch in the foreign exchange section of Arbuckle dining hall. It was my 254th day at Stanford and pretty much 253rd of feeling I didn’t belong.

Well, technically I did not. I was not a Stanford student and did not get the magical ID that would allow me to choose classes, eat in the Arrillaga dining hall on my own, or open doors on campus. I did not take part in Week Zero. Nor did I update my LinkedIn profile with a photo in front of the Cemex art wall (yet!). Practically, however, I left my entire life and career in Europe to live for two years at Stanford with my two kids and soon-to-be-MBA husband.

THE SNOWBALL EFFECT

That day I stood in the sun in the Town Hall trying to absorb the maximum amount of vitamin D and find some familiar faces — people I met during a few social events the past year: Friendsgiving dinner, a beer social on the Schwab’s patio, or pizza after the Section Olympics. I recognized maybe a dozen people. I knew their names, sometimes where they were from, and their pre-GSB profession. I must have talked to them at least once. So, I tried to make eye contact, say hi, even smile. But I never got any greeting back. Their eyes quickly moved in a different direction. My waves met strange looks (do I know you?), or maybe my “hi” was too quiet to be heard?

Again this year I felt invisible. But I knew so well I wasn’t. In fact, I was in the third trimester of my third pregnancy and looked like a snowball in summer — huge and not hard to be seen. But if not invisible, what was I? After almost one year at the GSB, the answer seemed easy: An SO.

During the first months of my GSB experience, I thought I was imagining things. Then I decided that something must have been wrong with me, maybe that I was expecting too much? I blamed pregnancy hormones and my Slavic accent, being too talkative or not entertaining enough, bad at small talk, or not enthusiastic about the accounting class everyone was talking about. Or maybe it was because I did not take Touchy Feely?

But with time I started feeling there might be something more to it. So I did what I do best; I decided to talk to people and make a podcast about it. To my surprise, after sending out an email with my idea, almost immediately I got thirty-something replies from SOs willing to share their experience. I felt Pandora’s box had just been opened.

The words “isolation,” “depression” and “I wish I knew” were repeated throughout all the interviews. And “hard,” “not as I have imagined” and “lonely.” “Divorce,” “crisis” and “psychotherapy” also appeared in a few interviews. And in all but one I heard: “I thought it was only me experiencing this.” These testimonials came from all kinds of SOs: mothers, boyfriends, Americans, internationals. Harvard grads and stay-at-home mums. Teachers, reporters, PR specialists. Apart from being SOs, they had one more thing in common. Struggle.

BACK TALKING

“The sign that something was not right came during the first party of the year where we went with my husband, Robert,” Marta Gwiazdowska, a powerful entrepreneur and customer success manager, told me when we talked about her SO experience in 2015. It was organized on the rooftop of a GSB building. “I was excited,” Marta continued. She put on some makeup and dressed nicely to make a good first impression. She was very hopeful until the first hour of the party. “I really wanted to meet people and socialize. Instead, I hit the wall. Every time someone found out I was an SO and not an actual GSBer, they turned back quickly and went to the next person. The fact that I was a mother staying with kids at home at the time, just made things worse. And it did not happen once. It was consistent throughout the whole night.” Marta came home frustrated and down. As if she did not deserve to be among all those amazing Stanford people. Inferior. “I really did not like the feeling. The next time there was a party I used all my excuses not to go.”

Morgan, an amazing teacher working with underprivileged students who came to Stanford from Chicago in 2018 for her husband’s second year at the GSB, had a similar experience. “I often was left at half-sentence after someone found out I was an SO,” she told me.

NEEDLE POINT

Aizada, a lawyer with a mission to change the world and her home country of Kyrgyzstan, came to Stanford with her husband with big plans. She graduated from Harvard and had previously worked as a lawyer in London and New York. She had the experience of studying in the US, so she was sure she would figure it all out at Stanford. But as an international, every time she asked for resources, she was directed to Bechtel International Center. “When I first saw the list of courses they offer for spouses, I wanted to cry. Needlepoint, cooking and circle time,” Aizada remembered. Not that she didn’t appreciate the effort Bechtel International Center was making for the internationals. But the thought that her husband could have classes with Nobel Prize winners while she was to complete her second sewing project was overwhelming. “I was feeling so depressed because I felt there were no opportunities for me here and that I was undermining my entire career to come here. It just made me want to cry”. She added that the difficulties with the University were seen in everyday affairs. Little things that became extremely frustrating. “It started with small things. Like I could not open toilets in the evenings on campus while studying for my bar exam as the door required student ID,” Aizada told me. Some other SOs got frustrated because they could not report problems in graduate housing because that required dual verification. Even though they were the ones who had to deal with the problems. And as if reporting a plumbing problem or no heating was only a Stanford student’s job.

What’s more, the GSB never made it clear whether SOs could attend some classes with their partners. There were rumors they could, that some people did, but no one knew for sure. How to check? Where to ask? Which classes allowed it? Those questions remained unanswered. Most events at GSB also excluded SOs — as they were sent only to @stanford.edu email accounts. “After a few weeks, I just started checking my husband’s calendar to know what was going on Blast. And I just attended as many events on campus as I could. Otherwise, I would be sitting all day at my apartment waiting for my visa issues to be solved, just getting depressed.” Aizada told me. She recalled that for weeks she was going to all the lunch meetings that were happening on the GSB although she was never sure if she actually could go there. Some were crowded, and it was easier to hide but some had only a few attendees. “During the small meetings I usually had to introduce myself and the organizers were often extra surprised that I was a spouse, not a student. And didn’t really know what to do with this. On my side, I just had to learn to deal with “the weird look” situation”. And then she added “GSB should care about SOs because their well-being really influences the students themselves. My husband could not concentrate fully on his studies knowing I am not doing great.” Marta could not agree more. She is sure her husband would have a much better experience knowing his wife and kids were taken care of.

CERTIFIED OTHER

Talking to the SOs refreshed me. We laughed, cried and shared the same experiences of hope and rejection. It became clear that not so many things would have to happen to make a difference for us. We would not have to go through the first quite agonizing year to make the second one better. Acknowledging the existence of SOs from the very beginning would be a good first step. Calling them their names, rather than using the strange SO abbreviation would be a plus too. Aizada remembered that during her studies at Harvard, SOs could audit classes for free and get certificates for a small fee. Simon, who did her MBA at INSEAD in Paris, mentioned that all SOs there were included in main MBAs events and quickly created a tightly knit community. They were strongly encouraged to participate in team-building and networking events so they did get to know each other and make use of the time at the campus. Marta described how great she felt when Kellog, a school to which her husband was also accepted, sent one letter to her husband and one to her, congratulating them both for being admitted to the program. A small thing that made a big difference. Everyone agreed that creating a real sense of community among SOs would make a world of difference.

SO WHAT

Before coming to Stanford, I was many things: journalist, author, dancer, translator, traveler. And for most a fighter. So of course, instead of getting depressed about my invisibility (or maybe despite it), I tried to make the most of being an SO. I graduated from Stanford’s Ignite program where I applied independently from being an SO and learned how to broadcast at KZSU radio station. I founded a startup named Explorist, finished Cardinal Ventures, made 100 pages of notes at View from the Top meetings (Diane von Furstenberg being my favorite guest), and became part of the Galvanizer accelerator. I left my comfort zone more times than I ever wished. But I also studied at UC Berkeley, completed numerous courses at Continuing Studies and yes, took a Touchy-Feely workshop for SOs. I also learned to surf and tried to master the art of small talk (with no success). And I joined my husband in the “Winning Writing” class, which I loved and did not want to miss so much so that I went to the last one even when it was way past my due date. I ran 100 times or more around campus, taking in the cactus garden and photographing the orange sky over EVGR construction site. All those things came slowly and none of them were obvious.

But most of all, with time I met amazing people on campus who shared their experience of living on campus at a U.S. university and helped me chart my own path here. Slowly, it started to feel so much better. “We already made some friends and I stuck to this group of people,” Marta said. “I finally could feel a part of it all. It made me feel good. So good that I would even go to parties at which I knew my friends attended. So I would not feel awkward again.” She added that in hindsight she really loved the two years she spent here. But it certainly wasn’t love at first sight. “If I have one piece of advice for future SOs, I would recommend turning on Fight Mode on day one and not looking back. No one will come to you with any offers or opportunities. You need to stand for yourself. Do the research before coming, and then fight, fight, fight. At the end it is worth it.” I couldn’t agree more. And I would urge you to find time with the most amazing, inspiring and badass people at the GSB: SOs, of course. Not Significant Others; rather, Somebody Outstanding.

If you wish to share your SO story with me, please email me julialachowicz@gmail.com