Courtesy

I'm recently back from a week in New Orleans on business. Each time I am in the deep South, I re-remember that it is still a different world, particularly when it comes to men and women.

In the South, the rules remain clear. Gentlemen open doors for women, and women? Women walk right through those open doors. They smile slightly, and say, "Thank you."

In the North, women like me tend to bristle over such things. We toss our heads at the courtesy, an annoyed moue broadcasting the thought, "I am no different from you, why hold the door for me?" We decline the offer: "No, really, that's ok. Please go ahead." The "please" is emphasized. Most Northern men (that forty-odd percent who still hold doors for women), shrug and do as they're told. But others - maybe their mothers were Southern, or more likely, their fathers - continue to insist. And the woman stands her ground, and the man keeps insisting, and everyone gets cold waiting for someone, anyone!, to walk through that door. Someone has to give in, and that's how it feels, like a surrender.

A true gentleman does not insist on forcing his courtesy on a woman. But any polite person - female or not - knows when to accept a courtesy with a smile without overthinking the underlying intent.

I'm still learning this lesson. As a young lawyer, I always stood my ground. "No, no, I can carry that 75 lb bag up four flights of court house stairs (in heels). Don't you dare try to help me." But somewhere along the way, I came to understand, all those gentlemen were my friends, and they were trying to help me. And what could possibly be wrong with that? And what could possibly be wrong with having the confidence in myself to understand that I am not lessened by accepting help or courtesy.

It's all in the intent. And truly, it's almost always good. So when in Rome, or New Orleans, walk through that door already!