Sunday, November 13, 2016

When the promise of change promises a climate of fear, who will I be?

So, being on the "losing" side of anything sucks. Everyone knows that. Everyone knows that there will be sore losers, accepting losers, and every other kind of loser in between. And everyone should know that there will be equally be sore winners--people who cannot see the losers' points of view.

Some of us are scared--even just to express ourselves. Some of us fear backlash against ourselves, our children, our families, and our livelihoods--just for being who we are. Some of us feel compelled to hide who we are, as we have never had to do before.

This past week has been difficult for many. Election cycles can be very ugly, and in America, they seem to go on forever. This cycle was the ugliest in my lifetime. And the ugliness of it made it seem longer than usual.

Most people on the "winning" side are not bigoted. They are not homophobic. They are not sexist. They aren't promoting discrimination, or inequality. They are not the voices of the ugliness, and I think they are genuinely confused by the idea that people on the "losing" side want to hold them accountable for their votes.

It doesn't seem fair. We all have a right to a secret ballot. We all have a right to cast that ballot based on our own values, beliefs, and financial standpoints. Those of us who not only consider voting to be a right, but a responsibility take that responsibility seriously.

Our president-elect said some pretty awful things over the last 18 months. He called people names. He promised to deport people. He promised to ban people. He promised to help overturn legal protections for American citizens (and taxpayers) who already feel vulnerable. He denied science. He said things that encouraged his supporters to be violent--and offered them legal assistance if they needed it. He promised many things, that, for many of us, sounded either extremely frightening, or extremely vague.

He promised to "make America great again." He promised to bring back jobs. He promised to restore industries. He promised to make us all safer. He promised to improve our standing on the world stage. He promised to turn Washington upside down, and gut the "establishment." He promised to put an end to the hold that money and special interests have had on our government for decades. He promised his supporters--many who are angry and feel marginalized--that he would make their lives better.

He made a lot of promises. All politicians do.

Many of his supporters like the way he talks. He tells it like it is. He says what he means. He isn't politically correct. They relate to him. He looks like them. He's different from everyone else. He's an outsider.

Here's the thing--if he means what he says, why shouldn't some of us feel threatened by some of the promises he made? If he means what he says, did he not mean those promises?

Now, some people are saying that he didn't really mean all the bad things. I think most of us who feel concern truly hope so. On the other hand, some of his supporters are using his words as a mantle in which they can wrap themselves as they let other vulnerable, threatened and marginalized Americans know they are unwelcome, and they are in danger.

I am a middle class, white heterosexual woman, with a roof over my head, health insurance, and with no religious affiliation. Aside from the concern about access to women's health care being threatened--not just abortion--I should have nothing to fear.

But I do.

Three years ago, I moved from a large Midwestern city to the upper south. I moved from a state that has teeter-tottered from red to blue and back, over and over.

In the city, I canvassed neighborhoods during the Kerry/Edwards campaign. I donated small amounts of money to the Obama campaign, and this year, to the Clinton campaign. As an adult, I have always been proud to support candidates who champion social justice, empathy for others, and support systems for those who need it. I have supported candidates who protect human rights, women's rights, reproductive rights, and equality.

I have been proud to use my voice, even though it has always been a small one. I have never been the person who goes to rallies or protests. I have never been the person who runs for election. I have never been the person able to donate enough money to end up at one of those fundraiser dinners we all hear about.

I have been the person who writes about my life, and my experiences in relation to current events. I have written about women's rights and inequality. I have written about social injustice, in relation to race and gender. I have written about terrorism, gun safety legislation, and discrimination. And many things in between. I have tried to view issues from as many perspectives as I am able.

I have been the person who tells others who I am on social media, but I have never disrespected anyone for disagreeing with me, only for doing so disrespectfully. I have never made my political or religious views a part of my professional life, and have never pushed them in inappropriate contexts.

Even after this past week's election, I believed--without reservation--that was who I always would be. I know that my views aren't the same as all of my friends. I have never asked anyone their political or religious affiliation before deciding to be friends with someone. It would never occur to me to do so. If my heart meets yours, and we click, that's always been the only thing that matters to me.

But, I have been put on well-meaning warning. I have been counseled that in this new place, my voice can, and probably will hurt the people I love--especially my daughter. I have been told that if her friends' parents become aware of my views, and how vocally I express them, my daughter will potentially face social ostracism. She won't be invited to play, to attend birthday parties, etc. When she wants to become involved in activities and the community around her, she might be shunned. If she is witness to something nefarious and tries to help shut it down, all of the same is likely to apply, and little to no good will come from it.

I grew up in a home gripped by the iron fist of domestic violence, emotional, and sexual abuse. Within that iron fist, I was conditioned--conditioned to keep my mouth shut. I was conditioned to go along. I was conditioned to survive. I was conditioned to only breathe when I felt safe to do so. I was conditioned to be a prisoner without chains, bars or locks, but a prisoner all the same.

So, this warning cuts deeply into my spirit. Of course, I would never want to cause harm or grief for my loved ones. And I know that even with the best of hopes, dreams and intentions about making the world a better, safer and more place for everyone, none of us wants to be the kid alone at the lunch table. None of us wants to be the girl who doesn't get invited to the dance, or accepted onto the school dance squad. We all want to be invited to the party.

My heart is broken. It is split between the desire to soldier on, and raise my daughter to be so empathetic and aware of right and wrong, that she will stand up for those ideals in the face of any obstacle or situation, and the understanding of how much it hurts to be on the outside of everything and never wanting that for her because of something I have done.

It feels like there should be someplace I can land that doesn't require me to push myself down into the ground again. It feels like there should be a place where we can find the other people like us, and we can overcome the iron fists of our community together.

I know I am an idealist. I know everything we are, puts us at risk. I have never had many friends, and I have never required any of them to be anything other than who they are. Every friend I have had, I have held dear, regardless of their political or religious affiliations. I have always chosen to be friends with people who are kind, genuine in spirit, and who accept me for who I am.

I know it's a mean old world. I know that there are wolves out there waiting to tear away at all of us in different ways, and for different reasons. I know that we all have to develop the right skin, for the right paths. But I also know that if we hide who we really are from people, we can never be certain what they are hiding from us. If we are never true to who we are, we are never true friends to anyone.

Maybe that is what I teach my daughter. Maybe that is what I need to remember, myself.

My fears are not equal to those of others, about whom terrible promises were made. I can only feel a fraction of the threat that immigrants, Muslims, members of the LGBTQ community, and people of color feel. But the fraction of fear that I feel about being in your corner helps me understand your fear in ways I did not before.

We cannot allow fear to force us from each others' corners.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

The culture of victim silencing has to change. Some choices ARE black and white.

So, our daughter started at a Montessori preschool this fall. There are many philosophies that feed into the Montessori approach to education, but positive discipline is far and away one of the most prominent features of the classroom. Parents are encouraged to implement positive discipline at home.

One of the more popular approaches to the developing toddler (i.e. the uncooperative toddler) is offering choices. The idea behind this concept is that you defuse the power struggle. It's brilliant. Really. At least that's what I have read, and that's what I am told. 

As my daughter was beginning her new journey, her daddy volunteered to chauffeur her each morning, to give me a little more "me time." But occasionally, work trumps my run on the treadmill, and I have to take the morning wheel. 

Anyone who has ever tried to get a kid out the door knows that it can be about as much fun as getting a root canal without sufficient anesthetic. It sucks.

When I recently had to step in and get my sweet, delightful little girl off to school, we were struggling to finish dressing, and I was worried she was going to end up missing out on the limited breakfast I can get into her. I remembered my positive discipline toolbox, and decided to offer a choice. 

Me: Food or shoes? 

It seemed like an obvious question, and a simple set of choices. 

My daughter: Shoes aren't food, Mommy. 

Sometimes the choices on the table seem very easy. Sometimes it seems like the choices in front of you are black and white. And then, the person making those choices reveals a grey area. 

Life's like that. I needed my daughter to choose between two very simple tasks, and she heard a very different statement. 

As this year's election cycle has spiraled out of control, and the issues that we expect to be talking about have taken a backseat to insanity, some of the most disturbing and unexpected topics have risen to the forefront. Sexual harassment, sexual assault, and the perpetuation and acceptance of rape culture in our society are now part of the political narrative.

No matter what side of the two-party aisle you stand, or even if you are trying to champion the revolution of a third party or Green Party candidate, one thing is sure, you never expected one of your choices in this year's election to be someone who brags about kissing or grabbing women without their invitation or consent. Sadly, a lot of people are diminishing the significance of this harmful talk and labeling it "locker room" talk, as if this kind of talk is justified if you use it in the correct location.

There is no correct location.

And for many of us who have suffered sexual harassment, abuse, discrimination, and/or assault, it seems like the choices are black and white. But sadly, that's not the case for everyone. 

Several women have now come forward, accusing the Republican presidential candidate of previous sexual assaults, lewd comments, behaviors, and harassment. And as always, one of the questions being so loudly asked is "Why did they wait to come forward until now?" Others seize on the fact that one of the women with the most disturbing allegations can't remember the exact date of her uninvited encounter with the man. 

Trauma doesn't follow a rule book. We don't always remember dates, time of day, flight numbers or the color of our perpetrator's tie. We may vividly remember that our perpetrator smelled of coffee and cigarettes, but still be unable to answer questions about a physical attribute. Some of us block all memory of a traumatic event for years, because we simply are not equipped to deal with it at the time it occurred. Those hidden memories only surface when something unexpectedly triggers us. 

Survivors of sexual misconduct are frequently disbelieved. In most cases, these crimes are a matter of "she said vs. he said." In most cases, if you are murdered, nobody doubts that. If you have a limb severed from your body, people can see that. But emotional and sexual trauma are in question. These traumas may be harder to prove, but they are no less destructive. 

Emotional trauma, sexual abuse, and sexual harassment can, and often do alter you. As a victim, you must decide whether you are going to seek justice for yourself, and potentially prevent the victimization of someone else, or if you are going to remain silent. For most of us, that choice seems obvious. But for others, the analysis of all of the possible outcomes leads to less certainty. The answer isn't always black and white.

As someone who endured years of emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of a relative, I know that victims often feel they have very valid reasons not to come forward. For me, it was the fear that my abuser would become unhinged, and kill everyone in my home. But sometimes the reasons are quite a bit less extreme.

As I said before, victims are often disbelieved by the very people they go to for help. They must relive an awful event--usually multiple times, and face questions that feel almost as invasive and violating as the original event. It is humiliating. It is painful. And as with the original assault or abuse, you just want it to be over.

Sadly, even when you have the courage to come forward and you are believed, justice isn't always served.

In my case, I came forward as my stepfather was finally leaving the house, because I wanted to ensure that my mother wouldn't let him come back. If he didn't come back, the abuse would stop. I also hoped that by coming forward, I could influence the visitation rights he would have with my younger sister, and that I would never have to see him again.

Things didn't work out the way I hoped. The statute of limitations had expired. I suffered through reliving some of the worst years of my life, and I felt I had gained nothing. I was disowned by family. The financial impact was devastating to my mother and sister. My education was compromised. He ended up babysitting my sister after school every day, and I had to see him when I took over until our mom got home at night.

In recent days, several high profile rape cases have served as painful reminders to many of us that doing the right thing doesn't always result in achieving justice. When judges choose to protect the futures of rapists, instead of sentencing appropriately, it sends a very clear message to victims: I don't matter.

As women and girls, we learn very early whether or not we will be heard, and what the outcomes might be. If we look around us and see that coming forward leads to additional abuse, harassment and unpleasantness, that black and white set of choices may not feel so black and white. We may choose to remain silent, because the results of using our voice may invite worse than what we have already experienced.

One of the women who have come forward in the case of the Republican candidate,describes getting up from her first class seat on a plane and thinking that she didn't "need" what was happening to her. That description is very telling. She remained silent for about 30 years. Was it simply that she didn't need a man reaching up her skirt, kissing and touching her without her consent? Or perhaps she didn't "need" all of the fallout that might come along with reporting the incident. It has been said that she didn't want to come forward even now, and that it was at the urging of friends that she did so.

Considering the way many have been questioning the timing of her coming forward, and casting doubt on her claims, it's not hard to understand why she hesitated.

In the last couple of years, about 30 women have come forward, claiming that actor Bill Cosby drugged and sexually assaulted them. Cosby has held an endearing place in popular culture for decades. People have equated him with the characters he has played on television. The reaction to these women and their claims has been astonishing. While it is true that we are innocent until proven guilty, these women have endured demeaning attacks and accusations that really hit below the belt. They have been accused of gold-digging, trying to garner attention, revive failed careers, and many other terrible things.

What is remarkable about the courage of these women is that in spite of so many of Cosby's defenders attempting to tear them down, enough evidence has come to light that he is facing serious investigation. Sometimes--often--where there is smoke, there is fire, or at the very least the smoldering embers of painful events and memories.

When we treat victims of crimes as conniving, plotting, attention-seeking or gold-digging, we discourage others from coming forward.

Doing the "right thing" is not always easy. In the case of coming forward to report sexual harassment, abuse, or assault, it may be the hardest thing you or a person you care about ever does. Sometimes it's the hardest thing they choose not to do. It's hard to encourage someone to report a crime, and have them decide not to. It feels like another crime. But that decision requires understanding and compassion, too. 

From my own personal experience, I understand that the pursuit of justice can feel like a revictimization, and we often fail to see that the benefit outweighs the personal cost. 

At the end of the day, the conversation about reporting these crimes needs to change. We need to become a great deal more compassionate, understanding and supportive of those who do have the courage to come forward. Ultimately, the conversation needs to shift so dramatically that reporting such crimes is always the obvious choice, because as victims, we are going to receive the thoughtful and compassionate treatment our offenders denied us.

We need to stop the cycle of victim shaming. We need to understand that post traumatic stress disorder can play a huge role in a victim's ability to come forward, and to remember details in the way we remember other events. We need to seriously review how our justice system treats victims and how sentences are applied. The very language we use when talking to, and about victims needs to change.

Until such changes occur--a tectonic shift in our culture--the choices about reporting sexual abuse, harassment and assault, may continue to be grey for some victims. Those of us who have courageously endured the system to seek justice must understand that not all of our sisters and brothers feel strong enough to face the process, the attacks and the further feelings of violation. 

I will raise my daughter with "open borders." She will understand that she has any and all support she needs to be strong and use her voice. And my hope will always be that she never becomes the victim I was. But if the worst happens, I hope she will feel the courage to pursue justice. I will also hope that our world moves in the direction of getting a little better each day, and that if ever she must choose between coming forward and remaining silent, the choice will be black and white. I will hope that if someone tries to touch her on a plane, or look at her body without her knowledge or consent that she won't be conditioned to accept this as just one of the threads of our cultural fabric that all women must face at some point. 

And for anyone who now declares that the words of a presidential candidate don't matter, or could be worse, you are part of the problem. You are part of the thread that silently and loudly discourages victims. You are part of the revictimization that prevents change and that conditions our children to believe that they must accept and perpetuate the madness. I don't care nearly as much about your political choices as I do the fact that you are willing to turn a blind eye to the destruction and harm this language does to victims, women and girls. I care that you are willing to accept that such words and treatment are a norm. 

Until enough of us--victims, parents, teachers, legislators, leaders, friends, women and men--are willing to say "Enough. I will not let you say those words or do those things without consequence," we will continue to see the silent and loud destruction of our women and girls, and our future. 

This choice is black and white. 


Tuesday, August 30, 2016

What girls learn.

So, I find myself feeling kind of discouraged about my daughter's future. 

As the summer is drawing to a close, as the afterglow of the Rio Olympics begins to subside, and as Stanford Rapist Brock Turner prepares for steaks on the grill at home for Labor Day Weekend, I am afraid this world just isn't fit for any of our daughters. Our daughters do not hold the same value in this world as our sons. There is no doubt about it. And I don't know what to do about it. 

It was literally weeks ago that so many of us were angered and outraged by what seemed to be a far too lenient sentence for a young man who seized a terrible opportunity. He raped an unconscious woman, and even though convicted, the judge in his case thought a long prison sentence would be harmful to him. As the weeks of Brock Turner's sentence have ticked away, and now been further shortened, there have been other fragile, young rapists (unsurprisingly white) whose futures were deemed too valuable for more than slaps on the wrist. The potentials of these young rapists were, essentially, measured against the potentials of their victims, and judged to be worth more. 

That's a tough lesson for a victim to learn, but sadly, that lesson reaches beyond the victims and their rapists. It reaches to all those who may become victims, and even to all of those who may rape. 

But it's lessons like this one that our daughters learn every single day. 

Many of us watched coverage of this year's Summer Olympics in Rio and were amazed by all of the skill, talent and strength of women athletes from all over the world, and especially those from our own backyards. What we didn't get to watch was all of the lessons female athletes have to learn throughout their years of training, preparing and reaching for their dreams. We did, in many cases, get to see the poise with which many of them had to respond in the face of media coverage that sometimes overlooked their accomplishments, judged them by their appearances, credited their accomplishments to men, and called into question their patriotism and values. 

In the days following the games, we also got to watch as a bunch of boys--one of them in his thirties--behaved inappropriately and even illegally by falsely reporting being robbed at gunpoint. And much of the response to Ryan Lochte and his buds breaking things in a gas station and peeing everywhere has been the all too common phrase "boys will be boys," or "they were just being rowdy kids." Again--one of those "kids" being in his thirties. 

Why is it that boys and men don't have to learn the same lessons that girls and women do? 

As a woman in my forties, I am anything but naive. I know how the world works. I know that if I go someplace after dark, I need to look around me and be aware of my surroundings, but I also need to keep my head down and not draw too much attention to myself. 

As a college newspaper reporter, I did tell my editor when an interview subject attempted to force himself on me, but I didn't want her to do anything about it, because it was a tiny campus, and I just wanted the incident to be forgotten, and I was afraid I would be blamed. I may not have told her at all, but for the fact that she questioned why the majority of my article had been fleshed out with quotes from someone else who was very distantly related to the topic.

I also know that opportunities have come and gone, solely based on my appearance or interactions with the men who have been in my work environment, and not my knowledge, qualifications or skill. 

As a woman, I know that my smile is not welcomed, but expected by men, even if I'm not feeling like smiling. I am pretty sure that the expectation of women to always be smiling when they encounter a man must be the origin for the concept of the "resting bitch face." As a rule, I never ask anyone to smile, unless I am trying to photograph them, and even then, I understand if they decline. 

I know that I paint a bleak picture. I know that women can be empowered, and I know that they can reach amazing heights, but sadly, I also know that, in our current world, if you don't learn the right lessons, achieving everything you hope to can be much, much more difficult. 

I will teach my daughter that she can be anything she dreams of being, and I will also offer her all of my support and encouragement--even if she chooses difficult paths. And I will hope that those of us who are aware of the power of the inequities between boys and girls--men and women--will manage to make a cultural shift, and some of those inequities will be diminished or gone. 

But I am scared. I am scared that my daughter will still have to learn many of these same things. I am scared that she will have to learn how to navigate, and conduct herself such that she does not become a victim, and she accomplishes what she dreams in a world where her potential is not valued at the same level as that of her male peers. I am scared that she will have to learn that no matter how amazing, gifted, talented and hard-working she might be, she will be judged by appearances, a lack of makeup, or her failure to smile when it's expected of her. I'm scared she will have to learn that she will be judged by her unwillingness to flirt, play nice, or give things of herself that her male peers will never be asked. 

And beyond being scared, I am sad. I am sad to know that girls and women of all ages and backgrounds are learning these lessons every single day. They are learning them in locker rooms. They are learning them in offices. They are learning them when they receive unwanted advances and harassment by male coworkers, classmates and friends. They are learning them when they have to follow dress codes in elementary school classrooms. They are learning them in dark horrible places where their trust is broken forever, and then again in courtrooms. They are learning them, because if they don't learn them, they won't survive, let alone accomplish all that they dream of. 

These are powerful lessons, and harmful ones. They are lessons we should all be striving to unlearn, and that we should all be standing against with our loudest voices. We owe it to our daughters, and every girl or woman we love to do more than just express our outrage every time one of these horrible lessons is taught or reinforced. 

I may not be able to thwart all of these lessons, but I can do one thing that matters. I can stand with my daughter, and I am at the ready to stand with yours as well. 



Friday, July 8, 2016

Barack Obama is my president

So, here's the thing: I make no secret of my political leanings, but I'm not the kind of person who goes around striking up conversations with people about my views unless I know I'm in friendly territory. I have many friends, and family who could not view the world more differently than I do, but I respect and care for them anyway, because at the end of day, we all have the most basic thing in common--we are all part of this mixed up human race. 

That being said, something is really bothering me in the wake of this week's violence, and it's more than just that it's "this week's violence," as opposed to "last week's violence," which sadly I could also very easily be bothered by.  

In the last seven and a half years, there has been a very ugly undercurrent that I have never seen before. And I have been watching the political landscape since Jimmy Carter lost his bid for reelection when I was in grade school. I know my classmates didn't understand when I cried as we watched Ronald Reagan sworn in on television during the school day. I was a lot less knowledgable then, but I was no less devastated, and my blood was no less blue.

I was very unhappy with our country's last administration. I didn't support our invasion of Iraq, because it didn't make any sense. I was more supportive of our invasion of Afghanistan, because at least there was some connection between it, Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda and September 11. Over time, it became clear, at least to me, that neither invasion was going to lead to an end of terrorism. I think the phrase is "You can kill people, but you can't kill an ideology."

I was ashamed and disgusted. I strongly disliked George W. Bush, and everyone within his administration. I absolutely felt the 2000 election had been stolen from Al Gore. But here's the thing, I never voiced open hatred against him. And while I frequently questioned his thinking, I never openly declared him to be the moron I thought he was. Though his English was frequently more broken than someone using it as a second language, I never doubted his place of birth. I certainly never believed that he was somehow behind the attacks here on 9/11. 

And that's why I cannot fathom all of the hate and vitriol I have seen lobbed at, and against President Obama, and even his wife and daughters--day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. 

This man--our twice-elected president--has been accused of being of foreign birth, a Muslim (as if there's something wrong with that), a terrorist sympathizer, and a traitor. People have accused him of constantly taking expensive vacations, though he has taken off less time than many. He has been accused of taking more executive actions than any other president--which isn't true. His administration has been accused of staging the Newtown shooting in which 26 little kids and their teachers were killed. When he, and the majority of Americans call for minimal and reasonable restrictions to gun sales and types of weapons available, he is accused of trying to take away the Second Amendment right entirely. 

People say he should be impeached. They are upset about drone strikes. They are upset that he appears too apologetic to the wrong foreign leaders. They call him a liar. 

In the same breath, people say he's accomplished nothing. He has ruined our country. Never mind any facts or statistics that support the contrary. 

And another popular accusation has reared its very ugly head again this week. He has been accused of fueling our nation's racial divide--some people even going so far as to blame him for the deaths of five Dallas police officers. 

I find myself as ashamed and disgusted by all of this as I was when we rushed into an unnecessary war in Iraq, and we landed ourselves in so deep financially for that and the war in Afghanistan that we might as well have been a sinking ship. 

Barack Hussein Obama could not fuel a racial divide if a racial divide did not already exist. 

People who say he has accomplished nothing shouldn't be surprised, after all, leaders in our own Congress have declared that they would essentially rather run our country into ruin rather than work with our twice-elected president. They have made getting anything done the equivalent of slogging through quicksand. They have tried to sabotage diplomatic efforts to avoid more unnecessary war, by literally contacting that government and undermining him. They are currently holding the highest court in the land hostage, as they have never done before. 

The reality--Barack Obama never could have won--fair fight or dirty. Like it or not--deny it or not--it was always going to be about something he couldn't change--his color. 

Another black man faced a similar climate about 70 years ago. Another pristine (i.e. white) time-honored American tradition was challenged by a black man, when Jackie Robinson became the first black man allowed to play Major League Baseball. He was also a man of grace, who quietly and respectfully conducted himself with dignity and morality in the face of bigotry and hatred. 

No one bats an eye at a black man in professional sports now. Jackie Robinson knew he couldn't kick down the door for other African American athletes. He had to gently knock, and wait to be invited in. He still had to say "yes, sir," and "no, ma'am." He became more than a baseball player. He became a leader and an example of how to quietly fight and win an unfair battle.

Barack Obama will go down in history as our first black president, and my hope is that his legacy will be much greater than that, when his grace under fire and actions are more objectively evaluated. But right now, and for the last seven years, I would contend that for those who malign and hate him so, Barack Obama hasn't been president at all. He's been a gentrified "thug" holding our "white" house hostage with his grand delusions of hope and dignity.

As the chaos of our current election cycle continues to spin out of control, I hold dearly the memory of seeing our current president, whom we have elected twice, speak about a future of possibilities and hope during his first presidential campaign. I will never forget the positive energy that uplifted so many of us in that sea of people that night. I am thankful I got to be there. It was a gift. 

I know there are plenty of people I know and care for who don't share my views or feelings. I know plenty of people wish everyone's political posts on social media would just stop. But I have cared forever and a day. I want a better future and world for my family. And even though I haven't been quiet about my views, I haven't spoken loud enough in my president's defense. I accept that some won't be happy that I have lit my candle and started singing a virtual "We Shall Overcome" on behalf of this president, but I will have no trouble looking at myself in the mirror for doing so. 

I never imagined in a million years how hard so many of us would work to willingly tear ourselves down in order to spite someone who so passionately wanted to help as many of us as he could. Just like every other politician and president before him, and those to come, he was never going to be able to do everything he hoped to. But I can't imagine he anticipated the level of hatred and obstruction he has faced after having won two presidential elections. 

For those who can't admit the real reason behind their blind hatred of Barack Obama, I would argue that that hatred isn't blind at all. A gentrified thug does not hold your White House hostage. The hostage being held for the last seven years has been our nation's future, and our integrity as an equal and free people. 

Our country is on fire. We need to look at ourselves and see who and what it is within ourselves that is actually holding the match, and stoking the flames.



Monday, June 20, 2016

Toddlerhood--when you're blue in the face

So, parenting a toddler is very hard, and sometimes it feels very much like you are slogging through quicksand, while carrying arm-loads of giant tractor tires. It's challenging. It's exhausting. It's frustrating. And at times, you feel like the only solution for the struggle is just to run out the front door, while screaming at the top of your lungs, as you put block after block behind you. 

They don't listen. They don't cooperate. They're messy. They are overly emotional. They infiltrate every millimeter of your life. They are like Jeckyll and Hyde. One moment, they are completely sucking the life out of you, the next moment, they are curling up in your arms, declaring that they love you. I think the motive for the latter is often to steal whatever is on your plate.

Living with a toddler helps me understand why so many species in the wild end up as single parents. The parent least physically attached is driven to madness as well, and their only way out is total disconnection. Isn't it reasonable that at least one parent should survive? 

Some people might try to forewarn you about the difficulties of parenting through the more difficult phases, but who wants to crush the hopes and dreams of expectant parents while they pick out jogging strollers and a sweet little layette? Instead, they are intentionally vague, or wincingly nostalgic. "Enjoy the time that they are little." "It all goes by so fast." Truth be told, I think that they have simply blocked how hard toddlerhood was in the same way that most of us can't exactly remember how painful labor was.

I've come to the point where I try to convince myself everything will be okay, because most of us survive toddlerhood--both on the parent side, and the child side. But there are moments when no matter what anyone tells you, it just sucks.

There are times you are so afraid of your kid's unpredictable behavior that you don't want to risk leaving your house with them. 

A trip to a department store or grocery store is like a death wish, because you end up wanting to find someone who conceals and carries and just ask them to shoot you. At least twenty-five percent of the time, you walk out, thrashing toddler over your shoulder, and a full cart left behind. 

You do understand that like that full shopping cart, there are parts of your life that you just have to leave behind--sometimes just for a little while, sometimes for a long time. But it's still hard, because some of those things seem so small and so reasonable. 

It doesn't matter how you plan. You can try to guess the best time of the day to take your toddler someplace. You can feed them, give them snacks, and water them. You can rest them. You can fill their "attention" and "power" buckets. You can do everything right, and still end up with a two-year-old who is running away from the nurse at the pediatrician's office and refusing to stand on the scale. You can still be peeling your child off the floor as they go completely limp, red in the face, and repeatedly yell "no, don't want to." 

You ask yourself, "what am I doing wrong?" And your spouse wonders "what are we doing wrong." And no matter what you read or research--because somebody has to--the only consistent answer you come up with is that it is hard, and it sucks, and you need to just be in this "wonderful" moment of your child's development and discovery. Blah, blah, blah.

And all you and your spouse want is a break. Just a few hours to have a peaceful dinner, during which no food ends up intentionally on the floor. Just a few hours when nobody is yelling for help. Just a few hours when you are not a human chew toy and jungle gym. Just a few hours when you are not chasing after snacks, drinks, or other assorted items for someone. Just a few hours when you are not trying to prevent your child's untimely demise or other disastrous injury, because they have climbed up onto the dining room table for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.  

Just a few hours when you actually begin to feel like a normal human being again, and you actually miss your child's sweet face, instead of feeling like a hostage. 

You see the commercials for the baby sitter and nanny referral company and wonder if it would be safe--for them--to watch your child. After all, sometimes it feels like it's not safe for you to watch your child. And you realize that while in the throes of just trying to keep this little human alive, you have failed to keep yourself alive. You are totally the person on the plane who puts everyone else's oxygen mask on them before you put it on yourself. 

You haven't made mom friends. You haven't joined any of the mom groups. You have no village. The only oxygen mask you have is the bottle of generic Zoloft in your medicine drawer and the promise of a few hours a day, when you send your kid to preschool six months earlier than you were planning to. The thought of it makes you feel kind of wistful and sad. It makes you feel like you failed and couldn't do it all on your own. And it makes you feel guilty for just needing to breathe. 

In the midst of it all, you remind yourself that this beautiful, crazy, maddening little person is exactly what your heart wanted more than anything. She's what you wanted when everything in your life was so hard, so wrong, and so upside down. You didn't put your own oxygen mask on then either. You waited, and hoped for someone else to notice that you were turning blue-just like you still do. By now, most people just believe blue's your natural color.

And you don't know if you will ever learn to grab your own mask, or breathe. You don't know, but you do know that somehow, you just have to teach this little girl to grab for her own mask, and not just to breathe, but to live, and to never wait for someone else to notice that she's turning blue. And you know somebody smart--probably even a voice in your head--would tell you that you have to teach this one by example. 



Thursday, June 9, 2016

The truth behind rape culture

So, I have no idea how many times I have written about the ravages of sexual assault and abuse. I suppose I keep writing about it, because it's something I know and understand from the inside.

I know that it twists and tears apart the person you are, and sometimes who you intended to be. Sure, you can move on from assault or abuse. You can find happiness and satisfaction in your life again. You can contribute so much to the world around you. 

I know that these acts aren't about love or even lust. They are about power, entitlement, opportunity and a lack of respect. They are about living in a world where boys, men, and even girls and women are brought up believing that you can wear the wrong thing, you should always be on your guard, you should try to strike exactly the right balance of friendliness, you shouldn't drink or go places alone. The list is longer than that, but you get the idea. 

I don't write about it as a play for pity or sympathy. I write about it because I recognize this piece of who I am touches so many things in my life, even though I have spent time in therapy, and I have found happiness and some successes. I don't want it to. And people might say "Well, then, don't let it." But it's not as simple as that. 





In recent days, many of us have been shocked and outraged by the case of a Stanford swimmer (A.K.A. The guy who raped an unconscious woman by a dumpster) who was convicted of sexual assault and eligible to receive a 14-year sentence, but instead received a mere six months in a county jail along with probation. People who came to his defense, and the media have regaled us with his accomplishments, potential, his "sweetness," and even his favorite foods. 

Sadly, we have been shocked, but we really shouldn't be. 

After reading letters by those who came to his defense, and newspaper articles about this guy, it might actually be difficult for someone not to mistake him for the victim. It's almost as if an unconscious, half-naked woman committed a heinous crime against him. 

The actual victim courageously shared her side of things in court, even after it was clear that a judge had decided her rapist's life and potential mattered more than hers had on the night she was attacked, and even in that courtroom. She agreed to share that story with all of us. She did it to remind all of us who the victim in this case was, and to say that her life, and the lives of all victims matter.

Our culture is completely wrong-headed when it comes to women. It's wrong-headed about the LGBT community as well, but that's a topic for another day.

Our culture identifies girls and women primarily as sexual objects. We are inferior, and incapable of making appropriate decisions about our bodies, and reproductive destinies. It is our own fault that assailants attack and abuse us. We aren't truly entitled to equal self-determination. Our bodies shouldn't really be ours to govern. 

I have frequently seen the following statement in meme form: "Bills regulating women's bodies in 2013 alone: 624. Bill a regulating men's bodies since the dawn of time: 0.

don't know if it's accurate, but I can't say that I remember ever hearing of or seeing anything dictating a man's reproductive rights or access to any kind of healthcare. Men haven't had to march or fight for their right to vote. They don't continue to fight for equality in the workforce and compensation. 

What does this meme have to with sexual violence? It is an evidential statement of how our culture views and values women. What do our fights for electoral, professional and social equality have to do with sexual violence? EVERYTHING. 

If my life had never been "touched" by abuse, I know that my world view would be quite different. I might even be different. I had been outgoing. I had been socially active. I wanted to try out for cheerleading, my highschool's dance squad, and plays. I liked myself. I was excited about all the possibilities life might hold. I was eager to jump in with both feet--to take risks and to fail.

All of that "life" slowly trickled away as a result of the abuse. 

Upon learning of what had happened to me, my one-time favorite aunt told another family member that she wasn't surprised about what had happened to me. After all, I had always enjoyed trying to wrestle and rough house with the boyfriends she had while I was a young child. 

My assailant was a relative. His entire family disowned me and called me a liar. I had no proof. And it wouldn't have mattered if I did. After all, I was guilty of destroying his life.

These are the kinds of things that can happen when you tell. These are the things that devalue you further.

I have a beautiful little girl--something always secretly wanted, but especially feared because of my own past. When we go to the park, I watch her anxiously as she climbs ladders and playground features well above my height. I know that she will one day fall and hurt herself. I will hate it when it happens, but I will be okay with it. Cuts and bruises heal. I try not to be a helicopter mom, but I admit that when we go somewhere alone, I panic if she leaves my sight--even for a second.

When I was a child, I used to disappear from my parents' sight for hours. 

Today, my husband and I live in a really safe town and have fantastic neighbors. But I find it difficult to even contemplate giving our daughter that kind of freedom. And that makes me so sad. As parents, we all have our worries, and we all do what we can to keep our kids safe and healthy. 

I can, and should help her learn about the dangers of falling from playground equipment. I should remind her that, on a summer day, the slide might be hot enough to burn her skin. I should tell her not to run out into the parking lot. 

All of those things seem reasonable and fair. But if nothing changes in our culture, I will also have to warn her of the dangers of wearing the wrong clothes, going places by herself, being "too" friendly or "too" aloof, and drinking at a party. I will have to teach her how not to invite rape

As the case of this young woman has become yet another call to action against sexual violence against women, one of the recurring themes is that we must teach our sons not to rape. It seems like that should be a no-brainer, but when you look at the treatment of women all over the world, clearly it is not.

Parents shouldn't have to teach their daughters how not to invite rape. I'm not even very sure that parents should have to teach their sons not to rape. I'm afraid maybe if we think we need to teach these things to our kids that something else is broken and it goes much, much deeper than teaching to prevent one act. 

The only real and truly meaningful way to tackle sexual violence and abuse is to demand a seismic shift in the value of women and girls in our culture. We need to teach and practice values that foster equality, dignity, freedom and respect. We need to give women power over their own bodies and reproductive destinies--without question or restriction. We need to teach men and boys that the only "power" or "control" they are entitled to when it comes to women and girls is power and control over themselves.

I won't disagree with the fact that the life and path of the young man who raped an unconscious woman by a dumpster has been forever changed. I won't argue that he might find it very difficult to pick up where his life left off before he took power and control over that woman's body. But I will shout from any rooftop that her life was more altered. While people consciously or unconsciously supported our culture of rape and female inferiority by fretting about this boy's once brilliant life and future, another person's life and future were left alongside a dumpster. 

Our freedom matters. Our bodies belong to us alone. Our futures are brilliant. Our equality and dignity should not be questioned. Our voices need to be louder. Our lives matter.


Monday, May 30, 2016

Animals in captivity--Peace be with you Harambe

So, it's really hard to love animals. I know, that seems like an odd statement, because of course, many of us do love animals. What makes it hard is striking a balance between what is right for them, right for humans, and what we just want. 

In the wake of the tragic situation at the Cincinnati zoo where a toddler managed to get into a gorilla's enclosure, and that gorilla was subsequently killed, there are a lot of fingers of blame flying around. It's moments like these that really call into question our ability to ever achieve the right balance for all. I don't think we can. 

In recent years, facilities and organizations that attempt to bring the animal kingdom to us have come under fire for not always appearing to have the interests of the animals in their charge at heart. From Sea World to circuses, the judgement of animal advocates has weighed heavily on such facilities and groups. Some of the conditions these animals are kept in are heartbreaking. 

There is probably one thing that everyone could reasonably agree on--housing any wild animal in captivity is not the best case scenario. It's unnatural. 

And that's more than part of the rub. 

The human species is voracious--for everything. We are destructive consumers who believe we are entitled to whatever we want. We encroach on natural habitat with our homes and settlements. Animals are hunted for food, body parts, fur, skin, and even just for the excitement and entertainment. As a species, we seem to believe we "own" everything. 

Zoos, aquariums, and circuses have been a source of human entertainment for a couple of centuries. People in positions of power liked to have wild animal collections. So, going places to look at animals is not a new phenomenon. What is a newer component of this idea is its potential mutual benefit to both humans and animals. 

Zoological facilities offer education about species, and most have breeding and research programs that seek to find solutions to endangerment and extinction. The majority of us would never be able to see the species housed by these facilities any other way. Certainly it is arguable that with the damage we have done to habitats and species, perhaps we don't have the right.

Without resources to educate us about endangered species and habitats, humans would have limited means of inspiration in efforts to turn back the tide, or understand the consequences of our actions. And those consequences are grave. 

According to the UN Environment Programme, about 200 species go extinct everyday. Let that number really sink in. Two Hundred. 

About ten years ago, I had the opportunity to take a behind the scenes zoo tour in Kansas City. I thought it would be a great chance to see what it's like to care for all of those dangerously cuddly animals, and certainly there was a little bit of that on view. What surprised me about the tour was a statement made by the veterinarian who manages the health of the animals. He said that donating money to zoos does not, and will not help endangered species. The real help to endangered species would come from assisting the human populations who live near these species in finding alternative economic resources: jobs, food, sustainable farming, etc. So, addressing poverty in a sustainable and environmentally conscious way. 

It may sound counterintuitive, but it actually makes sense. It would be pretty hard to convince someone not to kill a rhinoceros for its horn, when growing and selling crops would bring a fraction of the income. So, that means the human demand for animal parts must be eliminated at the same time as addressing poverty. Instead of "feeding" the appetite, we have to destroy it. 

But humans can be difficult to sway, and sadly, there are way more of us than there are of them. And so, the desperation of collecting, captive housing, research and breeding is the band-aid approach we uncomfortably find ourself with. 

Responsibility and consequences must go hand in hand. More than a few times, I have visited zoos and witnessed humans behaving more like "animals." Watching an adult human male taunt and tease a 400 lb male gorilla is maddening. The gorilla, who was housed with a female and her baby was driven to charging the glass. People are always trying to get closer. We're always trying to get the animals' attention--as if they somehow owe us a show on top of everything else we have taken from them: their homes, their freedom, their dignity. 

I know that accidents happen. I have a two year-old, and I feel like we escape certain injury or death at least once a day due to her fearlessness and frequent lack of desire to listen. I can't say that the mom whose toddler got into Harambe's enclosure was negligent, and of course, if my toddler had performed this feat of madness, I would hope zoo officials would do everything to ensure her safe return. But while I value her life beyond price, I cannot put a price on Harambe's life either. 

I do believe that zoo officials tried to strike all the balances. I am not familiar with the type of enclosure Harambe's was in or how anyone--let alone a toddler--was able to get in. My guess is its construction was designed to maximize Harambe's sense of freedom, and our ability to "get a little closer." It appears that no one imagined the tenacity and cunning of a toddler. 

Everything about this situation is sad, but the saddest part is that when we fail to be present and self-aware, we put in jeopardy one of the few resources that allows humans to understand the full beauty of what we are losing, and our responsibility to that beauty. 

I know zoos, circuses, aquariums and other such facilities miss the mark. They can never be as appropriate for wild species as their own habitats. A lot of work must be done on their end to improve quality of life, health, etc. But the rest of us bear an equal responsibility. We must learn from tragedies like the one in Cincinatti, and we must be vigilant in preventing such things from happening again. When we see humans behaving badly in these facilities, we need to report that behavior, as it endangers the welfare of the animals and visitors alike. People who are negligent, abusive and disrespectful in these facilities and their charges do not deserve to be there. Period. They should be kindly escorted to the entrance and invited not to return. 

We don't deserve the ability to view what we have endangered behind glass, chain-link, and bars. Ever since the release of the documentary Black Fish, I have found myself torn about taking my daughter to zoos and similar facilities--I don't want to play a role in harming any animal simply so I can gawk at it. 

We are the very reason so many of these beautiful animals are at the brink of extinction. We owe it to them to respect their existence and their lives, wherever we encounter them. 

Rest in peace, Harambe. Your life was not worth less than any of ours. 

Bam Bam the bear at Turpentine Creek Animal Refuge. 

Saturday, May 14, 2016

The dangers of voting while distracted. It's not about values, the economy, or bathrooms.

So, I am kind of going out on a limb here. I usually approach most topics a little more metaphorically, or at least a little bit less directly, but I have really been thinking about something today, and it is troubling me. I've already written about it a couple of times, both with my usual approach, and not much response.

I'm really upset with conservatives and our media right now. I'm an unabashed liberal, so, I suppose you could argue that I am always just a little bit upset with conservatives, but this time it runs a little deeper. And probably because of my educational background, I've always been kind of a wishy-washy defender of the media. I know what its true purpose is supposed to be, and I know both how hard it can be fulfill that purpose, and how exciting it can be to try. 

Our world is on fire all around us. There is so much going on right now that is more than just important, and even vital to our survival and our children's futures. Until now, the only stake I had in tomorrow was for myself, but now my husband and I are responsible for the future of our little girl. And I feel almost as if it is time to hold everyone's feet to the fire who will in any way impact my daughter's education, freedoms and future. Maybe that seems crazy, but my feelings about it are strong.

We are living in a country thats "vision statement" guarantees life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We are living in a country that declares itself to be a land of acceptance and possibility. I'm not a flag flying patriot, but when I think of what it means to be fortunate enough either to be born American, or to become an American, there's a little tingle of red, white and blue in my toes that just fell asleep. 

All of the things about being an American that we ALL profess to care about are under threat. 

It seems as though we can't learn to live with our differences. Instead of accepting that we are a vast and diverse melting pot of people from different nations, different races, different beliefs, and not always clear sexuality, we allow our most vulnerable citizens to be targeted for discrimination and inequality. The groups ripe for targeting may change, but the hate and fear remains. And what's more, so does the distraction--the distraction from issues that ACTUALLY matter. 

Right now, multiple states are trying to institute and defend laws that prohibit transgendered individuals from using the restroom that feels most appropriate to their psychological gender. And they are doing this under the FALSE guise of protecting girls and women from sexual assault. The idea behind this ridiculous situation is that predators will pretend they are transgendered so they can infiltrate our women's restrooms and attack us. 

Here's the thing: We are constantly being told that we cannot have stricter gun laws because criminals ignore laws. So do sexual predators. And statistically speaking, most sex offenders tend to be people we know, and they don't come after us in public restrooms. 

I happen to be a survivor of sex abuse. I knew my offender, and it happened in my home. It offends my sensibility as a survivor that people looking for the right to perpetuate hate and fear towards a group of individuals who are already at risk for discrimation and hate crimes are using the kinds of crimes that happened to me as their justification. It's just wrong.

Swirling around this stew of fear and hatred is the idea that transgendered individuals are being brainwashed as children to identify as the gender opposite from their birth gender. Can anyone fathom anything so absurd?! 

If you look around, it's pretty easy to see that in this current "witch-hunting" climate of ignorance, fear and hate, encouraging anyone to be gay, lesbian or transgendered who was not born so would be completely counterintuitive. I love my daughter with all my heart, and while I would love her no matter her sexuality or gender identification, my heart would absolutely break for her if she doesn't happen to be straight, or if she came to me and said she feels like she's a boy. It would break for her, because as I look around at the current climate of fear and hate, I know all the obstacles and struggles she would unfairly face. And all I would be able to do is stand with her and lift her up any way I could.

While I am heterosexual, and decidedly female, I am truly sad for anyone in harm's way. Life is hard and challenging enough for all of us. Why must we work so hard, and with such ignorance to harm those who want nothing more than to just live their lives like the rest of us?

And yeah, I think our media bears at least some responsibility for allowing this kind of climate to flourish.

Forget Donald Trump's name. Forget that he achieved celebrity status as part of a reality television circus. Forget his foreign born wives, infidelities, bankruptcies, and a billion other things about him that may have drawn the media's attention. Make him just any other man who happens to be a billionaire. The idea that there would be a politician willing to pay his own way, and who cannot be bought is incredibly alluring. Granted, we as voters should accept responsibility for the fact that our leaders can so frequently be purchased, because we do nothing about it, and we voted for presidents who appointed Supreme Court Justices who said corporate money is welcome in politics as a part of free speech. 

So, again, pretend we have just any other man who happens to be a billionaire, and promises that he cannot be bought, and that he will pay his own way. Watch as any other man who happens to be a billionaire starts to make outlandish statements that are just a little bit inflammatory and maybe even a little bit racist. It makes for pretty interesting television. And sadly, our media is owned by giant corporations who are in the business of business instead of news. Any other man who happens to be a billionaire sees how quickly the media responds to him when he says inflammatory and hateful things and realizes that he may not have to spend too much of his own fortune if he keeps the media's attention. 

And it works. Like a dog with a juicy bone, the media seems to just salivate every time he opens his mouth. And in the process, everyone sets aside issues that really matter. Nobody is talking about global warming (even those of us who believe in it). Nobody is talking about how we cure cancer. Nobody is talking about how to end childhood poverty and hunger. Nobody is talking about how to reduce or eliminate our dependence on fossil fuels.

At least no one in the media is talking about these things, and none of our traditional political candidates really are either. The media is shaking its bone, and the traditional candidates have been struggling to garner any scraps the major media outlets happen to drop. Whether you like or agree with Bernie Sanders or not, you have to acknowledge that because he chooses not to play the same way everyone else on the field plays, he barely gets even scraps of the scraps. 

And now, while we all have rubber-necked with gaping open mouths at the media feeding frenzy that is Donald Trump, we have allowed the false issue of transgendered individuals as a threat in public restrooms to draw away our attention further. 

This is dangerous. When we fail to pay attention to the truth and to issues that really matter, our future can be hijacked. We lose our way. We lose all the ground we have gained when it comes to equality, decency, and freedom.

I have plenty of conservative friends who have always been proud to vote Republican. Most vote their conscience about pocket-book issues, and are concerned about personal responsibility, and the fair play that centers around hard work. We may not see these ideals with the same lenses, but I know they vote for the Republican Party that used to believe in personal freedom and small government. They don't identify with the fear and hatred that candidates like Donald Trump incite. They aren't racist. They aren't homophobic. They wouldn't encourage discrimation or hate crimes against people who are already vulnerable. But sadly, their voices and conciences have been hijacked, and they are going to be forced to make a lose-lose decision when November rolls around. If conservative voters with doubting hearts feel compelled to vote for Trump because he is the Republican candidate, we as a nation lose. 

Even sadder is the fact that the media, which should be focusing on the truth and what really matters, is playing right into the hands of a handful of very rich individuals who control our economy, and a clutch of angry and fearful paycheck to paycheck voters who can be so easily distracted by words like "family values," "national security," and "patriotism." And yeah, they may deny it, but some of them are racist and homophobic.

We all recognize the dangers of impaired or distracted driving. When will we learn to recognize the dangers of distracted voting? When will we hold our media accountable for its failure? When will we hold ourselves accountable for allowing big money to compose the very seams of our leaders' pockets? I hope it won't be our children who pay for our distraction. 

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

A mom on the edge--and NOT the edge of glory.

So, this isn't the greatest week of my mothering career. And before anyone says, "Oh, there are are going to be lots of times you feel that way, and at the end of the day it all works out," I just need to say what I need to say without any advice, wisdom, or mom-power in return. Sometimes, you just need to be able to say "Things really suck," so maybe then you can heave a deep sigh of relief that you didn't continue to try to swallow your frustration over and over. Sometimes that frustration you are trying so hard to swallow is so large, it feels like nothing is going to wash it down. 

It's another week where sleep is hit or miss most of the time. It's another week where as soon as I clean up something, it, or something else, gets dumped out in its place. It's another week where I feel like if I just try to do one thing I want to do, it gets hijacked, sidetracked, and derailed. It's another week where I want to sleep a solid six or seven hours without someone right up in my grill or attached to me. It's another week where I want to get dressed and get ready to go to bed or leave the house peacefully. It's another week where I want to be able to sit and watch an entire movie or episode of anything in one sitting, and without becoming a human jungle gym or pacifier. It's another week where I want to make a meal everyone gets to enjoy all at the same time. It's another week where I think wistfully of projects and goals that I just can't get to.

I know most of this is going to either pass or get easier, but for right now, I just feel so powerless and drained all of the time that I almost feel like I am constantly operating at a deficit. If one thing is going well, fifty other things are failing or suffering. And I do know that I am not alone, so I'm not trying to sit here and say that I am the only mom who has ever experienced any of what I am going through, or that my experience is the worst. I am sure I am a mostly average mom, with a mostly average toddler. 

But like every mom, sometimes you just have to say "uncle," and admit that just for a few minutes, or maybe even a whole day, you need things to be all about you. You need to be able to pity yourself for a few minutes and then get on with it. You need to be able to mourn and let go of all that you miss. You need a clean and somewhat organized house. You need your old jeans to fit. You need your half finished projects to be completed to your satisfaction. You need to write more than a blog. You need clear skin and great hair that isn't in a pony tail holder. You need a Dr. Pepper without feeling like a cheat. You just need a little more of yourself. 

And I don't say any of this as a slight against my partner. He does without many of these things, too. He's just much better at managing the public side of his frustrations than I am. I am apparently a natural emoter, for better or worse. I've tried to quit, but nobody makes a patch for that. 

At least a dozen things would probably magically make all of this frustration better. Regular exercise, making mom friends and spending time with them, time on my own, hobbies--the list is probably endless. But many of these things require consistency, and that's at least one of a million things that I feel like I am grieving. I never tried to force a schedule on my daughter, because of the things you have to do to make that happen that I wasn't comfortable with. And the whole word "force" is just naturally icky for me. I'm not a granola attachment mom, but I suppose I dance along the edge. Every day is essentially at my daughter's whim. Some days, the lack of consistency and control just makes me feel out of control and like a failure. 

I watch as everything spirals around me to certain "disaster." A Gogurt gets intentionally squeezed all over the floor before I can stop it. So, before I can process it, I yell. She asks for pizza and green beans for breakfast and only eats the green beans. She then steals my toast. She asks for a hug, but only so she can nurse. Every request is a loud demand. Unread magazines, unfinished projects and unfinished thoughts are scattered about, and the sink is full of dishes. The laundry is piling again. There are toys--so many toys--everywhere. In her room, in the living room, in the kitchen, in the dining room, in our bedroom. I yell. I try to reason with someone who has no concept of reasoning. I sigh. I huff. I feel ignored. I feel like a crazy person. 

I had no illusions about being a stay-at-home mom. I knew it was a full time job, and that it wasn't easy. The thing is, even when you know the score, you don't know how it feels until you are actually playing the game. And I know working moms have their own list of things to feel bad about. 

Mother's Day is just a few days away. The Internet is sprinkled with intermittent reminders to buy your mom the perfect gift, and blogs declaring that all Mom really wants is to go to the bathroom or take a shower alone. To be honest, I think what every mom wants for Mother's Day (or any day) is as different as every mom is. And maybe that is the essential core of what we all want for those "special" days, to experience something--gift or otherwise--that helps us connect with ourselves for a moment. For some of us who have this mom thing really figured out (AKA--the liars), maybe that is a t-shirt with a blazing "Mom of the Year" slogan on it. For some of us, it's a trip to the bathroom alone. For some of us, it's a day off from our job to spend with our kid(s). For some of us, it's just to feel like our sane and more together selves during a trying time. 

Regardless of what that gift looks like for each of us, I hope we all get what we want. 

Happy day, mommies! Happy day!

Friday, April 29, 2016

Another unjustified trial. Who do we think we are?

So, as the mother of a toddler, I often find myself watching way too much Nick Jr. and Disney Jr. for any reasonably sane adult. Every once in a while, I try to sneak in some long lost DVRd grown up television. It's amazing how much like bliss one hour of grown up television can feel.

This week, I have been catching up on the TLC genealogy series "Who Do You Think You Are?" and I was taken aback by the episode tracing actor Scott Foley's roots. Aside from discovering that he had a relative who served in George Washington's equivalent of the Secret Service, he learned that another relative was accused, tried, and hanged for practicing witchcraft in Salem. Having visited the town, and been very moved by the real stories of Salem, I felt chills creep up when he sat down with a historian at the Witch House and learned of his ancestor's fate. 

As he learned about the accusations that were made against Samuel Wardwell, it was clear that Foley was listening incredulously. He had been accused of sticking pins in, striking and pinching girls. Witnesses also recounted several times in which he had told fortunes. The fear in the area was real. Wardwell initially confessed, then recanted his confession. Ultimately, he was found guilty, and was one of the last "witches" hanged. 

He may well have told some fortunes, and dabbled in the occult, but his only real crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and under the gaze of a group of people who twisted the words and teachings of the Bible so tightly that they would have been unrecognizable. 

Nineteen people died because of these twistings, and this mania. Countless others lives were destroyed by the false accusations, and coerced confessions. All in the name of protecting the children, and purity of a community. 

Today, we see are watching a similar "hunt" play out in a land that professes to support and defend individual freedom as staunchly as religious freedom. But there is a group of people for whom those freedoms appear to be one-sided.

It's no secret that discrimination is ugly, and that it has cycled through our American history over and over. It often feels like civil dissatisfaction always leads to searching for an already demeaned and maligned set of individuals to persecute and punish. 

I am not a member of the LGBT community, but I have friends who are. For the most part, they are just like all of my heterosexual friends. The important distinction--most have fought through their lives, struggling to find self-acceptance, familial acceptance, and to be afforded the same basic rights most everyone else already has without question. I am not a Creationist. As someone who struggles with faith, I probably believe some hybrid version of the options available. I get the whole Big-Bang thing, but when I look at the beauty and ugliness of this gigantic universe, I cannot completely divorce myself from the idea that even the smallest particle of dust had to have some origin. 

So, I suppose if pinned down, I would say that origin is responsible for us all. If God(ess) created you and me, He/She created us all. And I suppose with that in mind, I believe the intention was an equal share of the world we all live in. 

There are lots of people cloaking discrimination against transgendered, lesbian and homosexual men with fear for the safety and innocence of "our women and children." As a survivor of sexual abuse, I know that this cloak does not fit. Everyone with half a brain, and any knowledge of sexual assault and abuse knows that abusers tend to be people we know and trust, and most often male--NOT transgendered, NOT lesbian, NOT. gay. 

But the people shaking their fists and passing laws tend to be like the Puritan communities of our early days as a nation. They ignore evidence. They ignore statistics. They ignore science. Instead, they embrace fear, hatred, and a cause.

When I watched Scott Foley visit the Salem Witch Trial Memorial--a place I have been to myself--he sat down on the bench where Samual Wardwell's name is engraved. It's a beautiful and peaceful place to reflect on a time of fear, zealotry and death. As he was leaving, he acknowledged that most visitors would reflect on the meaning of the place, walk away and carry on with their lives. Only those who were connected to the place by an ancestor would be forever changed. Only because I have been there, I know he is wrong. Some of us will carry that place with us forever, and it will always reflect back for us in times of strife and persecution. 

I don't know much about where, or even the whole truth of who I come from. I tried tracing it for a while, but you really have to have unlimited resources to follow all "the leaves" on your tree. I suppose at the end of the day, it's easiest to rule out what I am not. I am not black. I am not Japanese. I am not Jewish. I can only claim a spiritual relationship with the Irish. Without question, I am failing to mention countless other groups who have been unjustly persecuted and punished throughout our history. Sadly, there have been too many to list.

But while maybe I cannot fill out my sparse little family tree with confidence, I do know of one family to which I am related--the human one. So when a family member is wrongly accused of unthinkable acts, or when a family member faces discrimination when they are simply trying to live their life, it impacts me. 

Researchers very recently confirmed the site where the hangings took place near Salem. There is nothing to mark the spot. There are no graves. There is no place to visit an ancestor's final resting place. As ”witches," the bodies of these people were discarded without respect or peace. The memorial in town is all that exists for now. And while it is beautiful and peaceful, it is marked by empty seats. Those seats could be a representation of so many things. Children that never were. Community leaders who never achieved their potential. Ideas that never got the chance to bear fruit. Lives that were never lived to their natural completion. All because fear and misunderstanding gave a community permission to steal life from people who were different, but were still created from all the same stuff.

The show that got me thinking about Salem, and those nineteen beautiful, ugly, different people again, asks us about where and who we come from, but the title really strikes me in relation to the trials of three hundred years ago, and the trials that have played out since then. Who do you think you are? Who do you think you are to believe that because someone is different from you that they are wrong to be so? Who do you think you are to perpetuate discrimination, abuse and injustice in the name of love and Christ? Who do you think you are to feed fear and lies? 

In the grand scheme, nineteen people is not a large number, but any number of lives taken or harmed by false faith, hypocrisy and ignorance is too many. We are family. We are all somebody's child. We all deserve to live our truths without fear of hateful lies.


Thursday, April 21, 2016

Doves cry, but Prince will never die.

So, one of my friends posed this question: "How does someone like Prince die?"

I think most of us are so stunned that we simply cannot wrap our heads around the concept of such an icon like this disappearing from the planet. Many of us have felt that several times over this year.

There probably is no real answer to such a question, and I know that no answer would really assuage the feelings of shock and grief that many of us experience with such a loss. The truth is that people like Prince don't really die. If you think about it, the majority of us never knew Prince Rogers Nelson. And, yet, without knowing him, he held an important place in our hearts and lives, and we care deeply about  his passing.

Someone like Prince isn't just an artist. Someone like Prince is so universally respected, revered, and recognized for his work and the influence he had, and will continue to have, on artists of all mediums that he is not so much human, but more like an element. 

Not everyone who loves music is a "fan." The word "fan" loses its significance when an icon like Prince picks up his guitar. It just doesn't explain how some of us feel about our favorite artists, or art in general. For some of us, certain artists have been, and are, life changing, or even life saving. 

When someone, or something takes a place of such high meaning to us, they never truly leave, even if they "die." People from multiple generations know who he was, and are familiar with his work. His importance will likely never be in dispute, and that importance will be validated a million times over. 

Few artists achieve the kind of broad appeal, and universal recognition that Prince had. And very few were the kind of virtuoso that he was. 

Some artists change the landscape around them by challenging convention, and creating something new. In some cases, that kind of power can tend to intimidate and challenge its intended audience. 

David Bowie, was, without question, another iconic and influential artist that we also have lost this year. He was challenging, intimidating, and he frequently turned pop culture on its head. He wasn't everyone's cup of tea. 

Prince, on the other hand, managed to impact culture and music in much the same way, but when he did it, a kind of magic happened. He was exotic, stunningly beautiful to look at, sexy, enigmatic, and dangerous. All of those traits drew us in--all of us. And we stayed. We stayed to find out what he would create next. We stayed to feel the charisma that permeated everything he did. We stayed to listen to the power of his art. And we stayed on the off chance he might flash us that shy Prince smile that could melt the polar ice cap faster than global warming. 

He was a fast red car, a purple storm, a sign, a super hero and a gem--all rolled into one. He was beyond human, and he couldn't simply die. Someone so surreally "other" than us was surely made of something that could not break. 

At least that is what those of us who loved him and his artistry believed. We lived our lives not thinking about it--the potential impact of such a loss. And that's why  it stunned us. 

In my own lifetime, I have seen some amazingly iconic figures break on through. Elvis, John Lennon, Michael Jackson, Princess Diana, Liz Taylor to name a handful. 

I am sure that I am forgetting others that people feel as strongly about. I wasn't impacted by all of them, but I can relate to those who were. Whether I cared for them or not, they are significant examples of how certain human beings become larger than life. They are too large to leave us behind. They are the songs that get stuck in our heads. They are the dance moves we can never seem to duplicate. They are the philosophers that inspire us to do more in our lives. They are an iconic shade of blue, and they are sometimes tragic. 

The truth is, they are as human as we are, and they are as mortal as we are. But they touch parts of us that we ever knew were there in a way that we never realized was possible. And that is why we find it so hard to believe and accept both their humanity, and mortality. 

It's a cliche to say that because of his artistic legacy, Prince will never die. It's a cliche, because it's true. But the reasons he will never truly be gone are unique to every single one of us.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Fear and loathing in the name of Jesus and Jefferson

So, as I was scrolling through Facebook today, I ran across a video about people who "are not religious, but spiritual." It was actually a comical short about people who pick and choose things from different religions or belief systems to create their own sense of spirituality. While I found it humorous, it also struck a little bit of a chord with me. I have always been fascinated with religion, and have found myself with various opportunities to learn about, and explore different faiths. You might say I dabble.

I am not a Christian, but quite honestly, I am a fan. And when I say that, I mean I don't know that I can accept the supernatural elements, but I am a fan of Jesus. I'm a fan of the way he is reported in the Gospels to have conducted himself, and encouraged others to do the same. He was the kind of guy who looked at the people on the fringes, and not only tolerated them, but cared for and advocated for them. He had this habit of treating people with kindness, generosity, dignity and compassion. He sought to protect the poor, maligned and disenfranchised. 

Those are ideas I can get behind. Most religions purport values I can get behind. But it seems to me that many--not all--people use their religious beliefs to justify behaviors that are completely disconnected from the beliefs they claim to hold so dear. In fact, it seems like many people hide behind  not only religion, but other high ideals as well. 

When I look around lately, it almost seems like our world is on fire. Everywhere I look, people are shunning each other, attacking each other, ganging up on each other, and killing and/or maiming each other--all in the name of whichever god or ideal in which they claim to believe.

And while I am not a person of faith, it still makes me angry. I think faith is a good thing. In your darkest hour, it can shed enough light to keep you from losing every bit of hope that you have. Sometimes people survive the unthinkable because of that tiny sliver of light. 

That's why I find it so abhorrent when people do real and true harm to others and shift responsibility for their actions to their faith. In my opinion, when you do that, you are spitting in the "face" of any higher power you represent.

We are afraid of people who do not look like us, act like us, and believe like us. Pure and simple. The witch hunts in Europe. The witch trials of Salem, Massachusetts. The Holocaust. These are just a few examples of this fear. If you look different, act differently, or believe differently, we fear you, and even hate you. And you can frequently add that if you are a female who expresses intelligence, independent thought, assertiveness or sexuality, you are also worthy of fear and hatred.

It's a pattern within humanity that has played out, over and over, and over. And it's playing out again, all over the world today. 

Difference breeds fear. Fear breeds hate. Stop trying to make it about something else. I call bullshit on your bullshit. 

You don't need to pass legislation limiting the rights of the LGBT community because of your faith or because you feel traditional marriage is threatened. You need to do it because you personally feel threatened by that which is different from you. If you are scared gays, lesbians and transgendered people are going to assault you or your children in restrooms, you don't understand much about sexual predators or pedophilia? You don't need to limit a woman's right to control her reproductive destiny because you are pro-life and ready to fulfill the path of Jesus by making sure all of the children conceived in our country have a good home with appropriate clothing, food and shelter. You need to do it because the power of women to control procreation scares you as men. You may really believe that "all lives matter," but you weren't shouting it from the rooftops until the African American community finally got tired of their youth being considered thugs first and humans second. 

If you are going to fear something or hate it, at least own your fear and hatred. You don't have the right to hijack legitimately high ideals such as faith or patriotism to justify your personal agenda. 

It saddens me to no end that these scenarios are still playing out in a nation founded on the idea that we are all equal, and that we all are entitled to the same rights. Now, I know that there are clearly some issues with our founding fathers, and the way they expressed these ideals in real life. But I choose to believe that they had the best of intentions, and I believe that equality and freedom were the cornerstones of the nation they were trying to build. 

I do not believe they intended religion to have a place in our government. It was never intended that America was going to be a Christian nation. Sometimes, it seems like people argue as much about the meaning behind their words as they do the words of Jesus and his dad. I know people argue about who our founding fathers were on the spectrum of faith. Undoubtedly, some were Christians, but some were also uncertain like me, and I believe that while they probably never conceived of the idea that our nation's makeup would become so diverse, the groundwork they laid was intended to allow for any possibility, and ultimately, to uphold the ideals of equality and freedom. 

And yet here we find ourselves in a nation torn apart by "faithful patriots," stretching and twisting the words of god(s) and people whose ideals so clearly disconnect from the actions and words done and said in their name. 

It absolutely boggles my mind. 

In the name of God, you are not entitled to fairness in employment, housing, commerce or care if you look different, act different or believe different. This can apply to people of color, different sexuality and gender identities, and religions. In the name of patriotism, you are not entitled to a chance at refuge, or safely living your life as an American citizen because a minuscule percentage of your fellow believers have committed heinous acts in the name of your religion. In the name of God, if you are a woman, you are not entitled to the same rights to control, care for, or protect your body that men are. You are still considered, on some level, to be a commodity. 

Up until now, these "truths" were masked. They were ideas that your crazy uncle expressed at a very uncomfortable dinner table. They were the gnarled backbone of euphemistic rhetoric in the political arena. 

But now, the "mask" is off. And to be honest, the "winners" of our upcoming elections--presidential and otherwise--hardly matter, because exposing this dark side of ourselves so blatantly and shamelessly makes losers of every single one of us. We are all poorer for the existence of so much fear, hatred, and open discrimination, whether hidden or not.

How have we not come further? How have we failed to follow in the words of our faiths?  How have we so atrociously failed at fulfilling the promise of those original patriots who took the first much scarier steps toward equality and freedom? How have we lived with justifying harm to others in the names of these brilliant ideals of faith, and forward thinking? And what will become of us?