Women Up: The Moth Podcast

March is Women's History Month, which, in the U.S., honors women's vital contributions to American history, culture, and society. Of course, these contributions are too numerous to be uniquely celebrated in one month, and certainly not on one podcast.

“So let's take one moment for the U.S. Olympic Women's hockey team, shall we?”

Phenomenal Women. And now, for two stories of women who face challenges and women

up. First, Allison Stewart told this story when she hosted a New York City main stage,

where the theme was "Only in New York." Here's Allison, my, at the mark. I had a very fancy day planned in New York in February of 2024. I was scheduled to have breakfast with the head of the Brooklyn Museum. To discuss their 20th to 100th celebration, it was a great celebration they had planned. I wanted to support it. It was a beautiful buffet, pretty room. There were about six of us seated around the table. The music director

she talked a bunch and I nodded a lot, and I just really didn't feel like saying that much, and I actually, you know, I wanted to talk, but I tried, but I really didn't feel

like it. Nothing really came out. It was Thursday, and I had planned a trip to Miami

on the weekend, and I still had a show to do a WNYC, so I thought, just save my voice. I left the museum, and I realized something was wrong when I texted my friend on February 22nd, 2024, and the text said, "I am having the trouble speaking. I'm trying to text. I have been having a hard time. I have had speaking. I speak, but there's no there there. I went to the office. I tried to write a paragraph, and it took me an hour. Didn't make a lot

of sense either. I figured, I'm just frizzing out. I just need somebody to unplug me and

“plug me back in. It works with my computer. My co-workers told me, "You should call”

your doctor." So after a brief conversation with my doctor, which ended with a go to the

emergency room, I did what New Yorkers do. I took the subway. I took the subway to the ER. At 2 p.m., I was in the ER, and after a few quick scans, my doctor said, "I wish I had better news for you, but you have a mass on your brain. We're going to send you to Lennox Hill, and you'll meet a really great surgeon." Mass, my brain surgeon, as the person who is going to cut into my brain to look for the mass. They put me in an ambulance, and

I'd like to say, "I was wish to wait to Lennox Hill," but I didn't really go anywhere. I noticed we hadn't moved, and I thought, "Oh my God, I'm died in an ambulance." But I realized I was in traffic. There was a protest. My hospital, I was stuck in the middle protest. My hospital stay was eventful. All the usual reasons, MRIs, cognitive tests, IV drips, and my surgeon of all things, he was really, really hot. My friends called him Doc Hollywood,

McDreamy. I really didn't notice until much, much later, I had a few things on my mind. But he was kind and smart, and I found out later he was from Brooklyn, the son of a single mom, an immigrant mom, played in a punk band, before he took a turn into neuroscience as one does. And you know what? You can see him on your ads, on these ads, on the subway, for this sort of like sleek fitting, flattering kind of scrubs. They're called hypothesis. You can see him on the

four to six train. It says, "Father, base player, neurosurgeon." My speech was very limited, and it didn't matter. By Saturday, my voice, and my mind were going. By sunny things, it's got really bad. It's my test. I couldn't tell the difference between a clock and a ruler on a cognitive test. They asked me, Alison, do you know where you are? And I said, "I'm on the hill."

“Doc Hollywood needed to do surgery soon, and it was, it was quite Shakespearean, right?”

The mass was right on my speech center. And what do I do for a living? I talk on the radio. And he said, "Oh, yeah, I want you to be awake during your surgery, by the way." I awake during my brain surgery. I have two words for you about awake during your brain surgery. Cold breeze. It's all I'm going to say. I was in the hospital about five weeks. I had to learn to walk again, but mostly to talk again. I had to do so much speech therapy.

I meant as phagia, a phagia is what it is, but, um, and one of my final trips I had to take before

“I could go home with more therapy was I had to go to a Starbucks and place an order.”

I looked like I had been in a car accident, but I was supposed to order a latte to get out of the hospital. So I said my order over and over in my head, which didn't help because I have no memory. But I did it. My physical therapist took me to Starbucks. She said, "You can do it. You can do it." I approached the counter. I was like a gladiator, ready to order. I'm not sure what I ordered, but I got a milk blonde espresso with caramel drizzle.

I didn't know you could caramel drizzle, but apparently I ordered it. I had to learn to be in New York again by myself. I had to learn to walk around the corner by myself. I had to learn to avoid protests. This one was labor one by myself. I had to deal with rudeness to have probably people take some a long time to talk. I'm talking to you,

“the guard at the met. I remember you. And I still don't get a cold sweat before ordering at Starbucks.”

And somebody asked me, "Well, why do you do this?" And I said, "Well, I'm a New Yorker." That was Allison Stewart. Allison is the host of WNYC Show, all of it, and hosts their book club, Get Lit with the New York Public Library. She's also a contributor to the Atlantic Live. As they say about New York, if you can make it here, you'll make it anywhere. This is a place where rats steal your pizza. It torrentially rains inside the subway,

and the rent, as one poet said, is too damn high. Allison is just one of the city's many inhabitants who shine with the spirit of our beloved Lady Liberty, arm-raised triumphantly above all the chaos that swirls around it. And if you happen to be

“in New York City on March 20th, we've got a very special main stage at NYU's Skurbal Center,”

where Allison told her story, and where some incredible people will get up on stage and tell stories that dig deep into the idea of the American dream. For tickets, go to the moth.org/events. After the break, a story about a woman who struggles with some girls, back in a moment. This is our class. On this American life, when they mean like, it's a good mystery. Sometimes about really big things, things here in the news. But most times, the little mysteries are the best.

Our lost and found is currently filled with pants. I don't know where I've never seen this happen.

I've got skirts, I've got shorts, this is true. Mysteries of every size, each week, this American life, wherever you get your podcast. Welcome back. Our next story is from Tess Birch, who told this at a Melbourne story slam where the theme was control. Here's Tess, live at the moth. So, when I attend a tain, I decided I was going to become a brownie leader. Before we go through the next five minutes, we're thinking I'm obsessed

with baked gourds or something. I'm just going to make it perfectly clear that when I say brownies, I mean gold guides. When I say gold guides, I mean the gold version of Boy Scouts, except we're trying to move away from that because when you define yourself in relation to something else, you're just marketing yourself into an anti-space and no one must be in the anti-space. For the purpose of this story, I run a youth group for children, but I didn't want to be just

any old brownie leader. You know, I had grown up with these amazing women as my brownie leaders,

and I wanted to be the best brownie leader ever. But there was only one problem with that, which is that I am a good cop. Now, really there's nothing that bad about being a good cop. I mean the kids like you more, and they were generally really well behaved kids. But you know, you'd have the odd occasion where it would be 3am and your on-camp, and they decide to practice for a fire alarm, and you have an arson too. And in those situations, it's kind of good to have someone

just to crack the shit and send everybody back to sleep. But luckily I did brownies with my sister, Emma, and she's taller than me, and she's really scary. Anyway, together we made a great team, and we decided we're going to take the brownies to the zoo. And there was a baby hippo at the zoo. And we kind of have this philosophy and goguards of letting the kids lead the activities, and we don't tell them what to do. But we were tactical about this, and we made a scavenger hunt,

good animals. So there was too many kids for us to all go around in a group. So we split up in to small groups. And I have my kids, and I'm ready to see the baby hippo, and I'm like, right, where are we going? And they say Australian animals. And I was like, you have got to make kidding me.

“I was like, if you want to see a kangaroo, just go drive on a country,”

a highway, look out the window. Like, anyway, we go to the Australian animals, it's dead boring, and I'm thinking like, okay, like baby hippo, like baby hippo is coming. Next thing they want to go to is the bird avery, and I am shit scared of birds, but you cannot tell that to children, pro tip, don't tuck your terrified of something if they have control over you, because they will just drag you to that thing. So we're going through the bird avery's for

what felt like my whole life. And then finally, we stopped, because they found a playground that

was themed like a storage system, and they spent the next hour playing on this giant toilet paper roll and getting wet. And so finally, I did what anyone else would have done in my situation, and I said, girls, if you don't get off that giant roll of toilet paper, I'm calling Emma, my sister, and they all just got off straight away. And so I'm like, right, bad cop time, we're going to see the hippo, and they were like walking behind me so slow, and they were so tired, and they were

complaining, and I'm like, girls, I'm doing this for you, how many baby hippos do you think you're going to see in your life? Like, keep walking, and they hated me, and to get to the baby hippo, we had to go through the limo enclosure, and I don't know if you've been to the zoo recently,

“but it's like the freaking butterfly house. Like, you have to all be in the one room with the door”

closed before you can open the other door, and it was so busy, and the limo is like free roaming, so it's just limo's everywhere, and I'm like dragging these kids through, I'm like, come on, come on! Okay, so we got through the limo enclosure, rushed past the gorillas, I was like, not today boys, and then we get to get to the baby hippo, and it is glorious, and I am just loving it, like, highlight of the day, highlight of my brownie later career, and I decide, okay, I've seen the hippo

probably need to number off, and number one is missing. Jamie, the littlest brownie is gone, and I'm like, okay, it's fine, and the girls are like, oh, I think she's just going ahead to the spider monkey's so well, it's like, you know, kind of briskly walking to the spider monkeys, she's not there. So now I'm kind of flipping out a bit, and I think the girls are sensing my panic,

and they're finally behaving, they're not saying anything, they're just quietly like coming behind me,

and I run up to a zookeeper and I was like, I've lost a little girl, she's sick, she's really small,

“her name's Jamie, she's got a yellow backpack on, and check the security cameras,”

and the lady's like, oh, don't worry about it, it happens all the time, and she is totally chill, but anyway, she kind of shoves us into a little waiting room so that we're not just flipping out in public and ruining people's time at the zoo. And meanwhile, I have to bite the bullet, I have to call my sister, and I called, I called childhood and like, hey, um, like, don't want to panic, it's all fine, but just so you know, I've lost Jamie, okay, bye, hang up before she can get angry.

Anyway, we're waiting in this waiting room, the zookeeper said that they've got everybody looking, and then I get a call from another brownie leader, and this is basically confirming the worst news ever, which is that I am the worst brownie leader ever because I left a child in the lemur enclosure. Basically her sister opened the door, and she was there and she was just like, hey, and her sister's like, what are you doing here, and she goes, lost, and she was totally fine.

She just stayed there with the lemurs. Anyway, we got everyone home, it was all good, good day at the zoo in the end, I saw the baby hippo, we returned with the same number of children that we left with, and the next year we decided to go to the zoo again, this time, we were smarter, we went to where I'd be open-range zoo, because I learned that you can, doesn't matter if you're a good cop or a bad cop, when all the kids are locked in a bus,

you have total control of them. Thank you. That was Test Birch. Test is a corporate lawyer and stand-up comedian, sometimes simultaneously. Her work takes her around Australia from outback communities to capital cities, mining towns, to music festivals. On these adventures she loves to soak up the scenery and the stories. Test is actually still working with the girl guides, and since the story took place 10 years ago,

some of these girls are now volunteers with her. She said, quote, "It's a huge privilege to be a part of a movement for women and girls that foster collaboration, confidence, and community." My role now is focused on supporting the adult volunteers, who I tell not to put too much pressure on themselves. I find the adults slightly easier to keep track of, and so far, I haven't left anyone else in the Leameran closure. If you'd like to see a photo of Test and her troop before

anyone was lost, we'll have that on our website at themoth.org/extras. I have never been a girl scout,

or lost a girl scout. But every year I do my civic duty and relieve the girl scouts of so many of their cookies, I support women and emerging women. I hope you do too. That brings us to the end of

remember to listen to women's stories no matter what month it is. Kate Tellers is a storyteller,

“host, senior director at The Moth, and co-author of their fourth book, How to Tell a Story.”

Her writing has been featured in Mix Weenies and The New Yorker. This episode of The Moth,

podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Genes, Sarah Jane Johnson and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of

“The Moth's leadership team includes Gina Duncan, Christina Norman, Marina Cluchay, Jennifer Hickson,”

Jordan Cardinalay, Caledonia Cairns, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Orenia. The Moth podcast is presented

by Odyssey, special thanks to their executive producer Leah Riesdennis. All Moth stories are true

“as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own”

story and everything else, go to our website, The Moth.org. Moth. Moth. Moth. Moth.

Moth. Moth.