About kb

free spirit, lover of red wine, bacon, sushi, the ocean, and adventure. I work in the legal field, do freelance writing, and take care of children.

On Childhood Haircuts, Nostalgically

Posted on June 28, 2012 by kb

I was little. My mom knew I was going to cut my own hair. I’d been cutting the dog’s hair, cutting the grass, cutting everything in sight with my scissors.

One day, I came down the stairs and I had taken the scissors to my bangs. Instead of cutting straight across, I had cut them so that they were really slanted. I had this giant triangle section of my bangs gone. And there was nothing that could be done about it.

I hid the hair behind a chair in the empty upstairs bedroom that we used as an office. (My only flash of memory of this incident was thinking that if I put the hair behind the chair, they’d never find it.)

So, seeing this interview with two little girls in the aftermath of an unfortunate hair cut, I smiled. The 5-year old daughter of an NPR staffer cut her 3-year old sister’s hair. You should listen to it. Oh my goodness, they are so adorable.

On the Supreme Court and Socialism, Quite Happily

Posted on June 28, 2012 by kb

I heard the news about the Supreme Court’s ruling on health care in the car on the way to work this morning. I am thrilled. We are one step closer to joining the ranks of the countries that have affordable health care. Now, if only we could get rid of that pesky “for profit” part…

The cries of socialism are ringing, though. On my way into my office building, a co-worker told me that one of the guys who eats breakfast was ranting about how we’re turning into a nation of socialists.

Hardly.

But it got me thinking about people, specifically. Our democratic model is supposed to allow for involvement by all citizens. Of course, the better educated and motivated the citizens are, the better the democracy, which in theory will work in the best interests of its people.

There was a man standing on the corner on my way to work. He caught my eye because his Hawaiian shirt did not match his checkered shorts. He was holding a sign that said, “Honest work for honest pay.” It also listed his phone number.

There’s another man, wearing some sort of identification badge (as a way to legitimize his request) who stands on the corner where I turn onto the main thoroughfare as I leave work. He’s there every day, even in the hot sun, and his sign says that he’s an Army veteran and a father of four, willing to work.

When I was a child, the signs read, “Anything helps,” or “I’m not going to lie, I need a beer,” and while I don’t mean to make light of the homeless epidemic that has been a problem for longer than I’ve been alive, which is entirely related to our own lack of mental health care -particularly for our veterans – and other necessary services, I find the fact that the signs’ messages have changed to be an indicator of a far deeper problem.

Who are we as a society to put profit before people? Have we forgotten about the “general welfare“?

When a baby is born, it is a helpless individual in need of constant attention. While most of these babies grow up to be adults, the paths that they take (both willfully and unwillingly) are greatly divergent from their shared beginnings as infants in need of clean diapers, a warm bed, and food.

Somewhere along the way, some of these people seem to have forgotten that our fragile existence is dependent upon reliance on others. Reliance on others sounds like hippie nonsense, but it’s not. Every individual possesses unique strengths that serve as an asset to the communities in which they live. A community that is able to utilize these assets in the best manner possible has far greater strength and is a far more vibrant place to be.

People are quick to make assumptions when they see someone standing on a street corner holding a sign that begs for work. I urge you to imagine how you would come to that decision. It’s not a dignified action, the begging, and people know that. They have weighed their options and come up with nothing, and so, standing on the corner with a sign is their last attempt.

Say what you will about people who receive assistance from the government (and in doing so, I urge you to consider the bailouts of banks and large corporations as something similar, just for perspective), but at the core of everything lies the concept of humanity. If we desire to create a society driven by the pursuit of sustainability and progress, we must remember that each and every citizen matters, regardless of their ability to accumulate wealth or their social standing.

In our rush to actualize the American dream, we started valuing white collar jobs, and in doing so, began to devalue labor. Human labor is a necessary force for sustained growth and the success of a nation. People want to work. They want to feel as though their work matters.

Business can be successful when people matter, but the desire to drive the profit margin ever higher must cease. I work for a company that proves that human is more important than anything else. We have been providing software for decades (longer than I’ve been alive), and have maintained and grown the business without sacrificing the integrity of the people who work here. My boss always says, “We are not what we do,” and he lives by that. He once had to get up in the middle of a very important demonstration of our product to go attend to his family, and he did so without hesitation. I respect that.We work together, as a community. We share ideas, inspirations, and celebrate the good news. We are a support network during times of grief and sadness. This is a unique kind of company, and I’m glad I work here.

I’m arguing for or against socialism, but I’m arguing that as a country, we’ve begun to neglect of the most important facets of our society: our people.

The United States is no longer the greatest nation in the world. What we lack in education, human services (including health care), and global respect, we make up for in incarceration rates, defense spending, and bravado. In order to keep ourselves relevant on the world stage, we must learn to compromise between the corporation and the individual. We are a government “by the people, for the people,” and it’s time that we started remembering that.

RIP Nora Ephron

Posted on June 27, 2012 by kb

Because I don’t have the words, I’ll have to borrow them from Nora Ephron herself (and from an article that appeared on a sister site of “The Atlantic”).

She wrote screenplays that changed the way we view romantic comedies. She was successful in a very male-dominated industry. She was bright, beautiful, and unique.

If you’d rather read the original article (or the version that I took from “The Atlantic”) please click here.

On Hot Cats in the Summer, Vigilantly

Posted on June 27, 2012 by kb

It’s been a while since I’ve subjected you to cat pictures, but I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten how much you all just love to stare at pictures of cats.

I realized last night that I’ve become the stereotypical female cat owner. Sure, he’s adorable, but I’m way over the top with how much I love him. I ordered him a cat bow-tie off the internet, which he wore for about twenty minutes one day. (In all fairness, the bow-tie was $3, including shipping, and it was twenty minutes of adorable, so I don’t regret it.) I catch myself referring to myself in the third person when I’m talking to him, as in “Mommy doesn’t have any wet food for you.”

I also realized that I don’t care whether or not anyone thinks that is ridiculous. He’s my son. I rescued him and I will love him. Seriously (and so incredibly selfishly), I love that he loves me.

In college, my roommate Emily used to call all cats “chicken nuggets”, so it was only a matter of time before it was shortened to chicken. Last week, Swisher said the word “chicken” and Carlos turned his head, confirming my worst fears that he may think his name is actually “chicken.” But then again, maybe not. It’s not like he responds to anything that isn’t “tsk tsk tsk” or the sound of a can or package of wet food being opened.

Wet food is like crack. He can’t resist; it gets him every time. Now that he knows that we have wet food in the house (it’s hot, and I like knowing that he’s getting a little more hydration and also some good protein), he won’t even run. He’ll bound out the door, but once he realizes that I’m not following, he’ll sashay back in and start the begging.

Swisher accidentally shut the door to my room one night, locking Carlos out and forcing him to sleep in the living room. Mike said that when he got up to go to work, Carlos was scratching at my door. Since then, he won’t sleep in my bed when Swisher is over. (But the minute Swisher leaves, he’s right back on his side of the bed, stretched out territorially, his head cocked back as though he’s wondering when I’m going to come keep him company.)

The one drawback to loving a cat in the middle of summer? The shedding! Everywhere! White sheets? Don’t even think about it. (Yes, those are white sheets. The bottom, where Carlos likes to sleep, is no longer white. It’s cat-gray. It’s unpleasant for all of us.) Since all of my friends are allergic (except Jacob), I have to change my sheets or put new sheets down when anyone wants to sleep on our giant bean bag or on the couch or on the futon mattress. I have been doing so much laundry! I started to say, “On the plus side…” but then realized that there really isn’t one.

Until Colorado decides to cool down, I have a very hot, grumpy chicken on my hands, and I am one stressed out cat mother (the thought of heat stroke or dehydration, etc. is terrifying). We have fans everywhere, so hopefully when we’re gone, Carlos just parks himself in front of them and gets some good air. He has fresh water, food, and a dark closet in which he can look for quiet, cool spaces to hang out. But I can still tell he’s miserable. I gave him a cool bath the other day – just barely warm water, and he was dry in less than a half an hour. Maybe more cool baths are in store for us.

Cool baths and wet food are going to get us through the summer.

Side note: I remember one of the vets at some point telling me that Carlos just looks like a feral cat, based on his facial features. I don’t remember what it is, and can’t verify to be sure that this statement is correct. I was doing some Googling and came across this link, in case any of you are curious about feral cats and the TNR (Trap-Neuter-Release program) that took the tip of his ear.

As I read more and more about these sorts of programs, and especially since I know that he’s FIV+ (Cat AIDS!), the more it sinks in that we are both incredibly lucky. Carlos is lucky to be alive – had he been tested earlier for FIV and found to be positive, there is a high possibility that he could have been euthanized. He ended up at the no-kill shelter that is PAWS Chicago, whether it was through the TNR program or through other means, I’m not sure. After waiting for six months to be adopted (by me!), he’s a sweet, sassy, spoiled house cat who hopefully has a much better life than the one he had before. I could not have asked for a more challenging or entertaining companion.

If you’re looking for a pet, please look at the shelters first. There are some amazing used animals just waiting to find great homes. (I use “used animals” because I think it sounds cute, and not because I think the animals have any less value. Trust me, Carlos would not be the lovable smart-ass he is today without his street experience.)

On the Weekend

Posted on June 25, 2012 by kb

I love babysitting. Now that I’m out of college and staring down the possibility of motherhood within the next decade or so, I am looking at babysitting as the ultimate in childhood education. It provides such an insight into the world of parenting. I get to see the kids at their shiny, smiling best and at their absolute, angry worst. I get to watch their minds develop and wonder; they blow me kisses and sign “I love you” when I put them to sleep; we giggle together. Children are truly wondrous.

But more than that, I get to watch different sets of parents actively making choices. Each household does things differently, and all they want is the best for their children. I’m terrified that I will somehow raise children that aren’t independent, free-thinking, and respectful. (See this article in the New Yorker for more on that…)

It’s good practice. It’s good exposure. And I honestly think that for all of my years spent babysitting, I’ll be a much better mother.

Denver has been HOT. Too hot. Whenever the summer gets like this, I always think of that episode of Hey, Arnold! where there’s the heat wave. Don’t ask why, I’m not even entirely sure what happens in the episode.

My apartment does not have air conditioning. The cat is angry about this, and is grateful for the fans we have set up in an attempt to circulate some of the air. So on Saturday, we bought a kiddie pool, some squirt guns, sunscreen, and a plastic jar with a spout and a handle! It’s the perfect combination for summer. Swisher has informed me that now that we own a hose together, we’re pretty much committed to each other.

After the stress that was our first fight last week, I had some more serious realizations: On Saturday, he helped me clean out my room at my mom’s house – she’s trying to reclaim our childhood rooms and I’m resisting. But there was no judgement as he picked through random piles of books and clothes and the knick knacks of my youth. I realized that even though there are things that I’m going to have to accept and learn to love about him, he’s having to do the same thing for me. Helping me clean is always going to be a labor of love (Maddie knows all about this), and one that I will be forever grateful for.

I’m going to try to be more patient and realistic in my expectations, but I also told him that I’m not going to let him slide on anything. I think it was good. Cooling off in the pool was even better. I can’t wait to spend the summer hanging out at the pool I’ve inflated in the empty lot next to my apartment building. (Hah.)

The view from the pool.

On Sunday nights, they do free jazz concerts in City Park. Since it’s within walking distance, last night we made a little picnic of lemonade, bread, cheese, meat, and grapes and headed over with some blankets. It was a lovely evening of lounging on the blankets in the cooling air.

(Swisher took this!)

Sadly, as the jazz was ending around 8pm, a police officer (and single mother of a 12-year old daughter) was shot and killed. We heard the gunshots, thought they sounded like fireworks, and then heard the sirens. Cop cars and an ambulance were all over the park. We weren’t very close to the shooting, and we didn’t really feel any sense of panic (I mean, it wasn’t the stampede-effect), but the stream of people out of the park was pretty consistent.

I seriously hope that this crime doesn’t deter people from coming out to the park. It’s such a beautiful place, and having free music every Sunday is a really great opportunity to feel like a part of the community. Maybe next week, they will have some sort of donation center up so that patrons can donate to the family of the slain officer.

I’m sad. Sad for the daughter of the officer, sad for the officer herself, and sad for the guy who killed her. Misplaced rage, or sad displays of masculinity, or something else led to a split-second decision that took a life, took a mother, and changed another’s life forever. This guy, who’s only 21, will have to spend the rest of his life reliving those moments. I only hope that prison for him is not so much a place of criminal education, but instead offers a place of hope and personal growth. (It won’t, but then again, our prison system has never really been about reducing recidivism. It’s more of a profit mill than anything else. I like hearing about places that really work for rehabilitation and optimism than those which breed gang violence and racially divided populations while glorifying violence.)

When we got home, there were a ton of people in our living room. By a ton, I mean ten, but expecting to see one and seeing ten is still overwhelming. After a while, Mike’s friends wanted to take a walk. Which was perfect, because I wanted to play night frisbee.

Night frisbee has been on my brain for days now. It’s harder, I think, to play night frisbee because all you see is the light, flying straight at your head. The color is nice, but it’s easier to miss. I’m still awesome at it, of course.

After everyone left, Mike, Swisher, and I continued playing on the side of the building. It was such a relaxing night, the perfect end to a very hectic week. (Or the perfect beginning to another hectic week?)

In unrelated news, I love my slapwatch. I do not actually use it to keep time, and so I don’t think it’s been accurate for like six months. (Bear in mind that I’ve only owned it for like 6 months.) Also, my childhood self cheers every time I wear it. Good for her.

On a City Park Home, Excitedly

Posted on June 22, 2012 by kb

I have been looking at houses lately.

This post, showing a City Park (Denver!) restoration, reminds me that there is so much potential to reinvigorate a home’s exterior. It also reminds me that I can totally still live by City Park for the rest of ever if I so choose (and I can still have a gorgeous porch)!

On the Verge, Intently

Posted on June 21, 2012 by kb

This week has been one of those painful weeks where growth and realization have come quickly, but at a price. The week broke right into a bubble that was threatening to make me seriously happy, or at the very least content. It’s good to be reminded that these bouts of confidence and satisfaction are merely semi-permanent. Keeps me on my toes.

“Your social life has gone downhill. You’re lower on my totem pole,” he said over dinner. And inside, I ached.

“We’re enigmas,” she tells me, and I know she’s right. “Most 24 year olds aren’t as concerned about jobs and careers and futures.” (Arguably, I’m over-concerned.)

I bear a bit of resentment towards my peers who seem to be so carefree (careless?) with their time, their motivation, their agendas.

I got upset with him today. The realizations came swiftly and unbidden, settling around my heart like ice. I fear I’ve made a huge mistake. I grew upset and let it spill out today, a fury that had been brewing for four days. I questioned his motivations and tried to gently remind him that if what he’s doing now is overwhelming, then the real world is going to be a shock. There are no breaks. It wasn’t fun, and at the end of it, I don’t feel any better.

“They don’t ever change.” She told me this nearly a year ago, as I stood annoyed in the kitchen at work. And again, I hear her words echoing through my head. I wanted so badly to believe that those nine months gave him time to grow. I let myself believe and now, I’m trapped in something that might not be right, fearing that I could be sabotaging it myself or that I could be absolutely correct.

I’m trying to remind myself that the artificial idea of “success” isn’t important. But then I see her, struggling to feed her family because her lousy husband won’t work. The fear returns. Motivation. Work ethic. Drive. Those things matter. For me, it’s not so much money or status as it is the ability to continually plod along with a set of goals in mind.

As I grow into the person I will become, I am reminded often that nothing is certain. I am reminded that everything you know is not enough. Respect might not be enough, but it’s certainly incredibly important.

I’m working on my patience, too.

To quote the poignant words of a fictional twenty-something, “Your dreams are not what you thought they’d be.”

Baby steps.

On Lawnmower People, Begrudgingly

Posted on June 21, 2012 by kb

I got a picture message from my mom a few minutes ago with the subject: “Found this note in a box. Made me laugh.”

I needed the smile today. But oh man, I am so embarrassed. That’s absolutely the handwriting and indignant sarcasm of my childhood.

(Okay, so it could be worse. I did say please. Check this link out, it goes to a drawing done by a 6-year old in timeout. He asks his parents how they’re doing in hell. Hah, so good.)

On the Flat Tire, Sadly

Posted on June 19, 2012 by kb

I got my first flat tire on Friday night. I was driving up to Boulder after work to see Swisher, and as I was getting off of the highway, I heard a noise like I’d driven over a rattlesnake (and since it was a prolonged noise, it was like the rattlesnake had suddenly jumped into my backseat and was rattling away). I didn’t stress, thinking it was just the pavement being strange.

As I got off the highway and started to slow down, I heard another strange noise and my car handled differently. So I freaked out (internally) and quickly merged right and onto a frontage road and parked (calmly). I got out, and sure enough, my left back tire was flat. I called Swisher, who was already a little grumpy since I was late to begin with. I dropped a pin on my iPhone and sent him a picture of the map and told him to come find me.

And then I set about trying to change my tire. I whipped the jack out of the trunk (of course, I had to move a bunch of crap around, including a bike rack and some shoes), and began attempting to loosen the lug nuts. They refused to budge, so I jacked up the car anyway.

Why? Because it made me feel capable. I am a small, not very muscular human being, and I was pretty stoked to see my car rise up off of the ground. Since it’s Boulder, tons of people stopped by to see if I needed help, and one guy finally tried to loosen the lug nuts, to no avail.

Swisher arrived. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked. I grinned. “Love me,” I told him.

So we put the car back down and left it for the night, since there was no way I was going to be able to get the tire off. The next morning, I waited for an hour for AAA. When the guy got there, he asked me, “Where’s your boyfriend?” I didn’t respond, but instead let him struggle with the lug nuts.

After AAA had done their business (putting on my very sad-looking donut tire), I drove the 2 miles to the nearest Discount Tire, where I spent a large portion of my life savings on 2 new tires. I think the guy saw my face (a look of sadness, shock, and terror) when he said the price, and I asked him to remove the lifetime-warranty-replacement deal from the bill. He kindly reassured me that it was a good idea, and I wrinkled my nose, so he offered to put the other two tires (that I did not buy at Discount) on as being covered under the lifetime-warranty-replacement deal for free. I agreed. And then got flustered and accidentally flung my credit card across the room.

Then it got denied. “I just got back from Vegas,” I explained. My debit card worked, though, so I breathed a sigh of relief. “How was Vegas?” the guy asked. I wanted to tell him that he could just pay some chick to sit next to him covered in glitter while he drinks a 12-pack with a silly straw next to his neighborhood pool, but instead, I muttered the usual, “Great, good, expensive, fun.”

(Not that Vegas wasn’t fun. It was. I was just frustrated that after such an expensive weekend, I was forced to deal with real world problems that also cost massive amounts of money.)

***

Friday night was my first time being in Boulder in a long time (I’m not a huge fan of the place, and haven’t spent much time up there since I was dating Ely last spring). Swisher and I went out for dinner. We were having a happy-enough conversation with two men at the bar about whatever and at some point, one of the men decided to adopt that strange testosterone-fueled-bravado-slash-douche attitude. After a few minutes of this, I told him that I really don’t respond well to men who attempt to patronize me. We continued with our now-awkward conversation, and he continued to attempt to one-up me. I didn’t bend. As we were leaving, I apologized for coming off as abrasive. And then he bought me a beer, so I think I came out ahead on that one.

***

Lights at Pride Fest 2012. We went dancing at a bear bar and it was wonderful!

Katie and Mark and me!

***

This is a strange picture, but I woke up early this morning to find that the sun was streaming through my windows in the most beautiful way. (As I look at the picture, I’m realizing that perhaps I should de-clutter my window space.) I ran the picture through Instagram to attempt to highlight the color, and even though it didn’t turn out exactly as the sun looked, I think it’s still a gorgeous reminder of why summer is one of my favorite times of the year. The way the sun looks so golden through the trees is one of the best lights (besides the gray/green after a rainstorm).

On Anatomically Correct Language, Vaginally

Posted on June 15, 2012 by kb

This news stunned me. Literally.

June 15, 2012 at 11:02 am

Michigan reps silenced for use of ‘v-words’

Comments about sexual parts, procedures during abortion debate cause controversy

By Chad Livengood

Detroit News Lansing Bureau

48 Comments

Lansing — House Republicans tried to silence two female Democratic lawmakers Thursday for floor outbursts a day earlier referencing male sterilization and a female sex organ.

The majority party prohibited state Rep. Lisa Brown from speaking on the floor Thursday after she ended a speech the day before against a bill restricting abortions by referencing her female anatomy.

“I’m flattered that you’re all so interested in my vagina, but ‘no’ means ‘no,’ ” said Brown, D-West Bloomfield.

State Rep. Barb Byrum, D-Onondaga, also wasn’t recognized to speak Thursday for a disturbance she caused on the House floor Wednesday when the GOP majority wouldn’t allow her to propose a ban on men getting a vasectomy unless the sterilization procedure was necessary to save a man’s life.

Majority Floor Leader Jim Stamas, R-Midland, made the decision to prevent Brown and Byrum from speaking on any of the slew of bills the House was racing to pass before adjourning for the summer.

As the party in power, the Republicans can decide who gets to speak and what issue — just as the Democrats did to them when they were in power two years ago.

“My concern was the decorum of the House, not of anything she said,” Stamas told The Detroit News.

“I ask all members to maintain a decorum of the House, and I felt it went too far yesterday,” he said.

Speaker Pro Tem John Walsh, R-Livonia, gaveled Brown out of order for saying “no means no” — because it suggested Brown was comparing the abortion legislation to rape, House GOP spokesman Ari Adler said.

“It has nothing to do with the word vagina,” Adler said.

Some male Republican representatives, however, said Brown’s comments were vulgar, “inappropriate” and “offensive.”

“What she said was offensive,” said state Rep. Mike Callton, R-Nashville.

“It was so offensive, I don’t even want to say it in front of women. I would not say that in mixed company,” he said.

During a Capitol press conference Thursday, Brown noted “vagina” is the “medically correct term” for the female organ at the center of the Legislature’s ongoing abortion restriction debate.

“If I can’t say the word vagina, why are we legislating vaginas?” Brown said. “What language should I use?

“We’re all adults here.”

House Speaker Jase Bolger, R-Marshall, would not address the controversy that had become a national news story by late Thursday.

“I think we’ve made plenty of comments about her inappropriate behavior,” Bolger said.

In an appearance on MSNBC’s “The Rachel Maddow Show” Thursday night, Brown maintained she did nothing wrong.

“I followed the House rules,” said Brown, noting the incident has helped her raise campaign donations.

Democrats said the GOP’s action was more evidence of Republicans trampling women’s rights.

“The war on women in Michigan is not fabricated — this is very real — and it comes at the highest levels of state government,” said Senate Democratic Leader Gretchen Whitmer of East Lansing.

Whitmer made the comment in a YouTube video appearance with state Sen. Rebekah Warren, D-Ann Arbor, posted Thursday in response to the House abortion bill.

As the controversy brewed Thursday, Republicans launched into public relations damage control, emphasizing Byrum and Brown could speak in the future as long as they abided by the rules.

“As a woman and mother, I was personally offended by Rep. Lisa Brown’s disgraceful actions during Wednesday’s floor debate,” state Rep. Lisa Lyons, R-Alto, said in a statement released late Thursday.

After passing a bill with new regulations for abortion providers, the House tabled another bill Wednesday that would ban all abortions after 20 weeks with a narrow exemption for the life of the mother.

Byrum indicated she wants to give men the same treatment House Republicans proposed for women who may be unable to terminate an unwanted pregnancy under House Bill 5713.

House Republicans also wouldn’t let staByrum speak on the House floor Thursday.

Byrum, D-Onondaga, caused a disturbance on the House floor Wednesday when she wasn’t allowed to introduce an amendment to the abortion regulations bill banning men from getting a vasectomy unless the sterilization procedure was necessary to save a man’s life.

“If we truly want to make sure children are born, we would regulate vasectomies,” Byrum said.

When House Speaker Pro Tem John Walsh, R-Livonia, wouldn’t recognize Bryum to propose her amendment, she began shouting at him and stormed out of the chamber.

“You should have let me speak. … I represent the same number of people you do,” Byrum told Walsh.

From The Detroit News:http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20120615/POLITICS02/206150373#ixzz1xtly27z0

Regardless of where you stand on the abortion issue, or even this bill, the events that transpired should ignite an anger somewhere deep inside you. (Even my cervix is enraged.) This goes far beyond abortion.

The word “vagina” may scare people, but that’s because those people are cowards.

During a Capitol press conference Thursday, Brown noted “vagina” is the “medically correct term” for the female organ at the center of the Legislature’s ongoing abortion restriction debate.

“If I can’t say the word vagina, why are we legislating vaginas?” Brown said. “What language should I use?

“We’re all adults here.”

From The Detroit News: http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20120615/POLITICS02/206150373#ixzz1xtoxbqTT

Adults? I don’t think you should be an adult to know words like “vagina.”

When I was two (or not quite two), my little brother was born. My parents brought him home. Apparently, I started anatomy lessons early. While my mom was changing his diaper one day, I asked her what “that” was. When she told me, I went down the hall saying, “Penis, penis, penis” over and over again. She laughs when she tells the story. “You weren’t going to forget that,” she says.

My family wasn’t scared of anatomically correct words, and rightly so.

I hardly think that understanding the proper words for referring to “private parts” are going to cause children to become immoral beasts. But then again, the way certain members of the GOP are pushing their agenda of ignorance, you’d think that they’d rather have us never mention those words at all. (…because we’ve been so great at stopping kids from accessing information in general with the advent of the internet, and all).

Speaker Pro Tem John Walsh, R-Livonia, gaveled Brown out of order for saying “no means no” — because it suggested Brown was comparing the abortion legislation to rape, House GOP spokesman Ari Adler said.

“It has nothing to do with the word vagina,” Adler said.

Some male Republican representatives, however, said Brown’s comments were vulgar, “inappropriate” and “offensive.”

“What she said was offensive,” said state Rep. Mike Callton, R-Nashville.

“It was so offensive, I don’t even want to say it in front of women. I would not say that in mixed company,” he said.

From The Detroit News: http://www.detroitnews.com/article/20120615/POLITICS02/206150373#ixzz1xtpz9k84

What? Vulgar? The word “vagina”? I bet Callton is a real hoot at dinner parties. What else makes his list of vulgar words? Here’s a great list of words that sound dirty but aren’t.

The feminist who lives inside me is begging me to rant about the choice of diction in Rep. Callton’s statements. Firstly, “mixed company” generally (although I’m sure that at some point, it will be proposed that we amend “mixed company” to include only men and fetuses) includes women, and most of those women have are in possession of a vagina. They probably aren’t scared to say it.

I don’t just casually drop it in conversation, but then again, I generally don’t drop other anatomical parts unless necessary. “I seriously bruised my coccyx yesterday.” Or, “They had to X-ray my pelvis for signs of bone deterioration.” (I don’t know, it could happen.)

Having someone refer to “vagina” as vulgar is insulting. Women have spent the better part of human history being associated with dirty and unpleasant connotations because they possess them. To say that saying “vagina” is offensive is offensive to me. (Say that sentence three times fast.) As a human, I am not offensive. My vagina is not offensive. It’s not vulgar, or crude. It’s a part of who I am. It’s a part of half the United States (give or take a few). Ask Georgia O’Keeffe; she – albeit only potentially, and even then, only subconsciously – totally got it.

Marketers spend billions of dollars telling woman that we’re offensive, that we’re unclean, that we’re not perfect, so I’d prefer to not add the stress of having a legislator reinforcing that message.

Attempts at “respecting” women by legislating their personal choices and keeping them from hearing words like vagina are very reminiscent of a time not so long ago when women weren’t allowed to vote. Or own property. Or get divorced. Or refuse to have sex with their husbands.

Tell me I’m jumping to conclusions, fine. But I fear that we’re regressing. I fear that this county, which once stood for freedom and progress, now stands for freedom and progress…for a select few. And sadly, I don’t see myself as being included in those select few. I’m a woman. I’m an educated woman. I matter. When a member of my gender is discriminated against and sanctioned for standing up and speaking her mind, I will take offense.

Oh, speaking of sanctions…one of the motives given for barring Lisa Brown from speaking was “…concern was the decorum of the House.” Ha, well it’s not like she interrupted a speech or anything. (I’m talking about you, Joe Wilson.)

Disgusting. (More or disgusting than a vagina, obviously.) This trend of legislating against women is one thing, but the trend of silencing our voices is worse. It’s a grave offense. Limiting our ability to speak on issues that obviously pertain to us is oppressive.

Oppression, you say?

I’m going to stay away from the whole sexuality deal today, because this post just got long, but let me remind you that abortion has a root cause. And that’s usually sex. Consensuality (not a word, but whatever) and other issues aside, sex that causes pregnancy involves a man and a woman. Man and a woman. This is not just on the women. But I am obligated to at least remind you of the slut-shaming that happens before, during, or after sex. Sometimes no sex is involved for such insults and categorizations. Women’s sexuality is scary.

I googled this cartoon (because it has lived in my mind for a long time), and came across this post, in a blog called “Obliged to Offend.” The last paragraph of this post says, “Female sexuality can at times be subversive and powerful. It is for this reason that many men feel threatened by the presence of a woman expressing it. They feel that she has the greater degree of sexual choice and power so they try to control or dominate her. This is not, as some believe, confined strictly to the remnants of old-fashioned male sexism or the devout followers of monotheistic religion. Beauty and sexuality are a threat to orthodoxies of all stripes because they are an expression of our animalistic ancestry which cannot be levelled out or extinguished by force. Political creeds, however emancipatory their rhetoric, are also very often rationalisations of deeper emotional problems.”

It is my opinion that we are currently experiencing a wave of backlash resulting from the feminist movements that marked the late 19th and 20th centuries. We see women becoming more and more powerful. We are more educated, more involved in the workforce, and more independent.

In the search for equality, we have unintentionally upended the traditional male roles. They are lost, confused, unsure. (Not all, but quite a few. Trust me, I’ve been dating since I was fifteen. I have considerable experience interacting with them.) Marriages are declining, and they’re happening later. Now that women are focusing on their careers and their whole selves, they are less inclined to find a husband and procreate as soon as possible in order to meet hegemonic expectations for a normal family structure and life trajectory.

Personally, I still strive for a husband. And children. And that whole traditional white fence dream. But I’m determined to find someone who respects the shit out of me, who supports my decisions and my dreams, and who wants the same things out of life that I want. For me, there is no problem with combining female strength and wife-ness. (I’ll need some serious help or at least compromise on the traditional wife duties, though. I can’t clean to save my life. Or cook.)

I’m sorry that the root of this mad legislating and silencing and anti-women rhetoric might lie in the fear of powerful women (hence the emphasis on the cultural breakdown of the traditional family structure and the fervent attempts to rectify these perceived wrongs and immorality), but I’m not sorry. Just as women have had to adjust, compromise, and grow in order to accommodate their new opportunities (we still end up doing most of the housework and child-rearing; we just have to do it after we get off work), men should do the same.

Masculinity doesn’t have to be defined by the ability to produce income. Or the ability to dominate or control a woman. Masculinity can be a lot of things. Men should, well, man up and get to work figuring out how they can come to terms with women playing ball on their level. Because women aren’t going to stop fighting for equality, for respect, for rights. At the end of the day, we are all human beings with feelings and individual strengths. We need to work together in order to achieve any sort of forward progress.

But let’s start by being able to say “vagina.” Baby steps.

a mile high and then some…

the space between reality and the rest

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