Let’s just cut through the chaff and the chatter and the bull. It’s scary to be a woman. It’s not any scarier than being anything else, but it’s still scary as hell. When you’re a woman, you’re told from the start that you are born with something that will make other people want to harm you or chase you or put you in their car or trap you in a room or put their bodies inside you when you don’t want them to. You’re told that this thing you are, whatever this is you have, means you have to be super careful. You can’t bring the wrong kind of attention to yourself so you can’t be too loud, too friendly, too smart, too dumb, too happy, too sad, too pretty, too ugly, too fat, too hot, too … anything. The desire to act against you begins outside of you but somehow you’re in charge of deflecting it.
Being a woman is scary because you begin as a girl who knows that she’s prey.
…
Today in the lunchroom, a coworker said that they’d found Nailah Franklin’s body in the forest preserve in Calumet. A lump formed in my throat and my coworker’s eyes teared up. The lunchroom was silent while we thought about that beautiful woman’s last moments being at the hands of some fucking violent nutbag. Someone hunted her down and then killed her.
It’s a puzzle why this case should affect me when other missing woman cases haven’t quite. Maybe because it’s a Chicago woman; maybe because she’s black like me. Or was it that, by the black community’s standard of middle class success, she did everything right and I identified with her? Or that her family and friends seemed tight and loving and worried; or that Nailah looked like I could have worked with her or been to school with her or she could have been a friend. Whatever the reason, I felt this sad discovery keener than most.
I felt it because the discovery of this nude female’s body became an emblem of all the other nude female bodies found dumped in dense forest preserves across this country. Right now I’m feeling resigned sort of anger. Resigned because violence against women is a stamp of our DNA; it’s a sad recognition that, across all cultures, ideologies or nationalities, even if men stop making war against one another, they’ll always find time to kill or rape a woman.
Anger because my lizard brain wants to make some guy pay.
How can I explain what it’s like to live with the threat of violence against you?
· It’s like thinking, when you’ve had a particularly bad, nasty, bitter fight with your lover, you should be careful for the next few days just in case he shows up at your office and tries to throw gasoline on you and set you on fire.
· It’s like going on a date and deliberately writing down the guy’s name, phone number, address (which you’ve Googled) and his email address for your friends, just in case you disappear for a few days.
· It’s like being in the middle of making out and randomly thinking, if he tries anything I’ll smash his larynx. And then wondering if you really could.
· It’s like a reflex: when you get home, you turn completely around before opening your building’s door just to make sure a guy isn’t going to bash your head in and rape you in your foyer because all you can do is remember the Chicago woman who was raped and beaten 9 years ago exactly the same way, coming home from work in the middle of the afternoon in Wrigleyville.
· It’s like looking at my 7 year old niece and imagining everything that everyone is going to try and put on her narrow, innocent shoulders; how boys who think she’s pretty might get mad if she rejects them, how older boys and men might just look at her in ways that a grown man shouldn’t be looking at a girl and want to 'break her in', how she’ll be 'fresh meat' on a college campus, and wondering what the hell you can do, short of turning her into a ninja, that can prevent any of that from happening.
· It’s like looking at almost every guy and, though unfairly, expecting someone whose first recourse upon rejection will be to fuck. you. up.
It’s like turning into a soldier stationed in a hostile desert town seeing insurgents everywhere and feeling fucking pissed off because all you want is to fucking go home and not feel so beseiged like this anymore.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
ManSanta
in offices across the country, around holiday time, a ritual grinds into motion - that of pulling names from a hat and buying gifts that don't exceed $20 for people you sit with for 8 hours a day. Secret Santa.
well, today i started a new office tradition: ManSanta. with the idea that it's easier to pick a guy for someone else than for ourselves, we picked names out of a hat and vowed that we would, by christmas, find a guy for our person to have a holiday cocktail with.
the rules?
take it seriously, be thoughtful and really try to find a guy for the person you picked out of a hat.
let the ManSanta games begin.
try it in your office and let me know how it goes.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
father, may i?
it's no secret that i have an 'issue' with authority: dads, pastors, cops, bosses, presidents, boyfriends, bus drivers. it's all one thing: Authority. seeing the world divided into sheep and masters, i guess i'd rather not be a willing sheep.
some people think differently. some people think being a sheep is really great.
amanda marcotte has a link to a post by some waay fundamentalist sisters about the dangers of sending your christian daughters to college. her fisking is sharp and funny.
then i read from those two sisters about maturity and the role of an adult daughter still living with her parents and i had to fight down bile:
amanda marcotte has a link to a post by some waay fundamentalist sisters about the dangers of sending your christian daughters to college. her fisking is sharp and funny.
then i read from those two sisters about maturity and the role of an adult daughter still living with her parents and i had to fight down bile:
The sign of maturity isn’t that we simply “obey” our parents’ commands, but that we understand deeply what our parents’ hearts and goals are, and can anticipate and even exceed what they expect of us. A mature, adult daughter who deserves her parents’ trust most certainly isn’t the one who says, “I’m not a child anymore, Dad! I’m an adult! I’m old enough to decide for myself when to get up, and it’s not something you have authority over anymore!” (Literally, “I’m mature enough to demand my own way, and throw a tantrum and threaten to run away if I don’t get it!”) But she also isn’t the one who says, “Ok, ok, Dad, I’ll get up when you tell me to.” The mature daughter is the one that takes the initiative and says, “Dad, what time would you like me to get up? I know that spending time with your family before you leave for work is important to you, and I love that about you… so how can I help make it happen?” This is one thing that makes us different from mindless automatons with no wills of our own (which some girls seem mortally afraid of becoming.)
why does this make me spew?
because this is exactly what makes a great executive assistant (which i was for a while before i came to my senses and got the hell out.) to be the ideal assistant you have to completely evacuate your own identity; your ways, needs, sensibilities and wants are completely replaced by the routines, habits, desires and enmities of your Executive. the line separating the two of you, if the relationship works out to the Executive's advantage, begins to disappear.
your day begins by asking yourself, 'what will upset Executive this morning and what can i do to make sure that it doesn't? what will make Executive happy and what can i do to facilitate more of that happiness? who is Executive going to fire today and how can i make sure that person isn't me?'
your day is filled with wondering what Executive will want for lunch, if Executive knows how to get to the airport, if Executive can find his/her way to baggage claim without step by step directions and whether Executive will have to stand in line longer than necessary once Executive gets to the hotel. you even ponder the possibility of traveling with Executive just to make sure everything gets done the way Executive wants it.
you will be consumed with wondering if Executive noticed how long your lunch break was, if Executive will buy you a birthday gift and if Executive will notice that you supported the whole team and made that presentation happen at 10 pm while the rest of the team went home and Executive went home to Executive's spouse. the idea of taking a day off scares you; what will happen to Executive if you're home or on vacation? how will Executive accomplish anything?
because this is exactly what makes a great executive assistant (which i was for a while before i came to my senses and got the hell out.) to be the ideal assistant you have to completely evacuate your own identity; your ways, needs, sensibilities and wants are completely replaced by the routines, habits, desires and enmities of your Executive. the line separating the two of you, if the relationship works out to the Executive's advantage, begins to disappear.
your day begins by asking yourself, 'what will upset Executive this morning and what can i do to make sure that it doesn't? what will make Executive happy and what can i do to facilitate more of that happiness? who is Executive going to fire today and how can i make sure that person isn't me?'
your day is filled with wondering what Executive will want for lunch, if Executive knows how to get to the airport, if Executive can find his/her way to baggage claim without step by step directions and whether Executive will have to stand in line longer than necessary once Executive gets to the hotel. you even ponder the possibility of traveling with Executive just to make sure everything gets done the way Executive wants it.
you will be consumed with wondering if Executive noticed how long your lunch break was, if Executive will buy you a birthday gift and if Executive will notice that you supported the whole team and made that presentation happen at 10 pm while the rest of the team went home and Executive went home to Executive's spouse. the idea of taking a day off scares you; what will happen to Executive if you're home or on vacation? how will Executive accomplish anything?
you will know details of the Executive's life only a partner or family member would know and you would order the world of the Executive to cater to those details: favorite foods, allergies, likes/dislikes, anniversary dates, birthdays, number of children, second home location, social security number, credit cards, taxes, personal finances. as ideal Assistant it's your job to care for these things just like they're your own.
while the Executive is proud of the fact that 'his Susan' or 'his Ali' or 'her Cathy' runs the Executive's life for them, they are also unaware of the seething resentment and anger that will slowly build in their assistant until it's bribed away. at least, if Susan, Ali or Cathy had any sense of self-preservation, they'd be filled with resentment and anger. if they know no better they will acquiesce and sink into a gray little nothing who doesn't exist unless they have an Executive to serve.
those of us who quit being an assistant did so because we hated every single frakking minute of it; being subservient was foreign to our sense of identity and purpose. whenever we interviewed with other firms we were forced to say, honestly, 'i don't do deference very well.'
the sisters have an odd way of defining 'independence.' though they say that the virtuous daughter asks her Executive - uh, Father - what his wishes would be for her, the end result is that she obeys. the virtuous daughter's will is entirely subject to that of her patriarch. in history, we'd call that kind of social organization a fiefdom.
and that's what these two sisters are advocating: deference. service. servility. servant.
who would groom another human being to glory in that kind of personal abnegation?
and why would you say that it's what God wants?
while the Executive is proud of the fact that 'his Susan' or 'his Ali' or 'her Cathy' runs the Executive's life for them, they are also unaware of the seething resentment and anger that will slowly build in their assistant until it's bribed away. at least, if Susan, Ali or Cathy had any sense of self-preservation, they'd be filled with resentment and anger. if they know no better they will acquiesce and sink into a gray little nothing who doesn't exist unless they have an Executive to serve.
those of us who quit being an assistant did so because we hated every single frakking minute of it; being subservient was foreign to our sense of identity and purpose. whenever we interviewed with other firms we were forced to say, honestly, 'i don't do deference very well.'
the sisters have an odd way of defining 'independence.' though they say that the virtuous daughter asks her Executive - uh, Father - what his wishes would be for her, the end result is that she obeys. the virtuous daughter's will is entirely subject to that of her patriarch. in history, we'd call that kind of social organization a fiefdom.
and that's what these two sisters are advocating: deference. service. servility. servant.
who would groom another human being to glory in that kind of personal abnegation?
and why would you say that it's what God wants?
Friday, September 14, 2007
agatha has returned: again, i share too much
technically, my fibroid has never gone away. i just liked the idea of ignoring it while pretending my low hemoglobin levels made everything a-ok. i also liked taking these neat birth control pills that would only allow me to ovulate 4 times a year. i had visions of uninterrupted sexual discourse. silly goose.
doctor's office called and now my entire holiday season (aka, the sexiest season of the year) will be a nightmare of stitches, cramps, pain medication and, uh, limited naked social interaction.
mark it, people. november 13. extraction day.
doctor's office also determined that whatever weird, thick, gloopy, bright red viscous-y period i'm on now is dangerous to my health and must be stopped, RIGHT NOW, like an Al-Qaeda operative on the lam. so they're going to give me something that will make my entire reproductive system shut down completely.
i wouldn't be so icked out if i didn't suspect that the forthcoming 'menopausal side effects' are going to make me completely insane:
i'm basically going to transform into my dead, crazy mother, circa 1992, for the next two months. frakking fuck!
doctor's office called and now my entire holiday season (aka, the sexiest season of the year) will be a nightmare of stitches, cramps, pain medication and, uh, limited naked social interaction.
mark it, people. november 13. extraction day.
doctor's office also determined that whatever weird, thick, gloopy, bright red viscous-y period i'm on now is dangerous to my health and must be stopped, RIGHT NOW, like an Al-Qaeda operative on the lam. so they're going to give me something that will make my entire reproductive system shut down completely.
i wouldn't be so icked out if i didn't suspect that the forthcoming 'menopausal side effects' are going to make me completely insane:
hot flashes and night sweatsniiiiice.
fatigue
emotional changes such as mood swings or a change in sexual interest
sleep disturbances (insomnia)
drier skin and hair
increased growth of facial and body hair
aches and pains in the joints
headaches
palpitations (rapid, irregular heart beats)
generalised itching
vaginal changes – dryness, pain during intercourse, increased risk of infections
urinary symptoms – inability to control urination (incontinence), increased frequency of urinary infections
i'm basically going to transform into my dead, crazy mother, circa 1992, for the next two months. frakking fuck!
the west virginia attack: more commentary on the blogs
Black Woman Attacked, Sexually Assaulted, and Held Captive in West Virginia : Rachel’s Tavern
i'm going to keep an eye on this story because it is so very gross and heinous and i think it's a bizarre mark of something happening in our country.
i mentioned this story to a bunch of coworkers (and we're all progressive and feminist) and played up the whole Deliverance thing to make it a little more palatable for after-work drinks, but i think there is more to this than simple disgust with the South's Otherness.
i'll try to write more about this over the weekend, when i'm not at work.
i'm going to keep an eye on this story because it is so very gross and heinous and i think it's a bizarre mark of something happening in our country.
i mentioned this story to a bunch of coworkers (and we're all progressive and feminist) and played up the whole Deliverance thing to make it a little more palatable for after-work drinks, but i think there is more to this than simple disgust with the South's Otherness.
i'll try to write more about this over the weekend, when i'm not at work.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
is this man supposed to look like an oompa loompa?
yes, i've hit the proverbial 'work wall.'
am brain dead and must go home.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
bitch talks shame and i share too much
Bitch Ph.D. had a fascinating thread about shame last week.
what things are Other People telling us to be ashamed of?
folks wrote about their abortions, their class conflicts, their secret envies, their bad habits, secret dreams, their lack of ambition, their overweening ambition. it was like eavesdropping on confessions.
so here's mine, in all their tawdry, shallowness - (some) things i really feel/want yet am ashamed to feel/want on some level because i think that I Oughtn't.
i should be ashamed of...
1. wanting to be hot. like super, duper, jennifer lopez HOT. (what feminist wants to be hot? i do.)
2. not being nurturing enough toward...others. (okay, everyone.)
3. being totally indifferent toward the welfare of children - like, when people say 'think of the children' i really really don't give a shit. not in some hipster ironic way. i really don't give a shit about kids.
4. not wanting to get an affordable condo in the southside of chicago because i know i would hate every second of living down there (and not really wanting my broke down aunt to know where i live.)
5. having no debt but still not being able to pass a credit check for an apartment.
6. being hyper competitive at work and wanting to WIN all the time.
7. REALLY wanting to be hot. like, make men drop in their tracks hot. if i had a fairy godmother, i'd ask to make me hot.
8. having a cleaning lady i write instructions to in spanish.
9. obsessing over things like Real Simple, Domino, Blueprint and Lucky mags and trolling for cute clothes online. i should be ashamed i'm a capitalist piglet!
10. secretly thinking of ways to be a progressive terrorist. (really. my mind goes there. 'if it was my personal mission to rid the world of anti-choicers, racists and misogynists how would i do it? hmmm.' you think i'm kidding but i'm not.)
i should tell my life coach about this exercise.
what things are Other People telling us to be ashamed of?
folks wrote about their abortions, their class conflicts, their secret envies, their bad habits, secret dreams, their lack of ambition, their overweening ambition. it was like eavesdropping on confessions.
so here's mine, in all their tawdry, shallowness - (some) things i really feel/want yet am ashamed to feel/want on some level because i think that I Oughtn't.
i should be ashamed of...
1. wanting to be hot. like super, duper, jennifer lopez HOT. (what feminist wants to be hot? i do.)
2. not being nurturing enough toward...others. (okay, everyone.)
3. being totally indifferent toward the welfare of children - like, when people say 'think of the children' i really really don't give a shit. not in some hipster ironic way. i really don't give a shit about kids.
4. not wanting to get an affordable condo in the southside of chicago because i know i would hate every second of living down there (and not really wanting my broke down aunt to know where i live.)
5. having no debt but still not being able to pass a credit check for an apartment.
6. being hyper competitive at work and wanting to WIN all the time.
7. REALLY wanting to be hot. like, make men drop in their tracks hot. if i had a fairy godmother, i'd ask to make me hot.
8. having a cleaning lady i write instructions to in spanish.
9. obsessing over things like Real Simple, Domino, Blueprint and Lucky mags and trolling for cute clothes online. i should be ashamed i'm a capitalist piglet!
10. secretly thinking of ways to be a progressive terrorist. (really. my mind goes there. 'if it was my personal mission to rid the world of anti-choicers, racists and misogynists how would i do it? hmmm.' you think i'm kidding but i'm not.)
i should tell my life coach about this exercise.
what the FRAK is this??
Woman tortured for at least a week, officials say - CNN.com
stereotypes about the south aside (did you see the photos of the people arrested?), what the hell - ??!!
between the Jena 6 thing and this craziness, i'd say the south is experiencing a serious timewarp.
Update: a little more on the story here. it seems the folks who held her prisoner had more than one brush with the law. serious banjo-picking craziness, here.
and shakesville has a rather ranty post about it over here and someone wants to know why 'hate crime' and not 'act of terrorism'? (there's also a fleshed out baltimore article that you can find on shakesville, too.)
alas, a blog has a post on it here, too.
stereotypes about the south aside (did you see the photos of the people arrested?), what the hell - ??!!
between the Jena 6 thing and this craziness, i'd say the south is experiencing a serious timewarp.
Update: a little more on the story here. it seems the folks who held her prisoner had more than one brush with the law. serious banjo-picking craziness, here.
and shakesville has a rather ranty post about it over here and someone wants to know why 'hate crime' and not 'act of terrorism'? (there's also a fleshed out baltimore article that you can find on shakesville, too.)
alas, a blog has a post on it here, too.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
so the coaching thing is in its third month. our last session was less than emotionally satisfying. in fact, if i had to put a word on it 'excruciating' would be exactly right.
revisiting the past is not good for me; not because there's Trauma, but because it's just...unproductive. who cares that i was a self-conscious dork in high school who hit the books hard rather than cultivate a spirit of openness and popularity? who cares that my emotional development seems to have hit the skids at about the same time that U2 played a concert on the roof of a building downtown?
(sidenote: my roommate and i have been avoiding more packing by watching season one of Dexter. more than once, she has whispered, 'if you turn out to be a serial killer, i will be really pissed off.' she has also taken to calling me Empty Vessel.
i'm not empty, i just react to things at a much lower frequency than other people...)
but my coach thinks it's something, so my homework assignment is to write a letter to my high school self. gack. just ... gack.
about not looking back to high school - there's nothing wrong with avoiding that period of one's life. unless you were at the top of the food chain, high school was fraught with fraughtness. every day was a social test: working in groups, lunch socializing, dances, school spirit days, presentations, performances. the only thing i liked doing was hanging out with my few friends, hanging out in the journalism room and listening to Monsy tell us about being a dyke in east la. (ok, and i liked to secretly compete with josh g. boys were either unrequited crushes or academic competition. they still are.) i liked going to class and being the dark horse that eventually skewed the curve; i liked being alone.
hm. no, i guess it's more accurate to say i accepted being alone.
anyway, my point is that i RESENT having to revisit a version of myself i've deliberately erased.
revisiting the past is not good for me; not because there's Trauma, but because it's just...unproductive. who cares that i was a self-conscious dork in high school who hit the books hard rather than cultivate a spirit of openness and popularity? who cares that my emotional development seems to have hit the skids at about the same time that U2 played a concert on the roof of a building downtown?
(sidenote: my roommate and i have been avoiding more packing by watching season one of Dexter. more than once, she has whispered, 'if you turn out to be a serial killer, i will be really pissed off.' she has also taken to calling me Empty Vessel.
i'm not empty, i just react to things at a much lower frequency than other people...)
but my coach thinks it's something, so my homework assignment is to write a letter to my high school self. gack. just ... gack.
about not looking back to high school - there's nothing wrong with avoiding that period of one's life. unless you were at the top of the food chain, high school was fraught with fraughtness. every day was a social test: working in groups, lunch socializing, dances, school spirit days, presentations, performances. the only thing i liked doing was hanging out with my few friends, hanging out in the journalism room and listening to Monsy tell us about being a dyke in east la. (ok, and i liked to secretly compete with josh g. boys were either unrequited crushes or academic competition. they still are.) i liked going to class and being the dark horse that eventually skewed the curve; i liked being alone.
hm. no, i guess it's more accurate to say i accepted being alone.
anyway, my point is that i RESENT having to revisit a version of myself i've deliberately erased.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
aurora becoming new battlefield for reproductive health access
Groups join growing protest of Aurora Planned Parenthood clinic -- chicagotribune.com
400 folks who like fetuses more than they like women to maybe 36 pro-choicers.
what's wrong with this picture?
why are there always more of them than there are of us?
is it because we don't have as much leisure time to cross state and county lines to hold a picket sign?
is it because we all have day jobs?
frak.
throw Planned Parenthood some support.
they need all the help they can get.
400 folks who like fetuses more than they like women to maybe 36 pro-choicers.
what's wrong with this picture?
why are there always more of them than there are of us?
is it because we don't have as much leisure time to cross state and county lines to hold a picket sign?
is it because we all have day jobs?
frak.
throw Planned Parenthood some support.
they need all the help they can get.
the bitch has spoken: how the hell do people do this??
Bitch Ph.D.
the lovely Bitch verbalizes my every fear. the frak am i going to pull my Generation X bullshit together when everything is SO very out of my reach?
my only hope is for a flaming meteorite to land on my father and pray that he hasn't signed everything over to his church ministry.
but thank you to Bitch for letting me know that i'm not the only one.
(oh, and the housing market on the west coast is outrageous. when my sister and bro in law decided to move from their duplex condo into a house, they spent over $650k for a tiny, post-war bungalow in mar vista, right under the flight path of the santa monica airport. it's a cute little house but my kitchen, my chicago apartment kitchen, is 3 times the size of theirs; they have two bedrooms and two kids; and for what they paid, they could have bought a penthouse condo in the middle of the city with enough left over to send one kid to peyton prep. or at least a very cute prairie style bungalow in oak park.)
but, really, how do people do this?
there's a couple in my office and they've been mooning about this fabulous condo they've seen. they're both in their early 20s and both of them are probably going to ask their parents for the downpayment. lucky them and their very liquid parents.
(yeah, i'm a little bitter.)
frak, man. the time to ask my parents for a downpayment loan was when dad was still working for the lapd and about to get a big promotion - back when i was in junior high, dude.
the lovely Bitch verbalizes my every fear. the frak am i going to pull my Generation X bullshit together when everything is SO very out of my reach?
my only hope is for a flaming meteorite to land on my father and pray that he hasn't signed everything over to his church ministry.
but thank you to Bitch for letting me know that i'm not the only one.
(oh, and the housing market on the west coast is outrageous. when my sister and bro in law decided to move from their duplex condo into a house, they spent over $650k for a tiny, post-war bungalow in mar vista, right under the flight path of the santa monica airport. it's a cute little house but my kitchen, my chicago apartment kitchen, is 3 times the size of theirs; they have two bedrooms and two kids; and for what they paid, they could have bought a penthouse condo in the middle of the city with enough left over to send one kid to peyton prep. or at least a very cute prairie style bungalow in oak park.)
but, really, how do people do this?
there's a couple in my office and they've been mooning about this fabulous condo they've seen. they're both in their early 20s and both of them are probably going to ask their parents for the downpayment. lucky them and their very liquid parents.
(yeah, i'm a little bitter.)
frak, man. the time to ask my parents for a downpayment loan was when dad was still working for the lapd and about to get a big promotion - back when i was in junior high, dude.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
work vent
a certain foundation for women in town has decided to take on economic empowerment...after other direct service (or more knowledgeable) organizations have been pretty much saying the same thing for years now.
(who knows this landscape better?: heartland alliance, united way, my organization, the eleanor foundation who at least did original research to earn their street cred, the urban league, women employed, the wbdc...what are these organizations? chopped liver??)
ok, it's a little bit of a peeve. but i can't help it!
last year they launched a $2 million dollar PR campaign about what it will take to stop violence against women (a project with doubtful impact since it just seemed to be about hosting kickass events but whatever) but now they're jumping on the economic empowerment issue - like they're the ones who discovered the issue! it so makes me mad.
this is what burns me up about them. they clearly have great media outreach (and i would be lying if i wasn't envious of that for the sake of my own organization) but they also come off like plantation mistresses. (yeah, i said it.)
they want to be known as THE advocate for women's issues - all of them. but they sort of just stand on the shoulders of the small, store-front organizations in communities of need (usually staffed by overworked and underpaid women of color) that actually do the WORK. they want the credit for being an advocate for women's issues but all they do, really, is hand out money and get great PR. let's not confuse that with getting the work done.
they're like that mad tv sketch about the 'nice white lady'. (thanks, feministing!)
but what's even worse about this foundation for women is they're the advocacy version of a big cock block; the attention that should be going to the organizations who do the work gets sucked up by the foundation that has nothing to do with the work other than the fact they want to co-opt it. as a result, smaller and needier women's organization have to fight for the crumbs the foundation deigns to brush off the table.
clearly, i'm not a fan. i don't care how many appearances a certain foundation makes on Chicago Tonight.
(cough)
(who knows this landscape better?: heartland alliance, united way, my organization, the eleanor foundation who at least did original research to earn their street cred, the urban league, women employed, the wbdc...what are these organizations? chopped liver??)
ok, it's a little bit of a peeve. but i can't help it!
last year they launched a $2 million dollar PR campaign about what it will take to stop violence against women (a project with doubtful impact since it just seemed to be about hosting kickass events but whatever) but now they're jumping on the economic empowerment issue - like they're the ones who discovered the issue! it so makes me mad.
this is what burns me up about them. they clearly have great media outreach (and i would be lying if i wasn't envious of that for the sake of my own organization) but they also come off like plantation mistresses. (yeah, i said it.)
they want to be known as THE advocate for women's issues - all of them. but they sort of just stand on the shoulders of the small, store-front organizations in communities of need (usually staffed by overworked and underpaid women of color) that actually do the WORK. they want the credit for being an advocate for women's issues but all they do, really, is hand out money and get great PR. let's not confuse that with getting the work done.
they're like that mad tv sketch about the 'nice white lady'. (thanks, feministing!)
but what's even worse about this foundation for women is they're the advocacy version of a big cock block; the attention that should be going to the organizations who do the work gets sucked up by the foundation that has nothing to do with the work other than the fact they want to co-opt it. as a result, smaller and needier women's organization have to fight for the crumbs the foundation deigns to brush off the table.
clearly, i'm not a fan. i don't care how many appearances a certain foundation makes on Chicago Tonight.
(cough)
how many times can one man say 'i am not gay?'
FOXNews.com - Transcript: Sen. Larry Craig - Politics Republican Party Democratic Party Political Spectrum
in other news, this is the transcript of sen. larry craig's press conference yesterday that had me and Roomie laughing our asses off while we were driving home yesterday listening to NPR.
i love his second-to-last-sentence.
'Let me be clear: I am not gay. I never have been gay.
Still, without a shred of truth or evidence to the contrary, the Statesman has engaged in this witch hunt.
In pleading guilty, I overreacted in Minneapolis because of the stress the Idaho Statesman investigation and the rumors it has fueled all around Idaho. Again, that overreaction was a mistake and I apologize for my judgment.
Furthermore, I should not have kept this arrest to myself, and I should have told my family and my friends about it.
I wasn't eager to share this failure, but I should have anyway, because I am not gay.
I love my wife, my family. I care about friends and staff and Idaho.'
cue uproarious laughter.
in other news, this is the transcript of sen. larry craig's press conference yesterday that had me and Roomie laughing our asses off while we were driving home yesterday listening to NPR.
i love his second-to-last-sentence.
'Let me be clear: I am not gay. I never have been gay.
Still, without a shred of truth or evidence to the contrary, the Statesman has engaged in this witch hunt.
In pleading guilty, I overreacted in Minneapolis because of the stress the Idaho Statesman investigation and the rumors it has fueled all around Idaho. Again, that overreaction was a mistake and I apologize for my judgment.
Furthermore, I should not have kept this arrest to myself, and I should have told my family and my friends about it.
I wasn't eager to share this failure, but I should have anyway, because I am not gay.
I love my wife, my family. I care about friends and staff and Idaho.'
cue uproarious laughter.
holy discipline!
edmontonsun.com - World - Hubby charged in minister's beating
so. bishop thomas w. weeks (the 3rd) put the beat down on his wife, gospel singer/televangelist, juanita bynum in a hotel parking lot. he chokes her, 'stomps' on her, flees the scene, she ends up in the hospital, he's arrested and released on $40,000 bail, and then he goes to church.
his supporters, instead of fleeing a so-called spiritual leader who has poor impulse control, have instead chosen to circle their wagons and say totally sheeplistic, insane things like:
"There are three sides to every story. Nobody has the right to judge anybody. God is in the midst of that and will work it out."
"We all make mistakes. He deserves another opportunity."
"Let's love and pray they stay together! It may be a blessing to us all!"
and then there's this love letter from a commenter on an aol board:
"He might have a short fuse. He was obviously tryna walk away from the situation and SHE followed him. A man can only take so much from a nagging ass wife."
ah, yes. the 'nagging ass wife.'
in my community she's the mouthy, back-talking, sassy, 'don't know her place' emasculating jezebel that all men must beware.
according to church folk, here's the lesson for all us single church gals out there:
if our man has a 'short fuse,' it's no one's fault but our own nagging ass self for making him stomp us so hard in the face a parking lot attendant has to pull him off us.
i hate ignorance. i really really really do. and ignorance crossed with self-hatred and misogyny? even worse.
it's making me flashback to my old church where attitudes like this grew like rotten fruit on a tree.
...
more than slightly related to holy folks smacking around women, this morning i came across a piece discussing Christian Domestic Discipline!
it made me a little mad. i really can't take the church's fascination with disciplining women. the official CDD site is apparently not open to the public anymore thanks to all the attention it's been getting lately; but there are plenty of other blogs talking about, including feministing.
i love how the CDD folks make a point of saying this activity is consensual but i think there is a huge difference between consent and acquiescence. one implies enthusiastic participation, the other implies more than a hint of coercion.
let's repeat that: consent = enthusiastic participation
it's a useful distinction that could shed light on all sorts of situations, don't you think?
so. bishop thomas w. weeks (the 3rd) put the beat down on his wife, gospel singer/televangelist, juanita bynum in a hotel parking lot. he chokes her, 'stomps' on her, flees the scene, she ends up in the hospital, he's arrested and released on $40,000 bail, and then he goes to church.
his supporters, instead of fleeing a so-called spiritual leader who has poor impulse control, have instead chosen to circle their wagons and say totally sheeplistic, insane things like:
"There are three sides to every story. Nobody has the right to judge anybody. God is in the midst of that and will work it out."
"We all make mistakes. He deserves another opportunity."
"Let's love and pray they stay together! It may be a blessing to us all!"
and then there's this love letter from a commenter on an aol board:
"He might have a short fuse. He was obviously tryna walk away from the situation and SHE followed him. A man can only take so much from a nagging ass wife."
ah, yes. the 'nagging ass wife.'
in my community she's the mouthy, back-talking, sassy, 'don't know her place' emasculating jezebel that all men must beware.
according to church folk, here's the lesson for all us single church gals out there:
if our man has a 'short fuse,' it's no one's fault but our own nagging ass self for making him stomp us so hard in the face a parking lot attendant has to pull him off us.
i hate ignorance. i really really really do. and ignorance crossed with self-hatred and misogyny? even worse.
it's making me flashback to my old church where attitudes like this grew like rotten fruit on a tree.
...
more than slightly related to holy folks smacking around women, this morning i came across a piece discussing Christian Domestic Discipline!
it made me a little mad. i really can't take the church's fascination with disciplining women. the official CDD site is apparently not open to the public anymore thanks to all the attention it's been getting lately; but there are plenty of other blogs talking about, including feministing.
i love how the CDD folks make a point of saying this activity is consensual but i think there is a huge difference between consent and acquiescence. one implies enthusiastic participation, the other implies more than a hint of coercion.
let's repeat that: consent = enthusiastic participation
it's a useful distinction that could shed light on all sorts of situations, don't you think?
Monday, August 27, 2007
i am a sucker
shh. i have a confession: i am obsessed with the Weddings & Celebrations - New York Times section.
every day, i check on it, scrolling down through the newly-nuptialed couples (concentrating on the couples of color or interracial couples, of course) and after i cathect a little, i put it away to research things like domestic assault. sometimes the 'how they met' stories make me laugh (like the one about the couple who met during yoga and babbled on about their 'third eye' connection); sometimes, they make me tear up (like this one about the ex-con and the ex-drug addict who found each other and finally got married in their middle life.)
this one made me mist up a little. i mean, it's so freaking perfect, you know?
i would attribute all this misting and choking to last week's coaching residue, but i've been reading this column longer than i've been in coaching/therapy/whatever. so that doesn't work.
it's a little incongruous; the girl who's too emotionally blocked to fall in love or have an intimate relationship moons over stories of true love well met.
or maybe it's not so incongruous.
[a few minutes later...
ok, i just read this one and now i cannot finish my letter to the editor about domestic abuse in professional sports. i actually slipped into a brief fugue state wherein i imagined i was getting married to...well, married! bizarre! weird! incongruous!
it must be my new birth control doing this to me. all those freaking hormones.]
every day, i check on it, scrolling down through the newly-nuptialed couples (concentrating on the couples of color or interracial couples, of course) and after i cathect a little, i put it away to research things like domestic assault. sometimes the 'how they met' stories make me laugh (like the one about the couple who met during yoga and babbled on about their 'third eye' connection); sometimes, they make me tear up (like this one about the ex-con and the ex-drug addict who found each other and finally got married in their middle life.)
this one made me mist up a little. i mean, it's so freaking perfect, you know?
i would attribute all this misting and choking to last week's coaching residue, but i've been reading this column longer than i've been in coaching/therapy/whatever. so that doesn't work.
it's a little incongruous; the girl who's too emotionally blocked to fall in love or have an intimate relationship moons over stories of true love well met.
or maybe it's not so incongruous.
[a few minutes later...
ok, i just read this one and now i cannot finish my letter to the editor about domestic abuse in professional sports. i actually slipped into a brief fugue state wherein i imagined i was getting married to...well, married! bizarre! weird! incongruous!
it must be my new birth control doing this to me. all those freaking hormones.]
Sunday, August 26, 2007
on the move
i think i wrenched something.
my back is all stiff from bending at awkward angles and lifting boxes.
i stink.
i'm covered in dust and grime.
i really stink.
my hair looks like i've been pulled through the underbrush.
the apartment is totally jacked up.
i got a text message from a boy wanting to get together later today/tonight.
there's no way in hell that's going to happen.
my back is all stiff from bending at awkward angles and lifting boxes.
i stink.
i'm covered in dust and grime.
i really stink.
my hair looks like i've been pulled through the underbrush.
the apartment is totally jacked up.
i got a text message from a boy wanting to get together later today/tonight.
there's no way in hell that's going to happen.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
the road to intimacy
eesh. coaching/therapy (whatever) was really tough today. came close to tears more than once and would RATHER not be forced to think about the years between 1984-1989. there's a REASON i don't talk about it, lady! but now that's she's honed in on my weak spot, guess what we'll be talking about for a while?
aagh.
i know our past plays a part in how we become who we are but who knew that my past was quite so ... present. complete blowage.
aagh.
i know our past plays a part in how we become who we are but who knew that my past was quite so ... present. complete blowage.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
in case anyone was wondering, the Summer of 3 is over. it was a nice experiment and forced me to actually give a shit about being a bit more social; i never attained the holy trinity of boy-wrangling but i Made an Effort.
S-, a player in the Summer of 3, was a summer-long demonstration of diminishing returns; not only were his ED issues never resolved, after a while even the fantastic foreplay became...perfunctory. lest you fill your imaginations with visions of a rambunctious ding and her anonymous booty-call, imagine, instead, two half-clothed people talking about their issues. we'd repose on my bed with some XRT on my stereo, we'd sip water and chat for 90 minutes about why relationships failed us. (the irony was not lost on us. we're not dumb.) we'd romp a little more (he was a very skilled kisser) then go back to talking. at the end, i'd walk him to the door, we'd sort of shrug and say 'see ya!' and he'd walk downstairs, my door already closing behind him.
as for the other points of the triangle...well, the less said the better.
the summer is almost over and the Autumn of 1 approaches.
meh.
S-, a player in the Summer of 3, was a summer-long demonstration of diminishing returns; not only were his ED issues never resolved, after a while even the fantastic foreplay became...perfunctory. lest you fill your imaginations with visions of a rambunctious ding and her anonymous booty-call, imagine, instead, two half-clothed people talking about their issues. we'd repose on my bed with some XRT on my stereo, we'd sip water and chat for 90 minutes about why relationships failed us. (the irony was not lost on us. we're not dumb.) we'd romp a little more (he was a very skilled kisser) then go back to talking. at the end, i'd walk him to the door, we'd sort of shrug and say 'see ya!' and he'd walk downstairs, my door already closing behind him.
as for the other points of the triangle...well, the less said the better.
the summer is almost over and the Autumn of 1 approaches.
meh.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
am currently lost in the weeds trying to compose a sternly worded, yet non-inflammatory, letter to a network about an unfortunate choice of words in one of their shows.
sigh.
all i want to do is send them a postcard that says, "we think you suck!"
...
am also preparing to go home and begin packing.
yesterday, i came home to find that Roomie had practically built a fort of boxes and had filled the apartment with so much Oust (to cover the stress smoking) that i could taste it. i could barely see Roomie's head over the top of the fort.
'hey, lady,' i said. 'building a fort?'
the boxes were so high i just heard a mumble.
'huh?'
then came the pitiful reply from Roomie:
'mumble mumble ... tired.'
it had begun, people. the slow, exhausting process of extricating two people from one domicile to move into another. (don't even get me started on how long i've taken to choose my paint colors for my bedroom and bathroom.)
sigh.
all i want to do is send them a postcard that says, "we think you suck!"
...
am also preparing to go home and begin packing.
yesterday, i came home to find that Roomie had practically built a fort of boxes and had filled the apartment with so much Oust (to cover the stress smoking) that i could taste it. i could barely see Roomie's head over the top of the fort.
'hey, lady,' i said. 'building a fort?'
the boxes were so high i just heard a mumble.
'huh?'
then came the pitiful reply from Roomie:
'mumble mumble ... tired.'
it had begun, people. the slow, exhausting process of extricating two people from one domicile to move into another. (don't even get me started on how long i've taken to choose my paint colors for my bedroom and bathroom.)
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