Clearly, my summer posting has been light.
Not that there hasn't been stuff to talk about (say, oh, the Shirley Sherrod 'accidental' firing) but I've been swamped. M-, work, life, finances, and then all of the summer lazing around - I've had other things on my plate.
But here's a list of things I wish I could write about if I had the time:
More about this 'rip off the mask' stage of the relationship
Being the object of a 'girl crush'
The quest for my professional sweet spot
More on my dissatisfaction with the human services business model (would I recommend anyone go into non profit work at this time, in Illinois? Hell, no.)
Why losing weight during the hottest summer on record is not happening
So until my life slows down or I can carve some time away from sitting in front of an oscillating fan, drinking sangria, Screed will be a little thin this summer. If you want to see what's going on with me and M-, follow me on Twitter @DeliaC. If you want your daily dose of political/cultural mini-screeds, Twitter me @DeliaChristina.
Hope your summers are awesome.
Showing posts with label authorial intent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label authorial intent. Show all posts
Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday, April 02, 2010
This Whisper of a Wince
First, the links:
Jill Scott says something.
And Ta-Nehisi Coates says this.
Then Racialicious said some other things.
And then Coates had a PS.
And then we wrap up the week with Kevin Powell writing all us black folk a letter.
And now, the stories (which aren't prescriptive, merely illustrative):
When my friend Prof. L- sent me the Coates link I wrote him back. 'When ppl open their mouths and tell me how they 'feel' when they see another person's relationship choice I want to tell them to keep their personal issues to themselves. If they aren't about to say 'I hope they're happy,' then folks need to STFU.'
And Prof. L- replied,'Is there much of a distance from discomfort to disapproval?'
...
Here's another story:
When I was in therapy, my therapist (a WOC) started to dig deeper into my family background when our sessions began to concentrate on intimacy and relationships and why I felt I was such crap at them. She wanted to know about my relationship to my father; what it was like to grow up in my old Baptist church; how I felt growing up in such a patriarchal and religious environment; what I really needed in a relationship.
My relationship to my father: I love the man, and I'm his 'duffle bag' (don't ask) but he was/is also the only man to make me ramp up to rage in under 10 minutes when the subject is women, men, politics or women in the bible/church.
What it was like growing up in my old Baptist church: it was like being a visitor from the future and you landed in 1898. BC.
How I felt growing up in such an environment: I was angry at all the bloviating old black dudes who were traditional, controlling, bullying, manipulative, insecure, and completely transparent with their greed and ambition. I hated that I had to compete with them for my father's attention. Because I was better than they were, I had contempt for them.
What I needed most in a relationship: Safety; recognition; personal integrity; comfort; to be taken care of; trust; mutual, unconditional support. Acceptance.
Dr. C- would ask, 'And you can't find this in black men?'
I'd say, 'I probably could, but I don't give them the chance to show me. I am so angry, I can't see straight. All I can think of is those men in that church or I'm anticipating how they are going to turn into those types of men.'
Dr. C- would ask, 'Those men in the church. What was your primary method of dealing with them?'
I'd say, 'Competition. I had to beat them. I had to be smarter than they were, than their children were. I had to be a better church person than they were. Understand the bible better than they were. Even if they didn't let me preach, I had to be better at preaching.'
'Why?'
'So my dad would tell me 'good job,' or something. They didn't think a woman could be a leader in anything and I had to show them I was better than they were.'
Dr. C- (who was married to a very nice black man) would say, 'What do you think about trying to date a black man?'
I'd say, 'Well....ok. If you think that will help.'
And she'd say, 'It always helps to challenge our fears.'
And I tried. But every conversation I'd have with a black man would either remind me of a tired R&B song or fill me with such panic attack anxiety I took a break and fell back into a liaison with B-, which was even more unsatisfying because it was finally clear to me that he was utterly incapble of giving me the things I needed most.
But at least he didn't remind me of that old Baptist church.
Then, when I was at the point of letting my Match.com account expire, I met M-. A white guy. Who didn't graduate college. Who worked blue collar most of his life. Who wouldn't know Foucault if Michel bit him on his ass. Who, when he drove me home on our first date, said he wanted to make me a mixed CD and cancel his Match account the next day. And I never spoke to, or saw, B- again. Because of a white guy. The Other.
This month marks our 1-year anniversary. It is the most emotionally satisfying relationship I've had since grad school.
...
A third, and final, story (which long-time readers may have already heard):
When it was time for me to go off to grad school, my cracker barrel, deeply southern godfather pulled me aside after evening church services. I was leaving for Michigan in a couple of days and I was excited. Scared, too, but excited. In my imagination, Ann Arbor looked like Boston. (Yes, I was completely inaccurate but the main point was it was 2000 miles away from my provincial church.)
It was clear my godfather was trying to do the avuncular thing and this was the sterling piece of advice that he gave me:
'Don't jump the fence.'
What kind of backwoods, country folk-ism was this? I was blank-faced for a few seconds until his fierce gaze and the eventual, firing synapses in my brain made me stiffen. Don't jump the fence. Don't leave your side of the social divide. Don't get involved with a white guy. Don't sleep with a white guy. Don't have sex with a white guy. Don't betray your people. I wanted to slap his southern face.
'My father 'jumped the fence,' James.'
'Well, now. That's a little different. You just be careful. Don't jump the fence. Stay where you belong.'
I stomped away and seethed for hours. That was the last time I spoke to him.
Just this past year, my father told me that old James had died and it was revealed that he had had an affair with a married woman in the church for years. My old anger at his goatish hypocrisy rushed back at me and all I could do was sputter over the phone about that 'fucking old man.'
...
The 'heart wants what the heart wants' and it's usually because of something pushed so way down deep, you can't even recognize it. So I get Scott's wince. I do. (I'm a student of African American history and literature; I've read the same history books and wondered why everyone gets play but a black girl.)
But I've got a wince of my own and the whisper of it makes me almost ashamed; I almost want to hand in my own Black Card of Racial Solidarity because of it. Almost. This is not to say that my triggers are the fault of others. It's not all black men's fault that I have this whisper of a wince. But I have it. It has caused me to close one type of door between me and black men. Other doors (filial, platonic or professional ones) remain open; just not intimate ones. In this regard, the man who has given me what I need is a white man.
Not all white men. Not every white man. A white man.
When we are together, the looks or stares (or whether someone may or may not have a wince) people send us don't register with me. He is more aware of it than I am. And he is now more aware of the complex ways that our being together works as a kind of social shorthand in different parts of the city. (He'd never say it that way; he just tells me, 'My Mexican neighbors like me better now because of you.') But shorthand or not, when he looks at me he tells me that he has been waiting his whole life for me and I know that because of him, my heart is bigger.
So wince away, you Scotts of the world. You can't help it. It's not your fault.
Jill Scott says something.
And Ta-Nehisi Coates says this.
Then Racialicious said some other things.
And then Coates had a PS.
And then we wrap up the week with Kevin Powell writing all us black folk a letter.
And now, the stories (which aren't prescriptive, merely illustrative):
When my friend Prof. L- sent me the Coates link I wrote him back. 'When ppl open their mouths and tell me how they 'feel' when they see another person's relationship choice I want to tell them to keep their personal issues to themselves. If they aren't about to say 'I hope they're happy,' then folks need to STFU.'
And Prof. L- replied,'Is there much of a distance from discomfort to disapproval?'
...
Here's another story:
When I was in therapy, my therapist (a WOC) started to dig deeper into my family background when our sessions began to concentrate on intimacy and relationships and why I felt I was such crap at them. She wanted to know about my relationship to my father; what it was like to grow up in my old Baptist church; how I felt growing up in such a patriarchal and religious environment; what I really needed in a relationship.
My relationship to my father: I love the man, and I'm his 'duffle bag' (don't ask) but he was/is also the only man to make me ramp up to rage in under 10 minutes when the subject is women, men, politics or women in the bible/church.
What it was like growing up in my old Baptist church: it was like being a visitor from the future and you landed in 1898. BC.
How I felt growing up in such an environment: I was angry at all the bloviating old black dudes who were traditional, controlling, bullying, manipulative, insecure, and completely transparent with their greed and ambition. I hated that I had to compete with them for my father's attention. Because I was better than they were, I had contempt for them.
What I needed most in a relationship: Safety; recognition; personal integrity; comfort; to be taken care of; trust; mutual, unconditional support. Acceptance.
Dr. C- would ask, 'And you can't find this in black men?'
I'd say, 'I probably could, but I don't give them the chance to show me. I am so angry, I can't see straight. All I can think of is those men in that church or I'm anticipating how they are going to turn into those types of men.'
Dr. C- would ask, 'Those men in the church. What was your primary method of dealing with them?'
I'd say, 'Competition. I had to beat them. I had to be smarter than they were, than their children were. I had to be a better church person than they were. Understand the bible better than they were. Even if they didn't let me preach, I had to be better at preaching.'
'Why?'
'So my dad would tell me 'good job,' or something. They didn't think a woman could be a leader in anything and I had to show them I was better than they were.'
Dr. C- (who was married to a very nice black man) would say, 'What do you think about trying to date a black man?'
I'd say, 'Well....ok. If you think that will help.'
And she'd say, 'It always helps to challenge our fears.'
And I tried. But every conversation I'd have with a black man would either remind me of a tired R&B song or fill me with such panic attack anxiety I took a break and fell back into a liaison with B-, which was even more unsatisfying because it was finally clear to me that he was utterly incapble of giving me the things I needed most.
But at least he didn't remind me of that old Baptist church.
Then, when I was at the point of letting my Match.com account expire, I met M-. A white guy. Who didn't graduate college. Who worked blue collar most of his life. Who wouldn't know Foucault if Michel bit him on his ass. Who, when he drove me home on our first date, said he wanted to make me a mixed CD and cancel his Match account the next day. And I never spoke to, or saw, B- again. Because of a white guy. The Other.
This month marks our 1-year anniversary. It is the most emotionally satisfying relationship I've had since grad school.
...
A third, and final, story (which long-time readers may have already heard):
When it was time for me to go off to grad school, my cracker barrel, deeply southern godfather pulled me aside after evening church services. I was leaving for Michigan in a couple of days and I was excited. Scared, too, but excited. In my imagination, Ann Arbor looked like Boston. (Yes, I was completely inaccurate but the main point was it was 2000 miles away from my provincial church.)
It was clear my godfather was trying to do the avuncular thing and this was the sterling piece of advice that he gave me:
'Don't jump the fence.'
What kind of backwoods, country folk-ism was this? I was blank-faced for a few seconds until his fierce gaze and the eventual, firing synapses in my brain made me stiffen. Don't jump the fence. Don't leave your side of the social divide. Don't get involved with a white guy. Don't sleep with a white guy. Don't have sex with a white guy. Don't betray your people. I wanted to slap his southern face.
'My father 'jumped the fence,' James.'
'Well, now. That's a little different. You just be careful. Don't jump the fence. Stay where you belong.'
I stomped away and seethed for hours. That was the last time I spoke to him.
Just this past year, my father told me that old James had died and it was revealed that he had had an affair with a married woman in the church for years. My old anger at his goatish hypocrisy rushed back at me and all I could do was sputter over the phone about that 'fucking old man.'
...
The 'heart wants what the heart wants' and it's usually because of something pushed so way down deep, you can't even recognize it. So I get Scott's wince. I do. (I'm a student of African American history and literature; I've read the same history books and wondered why everyone gets play but a black girl.)
But I've got a wince of my own and the whisper of it makes me almost ashamed; I almost want to hand in my own Black Card of Racial Solidarity because of it. Almost. This is not to say that my triggers are the fault of others. It's not all black men's fault that I have this whisper of a wince. But I have it. It has caused me to close one type of door between me and black men. Other doors (filial, platonic or professional ones) remain open; just not intimate ones. In this regard, the man who has given me what I need is a white man.
Not all white men. Not every white man. A white man.
When we are together, the looks or stares (or whether someone may or may not have a wince) people send us don't register with me. He is more aware of it than I am. And he is now more aware of the complex ways that our being together works as a kind of social shorthand in different parts of the city. (He'd never say it that way; he just tells me, 'My Mexican neighbors like me better now because of you.') But shorthand or not, when he looks at me he tells me that he has been waiting his whole life for me and I know that because of him, my heart is bigger.
So wince away, you Scotts of the world. You can't help it. It's not your fault.
Monday, December 21, 2009
unmasking Ding
some things will be changing around here.
if anyone follows me on Twitter (or pays attention here) you'll notice that my pseudonymity is just about to disappear. i've decided that i've been hiding my professional light under a bushel for long enough and if i'm going to start going after what i want, i need to start pushing my 'personal brand.' sigh.
for years, Ding/ChurchGal has been a 'brand' of sorts, but i can't really take advantage of that as 'Ding' forever, you know? it would be like walking around in a cowl and hood.
so...this means that Screed will start migrating some of the personal stuff to another place. (can't really build a reputation on swooning over the boyfriend, you know?)
if you want to follow my Tweets, you can still do so here.
what was my new year's resolution a few years ago? Make An Effort.
this year, i'll add to that: Make An Effort and Be Ambitious.
Or maybe the other way around: Be Ambitious and Make the Effort.
or maybe i'll just condense it: Kick Ass.
if anyone follows me on Twitter (or pays attention here) you'll notice that my pseudonymity is just about to disappear. i've decided that i've been hiding my professional light under a bushel for long enough and if i'm going to start going after what i want, i need to start pushing my 'personal brand.' sigh.
for years, Ding/ChurchGal has been a 'brand' of sorts, but i can't really take advantage of that as 'Ding' forever, you know? it would be like walking around in a cowl and hood.
so...this means that Screed will start migrating some of the personal stuff to another place. (can't really build a reputation on swooning over the boyfriend, you know?)
if you want to follow my Tweets, you can still do so here.
what was my new year's resolution a few years ago? Make An Effort.
this year, i'll add to that: Make An Effort and Be Ambitious.
Or maybe the other way around: Be Ambitious and Make the Effort.
or maybe i'll just condense it: Kick Ass.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
because i'm drowning in blogs, tweets, status updates, my trashy novel draft and the like (not to mention drowning in this buck-ass legislative session at work) i've put ChurchGal (my other blog) on hiatus until spring, or thereabouts.
i expected to feel more conflicted about that but i'm not.
so. where can you find me?
here, on Screed. (this was my first blog and i'm never letting it go.)
very occasionally at Bitch Ph.D. (out of the 4 Bitches, i have the lowest post rate because, well, let's just say i only have one nerve to get on, which the Head Bitch understands.)
on Twitter as PrincessDing.
ok, back to work.
i expected to feel more conflicted about that but i'm not.
so. where can you find me?
here, on Screed. (this was my first blog and i'm never letting it go.)
very occasionally at Bitch Ph.D. (out of the 4 Bitches, i have the lowest post rate because, well, let's just say i only have one nerve to get on, which the Head Bitch understands.)
on Twitter as PrincessDing.
ok, back to work.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
apple picking
Saturday morning, during the WLF breakfast, I said that I never thought I'd see the day a black man would be president. The woman next to me scrunched her nose and said, 'Really?'
Uh, yeah, lady. Really. Are you kidding? With this country's history?
I'm reading a book called The Color of Wealth which covers the racial disparities in wealth acquisition in this country. In detail, it shows how our country's history of systematic racial oppression is sprinkled with documented government supported acts of land theft, displacement and economic cock-blocking (for lack of a better word.)
I've just finished the chapter on Native Americans and it was depressing as hell - and infuriating.
It was depressing to think of this people systematically deprived of the assets that rightfully belong to them (it goes SO much farther than just land theft - it's about billions and billions of dollars cheated from tribes because private enterprise and our US govt colluded to strip them of rights to natural resources and revenue, as well as mismanaged the funds that were supposed to be held in 'trust' for them.) These are dollars that could, right now, make a material impact on generations of Native Americans who currently hit the lowest indicators for economic sustainability, employment, education, and health.
Our country basically committed genocide against a whole population and built a nation on top of their bodies and land. Sickening.
But it was also depressing to think about how racism has crippled us, as a whole. We are diminished, when we don't know our whole history. When they teach us about the Homestead Act but don't mention the little details that expose it for a racist (only white men got land that was stolen or misappropriated from Native populations)government policy, then how can we truly know who we really are and what it means to benefit from that kind of legacy?
Why do we really rely so much on our myths? Are we really that childlike and feeble?
I wrote an earlier post about chickens coming home to roost for the GOP but I think that I could say the same thing about our country as a whole. There is karmic payback for the blood and death we've caused. I don't care if folks think what I'm saying is unpatriotic - it's true. You can't pick and choose which parts of our history are worthy of mythmaking and then hope no one remembers or knows about the other; it's all part of the same.
When someone wins a battle, someone else dies; when you build a city, you've destroyed someone's home; when you're on top, there's somone suffocating on the bottom. We've been winning for a few centuries now and I'm guessing that the pendulum is about to swing the other way.
That's the way the world works; it's the balance of the universe. One could even call it justice.
(Ding's process: This was supposed to be a funny post about apple picking in Wisconsin this weekend, but it became something a little bit more sobering. Sometimes I write with a plan and sometimes the writing abruptly veers off my self-imposed topic. Apple picking reminded me of 'cherry picking' which made me think of selectively reading history, this weekend's conference, the Obama candidacy as a way for history to come full circle but also how it prompts the idea of payback and triggers the fears of those racists at recent McCain/Palin rallies who are expressing, IMO, fear of karmic payback. Funny how writing works.)
Uh, yeah, lady. Really. Are you kidding? With this country's history?
I'm reading a book called The Color of Wealth which covers the racial disparities in wealth acquisition in this country. In detail, it shows how our country's history of systematic racial oppression is sprinkled with documented government supported acts of land theft, displacement and economic cock-blocking (for lack of a better word.)
I've just finished the chapter on Native Americans and it was depressing as hell - and infuriating.
It was depressing to think of this people systematically deprived of the assets that rightfully belong to them (it goes SO much farther than just land theft - it's about billions and billions of dollars cheated from tribes because private enterprise and our US govt colluded to strip them of rights to natural resources and revenue, as well as mismanaged the funds that were supposed to be held in 'trust' for them.) These are dollars that could, right now, make a material impact on generations of Native Americans who currently hit the lowest indicators for economic sustainability, employment, education, and health.
Our country basically committed genocide against a whole population and built a nation on top of their bodies and land. Sickening.
But it was also depressing to think about how racism has crippled us, as a whole. We are diminished, when we don't know our whole history. When they teach us about the Homestead Act but don't mention the little details that expose it for a racist (only white men got land that was stolen or misappropriated from Native populations)government policy, then how can we truly know who we really are and what it means to benefit from that kind of legacy?
Why do we really rely so much on our myths? Are we really that childlike and feeble?
I wrote an earlier post about chickens coming home to roost for the GOP but I think that I could say the same thing about our country as a whole. There is karmic payback for the blood and death we've caused. I don't care if folks think what I'm saying is unpatriotic - it's true. You can't pick and choose which parts of our history are worthy of mythmaking and then hope no one remembers or knows about the other; it's all part of the same.
When someone wins a battle, someone else dies; when you build a city, you've destroyed someone's home; when you're on top, there's somone suffocating on the bottom. We've been winning for a few centuries now and I'm guessing that the pendulum is about to swing the other way.
That's the way the world works; it's the balance of the universe. One could even call it justice.
(Ding's process: This was supposed to be a funny post about apple picking in Wisconsin this weekend, but it became something a little bit more sobering. Sometimes I write with a plan and sometimes the writing abruptly veers off my self-imposed topic. Apple picking reminded me of 'cherry picking' which made me think of selectively reading history, this weekend's conference, the Obama candidacy as a way for history to come full circle but also how it prompts the idea of payback and triggers the fears of those racists at recent McCain/Palin rallies who are expressing, IMO, fear of karmic payback. Funny how writing works.)
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
shameless plug: follow me!
Hey!
If you read Screed (in fact, if you just can't get enough of Screed) show me your love and Follow me!
Yes. I am totally craven for attention.
I'm a Libra.
If you read Screed (in fact, if you just can't get enough of Screed) show me your love and Follow me!
Yes. I am totally craven for attention.
I'm a Libra.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Getting It
another awesome woman of color left the b'sphere, a casualty of the whole Marcotte/appropriation/racist illustrations/Seal Press diversity training/feminist 'community' split thing.
(and i'm not going to find links for every single one of those terms. if you Google Marcotte/appropriation/racist illustrations/Seal Press diversity training/feminist 'community' split, in any combination, i'm pretty sure you'll be able to find a place to start and work your way backwards. besides, it's 1 am and i really ought to be in bed touching myself or something.)
anyway, i can't help but think about that intent v. impact framework i've had rattling in my head ever since a DePaul women's studies professor came to our office for our staff meeting. she talked about what white feminists can do to be less problematic* and help make the feminist movement also about racial justice: put your intention aside (because no one cares) and think long and hard about the impact of what you do. personally, i think it's a helpful rule for everyone enjoying a position of privilege.
(i was actually going to write 'to be less white' but that's not helpful, is it?)
intention: career building and general liberal do-gooderness (with or without the proper attention to detail and/or previous work done, depending on your POV)
impact: split online feminist community and women of color bloggers dropping like flies, thus depriving the b'sphere of their necessary analysis and experience.
niice.
reading all the commentary still reacting to what happened earlier this month has been exhausting and very sad. i have looked at some of my favorite writers with a more jaundiced eye but have also found new writers to replace them. it has made me think that (gulp) perhaps my Roomie was right to be so wary of the 'feminist' moniker. in the words of another writer, it is, after all, just a word.
but before i closed the 'feminist' title away in a box, and began a search for something to replace it more graceful than 'woman who likes the ideals of feminism but some of the other folks in it not so much, right now, though that could change next month when i'm in Italy,' i retreated to the comforting land of comic books.
it is a world with its own issues (heh, issues), like the apalling hyper-sexualization of women who can kick serious ass, but i'm happy to say that there was someone who 'got it.' by 'it' i mean white privilege and i mean, really got it.
not just got it because it's the vow in the Feminist Membership Book, but actually, you know, internalized it and changed her practice because of it. i'm going to bold my favorite parts:
last year.
some folks should have read it.
Girls read comics » Blog Archive » Changes: Not Just For The Hulk.
(and i'm not going to find links for every single one of those terms. if you Google Marcotte/appropriation/racist illustrations/Seal Press diversity training/feminist 'community' split, in any combination, i'm pretty sure you'll be able to find a place to start and work your way backwards. besides, it's 1 am and i really ought to be in bed touching myself or something.)
anyway, i can't help but think about that intent v. impact framework i've had rattling in my head ever since a DePaul women's studies professor came to our office for our staff meeting. she talked about what white feminists can do to be less problematic* and help make the feminist movement also about racial justice: put your intention aside (because no one cares) and think long and hard about the impact of what you do. personally, i think it's a helpful rule for everyone enjoying a position of privilege.
(i was actually going to write 'to be less white' but that's not helpful, is it?)
intention: career building and general liberal do-gooderness (with or without the proper attention to detail and/or previous work done, depending on your POV)
impact: split online feminist community and women of color bloggers dropping like flies, thus depriving the b'sphere of their necessary analysis and experience.
niice.
reading all the commentary still reacting to what happened earlier this month has been exhausting and very sad. i have looked at some of my favorite writers with a more jaundiced eye but have also found new writers to replace them. it has made me think that (gulp) perhaps my Roomie was right to be so wary of the 'feminist' moniker. in the words of another writer, it is, after all, just a word.
but before i closed the 'feminist' title away in a box, and began a search for something to replace it more graceful than 'woman who likes the ideals of feminism but some of the other folks in it not so much, right now, though that could change next month when i'm in Italy,' i retreated to the comforting land of comic books.
it is a world with its own issues (heh, issues), like the apalling hyper-sexualization of women who can kick serious ass, but i'm happy to say that there was someone who 'got it.' by 'it' i mean white privilege and i mean, really got it.
not just got it because it's the vow in the Feminist Membership Book, but actually, you know, internalized it and changed her practice because of it. i'm going to bold my favorite parts:
What does it mean to speak as a privileged observer?yeah...a comics blog (and a damn fine one, too.)
It means that I don’t see a lot of stuff because I never experienced it or had to see it.
Related, but not exactly the same: it means that my feminist education overwhelmingly concentrated on white feminist liberal theory, and didn’t pick up on much of anything else. I need to listen, and research, and do my own damn homework.
I don’t want this column to be read as breast-beating or a plea to console me and tell me I didn’t do that badly or a request for congratulations on finally realising my mistake.
Screw that; it was a huge mistake! Recognising that isn’t grounds for applause. I’m going to do my level best to do this better, while realizing that my best intentions are still privileged, and thus still open to totally justified criticism. It’s not anyone’s job to educate me - but if anyone is so inclined, when I misstep I’d really appreciate hearing about it.
I’m privileged. I can’t avoid being part of the problem. But I want to be some of the solution, too.
last year.
some folks should have read it.
Girls read comics » Blog Archive » Changes: Not Just For The Hulk.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
here is my navel
you may have noticed that i haven't been posting as much lately and what i have posted isn't exactly good. i don't know what it is. it's not that i've lost the juice for this blog but there just isn't much to say right now.
about politics? i'm marginally hopeful about the dems' progress though i'm pretty sure that, in the end, the great machine of our society will continue to roll over the marginalized people who live in it.
about sex? i'm not having any.
about gender politics? patriarchy still sucks and stupid stupid men make me want to smash their scrotal sacs with a hammer.
about pop culture? i can't look at another headline documenting the lengthening downward spiral of our celebutantes.
about religion? blick.
about my life? actually, things are going pretty good. i like where and what i am right now.
do i want to continue to contribute to the babble/babel out here? i don't know. i think i want to write other things now, while still interacting with an audience the way i have here, but what that'll look like, i don't know.
oh, i'm not bowing out. i'm just reconsidering things.
about politics? i'm marginally hopeful about the dems' progress though i'm pretty sure that, in the end, the great machine of our society will continue to roll over the marginalized people who live in it.
about sex? i'm not having any.
about gender politics? patriarchy still sucks and stupid stupid men make me want to smash their scrotal sacs with a hammer.
about pop culture? i can't look at another headline documenting the lengthening downward spiral of our celebutantes.
about religion? blick.
about my life? actually, things are going pretty good. i like where and what i am right now.
do i want to continue to contribute to the babble/babel out here? i don't know. i think i want to write other things now, while still interacting with an audience the way i have here, but what that'll look like, i don't know.
oh, i'm not bowing out. i'm just reconsidering things.
Friday, June 15, 2007
compromised or, it was only a matter of time
one day, the skeins of my online life were going to cross. one day, i was going to underestimate the intrepid skillz of a man who had a lot of time on his hands and an uncanny knack to piss me off. one day, myspace was going to make me rue the day...blah blah blah.
the thing is, i don't use myspace for anything. it is a placeholder. and now it's connected to my work blog (yikes) and even though i've since made it private, so that no one can see it unless i've made them my friend, it's kinda been breached.
oh! and we were just talking about this today during a meeting - what happens when someone comes across your blog that you never intended to, in the first place. aaargh!
so, yeah. i check my myspace acct tonight and B- sent me a message there, inviting me to a show last week. of *course* he's on myspace! and of course he can find me - i used my real name!! my freak out isn't because i'm 'hiding' from him; that's not the issue. i just don't want to leave any crumbs that might lead back here, to Screed.
(because if he saw this? lord jesus. just look for my body in the chicago river.)
now i have to go back and scrub my myspace page and then try to make sure there's no trail to follow. (if he figures out Real Name=ding=Screed then i'm totally screwed. this blog is #2 when you google 'screed'! i mean, yay, but frak!)
the thing is, i don't use myspace for anything. it is a placeholder. and now it's connected to my work blog (yikes) and even though i've since made it private, so that no one can see it unless i've made them my friend, it's kinda been breached.
oh! and we were just talking about this today during a meeting - what happens when someone comes across your blog that you never intended to, in the first place. aaargh!
so, yeah. i check my myspace acct tonight and B- sent me a message there, inviting me to a show last week. of *course* he's on myspace! and of course he can find me - i used my real name!! my freak out isn't because i'm 'hiding' from him; that's not the issue. i just don't want to leave any crumbs that might lead back here, to Screed.
(because if he saw this? lord jesus. just look for my body in the chicago river.)
now i have to go back and scrub my myspace page and then try to make sure there's no trail to follow. (if he figures out Real Name=ding=Screed then i'm totally screwed. this blog is #2 when you google 'screed'! i mean, yay, but frak!)
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
over in churchgal land, i'm losing my temper over the mommy wars.
i shouldn't have called Happy Mom bitchy.
but she pissed me off.
i'll be the first to admit that i'm not a child-friendly person. i was with old friends this weekend, and they have kids; we were looking for a place to eat and i suggested the food court. i said, 'it has wide aisles for the stroller, it has something for everyone and it's kid-friendly. affordable.' and my friend's husband said, 'wow, totally not like you at all. affordable, kid-friendly and accessible.' fucker.
but thanks to folks like bitch ph.d and orange (and the kick ass women they have at their own communities) and to my gig working to 'empower women and eliminate racisim' i've learned more about the connections between us single/childless women and women who care for kids. big epiphany: mommy issues *are* feminist issues and vice versa. i've learned a lot about the burdens that working mothers bear, the pressures on stay at home moms to be everything to everyone, the judgments that land on single gals like me who just may be indifferent to child rearing and create our worlds to make sure we remain childless. i've learned about these things and about how all our disparate issues aren't so disparate after all. again, mommy issues *are* feminist issues, even though i won't ever be a mommy.
(psst. it's all about the patriarchy.)
but i got a little frustrated over at churchgal with the whole 'bad mommy' blame game going on and i'm tired of churchy housewives stepping over who don't know how to look at things critically as a 'system' and instead take criticism of the system as some fracking personal assault. they ask the wrong questions, they jump to conclusions and they don't know how to stay on point. i hate it.
(yeah, i know. i may have learned a lot but didn't seem to learn humility. frack humility. where's that gotten us except where we are?)
the good thing, though, is that i found a cool website for mommies and social change. they write intelligently about mommy issues and sometimes they come down a little conservative and sometimes they're unexpectedly radical. it's a good read and a good resource.
(and for those critical thinking/social change writer-mommies out there, they want to publish your stuff.)
i shouldn't have called Happy Mom bitchy.
but she pissed me off.
i'll be the first to admit that i'm not a child-friendly person. i was with old friends this weekend, and they have kids; we were looking for a place to eat and i suggested the food court. i said, 'it has wide aisles for the stroller, it has something for everyone and it's kid-friendly. affordable.' and my friend's husband said, 'wow, totally not like you at all. affordable, kid-friendly and accessible.' fucker.
but thanks to folks like bitch ph.d and orange (and the kick ass women they have at their own communities) and to my gig working to 'empower women and eliminate racisim' i've learned more about the connections between us single/childless women and women who care for kids. big epiphany: mommy issues *are* feminist issues and vice versa. i've learned a lot about the burdens that working mothers bear, the pressures on stay at home moms to be everything to everyone, the judgments that land on single gals like me who just may be indifferent to child rearing and create our worlds to make sure we remain childless. i've learned about these things and about how all our disparate issues aren't so disparate after all. again, mommy issues *are* feminist issues, even though i won't ever be a mommy.
(psst. it's all about the patriarchy.)
but i got a little frustrated over at churchgal with the whole 'bad mommy' blame game going on and i'm tired of churchy housewives stepping over who don't know how to look at things critically as a 'system' and instead take criticism of the system as some fracking personal assault. they ask the wrong questions, they jump to conclusions and they don't know how to stay on point. i hate it.
(yeah, i know. i may have learned a lot but didn't seem to learn humility. frack humility. where's that gotten us except where we are?)
the good thing, though, is that i found a cool website for mommies and social change. they write intelligently about mommy issues and sometimes they come down a little conservative and sometimes they're unexpectedly radical. it's a good read and a good resource.
(and for those critical thinking/social change writer-mommies out there, they want to publish your stuff.)
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
time to move on?
I'm thinking about closing my ChurchGal blog for a while, if not permanently. I've loved writing for that blog but I have to admit the few times some fundamentalists have strolled on over, I've lost my equanimity and sense of humor. I know - only a few times. I should be glad it's not all the time.
This is what it is: They're rude. Like, I don't care what they think - I'd actually like it more if they talked more about what they thought - not what they think about me but what they think. But they're really crudely rude.
They feel comfortable saying things that, if they were standing in front of my face, in my home, I'd be forced to tell them, Get the fuck out my house.
As it's becoming distasteful to listen to them or engage with them, I also find that I'm becoming as humorless and dour as they and that's unacceptable.
The original goal of the blog has disappeared - I wanted it to be a snarky eyed view of contemporary religion but more recently it's becoming a place where people want to engage in seminary theology debate. If I wanted seminary debate I'd be in seminary, thanks.
Or, maybe I'll just do what the conservative blogs do and close comments. Yeah, that'll do it.
This is what it is: They're rude. Like, I don't care what they think - I'd actually like it more if they talked more about what they thought - not what they think about me but what they think. But they're really crudely rude.
They feel comfortable saying things that, if they were standing in front of my face, in my home, I'd be forced to tell them, Get the fuck out my house.
As it's becoming distasteful to listen to them or engage with them, I also find that I'm becoming as humorless and dour as they and that's unacceptable.
The original goal of the blog has disappeared - I wanted it to be a snarky eyed view of contemporary religion but more recently it's becoming a place where people want to engage in seminary theology debate. If I wanted seminary debate I'd be in seminary, thanks.
Or, maybe I'll just do what the conservative blogs do and close comments. Yeah, that'll do it.
Monday, May 23, 2005
this is ding's house.
maybe this is why i left grad school. i wasn't balanced enough. when i did my research, i was dedicated to what would prove my point. things that disturbed my point were either absorbed or...my point was changed to reflect these new findings. this, however, was rare. i was disinterested in finding whether or not something was 'true.' it was all a game, really. it was whether or not i could make the argument stand. point-counter point. your counter point beats mine? (shrug) i just find another point. so, to all those out there who want fair and balanced from ME, you're shit outta luck. i'm just as flawed and biased as the next person. (note to roomie: hey - i didn't erase your comment!)
...
today was a hard day. right under deadline, i finished writing my first non-profit sanctioned proposal! yay! it was fun! i love my job. i know i'll get tired of saying it, but for now, i am loving where i am. i've NEVER felt that before. yes, there are things i wish for, like a free pantry with a fridge full of soft drinks and a cupboard full of snacks you can order from pea pod. but when you're asking for pocket change to fund a program against sexual violence and abuse, i guess i can suck it up and bring my own effing soda.
...
today was a hard day. right under deadline, i finished writing my first non-profit sanctioned proposal! yay! it was fun! i love my job. i know i'll get tired of saying it, but for now, i am loving where i am. i've NEVER felt that before. yes, there are things i wish for, like a free pantry with a fridge full of soft drinks and a cupboard full of snacks you can order from pea pod. but when you're asking for pocket change to fund a program against sexual violence and abuse, i guess i can suck it up and bring my own effing soda.
Monday, February 21, 2005
banishment
so this morning i found a snark-like anonymous comment somewhere. it went along the lines of 'snitty snitty...another leftwing blogger...snit snit yawn.'
so i deleted it. it pissed me off and i erased it. (thanks, blogger, for fixing things so i can do that now.)
i only wish i could exercise that same editorial mastery in real life...
so i deleted it. it pissed me off and i erased it. (thanks, blogger, for fixing things so i can do that now.)
i only wish i could exercise that same editorial mastery in real life...
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Random things...
Writing this blog is like tossing a bottled letter into the sea; it seems that HTML tags are needed to post my email address on the side...alas, I am HTML dumb so I'll just give an address here, if anyone would like to drop a note (and if anyone absolutely hates anything PLEASE be civil): dcstarpoint@yahoo.com or, alternately, use whichever email address you already have for me.
Problematic...the Dept of Homeland Security's ramped up attack on academic freedom and post-colonial studies, the partial-birth abortion bill being signed today, the silence from the administration regarding the number of casualties, the Pentagon's rumored stealthy ramp up of the draft board, the weird flap over Howard Dean's Confederate flag comment (granted, I haven't researched this much, but it seems to me he was misunderstood deliberately--and I'm a black woman saying this), the illegal aliens and indentured servitude for WalMart, more email over my marriage stance...
Writing this blog is like tossing a bottled letter into the sea; it seems that HTML tags are needed to post my email address on the side...alas, I am HTML dumb so I'll just give an address here, if anyone would like to drop a note (and if anyone absolutely hates anything PLEASE be civil): dcstarpoint@yahoo.com or, alternately, use whichever email address you already have for me.
Problematic...the Dept of Homeland Security's ramped up attack on academic freedom and post-colonial studies, the partial-birth abortion bill being signed today, the silence from the administration regarding the number of casualties, the Pentagon's rumored stealthy ramp up of the draft board, the weird flap over Howard Dean's Confederate flag comment (granted, I haven't researched this much, but it seems to me he was misunderstood deliberately--and I'm a black woman saying this), the illegal aliens and indentured servitude for WalMart, more email over my marriage stance...
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