I love my Monday night book group that meets every other week. I have made it VERY clear how my sanity kind of hangs on me getting to go to these meetings. I don't do a lot of outings for me. This one is a non-negotiable, however.
My husband is getting into umpiring as a side job. It's way more intense than one would think. I try to not interfere. He announced a few weeks ago that there are now Monday meetings every so often. I immediately reminded him about my meetings. He assured me he would take care of childcare.
His solution, I just discovered, is to have the kids stay home alone, and he will pay our 7th grader (less than he could anyone else) to babysit. Yes, she completed her babysitting course and has a certificate, but they have never stayed home in the evening hours, and we are both in meetings, not at the dairy store grabbing milk. Our kindergartner is howling mad about the arrangement, professing that her sister is an awful babysitter. Sister is insulted and ticked off. But she secretly confessed to her grandmother that she is nervous. So my mom called me and told me that the girls are nervous. Great. I think everyone is expecting me to back down and stay home.
Am I ? Nope. I am calling a college-age girl, and Jeff will pay her.
Do I feel a little guilty? Not this time. I've laid down reasonable boundaries. My family is pushing them. It's human nature. But I make a lot of sacrifices for them on a daily basis. My soul needs nourishing; I need friends too. In the past, I would have bowed out of group.
And then I would have stewed and been mad at Jeff.
Which in the long run, is far worse. It's not wrong for him to want to pursue something he is interested in either. I shouldn't make him feel guilty about going anymore than I should be made to feel guilty. My commitment preceded his, and the deal is that this time, he is responsible for finding childcare. He didn't come up with a good solution, which is the part I am irritated about. So I've approached him about other options. He is a reasonable person and we reached an agreement. Much better than me playing the martyr.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
These Boots Are Made for ... Me!
Today's discussion, before we get into any of the upcoming fashion & feminism discussion:
the one wardrobe item that makes you feel like a million bucks.
Those of you who know me well are like "Oh, brother, that girl and her stupid boots!" There is, however, one rule to this entry: you can't like it because it's the latest fashion. You have to like it because you have a connection to it, you think it makes you look good, it makes you feel confident, you are super proud of the good deal you got, etc.
I have long contended that every girl needs a pair of kick-ass boots.These are mine. Franco Sarto, bought on consignment for 30 bucks, in great shape. They are amazingly versatile. They make me feel like a million bucks. I think they are perfection.
When my husband broke up with me when we were dating, I promptly blew some savings on a pair of boots I loved. I got a bunch of dates; he did not. We ended up back together. Boots are powerful, people. And just to make sure I'm being equal, I have offended both Christians and Feminists at this point, right? Not yet? When my kindergartner started crying about going to school, I surmised that a pair of black suede slouch boots would cure all. They did not, but she sure looks cute in them and knows it.
No, these are not very sensible footwear for February in Central New York when it is 10 degrees and there is lots of snow and salt and ice. But I'm Skaneateles-window-shopping-ready!
Please share with us what your favorite wardrobe item is. We are not the girls on your junior high bus, (who probably acted neither very Christian or Feminist) we will celebrate with you. Feel fabulous this Friday!
the one wardrobe item that makes you feel like a million bucks.
Those of you who know me well are like "Oh, brother, that girl and her stupid boots!" There is, however, one rule to this entry: you can't like it because it's the latest fashion. You have to like it because you have a connection to it, you think it makes you look good, it makes you feel confident, you are super proud of the good deal you got, etc.
I have long contended that every girl needs a pair of kick-ass boots.These are mine. Franco Sarto, bought on consignment for 30 bucks, in great shape. They are amazingly versatile. They make me feel like a million bucks. I think they are perfection.
When my husband broke up with me when we were dating, I promptly blew some savings on a pair of boots I loved. I got a bunch of dates; he did not. We ended up back together. Boots are powerful, people. And just to make sure I'm being equal, I have offended both Christians and Feminists at this point, right? Not yet? When my kindergartner started crying about going to school, I surmised that a pair of black suede slouch boots would cure all. They did not, but she sure looks cute in them and knows it.
No, these are not very sensible footwear for February in Central New York when it is 10 degrees and there is lots of snow and salt and ice. But I'm Skaneateles-window-shopping-ready!
Please share with us what your favorite wardrobe item is. We are not the girls on your junior high bus, (who probably acted neither very Christian or Feminist) we will celebrate with you. Feel fabulous this Friday!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Recycled Inspiration
Today's post is a link to a July 2011 post from my other blog, an attempt. At the time I was researching rape as a war crime for a paper, and this was written after an interview with an amazing lady. If you want to be wowed, Google her name. This post is a combination of yesterday's thoughts on drudgery, the spotlight on Daughters and human trafficking, and Thursday's "inspiring" theme, and I thought it would work nicely in this spot today. Reduce, reuse, recycle. Maybe it will save my brain.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Divine Drudgery
The feminist movement is often synonymous with getting women out of the house and into the workplace. The vision was about work, more specifically careers, being the key to liberation for women. This, bell hooks points out in chapter 7 of Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, alienates a lot of poor, working class women whose jobs do not liberate them at all. Their jobs are considered menial labor, and this is not the vision of fulfillment feminists were extolling.
hooks also is not in support of the whole idea of putting a price tag on household tasks. She worries that this will only serve to be more dehumanizing, as inevitably these tasks will not fetch a high price tag, and people engaged in them, with sinking hearts will think, "Is that all it's worth?" Low wages, after all, are often considered a mark of failure or inferiority. She puts forth another idea: that we re-think our attitudes towards work, especially menial labor and service work.
hooks suggests that housework contributes to our well-being, and that while necessary, can be an expression of dignity and discipline. Teaching our children to do household tasks teaches them responsibility and how to care for and appreciate their surroundings. She also controversially (she is bell hooks, after all) suggests that this may be why many spoiled men who never learned to pitch in around the house are less concerned about the environment.
I was particularly convicted when hooks admonished that teaching girls that housework is demeaning and degrading deprives them of personal satisfaction they could feel in accomplishing necessary tasks. I am certain that I often send the message to my girls that house work is drudgery, and that I am the household's workhorse. I remember an occasion when I asked Anna to pick up her toys off of the living room floor and she huffed, "Why do I always gotta be the maid around here?" It's always fun to hear your finest words come out of your 3 year old's mouth. What if I didn't go along with society's assumption that work's significance lies in its exchange value?
This is not to say that I should pretend that housework is the most enjoyable thing I do, and be falsely in love with washing the floors. What came to my mind when I read this was the humble monk Brother Lawrence.
Brother Lawrence, whose given name was Nicholas Herman of Lorraine, was not highly educated. His job in the monastery was washing everybody's dishes. His prayer, "Make me a saint by getting meals and washing up plates" seems almost cheesy if taken out of context of his larger intent that everything he did was about reflecting God's glory. I feel a need to go back and read his The Practice of the Presence of God. It is a reminder that all the work we have been given to do has a higher purpose. Brother Lawrence even suggests that tasks done "quietly, calmly, lovingly, entreating Him to prosper the work of our hands" can "bruise the head of the evil one, and beat his weapons to the ground." I'm pretty sure Brother Lawrence was not referring to anyone's husband in particular here;) I don't know what you think about a devil, but I think we can all agree there are forces of evil in this world. In feminist-speak the word would be "oppression."
Does this strike you as a radical idea? It does me. In practice, anyway. I have been known to buy into the idea that the unpaid work I have done in my life makes me a sucker, not a warrior. But everyone has some kind of dirty work to do in life. Human nature tries to pass that buck to someone else. We arrange our lives so we are stuck with as little of that as possible.
"In our weakness we shall find in Him our strength." Brother Lawrence
hooks also is not in support of the whole idea of putting a price tag on household tasks. She worries that this will only serve to be more dehumanizing, as inevitably these tasks will not fetch a high price tag, and people engaged in them, with sinking hearts will think, "Is that all it's worth?" Low wages, after all, are often considered a mark of failure or inferiority. She puts forth another idea: that we re-think our attitudes towards work, especially menial labor and service work.
hooks suggests that housework contributes to our well-being, and that while necessary, can be an expression of dignity and discipline. Teaching our children to do household tasks teaches them responsibility and how to care for and appreciate their surroundings. She also controversially (she is bell hooks, after all) suggests that this may be why many spoiled men who never learned to pitch in around the house are less concerned about the environment.
I was particularly convicted when hooks admonished that teaching girls that housework is demeaning and degrading deprives them of personal satisfaction they could feel in accomplishing necessary tasks. I am certain that I often send the message to my girls that house work is drudgery, and that I am the household's workhorse. I remember an occasion when I asked Anna to pick up her toys off of the living room floor and she huffed, "Why do I always gotta be the maid around here?" It's always fun to hear your finest words come out of your 3 year old's mouth. What if I didn't go along with society's assumption that work's significance lies in its exchange value?
This is not to say that I should pretend that housework is the most enjoyable thing I do, and be falsely in love with washing the floors. What came to my mind when I read this was the humble monk Brother Lawrence.
Brother Lawrence, whose given name was Nicholas Herman of Lorraine, was not highly educated. His job in the monastery was washing everybody's dishes. His prayer, "Make me a saint by getting meals and washing up plates" seems almost cheesy if taken out of context of his larger intent that everything he did was about reflecting God's glory. I feel a need to go back and read his The Practice of the Presence of God. It is a reminder that all the work we have been given to do has a higher purpose. Brother Lawrence even suggests that tasks done "quietly, calmly, lovingly, entreating Him to prosper the work of our hands" can "bruise the head of the evil one, and beat his weapons to the ground." I'm pretty sure Brother Lawrence was not referring to anyone's husband in particular here;) I don't know what you think about a devil, but I think we can all agree there are forces of evil in this world. In feminist-speak the word would be "oppression."
Does this strike you as a radical idea? It does me. In practice, anyway. I have been known to buy into the idea that the unpaid work I have done in my life makes me a sucker, not a warrior. But everyone has some kind of dirty work to do in life. Human nature tries to pass that buck to someone else. We arrange our lives so we are stuck with as little of that as possible.
"In our weakness we shall find in Him our strength." Brother Lawrence
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Choices
What are you going to do today?
There are probably a few givens, like going to work or taking care of your children. But there are some choices. To work out or not to work out? To cook or eat out? This evening: knit, play Wii with the kids, clean the bathroom, or work on that ginormous essay exam hanging over your head?
You probably aren't waking up as a slave in a brothel, then.
Today I am taking my children on an outing. Not to be sold away from me. My kids will be engaging in activities that feed their soul and imaginations, not rob their innocence and steal their soul. If you have kids, I imagine they are going to school or day care or hanging out with you. The alternative situation is unthinkable. Your mind probably won't even let you picture it. Mine won't - it literally shuts out the thoughts.
As you go through your day making choices today, is there a choice you can make to stand up for injustice? To affirm another human being's worth?
There are probably a few givens, like going to work or taking care of your children. But there are some choices. To work out or not to work out? To cook or eat out? This evening: knit, play Wii with the kids, clean the bathroom, or work on that ginormous essay exam hanging over your head?
You probably aren't waking up as a slave in a brothel, then.
Today I am taking my children on an outing. Not to be sold away from me. My kids will be engaging in activities that feed their soul and imaginations, not rob their innocence and steal their soul. If you have kids, I imagine they are going to school or day care or hanging out with you. The alternative situation is unthinkable. Your mind probably won't even let you picture it. Mine won't - it literally shuts out the thoughts.
As you go through your day making choices today, is there a choice you can make to stand up for injustice? To affirm another human being's worth?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Ethnographer's Perspective
The upheaval in the middle east has been amongst the top news stories for weeks now. In the midst of protesting populations and falling regimes, some of us, myself included, have been wondering about the women. What is their role in this? Will the possibility of new governments include them? Is their safety compromised? We have learned by example. Mobs can be dangerous. Women do not always benefit from revolution.
In trying to sort out the truth about this, I have had difficulty finding solid information about how the women in these middle eastern states have been faring lately. There is plenty of opinion. To use Egypt as an example, it ranges from "women are always risking unwanted sexual advances walking down the street" to "women had safe and meaningful participation in the protests." I suspect the truth involves both ends of the opinion spectrum in some form.
We Westerners are known to cluck our tongues and start getting on our "you oppress women" high horse, to name a few of the horses we climb upon, when the winds of change blow in the middle east. We might be able to admit that our opinions about the middle east are loaded with all kinds of baggage.
I would like to recommend a book.
![Guests of the Sheik: an ethnography of an Iraqi village [Book]](http://books.google.com/books?id=8Zn8I9Y2odcC&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=1&l=220 "Guests of the Sheik: an ethnography of an Iraqi village [Book]")
In trying to sort out the truth about this, I have had difficulty finding solid information about how the women in these middle eastern states have been faring lately. There is plenty of opinion. To use Egypt as an example, it ranges from "women are always risking unwanted sexual advances walking down the street" to "women had safe and meaningful participation in the protests." I suspect the truth involves both ends of the opinion spectrum in some form.
We Westerners are known to cluck our tongues and start getting on our "you oppress women" high horse, to name a few of the horses we climb upon, when the winds of change blow in the middle east. We might be able to admit that our opinions about the middle east are loaded with all kinds of baggage.
I would like to recommend a book.
This book was required reading in an anthropology/women's studies class, but it was so good I kept it. It reads like a novel. It is written by an anthropologist's wife, who at the time was not originally setting out to do anything but accompany her husband in his work. It turned out that she had access to the sequestered lives of women in a conservative, rural Shi'ite village in Iran. She learned their way of life, she became friends with them, and lived as one of them. Then she wrote a fascinating book.
My anthropology professor (who pronounced "sheik" like "shake", not "sheek," in case you are verbally discussing this) brought to us several thought-provoking questions that always come to my mind now when the welfare of women in other countries comes up. What is the line between protecting human rights and invading someone's culture? I would say that most would agree that "honor killing" crosses the line and is categorically a breach. But what about the rule about wearing an abayah? Personally, I think it is sexist and oppressive to require only women to cover themselves up and be restricted in their movement. But when is it acceptable for us to push something upon another group of people? What do I know about the meaning one's way of life brings them?
I respect the women in Egypt who had the courage to take to the streets and make their voices heard. I admire the women who find a way to cast their influence and find significance in cultures where women are not considered full citizens. It is much easier for me to scrutinize from afar than for them to live out their brave choices.
Ethnographers are supposed to write in a way that provides the picture devoid of as much personal opinion as possible. It's a difficult thing to do, approaching life from a stance of questioning not influenced by your own version of "the way it's supposed to be." Whenever I find myself floundering for a position on something, I find it valuable to start thinking like an anthropologist. Which, by the way, rarely provides answers, but does afford some perspective. I don't think it justifies shopping at Anthropologie, unfortunately.
Ethnographers are supposed to write in a way that provides the picture devoid of as much personal opinion as possible. It's a difficult thing to do, approaching life from a stance of questioning not influenced by your own version of "the way it's supposed to be." Whenever I find myself floundering for a position on something, I find it valuable to start thinking like an anthropologist. Which, by the way, rarely provides answers, but does afford some perspective. I don't think it justifies shopping at Anthropologie, unfortunately.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Changes
Today we woke up to blizzard-like conditions after our 55 degree melt-fest yesterday. Spring is not anywhere in the vicinity. It is, after all, still February in Central New York. Even though the inevitable had to come, it is still difficult to watch hope be doused.
I've had other hopes doused this week as well. This isn't a space where I unleash all of my woes and sorrows; that's not what you signed up for:) In the lessons I am trying to learn in the happenings of this week, I am wondering if one of the things I need to change is taking another day off from new posts. We didn't have any other ideas or submissions for small businesses, so the Saturday feature seems the logical day to pull. The Supporting One Another tab will always be on the side, however, and I am happy to add to it or run a post on a new submission anytime.
Oh, and I want to tell you that in my Feminist Theory class, I am going to be working on a paper that analyzes the fashion industry using a feminist perspective. For the next few months, you might get to weigh in on this once in a while:) I have to do so many boring papers, I thought I might as well do a fun one! Maybe I'll post pieces of the paper now and then and let you critique it. You can't be anywhere near as brutal and insulting as my Family Policy professor.
Have a nice weekend! Hopefully my house won't blow down.
I've had other hopes doused this week as well. This isn't a space where I unleash all of my woes and sorrows; that's not what you signed up for:) In the lessons I am trying to learn in the happenings of this week, I am wondering if one of the things I need to change is taking another day off from new posts. We didn't have any other ideas or submissions for small businesses, so the Saturday feature seems the logical day to pull. The Supporting One Another tab will always be on the side, however, and I am happy to add to it or run a post on a new submission anytime.
Oh, and I want to tell you that in my Feminist Theory class, I am going to be working on a paper that analyzes the fashion industry using a feminist perspective. For the next few months, you might get to weigh in on this once in a while:) I have to do so many boring papers, I thought I might as well do a fun one! Maybe I'll post pieces of the paper now and then and let you critique it. You can't be anywhere near as brutal and insulting as my Family Policy professor.
Have a nice weekend! Hopefully my house won't blow down.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Springy, Happy, Girly
I swear I can smell spring. The snow is starting to melt, and if I were where you probably are my kids would be playing outside. But, we still have a foot or so of snow to melt. Dirty, gray, snow. And then we'll probably get more. BUT my thoughts are drifting toward spring and I am craving
Pretty things to look at and smell
How very girly. We would really have to do some fast talking to get this feature past some feminists. But I will ditch the feminist word before I ditch our celebrations of girlyness. What pretty sights and smells make you think of spring and make your heart soar? To momentarily escape endless gray?
Tulips, hands down, are the undeniable sign of spring. They might be my favorite flower. They only bloom for maybe two weeks and then leave an unsightly mess of rotting leaves in the garden for another two months, but they are so worth it. I always plant them. When they bloom, winter gets a final kick in the pants. They are exquisitely beautiful and unlike any other flower. I have been known, in the doldrums of winter, to sit with a bulb catalog and feast my eyes on all the different varieties. And nothing looks more gorgeous on my dining room table than a tall vase full of gently drooping, almost open tulip buds.
Except maybe a mass of daisies in the same vase in the summer. Daisies are abundant bloomers, easy growers, and I always plant them too. I am a vestige of an old soul who still believes in handwritten letters on good stationary, and also planting cutting gardens. Daisies are so happy and sunshiney with their yellow and white faces. They go with other flowers in bouquets or are pretty all by themselves. A packet of seeds is a buck and you get all that happiness all summer long. But because I'm SUCH a sucker, if I don't have enough for a bouquet in my own patch (or can't bring myself to cut them because they look so pretty by the picket fence), I can fall to the bouquets in the farmer's market as well. I think I have passed this on to my children, because do you know what they always want me to buy in the grocery store? Flowers. If it snows a foot again, I may indulge us.
I am also a sucker for dreamy smelling bath gel. In one of my daughter's books, the main character, a pig named Poppleton, takes lavender and lemon silky milk baths. The first time we read that book, we promptly went out and bought the ingredients. (http://www.thebodyshop-usa.com/aromatherapy/prod778851, and lemon essential oil). My daughter was really little, of the age when she still had heavenly baby-smelling skin. I used to love to wrap that silky little lavender-lemon-baby-heaven child up in a towel and inhale deeply.
I can be tempted by lesser products. Wegman's has the best marketers. IF by chance I must wait in line, their "since you're waiting in line..." displays are the only ones in any store where I buy things. But they put things there like hand-dipped chocolate covered cherries and the like. Come on. Recently, they put bottles of Softsoap bath gel in a bin with a really low price tag. I idly picked up the different scents as I waited, and suddenly I was hooked and reeled in. Sweet orange peel honeysuckle blossom or something like that. I had been using bars of Ivory bought on sale, in a value pack, with a coupon, for too long. And somehow this shower gel smelled like heaven or at least like spring or at the VERY least not like Ivory soap. Wait - did I have a coupon?! So now every day I relish the small joy of orange peel honeysuckle blossom in the shower.
What provides your springy, happy, pretty, girly little moments of escape? Please share them. Everyone needs new ideas for getting through the rest of winter.
Pretty things to look at and smell
How very girly. We would really have to do some fast talking to get this feature past some feminists. But I will ditch the feminist word before I ditch our celebrations of girlyness. What pretty sights and smells make you think of spring and make your heart soar? To momentarily escape endless gray?
Tulips, hands down, are the undeniable sign of spring. They might be my favorite flower. They only bloom for maybe two weeks and then leave an unsightly mess of rotting leaves in the garden for another two months, but they are so worth it. I always plant them. When they bloom, winter gets a final kick in the pants. They are exquisitely beautiful and unlike any other flower. I have been known, in the doldrums of winter, to sit with a bulb catalog and feast my eyes on all the different varieties. And nothing looks more gorgeous on my dining room table than a tall vase full of gently drooping, almost open tulip buds.
Except maybe a mass of daisies in the same vase in the summer. Daisies are abundant bloomers, easy growers, and I always plant them too. I am a vestige of an old soul who still believes in handwritten letters on good stationary, and also planting cutting gardens. Daisies are so happy and sunshiney with their yellow and white faces. They go with other flowers in bouquets or are pretty all by themselves. A packet of seeds is a buck and you get all that happiness all summer long. But because I'm SUCH a sucker, if I don't have enough for a bouquet in my own patch (or can't bring myself to cut them because they look so pretty by the picket fence), I can fall to the bouquets in the farmer's market as well. I think I have passed this on to my children, because do you know what they always want me to buy in the grocery store? Flowers. If it snows a foot again, I may indulge us.
I am also a sucker for dreamy smelling bath gel. In one of my daughter's books, the main character, a pig named Poppleton, takes lavender and lemon silky milk baths. The first time we read that book, we promptly went out and bought the ingredients. (http://www.thebodyshop-usa.com/aromatherapy/prod778851, and lemon essential oil). My daughter was really little, of the age when she still had heavenly baby-smelling skin. I used to love to wrap that silky little lavender-lemon-baby-heaven child up in a towel and inhale deeply.
I can be tempted by lesser products. Wegman's has the best marketers. IF by chance I must wait in line, their "since you're waiting in line..." displays are the only ones in any store where I buy things. But they put things there like hand-dipped chocolate covered cherries and the like. Come on. Recently, they put bottles of Softsoap bath gel in a bin with a really low price tag. I idly picked up the different scents as I waited, and suddenly I was hooked and reeled in. Sweet orange peel honeysuckle blossom or something like that. I had been using bars of Ivory bought on sale, in a value pack, with a coupon, for too long. And somehow this shower gel smelled like heaven or at least like spring or at the VERY least not like Ivory soap. Wait - did I have a coupon?! So now every day I relish the small joy of orange peel honeysuckle blossom in the shower.
What provides your springy, happy, pretty, girly little moments of escape? Please share them. Everyone needs new ideas for getting through the rest of winter.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
We Love Miss Cole
There are those who make a tremendous difference in the world in quiet, unassuming steadfastness. Sometimes I am most inspired by their example.
I was going to write about a human rights champion whose career inspires me so much that it intimidates me. It felt like I needed to highlight a different kind of amazing woman today, though.
Nichole was my first real friend in Michigan. I credit her with being the first person to take a chance on me in our mutual circle. She had friends around her and I don't know that she really needed a new one. I did desperately. Mine were all long distance, my husband was gone most nights, and I was spending a lot of time with one very adorable but exhausting toddler. It is a lovely thing to reach out and be a friend.
Our friendship grew and she became the person I knew I could count on for anything. She was always there, always gracious, always listening, always giving. She and I started the Tuesday morning coffee group, and it is her table that became a haven. Nichole is a haven. When you get to know her, you want to stay in her presence. She is the gravitational pull in the group, the one who grounds it and keeps it together. Nichole is the first one to show up with a meal on your doorstep when you're sick, the first one to call when you haven't been around in awhile. We all have "the time when Nichole rescued me" stories.
Nichole is the picture of how a person can make a tremendous difference in roles that aren't in the spotlight. The mothers who depend on her for childcare know they have found a rare treasure in this woman who believes that caring for children is every bit as important as any high-powered, high profile career. Her little friends love "Miss Cole." She is a dedicated mother who has made sacrifices to provide what she feels are the best education options for her son. She never forgets that children are people, and that we are fortunate to be able to be a part of their precious lives. She supports causes that protect childhood. She lent me a book called Too Small To Ignore that opened my eyes to how as a society we have relegated our children to the margins.
Nichole is super humble and I hope I haven't put her in an uncomfortable position by writing this. I sincerely feel that every now and then we need to be inspired to be content and dependable, present in the lives we live and to the people we love.
I was going to write about a human rights champion whose career inspires me so much that it intimidates me. It felt like I needed to highlight a different kind of amazing woman today, though.
Nichole was my first real friend in Michigan. I credit her with being the first person to take a chance on me in our mutual circle. She had friends around her and I don't know that she really needed a new one. I did desperately. Mine were all long distance, my husband was gone most nights, and I was spending a lot of time with one very adorable but exhausting toddler. It is a lovely thing to reach out and be a friend.
Our friendship grew and she became the person I knew I could count on for anything. She was always there, always gracious, always listening, always giving. She and I started the Tuesday morning coffee group, and it is her table that became a haven. Nichole is a haven. When you get to know her, you want to stay in her presence. She is the gravitational pull in the group, the one who grounds it and keeps it together. Nichole is the first one to show up with a meal on your doorstep when you're sick, the first one to call when you haven't been around in awhile. We all have "the time when Nichole rescued me" stories.
Nichole is the picture of how a person can make a tremendous difference in roles that aren't in the spotlight. The mothers who depend on her for childcare know they have found a rare treasure in this woman who believes that caring for children is every bit as important as any high-powered, high profile career. Her little friends love "Miss Cole." She is a dedicated mother who has made sacrifices to provide what she feels are the best education options for her son. She never forgets that children are people, and that we are fortunate to be able to be a part of their precious lives. She supports causes that protect childhood. She lent me a book called Too Small To Ignore that opened my eyes to how as a society we have relegated our children to the margins.
Nichole is super humble and I hope I haven't put her in an uncomfortable position by writing this. I sincerely feel that every now and then we need to be inspired to be content and dependable, present in the lives we live and to the people we love.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tough Question
It was my intention to write something spiritual and uplifting. I don't think that is going to happen. Something is lodged in my throat. Back up if you don't want to get hacked on....
Lara Logan, the news correspondent that gave the dramatic report of the riots in Egypt holed up in her hotel room, ventured out to do some reporting. She was separated from her group, brutally gang raped, and rescued when a group of women got the military to help. She is recovering in a U.S. hospital, her family asking for privacy. The story made me ill and sad and angry. And I should be. It was a horrible thing that happened to a brave woman. My heart hurts for Lara.
A question is bothering me. If evil slashes a face that looks like mine, am I more willing to fight it?
Where do we think the secret source of our protection is? Our race? Our citizenship? Our professional credentials? Sometimes I think that we are willing to throw a little spare change at women's causes in the Congo or Cambodia to salve our conscience, but are ok to keep the evil there if it promises not to stalk us. As if evil is containable and satisfied with sacrifices.
The feminist movement has been criticized for layering its agenda, and hearing some voices over others. Churches have priority serving. Neither have accomplished their goals of radical change: neither have leveled the tiered pyramid of human organization. We keep evil down at the bottom as much as possible. We yell at it down there, throw stones at it. We even get very angry at times, and push over some big boulders that cost us some energy and exertion. When, however, do throw our entire selves into battle with it? When it has our own kid by the throat?
Lara Logan, the news correspondent that gave the dramatic report of the riots in Egypt holed up in her hotel room, ventured out to do some reporting. She was separated from her group, brutally gang raped, and rescued when a group of women got the military to help. She is recovering in a U.S. hospital, her family asking for privacy. The story made me ill and sad and angry. And I should be. It was a horrible thing that happened to a brave woman. My heart hurts for Lara.
A question is bothering me. If evil slashes a face that looks like mine, am I more willing to fight it?
Where do we think the secret source of our protection is? Our race? Our citizenship? Our professional credentials? Sometimes I think that we are willing to throw a little spare change at women's causes in the Congo or Cambodia to salve our conscience, but are ok to keep the evil there if it promises not to stalk us. As if evil is containable and satisfied with sacrifices.
The feminist movement has been criticized for layering its agenda, and hearing some voices over others. Churches have priority serving. Neither have accomplished their goals of radical change: neither have leveled the tiered pyramid of human organization. We keep evil down at the bottom as much as possible. We yell at it down there, throw stones at it. We even get very angry at times, and push over some big boulders that cost us some energy and exertion. When, however, do throw our entire selves into battle with it? When it has our own kid by the throat?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Washing Feet
A couple of years ago, Tiffany and I (as a part of our first attempt at social justice) had the privilege of hosting Mark Brecke in Lansing for a film screening of They Turned Our Deserts Into Fire. Mark Brecke traveled to Darfur to photograph images of those who had indeed had their deserts turned into fire by the Sudanese government. The women who watched their children burn, the husbands tortured by the images of their wives raped, their villages decimated and their extended families vanished into thin air all translated in photos. He used the photos to show typical Americans on a train to D.C. the images and film their reactions.
Some of the reactions made me hopeful. Some just made me mad.
Today, while wandering the ever educational (and sometime not) world of Facebook, I saw that Mr. Mark Brecke "liked" The Price of Sex. So there are a few people on Facebook whose "likes" I pay attention too. Mark is one of them.
Remember a bit ago when Tiff used the word "HATE". Well, this movie is created and produced by a woman originally from Bulgaria who has made it her mission to give a voice and a face to the women of Eastern Europe who have survived human trafficking. I spent the afternoon watching the Multimedia Series frozen. A woman who has no way to know how many clients she saw in a day but imagines it could have been 50. Women (yep, that's plural) who threw themselves from balconies to escape. Children who are very much easy marks. Poverty, that evil threatening shadow, that drives populations out into the mouths of wolves.
As I listened to a woman say that it would have been better for her to never be born I had one image in my mind. It popped up like a screen saver. I saw myself with a white, metal bowl. The bowl had a little of the enamel washed away from the rim due to use. In it was warm, soapy water and a white towel. I was bringing it over to wash her feet.
I am in Lansing, Michigan. Far from the poor villages of Moldova. It is not physically possible for me to wash her feet. To look up into her eyes and show her the love of my Savior. To say nothing. To sit in solidarity and in tears over what this world of sin has done to her.
I know what it feels like to suffer in abuse for a few days in my youth. For a few horrific moments of heart and soul tearing. I sit in awe of 50 rips a day, every week for years and years. Women who are then discarded like trash to spend the rest of their lives...doing what? Healing, wallowing, suffering, surviving?
If you are reading this you are one of the richest women in the world. It's true. You probably have clean water on tap, a home, a vehicle and support one or more children with a steady income from either you or both you and your husband's job. What are you doing with your wealth? What are you using your free time for? What are you using your facebook posts for? Your tweets? Your coffee breaks over the water cooler? What kind of books are you reading?
The reason I ask is because you, if you are a Christian, are the legacy of Esther who went before a King to rescue an entire population at the risk of her own execution.
If I perish, I perish
Esther doesn't do it for you? Okay.
What about Rosa Parks? Or how about Elizabeth C. Stanton? Not yet? What about Eleanor Roosevelt? Or Mother Teresa who claimed, The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.
We as Christian women, borderline Feminists, stand at the end of a long line. A legacy of helping. A legacy of metaphorically washing feet in a cheap basin carrying love or in reality tending the sick, dying and discarded of our generation. A legacy of following Jesus into the darkest places of sin and sorrow with our little shining light.
So here is the cause I'd like to cast a light on today. What appears to be a powerful expose on the darkest, writhing in the night. Go "like" the page and keep up with The Price of Sex: Women Speak. Watch it when it comes out. Invite your friends over. Share the link on Facebook. Tweet it up. Shine a light.
Wash some feet.
Here are ways to get involved with the fight against human trafficking. One of our HATE words.
Get Involved with ThePriceofSex.Org
P.S. I'm twitterific @Mother_Flippin and of course, I have a Mother Flippin' Fan Page! :)
Monday, February 14, 2011
Expectations
Happy Valentine's Day. I have no idea how you feel about today. From a feminist standpoint, there is a lot that could be said about this day. But I have a lot on my mind. I'm not trotting out any feminist articles today; my brain only has space for the demands waving their hands in front of my face today shouting "Oooh, ooh me! Pay attention to me."
You could be hard core feminist and reject the notion. Your heart may be lonely or have been broken too many times to put together again. You may be hoping that this year your husband will decide that he does indeed, celebrate Valentine's Day, throwing off his dislike for this "holiday." Word to husbands: think of this as the money that automatically deducts from your paycheck for taxes. By the nature of assuming the job, this is an automatic requirement, and there are benefits you reap, whether you are aware of their existence or not.
I know zero women who have completely conquered their desire to be loved. I cannot name one person who does not want to be important to someone else. We may want to be independent and island-like. But there is a reason Bruno Mars makes money writing songs about not needing to change one thing about you, and John Mayer about your body being a wonderland. It's why "chick flicks" exist.
How many Valentine's days have you spent disappointed? Birthdays? Dates? Entire relationships?
Many Valentine's days ago I made my peace that this man I married is not romantic, and decided the best route to go was that of not expecting gifts or romance from him. This is not to say that bitterness never accompanied this decision. Feminism and Christianity both have wisdom to offer when I'm about to make my husband's life a little miserable for not writing me gushing love letters.
Society has created an altar to a feeling of elation, and unrealistic expectation of what love and lovers are supposed to be like. We've made love something it is only in fleeting glimpses in coupling relationships. Love is a lot of other things. Like sitting up rocking a crying baby night after night. Sitting by your grandmother's bed in the nursing home when she doesn't remember you. Love in songs leaves out how irritated you are when your husband scheduled that meeting right over the top of yours and now you have to drag the kids along, and your husband probably thinks you look like a flea-bitten, rabid dog when you're snarling at him, and you don't even care because you wish you could bite him and give him rabies at that moment.
My aunt, who I seriously love to pieces, sent me an e-Valentine. My aunt is a devoted, conservative Christian, so this was kind of like, if God sent me a Valentine. If you have not figured this out by now, I can be sarcastic and skeptical, but this Valentine kind of won me over. It was a series of scripture about how much God loves us, how God never tires of trying to get our attention and let us know our worth. We can't live without love. But we never have to.
You have immeasurable value and worth. God at some point today is trying to get your attention to show you your value - will you notice?
Maybe others are trying to get your attention too. I've learned that my husband may not be able to be romantic in a conventional sense, but he does try to show me that he's paying attention. This morning, I was presented with a very sweet gift of locally made chocolate, and a necklace made by women in Uganda from recycled magazines that were being sold to supplement meager incomes. He is taking off work early to accompany me to a doctor's appointment I am nervous about. I would be hurt if he didn't notice and appreciate the ways I show my love to him. He's not the only one. My littlest daughter left a glitter-gluey cut out "heart" on my pillow, and my mom will most likely try to call.
Tomorrow, make sure you note who the blog author is, because that brilliance has nothing to do with me. How's that for raising expectations?
You could be hard core feminist and reject the notion. Your heart may be lonely or have been broken too many times to put together again. You may be hoping that this year your husband will decide that he does indeed, celebrate Valentine's Day, throwing off his dislike for this "holiday." Word to husbands: think of this as the money that automatically deducts from your paycheck for taxes. By the nature of assuming the job, this is an automatic requirement, and there are benefits you reap, whether you are aware of their existence or not.
I know zero women who have completely conquered their desire to be loved. I cannot name one person who does not want to be important to someone else. We may want to be independent and island-like. But there is a reason Bruno Mars makes money writing songs about not needing to change one thing about you, and John Mayer about your body being a wonderland. It's why "chick flicks" exist.
How many Valentine's days have you spent disappointed? Birthdays? Dates? Entire relationships?
Many Valentine's days ago I made my peace that this man I married is not romantic, and decided the best route to go was that of not expecting gifts or romance from him. This is not to say that bitterness never accompanied this decision. Feminism and Christianity both have wisdom to offer when I'm about to make my husband's life a little miserable for not writing me gushing love letters.
Society has created an altar to a feeling of elation, and unrealistic expectation of what love and lovers are supposed to be like. We've made love something it is only in fleeting glimpses in coupling relationships. Love is a lot of other things. Like sitting up rocking a crying baby night after night. Sitting by your grandmother's bed in the nursing home when she doesn't remember you. Love in songs leaves out how irritated you are when your husband scheduled that meeting right over the top of yours and now you have to drag the kids along, and your husband probably thinks you look like a flea-bitten, rabid dog when you're snarling at him, and you don't even care because you wish you could bite him and give him rabies at that moment.
My aunt, who I seriously love to pieces, sent me an e-Valentine. My aunt is a devoted, conservative Christian, so this was kind of like, if God sent me a Valentine. If you have not figured this out by now, I can be sarcastic and skeptical, but this Valentine kind of won me over. It was a series of scripture about how much God loves us, how God never tires of trying to get our attention and let us know our worth. We can't live without love. But we never have to.
You have immeasurable value and worth. God at some point today is trying to get your attention to show you your value - will you notice?
Maybe others are trying to get your attention too. I've learned that my husband may not be able to be romantic in a conventional sense, but he does try to show me that he's paying attention. This morning, I was presented with a very sweet gift of locally made chocolate, and a necklace made by women in Uganda from recycled magazines that were being sold to supplement meager incomes. He is taking off work early to accompany me to a doctor's appointment I am nervous about. I would be hurt if he didn't notice and appreciate the ways I show my love to him. He's not the only one. My littlest daughter left a glitter-gluey cut out "heart" on my pillow, and my mom will most likely try to call.
Tomorrow, make sure you note who the blog author is, because that brilliance has nothing to do with me. How's that for raising expectations?
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Family's Business
You can shop on other days than Saturday, right?
Heritage Flooring
It's always over at the side of the page, should the need arise for you to have a beautifully floored room or tiled wall. Yes, the Torok's business is located in Lansing, MI - but I know they will travel a little. Maybe not to New York, but when I save enough pennies to have my bathroom remodeled (it is every bit as 80's as male rockers in tight jeans and big hair), I'll put that to the test:)
They do beautiful work. My friend Brooke had a house built it and it is seriously a dream house. I could move right in and live happily ever after. It's one of the prettiest houses I've ever been in. In a magazine layout way, but also in a "I'm moving in tomorrow!" way. (Poor Brooke, if she reads this, is probably nervous that I'm going to show up in her driveway with a moving truck full of my stuff). The lovely floors - Heritage Flooring's handiwork.
Family businesses are wonderful. They are usually more personable and accommodating. They usually take a great deal of pride in their work. They are trying to build something stable to provide for their family. They are contributing to the community. Heritage Flooring is all that goodness about family business. Plus, Tashmica is my soul sister and I want to see her family well taken care of, accomplishing their dreams:) Plus, her sons are in the pool for possible suitors for my youngest daughter. Oh, whoops - didn't mean to let that non-feminist bit of information slip out;)
If you are in the Torok's vicinity or know of anyone with some flooring needs (business owners too!) that lives in their vicinity.... :) If you live in Washington State and want a new tile backsplash, perhaps you can look up a nice local family business to patronize.
Heritage Flooring
It's always over at the side of the page, should the need arise for you to have a beautifully floored room or tiled wall. Yes, the Torok's business is located in Lansing, MI - but I know they will travel a little. Maybe not to New York, but when I save enough pennies to have my bathroom remodeled (it is every bit as 80's as male rockers in tight jeans and big hair), I'll put that to the test:)
They do beautiful work. My friend Brooke had a house built it and it is seriously a dream house. I could move right in and live happily ever after. It's one of the prettiest houses I've ever been in. In a magazine layout way, but also in a "I'm moving in tomorrow!" way. (Poor Brooke, if she reads this, is probably nervous that I'm going to show up in her driveway with a moving truck full of my stuff). The lovely floors - Heritage Flooring's handiwork.
Family businesses are wonderful. They are usually more personable and accommodating. They usually take a great deal of pride in their work. They are trying to build something stable to provide for their family. They are contributing to the community. Heritage Flooring is all that goodness about family business. Plus, Tashmica is my soul sister and I want to see her family well taken care of, accomplishing their dreams:) Plus, her sons are in the pool for possible suitors for my youngest daughter. Oh, whoops - didn't mean to let that non-feminist bit of information slip out;)
If you are in the Torok's vicinity or know of anyone with some flooring needs (business owners too!) that lives in their vicinity.... :) If you live in Washington State and want a new tile backsplash, perhaps you can look up a nice local family business to patronize.
Friday, February 11, 2011
What Would You Recommend?
The temperature is -6 this morning and my mailbox is in its own little cave. I don't know about you, but even though the sun has risen as I write this and I hear crazy little birds singing, winter is still here. So in celebration of girlyness, I'm sticking with the cozy theme today.
Yesterday evening I made a fire and the girls and I stayed in the family room the rest of the evening reading. That is what I like to do on cold winter nights. My youngest and I finished reading The Horse and His Boy. (And after she went to bed, I stuck to required reading after the Red Tent relapse of this week).
What is your favorite book that celebrates girlyness? The kind that you stick your head into like an ostrich in the sand. The kind of book that if you start to tell a man about, his eyes will start to glaze over with boredom. You know the type. You audibly sigh when you're done and you might even have a tear-soaked tissue in your hand. They're the kind you want to own. Anne of Green Gables. Little Women. Emma. Pride and Prejudice. Those are the classic variety.
The Red Tent, it's this kind of book. One of my favorites, A Thousand Splendid Suns, was oddly enough, written by a man. I'll never know how we captured so well what being a woman in Taliban-crushed Afghanistan is like. Well, I don't know what being under Taliban rule is like, but he convinced me.
There's also a collection of short stories by Elizabeth Berg that I really like, but the title story,"Ordinary Life" is a must-read. You'll be melancholy and cry for days, though. It's short, so I don't want to give it away.
Anne Tyler's Digging to America is wonderful. It follows the lives of 2 little girls from China who arrived in America on the same plane, and the families that adopted them, and the intersections of their lives.
Children's books qualify. My daughter's favorite book in all of the world is Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons. The character development is second to none. It is every bit as engrossing and powerful as any grown-up novel you've read.
My other daughter and I are big fans of Cynthia Rylant who writes about our favorite duo, Mr. Putter and Tabby. She also wrote a book called Missing May that you could finish and fall in love with on a single snowy evening.
Maybe you're the one who made the recommendations to me, maybe you've heard me rave about these books to the point of nausea before. A reader always takes new recommendations, and one of my favorite things to do is sit down with a book a friend raved about and urged me to read. It connects me to that person in a unique way.
Now it's your turn - recommend away! Stay warm and comfy. Happy Friday and Happy Reading:)
Yesterday evening I made a fire and the girls and I stayed in the family room the rest of the evening reading. That is what I like to do on cold winter nights. My youngest and I finished reading The Horse and His Boy. (And after she went to bed, I stuck to required reading after the Red Tent relapse of this week).
What is your favorite book that celebrates girlyness? The kind that you stick your head into like an ostrich in the sand. The kind of book that if you start to tell a man about, his eyes will start to glaze over with boredom. You know the type. You audibly sigh when you're done and you might even have a tear-soaked tissue in your hand. They're the kind you want to own. Anne of Green Gables. Little Women. Emma. Pride and Prejudice. Those are the classic variety.
The Red Tent, it's this kind of book. One of my favorites, A Thousand Splendid Suns, was oddly enough, written by a man. I'll never know how we captured so well what being a woman in Taliban-crushed Afghanistan is like. Well, I don't know what being under Taliban rule is like, but he convinced me.
There's also a collection of short stories by Elizabeth Berg that I really like, but the title story,"Ordinary Life" is a must-read. You'll be melancholy and cry for days, though. It's short, so I don't want to give it away.
Anne Tyler's Digging to America is wonderful. It follows the lives of 2 little girls from China who arrived in America on the same plane, and the families that adopted them, and the intersections of their lives.
Children's books qualify. My daughter's favorite book in all of the world is Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons. The character development is second to none. It is every bit as engrossing and powerful as any grown-up novel you've read.
My other daughter and I are big fans of Cynthia Rylant who writes about our favorite duo, Mr. Putter and Tabby. She also wrote a book called Missing May that you could finish and fall in love with on a single snowy evening.
Maybe you're the one who made the recommendations to me, maybe you've heard me rave about these books to the point of nausea before. A reader always takes new recommendations, and one of my favorite things to do is sit down with a book a friend raved about and urged me to read. It connects me to that person in a unique way.
Now it's your turn - recommend away! Stay warm and comfy. Happy Friday and Happy Reading:)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Pitching a Red Tent
In distinguishing the feminist movement's myopic focus in the 1970's, bell hooks spoke about the joy that white suburban women where finding in their newfound community. She, however, "had not known a life where women had not been together, where women had not helped, protected, and loved one another deeply."
The Red Tent is a book I recently read (as an aside, I am not supposed to read fiction when there is anything I have to do, because I get obsessed). It's the alternate story of Dinah of the Old Testament, Jacob's daughter, as if it had been told from women's perspective. (Women who also clung to their family's polytheism and did not embrace Jacob's one and only God). The story is about what it was like in that primitive time, when women shared everyday life in ways we can't fathom - daily chores, child rearing, and all the rhythms of women's lives. The red tent was the women's tent, the place where births and deaths occurred, and where the women sat for 3 days together during their time of the month. They ate sweets, braided each other's hair, and took nature's opportunity to escape the demands of life and rest with each other's company. Whenever I read accounts of tribal life, ancient or relatively currently, I miss some of what we've lost in our modern bargain.
I am a white suburbanite, and I have lived life mostly in my own house with fences and boundaries and schedules. I think the closest I've come to this community is when we've camped with 3 other families of dear old friends. The kids all run around together and entertain themselves, we share a common fire. And when the tents leak, we get wet. Keepin' it real.
If you don't live surrounded by your kinship group, it's a good idea to find a group of women to do life with. I took awhile to get here, but that's the focus of today: finding your support group of women.
I've had the amazing privilege of having some wonderful female communities around me. I have 2 sisters, but not everyone is born with 2 ready-made friends for life. Sisterhoods can be made other ways. In Michigan, a group of us got together every Tuesday morning for coffee and under the pretense of doing a book study (we never finished a book). Our kids played, and we shared the details of our lives, laughing and crying and raging together, exchanging recipes and insights and parenting stories. These were my best friends in Michigan, and I felt like something was missing every Tuesday for a year after I moved. I still can conjure up the warm, safe feeling of sitting at Nichole's table, the vision of the smiles on my friend's faces and the sound of their laughter.
The 3 women whose families camp with mine every summer are women I actually used to live in proximity to. Two of them, at one point, had houses I could walk to from mine. But life has scattered us across the U.S. We have a closed blog that we communicate by daily, because our schedules are busy and everyone has kids and commitments and no one has much time to talk on the phone. So we still know the up to the minute details of one another's lives: Carly's kids have had too many snow days, Courtney scored a great find at Goodwill, Amanda launched her new Etsy site (hidden plug!), and Tiff fell off the wagon and read a book for fun in 24 hours again. It keeps us sane and connected.
In New York I have become part of a group that meets Monday nights. This one existed long before I came around, and some of the women have been friends since childhood. It was difficult at first, because I was the new girl, afraid to be myself. Would they like me? Think I'm crazy? But a year later, I guard Monday nights like the last chocolate in the house. These women have become my oasis in the week, the place I can share what I'm learning or going through, and hear the same from them.
Who are the people you can cry with, even if you don't have a particularly good reason to be crying? Who can you tell your latest blunder to without judgement? Who would come right away if you suddenly ended up in the hospital? If you don't know who they are, I encourage you to find them. If you can immediately identify them, bask in this blessing.
The Red Tent is a book I recently read (as an aside, I am not supposed to read fiction when there is anything I have to do, because I get obsessed). It's the alternate story of Dinah of the Old Testament, Jacob's daughter, as if it had been told from women's perspective. (Women who also clung to their family's polytheism and did not embrace Jacob's one and only God). The story is about what it was like in that primitive time, when women shared everyday life in ways we can't fathom - daily chores, child rearing, and all the rhythms of women's lives. The red tent was the women's tent, the place where births and deaths occurred, and where the women sat for 3 days together during their time of the month. They ate sweets, braided each other's hair, and took nature's opportunity to escape the demands of life and rest with each other's company. Whenever I read accounts of tribal life, ancient or relatively currently, I miss some of what we've lost in our modern bargain.
I am a white suburbanite, and I have lived life mostly in my own house with fences and boundaries and schedules. I think the closest I've come to this community is when we've camped with 3 other families of dear old friends. The kids all run around together and entertain themselves, we share a common fire. And when the tents leak, we get wet. Keepin' it real.
If you don't live surrounded by your kinship group, it's a good idea to find a group of women to do life with. I took awhile to get here, but that's the focus of today: finding your support group of women.
I've had the amazing privilege of having some wonderful female communities around me. I have 2 sisters, but not everyone is born with 2 ready-made friends for life. Sisterhoods can be made other ways. In Michigan, a group of us got together every Tuesday morning for coffee and under the pretense of doing a book study (we never finished a book). Our kids played, and we shared the details of our lives, laughing and crying and raging together, exchanging recipes and insights and parenting stories. These were my best friends in Michigan, and I felt like something was missing every Tuesday for a year after I moved. I still can conjure up the warm, safe feeling of sitting at Nichole's table, the vision of the smiles on my friend's faces and the sound of their laughter.
The 3 women whose families camp with mine every summer are women I actually used to live in proximity to. Two of them, at one point, had houses I could walk to from mine. But life has scattered us across the U.S. We have a closed blog that we communicate by daily, because our schedules are busy and everyone has kids and commitments and no one has much time to talk on the phone. So we still know the up to the minute details of one another's lives: Carly's kids have had too many snow days, Courtney scored a great find at Goodwill, Amanda launched her new Etsy site (hidden plug!), and Tiff fell off the wagon and read a book for fun in 24 hours again. It keeps us sane and connected.
In New York I have become part of a group that meets Monday nights. This one existed long before I came around, and some of the women have been friends since childhood. It was difficult at first, because I was the new girl, afraid to be myself. Would they like me? Think I'm crazy? But a year later, I guard Monday nights like the last chocolate in the house. These women have become my oasis in the week, the place I can share what I'm learning or going through, and hear the same from them.
Who are the people you can cry with, even if you don't have a particularly good reason to be crying? Who can you tell your latest blunder to without judgement? Who would come right away if you suddenly ended up in the hospital? If you don't know who they are, I encourage you to find them. If you can immediately identify them, bask in this blessing.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Break Forth Like the Dawn
Currently I am reading a benchmark book in the women's movement by bell hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. This book aimed to shape feminism from being exclusively from and for white, educated, middle to upper class women to being for all women. There was a lot of criticism at the time it was written about feminism going bourgeois, and simply being a vehicle to elevate individual women's social status to being equal to men of their class, and not a radical wiping out of systems of dominance.
Isn't that always a danger in pursuing something beyond status quo? That we end up settling for something safer and more personally palatable? As hooks put it, "struggle is rarely safe or pleasurable." Or as Jesus put it, "Take up your cross and follow Me."
There is a passage of Scripture that whenever I encounter it, I am absolutely enveloped by its power. It found its way to me yesterday again, by divine appointment I believe, and I think I'm supposed to share it with you. It speaks to marginalizing people, about taking the easier way out. It concerns Daughters and by Tavi. My friend Cathy said something this week I think I should share with you as well, and I paraphrase it to this question: if we all saw all children as God's, as ours to care for and nurture, what would happen to child prostitution and child abuse and child trafficking? We go through the motions of our life, trying to protect ourselves or promote ourselves and wonder where God is. The answer:
6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteous One will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
Isaiah 58:6-11
Isn't that always a danger in pursuing something beyond status quo? That we end up settling for something safer and more personally palatable? As hooks put it, "struggle is rarely safe or pleasurable." Or as Jesus put it, "Take up your cross and follow Me."
There is a passage of Scripture that whenever I encounter it, I am absolutely enveloped by its power. It found its way to me yesterday again, by divine appointment I believe, and I think I'm supposed to share it with you. It speaks to marginalizing people, about taking the easier way out. It concerns Daughters and by Tavi. My friend Cathy said something this week I think I should share with you as well, and I paraphrase it to this question: if we all saw all children as God's, as ours to care for and nurture, what would happen to child prostitution and child abuse and child trafficking? We go through the motions of our life, trying to protect ourselves or promote ourselves and wonder where God is. The answer:
6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteous One will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
Isaiah 58:6-11
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Their Story
Today we have a guest writer, Chris Alexander, to tell us more about the Daughters Project and by Tavi. The rest will be all from Chris, and I'll just let you ruminate on this information without any more from me:
What would I like for people to know about Daughters? That is an exciting question.
The Daughters Project in some ways defines the Center for Global Impact.
When we began this organization our intention was to find a way to connect people (mostly in the West) with people (the global poor) through unique and creative projects that capitalize on their gifts, skills, interests, and natural networks. When Andraea Reed met with me the first time she basically said "I want to use my store (Sophia's Bridal Tux and Prom Store) to make an impact on human trafficking BUT I want to do more than just give money. Then Nicole Krajewski said that she wanted to be involved too and use her childhood dream to design dresses in the same way. We then set out on a path to create a project that would allow them to signficantly impact the world. And honestly that is what they have done and are continuing to do. They are involved. They go. They give. They think. They plan, They advocate. They recruit. They care and they are operating in their strengths and the are making a difference.
The young women of the project - our Daughters - are beautiful, intelligent, fun-loving, and have all the potential you can imagine. But they are also in a precarious position in life - caught between a poverty and hope. There are dangers even though they are in our program because they live in the midst of an environment where one family crisis can create a scenario that takes them away from our influence and places them right back in a situation where they have no choices. These girls are still at risk and they need both your prayers and your financial support.
About half of the Daughters have program sponsors. We are still looking for sponsors for the others. Sponsorship is expensive. It costs $300 a month to keep each girl in this program. With those funds we provide food, housing, security, transportation, and training. $50 is also given to the students parents as a "Family Care" component because taking these girls into our program means that we have removed them as a source of income for the family and while that is a good thing it also places every younger sister at greater risk.
Maybe you could challenge your group to sponsor one of these girls for the month of February - or even for the year! I know, wishful thinking. Anyway - thanks for using your influence in a positive way.
Do send your ladies to www.byTavi.com. The byTavi program helps to cover the shortages in some of the other programs. We need a market for byTavi products in New York! It would be huge if we could send you some of the totes that the women make or the scarves that we purchase to see if you could help challenge women within your network to host a party, tell their story, and sell some things that they are making. Trust me in this - the quality of their work is truly exceptional. You will not be disappointed in the product.
Again - thanks for helping to tell His story, their story and our story as well.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Blame Idealism
We're supposed to explore feminist writings today, huh? Maybe we'll do a bit of that, but I wanted to throw in a little current events.
Did anyone catch the buzz over a study that linked the childhood obesity epidemic with the rise of hours mothers work out of the home? I don't know about you, but my first reaction was "Why's it always the mom's fault?" Dads can cook and shop. Dads can take kids outside to play and make sure they aren't eating too many potato chips. It seems that there is always another reason for moms to feel guilty about their parenting.
An article by David Niven (this is not the feminist writing) reported findings that women in political office get much more media attention on personal issues (Hillary Clinton's "cankles", Kirsten Gillibrand's status as the "hot senator"), including their ability to juggle career and family. Men do not get the same attention. No one is reporting about whether Eric Cantor is able to be a good dad.
And now our feminist writing. Anthropologist Sherry Ortner's essay, "Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture," in a probably pathetic summary: women are universally second class citizens, across cultures and history. Woman is mediator between culture and nature, with men being culture, which is transcendence over nature. Women's biology is more difficult to separate from nature, so we are assigned the position of being closer to nature. By our connection to infants, socially more connected to nature. Ortner asserts that this circular reasoning has deep tentacles into our collective psyche, and this keeps a stranglehold on women's social standing. She says that our efforts only at structural change like equal pay and women holding office will not root out the whole problem.
So kids and cooking are our domain by this culture/nature reasoning. Our biology assigned us to have to give of ourselves (pregnancy, nursing) and be involved in messy processes. Are we subverting what we are made for if we share domestic and breadwinning responsibilities?
Fatima Mernissi, a Morroccan feminist writer, argues that liberation is an economic problem more than a spiritual problem. It costs society to move women from being free domestic labor. "A system of kindergartens and canteens is an indispensable investment" in freeing women from the traditional role of a Muslim woman. But note that the United States has not made this investment either. There are 198 countries in the world that offer mandatory paid maternity leave, and we are not one of them. Human rights violating countries, not just the EU.
Ok, so I threw that all out there for discussion. I'm not offering my opinion yet. I would like to put an observation of my own into the mix. When I was driving yesterday, I noticed how beautiful the winter scenery was. Our hills were mounds of white with little houses cozily tucked in and trees sparking with clinging snow. A winter wonderland. But up close, the dirty gray and black snow lining the roads is disgusting. And it's taller than I am. That's a lot of dirt that up close, we can't hide. Winter is gorgeous from a distance, but our lifestyles muck it up and we can't hide that under closer examination.
No matter what new direction we take in our society, no matter what fabulous solutions for equality we come up with, there is always going to be unsightly fallout. Are we going to stop driving because our cars make snirt? No matter what your personal feelings are on the matter, women are in the workplace, and there are good things and bad things about that. But that's not going to change any time soon, just like most of us are not going to stop driving any time soon. Men are working 163 hours a year more than they used to, back when women were not as much of a presence in the workplace. Economic forces have changed things and we can stop blaming each other's ethics and work together for solutions. We keep striving and trying to make the world a better place.
Things aren't going back to 1950. Oh, and by the way, find your elderly African American neighbor and ask her how great her life was in the 50's, how much time she got to spend at home with her kids. Things have never been ideal, nor will they ever be. Before cars, there was horse crap everywhere.
This was perhaps not an uplifting way to begin the week....
Did anyone catch the buzz over a study that linked the childhood obesity epidemic with the rise of hours mothers work out of the home? I don't know about you, but my first reaction was "Why's it always the mom's fault?" Dads can cook and shop. Dads can take kids outside to play and make sure they aren't eating too many potato chips. It seems that there is always another reason for moms to feel guilty about their parenting.
An article by David Niven (this is not the feminist writing) reported findings that women in political office get much more media attention on personal issues (Hillary Clinton's "cankles", Kirsten Gillibrand's status as the "hot senator"), including their ability to juggle career and family. Men do not get the same attention. No one is reporting about whether Eric Cantor is able to be a good dad.
And now our feminist writing. Anthropologist Sherry Ortner's essay, "Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture," in a probably pathetic summary: women are universally second class citizens, across cultures and history. Woman is mediator between culture and nature, with men being culture, which is transcendence over nature. Women's biology is more difficult to separate from nature, so we are assigned the position of being closer to nature. By our connection to infants, socially more connected to nature. Ortner asserts that this circular reasoning has deep tentacles into our collective psyche, and this keeps a stranglehold on women's social standing. She says that our efforts only at structural change like equal pay and women holding office will not root out the whole problem.
So kids and cooking are our domain by this culture/nature reasoning. Our biology assigned us to have to give of ourselves (pregnancy, nursing) and be involved in messy processes. Are we subverting what we are made for if we share domestic and breadwinning responsibilities?
Fatima Mernissi, a Morroccan feminist writer, argues that liberation is an economic problem more than a spiritual problem. It costs society to move women from being free domestic labor. "A system of kindergartens and canteens is an indispensable investment" in freeing women from the traditional role of a Muslim woman. But note that the United States has not made this investment either. There are 198 countries in the world that offer mandatory paid maternity leave, and we are not one of them. Human rights violating countries, not just the EU.
Ok, so I threw that all out there for discussion. I'm not offering my opinion yet. I would like to put an observation of my own into the mix. When I was driving yesterday, I noticed how beautiful the winter scenery was. Our hills were mounds of white with little houses cozily tucked in and trees sparking with clinging snow. A winter wonderland. But up close, the dirty gray and black snow lining the roads is disgusting. And it's taller than I am. That's a lot of dirt that up close, we can't hide. Winter is gorgeous from a distance, but our lifestyles muck it up and we can't hide that under closer examination.
No matter what new direction we take in our society, no matter what fabulous solutions for equality we come up with, there is always going to be unsightly fallout. Are we going to stop driving because our cars make snirt? No matter what your personal feelings are on the matter, women are in the workplace, and there are good things and bad things about that. But that's not going to change any time soon, just like most of us are not going to stop driving any time soon. Men are working 163 hours a year more than they used to, back when women were not as much of a presence in the workplace. Economic forces have changed things and we can stop blaming each other's ethics and work together for solutions. We keep striving and trying to make the world a better place.
Things aren't going back to 1950. Oh, and by the way, find your elderly African American neighbor and ask her how great her life was in the 50's, how much time she got to spend at home with her kids. Things have never been ideal, nor will they ever be. Before cars, there was horse crap everywhere.
This was perhaps not an uplifting way to begin the week....
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Saturday is for Shopping
Really, I don't shop on Saturdays unless I must. Must would be having to go clothing shopping for my junior higher. Which is a whole other post altogether. But Saturday is a shopping day of sorts, so on Saturdays I will feature someone in our "Supporting One Another" links. If you would like me to add your small business link to the side, shoot me an e-mail. And for tomorrow's reference, I think Sunday will be a day of rest for Ourselves, Reinvented; we can be our old selves on Sundays. Just kidding. I generally post in the early mornings, and I have a standing early morning running appointment on Sunday mornings.
Today ... Amanda! Amanda is a dear friend who I could also feature just for her own wonderful character. She's the mom I should be. She's the friend everyone should have. She's funny, smart, humble, and TALENTED. She's a great writer. But she's also a fantastic photographer and she is the woman who taught me how to make lovely things out of yarn.
She just launched an Etsy site, listed on the side of the page as
If you have an itty bitty little girl in your life, you will want to buy one of these too cute little hats she's made. And if you don't have an itty bitty little girl in your life, you will want to go out and find one to buy one of these for. I really thought of having another baby just for that purpose. I'm 2 for 2 xx so my odds are pretty good.
She also has some lovely photographs you can buy if you're interested. She's doing a blog right now called
photOEDaily
She takes a photo every day and writes a caption. When she's done she should publish the year. In my opinion. I love that blog.
Anyway, check it out and remember Amanda the next time you need the perfect gift for a little girl.
Today ... Amanda! Amanda is a dear friend who I could also feature just for her own wonderful character. She's the mom I should be. She's the friend everyone should have. She's funny, smart, humble, and TALENTED. She's a great writer. But she's also a fantastic photographer and she is the woman who taught me how to make lovely things out of yarn.
She just launched an Etsy site, listed on the side of the page as
If you have an itty bitty little girl in your life, you will want to buy one of these too cute little hats she's made. And if you don't have an itty bitty little girl in your life, you will want to go out and find one to buy one of these for. I really thought of having another baby just for that purpose. I'm 2 for 2 xx so my odds are pretty good.She also has some lovely photographs you can buy if you're interested. She's doing a blog right now called
photOEDaily
She takes a photo every day and writes a caption. When she's done she should publish the year. In my opinion. I love that blog.
Anyway, check it out and remember Amanda the next time you need the perfect gift for a little girl.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Comfy
Friday! Who wants to work on Friday? Our heads are half in the weekend. On that note, Fridays are going to be "celebration of girlyness" days. This may not fly as a feminist idea, but I'm going from the standpoint of the Audre Lorde article featured earlier this week, which also talks about how women need to embrace their nurturing side and nurture and celebrate one another. I love to run faster than the boys, trust me. But I, along with other females I know, also delight in little things most boys (not all) that I know don't even notice, let alone relish. We can call it our icebreaker, though that's not fitting since it's at the end of the week. It's a way for us to get to know each other on a different level. Less cerebral, but maybe not less spiritual.
I live in a frozen tundra. Ok, no I don't. I do live in a place that has already recorded 125 inches of snowfall this year. We know how to do winter. But this is a week in U.S. weather history where most of us experienced real winter, with even my friend in Arkansas experiencing ice and snow. I thought this to be a fitting week to discuss
comfort food.
Maybe I need a lot of comfort, but I love comfort food. Food doesn't just nourish the body; at times, it feeds the soul. I believe this with all of my heart and so never put anything but cream in my coffee and real butter on my toast. There's something about snowfall, dark nights, and chilly weather that make me want to put cozy soups on the table for my family. Is it some deep feminine instinct to want to provide sustenance for those we love? Or a little girl return to feeling safe and loved that we want to replicate? I drink vats of hot chocolate in the winter with mountains of whipped cream, not the fat free kind. Usually with a homemade goodie of some kind. I do lots of baking. There's something about a pan of real mac and cheese being pulled out of the oven that makes me feel safe and warm and makes me feel as though I am taking good care of my family.
There are lots of good reasons not to turn to food for comfort. Such as our hips and our hearts (as machines, not the seat of emotions). We all like to take a little pleasure in our grandmother's secret recipe sometimes. We connect some of our best memories to food shared with those we love (or ourselves, our comfy couch, and a good book).
What are some of your favorite comfort foods? (This is not the time for touting your vegetable consumption!) Or better yet, what are some of your favorite comfort food memories?
Mine? Whenever we have another family over for a Saturday supper out on our deck. My husband is a master griller, New York has the best summer wines, produce is in season and tastes good, with some berry or other perfectly ripe for picking and tucked neatly into pastry and served with ice cream. Adults sit for hours in the breezy, warm sunlight that hangs on for hours and kids chase fireflies and each other.
Saturday morning big breakfasts, especially when I have overnight company. Waffles or pancakes, bacon, lots of coffee, and no hurry to get anywhere.
One time, my friend Courtney and I skipped lunch and had a 10 dollar sundae, the height of decadence. But also the height of comfort.
These are just a few. But I don't want to bore you all day. I want to hear yours. Happy Friday - and eat a little comfort food on this cold and snowy night:)
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Every Elizabeth Cady Stanton Needs A Susan B. Anthony
Ready for something a little fluffier today, huh? By the way, thanks to Amanda for her super thoughtful response yesterday. Raise your hand if you want to see her as a guest writer! (Sorry, Amanda, I couldn't help it). Really, if any of you has a great idea for a post, or even want to write it yourself and put it in this space, please e-mail me and let me know. I'm hounding Tashmica to do a current events guest spot as well, in case anyone was thinking of tagging her it:)
Oh, I'm not done embarrassing my friends. I would like to occasionally post about a group of women or woman who has been particularly inspiring or supportive. Because we all need to be inspired and supported. Maybe I'll just settle on Tash for today, since she's not easily embarrassed and has herself out there in public spaces. So, forgive me, Tash, but the spotlight is on you, babe.
True story: I barely knew Tashmica, just by rubbing shoulders at MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers, a faith based mommy support group thing). I thought she was funny and vivacious and she had these Genocide Intervention bumper stickers plastered on her minivan. You must understand that at the time, NO ONE in that MOPS had any such thing on their bumpers. Or anywhere else. One day we were cleaning up after MOPS and I, no joke, walked up to her and said, "Do you drink beer?" At a MOPS function at a conservative church. I have no idea what came over me. The Holy Ghost, I think. I proposed that she had a cause, I had a cause, we could learn about each other's causes over beer, and that we would be friends, I just knew it.
Delightfully, she accepted. 2 MOPS moms met at Harper's, a college bar on the strip in East Lansing and drank Sparty beer talking about genocide and trafficking. We were the only people in there not looking for a hook up, bent over our one beer each because we had to drive home to our children, conspiring how to save the world.
You must understand that up to this point in time, I had never conspired to save the world. Or much of anything. Ever. Tashmica was literally a person who changed my life. She has given me courage, motivation, inspiration, and undying support.
She was single-handedly and doggedly running a self-started non-profit organization in Lansing to stop genocide, specifically in Darfur. While helping her husband run the family flooring business (Heritage Flooring, represent!) and bringing up 2, and then 3 little boys. She demonstrated to me how to juggle, how to let the little things go, how to throw yourself into life, how to face down failure, and how to do it all looking great. Well, I'm not sure I mastered that last part, or really any of it, but I learned. I was inspired. I read the news more, I researched more, I listened more.
The other thing about Tashmica is that she unfailingly supported me. She totally involved herself in my little Michigan Chapter of Women of Purpose (future posts on that are coming). And even more noteworthy, she listened to me for hours when I was in Crisis of Faith, 2.0. And she never stopped believing in me or my faith. She seriously was one of the reasons I made it through that valley with faith at all. She never judged.
She now is living out her talent working for the Nyaka Orphanage in Uganda, Stateside. She has been through a lot of messy things in her life, and not just survived, but managed to change people's lives. She advocates for victims of abuse. She's still a mommy and a wife. And she's still a dear, dear friend and I can't even do things like start a slightly controversial blog without her weigh-in.
So everyone, be inspired! And now I have to put all Tashmica's links over on the side of this page.
*Title reference? If you don't know, we'll feature it on the next fun feminist facts day.
Oh, I'm not done embarrassing my friends. I would like to occasionally post about a group of women or woman who has been particularly inspiring or supportive. Because we all need to be inspired and supported. Maybe I'll just settle on Tash for today, since she's not easily embarrassed and has herself out there in public spaces. So, forgive me, Tash, but the spotlight is on you, babe.
True story: I barely knew Tashmica, just by rubbing shoulders at MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers, a faith based mommy support group thing). I thought she was funny and vivacious and she had these Genocide Intervention bumper stickers plastered on her minivan. You must understand that at the time, NO ONE in that MOPS had any such thing on their bumpers. Or anywhere else. One day we were cleaning up after MOPS and I, no joke, walked up to her and said, "Do you drink beer?" At a MOPS function at a conservative church. I have no idea what came over me. The Holy Ghost, I think. I proposed that she had a cause, I had a cause, we could learn about each other's causes over beer, and that we would be friends, I just knew it.
Delightfully, she accepted. 2 MOPS moms met at Harper's, a college bar on the strip in East Lansing and drank Sparty beer talking about genocide and trafficking. We were the only people in there not looking for a hook up, bent over our one beer each because we had to drive home to our children, conspiring how to save the world.
You must understand that up to this point in time, I had never conspired to save the world. Or much of anything. Ever. Tashmica was literally a person who changed my life. She has given me courage, motivation, inspiration, and undying support.
She was single-handedly and doggedly running a self-started non-profit organization in Lansing to stop genocide, specifically in Darfur. While helping her husband run the family flooring business (Heritage Flooring, represent!) and bringing up 2, and then 3 little boys. She demonstrated to me how to juggle, how to let the little things go, how to throw yourself into life, how to face down failure, and how to do it all looking great. Well, I'm not sure I mastered that last part, or really any of it, but I learned. I was inspired. I read the news more, I researched more, I listened more.
The other thing about Tashmica is that she unfailingly supported me. She totally involved herself in my little Michigan Chapter of Women of Purpose (future posts on that are coming). And even more noteworthy, she listened to me for hours when I was in Crisis of Faith, 2.0. And she never stopped believing in me or my faith. She seriously was one of the reasons I made it through that valley with faith at all. She never judged.
She now is living out her talent working for the Nyaka Orphanage in Uganda, Stateside. She has been through a lot of messy things in her life, and not just survived, but managed to change people's lives. She advocates for victims of abuse. She's still a mommy and a wife. And she's still a dear, dear friend and I can't even do things like start a slightly controversial blog without her weigh-in.
So everyone, be inspired! And now I have to put all Tashmica's links over on the side of this page.
*Title reference? If you don't know, we'll feature it on the next fun feminist facts day.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places
Wednesday. Middle of the week, right in the groove. I get some of my best work done on Wednesdays. The atmosphere of this blog is, I hope, full of love. But you want a little controversy, right? I thought maybe I could bring up the more difficult-for-Christians aspects of feminist philosophy and call Wednesdays "Wacky" or something. But I also thought of old-fashioned mid-week prayer meetings and how we're all needin' a little Jesus by mid-week.
So today is a combination of the two. Ready, set....
Lesbian.
Did you squirm? I think that is the exact intent of labeling people that, from feminist point of view. If you delve into feminist philosophy, you will have to wrestle with this idea. There was an article by Radicalesbians that I was struck by. The point was that the label "lesbian" is wielded to keep women in line. When you hear it, you know you've stepped out of line. It, like most labels really, is designed to divide and ostracize.
The authors said some other things I really took to heart. Lesbians, because they do not have the safety net of marriage, understand the "central aloneness of life." Being a lesbian is most dangerous because there are no male-connected compensations. Zero status. They assert that women need to find themselves, not in relationship to man. They ultimately propose that "only women can give to each other a new sense of self."
Let me get nice and honest. This hit me, hard, as I pondered my marriage and my expectations of it. Marriage does assign status that makes me not have to think about certain things. There is status I have by way of connection to Jeff. And I lean on it, use it, and expect things of him that are unfair to him and to myself.
One response I have to this article is that labels dehumanize, and keep us from seeing past the label to the heart. Turning our backs on anyone, regardless of their gender or label, will hurt all involved in some way. Think Dostoevsky's quote that Courtney mentioned about how loving someone is seeing them as God intended them to be...
The other response is that I agree that worrying about what men think of us, what the world thinks of us, is always going to keep us prisoners. We absolutely cannot depend on anyone else for emotional fulfillment, power, etc. It not only keeps us from developing, it uses other people. I believe in marriage, and I am thankful for mine. When marriage is good it can bring strength and beauty to life that does make life more endurable and meaningful. But just as I cannot find my true self in my husband, women cannot find it in each other either. No human being can ever be another human being's everything, male or female.
Jesus offers us those things we can't find in anyone else. His back is strong enough to hold our burdens. "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11: 28). He is our way, our truth, our life. If we look for those things in a significant other, we will be deeply disappointed and unfulfilled. And perhaps even more troubling: "If you try to keep your life for yourself, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for me, you will find true life" (Luke 9:24). It's not a very popular thing to say, but it seems to me that we might find ourselves, our true purpose, when we are giving ourselves to others. To God. When I reread this paragraph it sounded so ... I don't know... like I think I'm an answer guru. Which I am most definitely not. I think this looks a lot harder when it's being lived, of course.
Incidentally, I think I will skip putting any words in the "labels" box. We're beyond labels and boxes now;)
So today is a combination of the two. Ready, set....
Lesbian.
Did you squirm? I think that is the exact intent of labeling people that, from feminist point of view. If you delve into feminist philosophy, you will have to wrestle with this idea. There was an article by Radicalesbians that I was struck by. The point was that the label "lesbian" is wielded to keep women in line. When you hear it, you know you've stepped out of line. It, like most labels really, is designed to divide and ostracize.
The authors said some other things I really took to heart. Lesbians, because they do not have the safety net of marriage, understand the "central aloneness of life." Being a lesbian is most dangerous because there are no male-connected compensations. Zero status. They assert that women need to find themselves, not in relationship to man. They ultimately propose that "only women can give to each other a new sense of self."
Let me get nice and honest. This hit me, hard, as I pondered my marriage and my expectations of it. Marriage does assign status that makes me not have to think about certain things. There is status I have by way of connection to Jeff. And I lean on it, use it, and expect things of him that are unfair to him and to myself.
One response I have to this article is that labels dehumanize, and keep us from seeing past the label to the heart. Turning our backs on anyone, regardless of their gender or label, will hurt all involved in some way. Think Dostoevsky's quote that Courtney mentioned about how loving someone is seeing them as God intended them to be...
The other response is that I agree that worrying about what men think of us, what the world thinks of us, is always going to keep us prisoners. We absolutely cannot depend on anyone else for emotional fulfillment, power, etc. It not only keeps us from developing, it uses other people. I believe in marriage, and I am thankful for mine. When marriage is good it can bring strength and beauty to life that does make life more endurable and meaningful. But just as I cannot find my true self in my husband, women cannot find it in each other either. No human being can ever be another human being's everything, male or female.
Jesus offers us those things we can't find in anyone else. His back is strong enough to hold our burdens. "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11: 28). He is our way, our truth, our life. If we look for those things in a significant other, we will be deeply disappointed and unfulfilled. And perhaps even more troubling: "If you try to keep your life for yourself, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for me, you will find true life" (Luke 9:24). It's not a very popular thing to say, but it seems to me that we might find ourselves, our true purpose, when we are giving ourselves to others. To God. When I reread this paragraph it sounded so ... I don't know... like I think I'm an answer guru. Which I am most definitely not. I think this looks a lot harder when it's being lived, of course.
Incidentally, I think I will skip putting any words in the "labels" box. We're beyond labels and boxes now;)
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Everyone's a Daughter
It's the first of the month! Which in my house means new budget month! Ok, yes, bill paying, but also renewed stash of grocery and spending money.
So before I spent all that cash (ha, ha) I thought I would roll out our spotlight organization this month. One day my good friend Amanda was wearing this gorgeous scarf. When we ooohhed and aaahhed, she shared with us where she bought it. The organization is called "by Tavi", and all of the scarves and handbags are made by women who are using this business to get their families out of severe poverty.
This is an issue dear to my heart. There are places in the world where when her husband dies, a woman is left with almost no options to provide for her family. Or sometimes, a family is so desperately poor that even if the husband is around, there is still no property ownership. Loan sharks prey on people like this, and keep them virtually in slavery when they lend money for small business operation. People stay in poverty and never get ahead. Anyway, I'll let you read about it at the link at the bottom of the blog page in the "Reaching Out a Hand" section.
A sister project of this is called "Daughters." And I really love this one. There are little girls in this world who are given to brothels in order to provide their family with income, or kidnapped, and forced into prostitution. This is one of those things I HATE. Stealing childhood has to be one of the worst crimes on earth. "Daughters" provides a safe home for these girls, where they can be girls. They also teach the older girls skills, and they have launched a line of gowns that are being sold in a prom and bridal store in Indiana. The "by Tavi" link also includes a way to get to the "Daughters" blog.
My thought concerning this type of post is multi-faceted. I hope we are informed, and not shutting our eyes to the suffering of daughters in other places. I hope we are inspired by people fighting injustice, and find little ways to chip away at oppression in our world. All of the causes might not tug at your heart, but there may be one or two along the way that move you to do something. If so, don't ignore that feeling - that's the Holy Ghost moving! ;) These organizations always need money as they are not- for- profit, so maybe each month we can forgo a latte or two and send 10 bucks and a note of encouragement. Or, the next time we want a beautiful scarf or new handbag, we can shop on "by Tavi" and support some hard working women. And when people oooh and aaah, we can share the story.
So before I spent all that cash (ha, ha) I thought I would roll out our spotlight organization this month. One day my good friend Amanda was wearing this gorgeous scarf. When we ooohhed and aaahhed, she shared with us where she bought it. The organization is called "by Tavi", and all of the scarves and handbags are made by women who are using this business to get their families out of severe poverty.
This is an issue dear to my heart. There are places in the world where when her husband dies, a woman is left with almost no options to provide for her family. Or sometimes, a family is so desperately poor that even if the husband is around, there is still no property ownership. Loan sharks prey on people like this, and keep them virtually in slavery when they lend money for small business operation. People stay in poverty and never get ahead. Anyway, I'll let you read about it at the link at the bottom of the blog page in the "Reaching Out a Hand" section.
A sister project of this is called "Daughters." And I really love this one. There are little girls in this world who are given to brothels in order to provide their family with income, or kidnapped, and forced into prostitution. This is one of those things I HATE. Stealing childhood has to be one of the worst crimes on earth. "Daughters" provides a safe home for these girls, where they can be girls. They also teach the older girls skills, and they have launched a line of gowns that are being sold in a prom and bridal store in Indiana. The "by Tavi" link also includes a way to get to the "Daughters" blog.
My thought concerning this type of post is multi-faceted. I hope we are informed, and not shutting our eyes to the suffering of daughters in other places. I hope we are inspired by people fighting injustice, and find little ways to chip away at oppression in our world. All of the causes might not tug at your heart, but there may be one or two along the way that move you to do something. If so, don't ignore that feeling - that's the Holy Ghost moving! ;) These organizations always need money as they are not- for- profit, so maybe each month we can forgo a latte or two and send 10 bucks and a note of encouragement. Or, the next time we want a beautiful scarf or new handbag, we can shop on "by Tavi" and support some hard working women. And when people oooh and aaah, we can share the story.
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