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.

On “Ask Amy”, angrily

Posted on June 1, 2012 by kb

Ugh.

I’m an avid reader of the syndicated “Ask Amy” column (I get it from the Denver Post). Usually, Amy Dickinson – I believe she’s Chicago-based – gives great advice. But today, I’m disappointed.

Here’s the original post:

Dear Amy:I have had a job at a local bar for more than a year. One of my good friends had been trying to get a job with us for several months. An opportunity finally came up, and I got her a job. She was so excited and was pumped to do a good job.

The only problem is, she sleeps around. A lot.

I asked her to not mess around with any of the bouncers. She broke this one rule … twice!

Now I am totally insulted and feel betrayed by her; I told the boss that she was a good person and would do a really good job.

She keeps apologizing and has been asking me what’s wrong almost hourly.

How do I go about voicing my hurt with her?

Neither of the guys she was with knew about the other until I told them, and now we all feel betrayed.— Betrayed

Dear Betrayed:It is not clear which rule your friend broke — a friendship rule, laid down by you, or a rule of the establishment where you both work.

I’m assuming that there is no actual rule stating that workers cannot be sexually involved with one another but that you wanted your friend to respect boundaries established by you.

Now you need to be as honest as you were before — and tell her how foolish you think she is and how betrayed you feel.

Even though you recommended your friend for this job, you are not responsible for her behavior or reputation while she is on the job. And you can’t protect her from the fallout (personal and professional) from her own choices.

Read more:Woman gets friend a job, now feels betrayed (5/14/2012) – The Denver Post

First of all, it sounds like the girl who feels betrayed is an idiot. It doesn’t seem like this is affecting the friend’s job performance, so her claim that “I told the boss she was a really good person and would do a good job” doesn’t seem to hold much weight if that’s the basis for this betrayal.

Secondly, Amy was correct in her original response when she said, “…you can’t protect her from the fallout (personal and professional) from her own choices.” It’s also true that the whole thing is convoluted and unclear.

So why am I annoyed?

Well, this:

Dear Amy:I had a thought about the answer you gave to “Betrayed,” who works at a local bar and was feeling “insulted and … betrayed” by a good friend (now co-worker) whose sleeping with co-workers she thought inappropriate.

I was jarred by her statement that “Neither of the guys she was with knew about the other until I told them; now we all feel betrayed.”

In my opinion, “Betrayed” had no business cluing-in the two guys — and that by doing so, she, herself, was “betraying” the confidence of her “good friend.”— DC Fan

Dear Fan:“Betrayed” had recommended her friend for a job and had asked her to please not sleep with the bouncers. Friend had in fact slept with two of them.

I agree that Betrayed seemed to gratuitously notify both men — but these days people who do this have a ready reason: “I was warning him/her about the danger of STDs!”
Read more:Ask Amy – The Denver Post

I agree entirely with “DC Fan.” The girl who got the friend the job overstepped some serious boundaries here (firstly by being upset and secondly by running her mouth).

Amy’s response about “these days people who do this have a ready reason: ‘I was warning him/her about the danger of STDs!'” is off-base. I think that’s a really shitty excuse to gossip. It’s catty and immature. Unless she can prove that there is a legitimate reason that the girl might be giving her partners diseases (notice that no one is saying, “Someone better hand that girl a pamphlet on STI testing, those guys may have something!”), then it’s none of her business to be saying anything to anyone about someone else’s sex life, let alone the people involved in said sex life.

I don’t buy it for a second that there is any real concern behind the girl telling the bouncers about each other. I think it’s all a means to get them on her side, which makes me wonder if the girl who got the friend the job is just upset that the friend seems to be fitting in at the place they work better.

I’m annoyed that Amy seems to be insinuating that the girl who slept with two bouncers may be carrying a disease. I’m annoyed that we can’t imagine that they are responsible adults who can take care of themselves and take necessary precautions before engaging in such extracurricular activities.

Amy, not your best advice. Not your best response to a letter responding to advice, either.

On Racism and the Windy City

Posted on April 5, 2012 by kb

Chicago is one of those strange places where cultures mingle quite happily but there’s also a prevailing sense of deep separation between different classes and races.

I don’t know the truth about what happened here, but it does seem a little bit fishy. Chicago doesn’t have the best reputation as a city that upholds human rights, particularly when the defendant is black.

(My personal opinion is that the CPD is not actually working to help you as a resident, they’re working to help themselves. I lived in fear of my own precinct for a brief period of time during my senior year of college after reporting the actions of a Sergeant in an attempt to file a simple police report.)

MARY MITCHELL: Chicago has its own Trayvon Martin-like scandal

By MARY MITCHELL mmitchell@suntimes.com April 2, 2012 10:44PM

Howard Morgan was hospitalized in 2005 after allegedly being shot by the Chicago police. | Courtesy ABC7 Chicago

At a time when the shooting in Florida of Trayvon Martin is drawing supporters from across the country, Chicago has its own shooting scandal.

Like the Trayvon case, nothing about the 2005 shooting of Howard Morgan makes sense. Chicago police officers shot Morgan 28 times during an alleged traffic stop. However, it was Morgan who was charged with attempted murder, among other offenses.

But unlike the Trayvon case, Morgan’s wife and supporters have had a difficult time getting the media to pay attention to the case even though it involved a volatile mixture of cops and race.

Morgan is African-American. All of the police officers involved in the shooting are white.

“This man is the only man in the world who was shot 28 times and still alive to tell the truth about what happened,” Rosalind Morgan told me during a telephone interview on Monday. “This is crazy. There’s been a news blackout. I had to go outside to get someone to help.”

After a second trial, Morgan was convicted of attempted murder and is scheduled to be sentenced at 26th and California at 8 a.m. Thursday amid protests that the second trial amounted to double jeopardy.

“He should have been acquitted of the remaining charges,” Rosalind Morgan argued. “His constitutional rights were violated. He did not have a fair trial.”

Occupy Chicago protesters are planning to demonstrate in front of the Cook County Courthouse Thursday, although uniformed police officers are expected to pack the courtroom. Morgan faces up to 80 years in prison.

Morgan, a former Chicago police officer, was working as a policeman for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Line in 2005 when he was shot 28 times by four white police officers during a traffic stop.

Although the police officers alleged Morgan opened fire when they tried to arrest him, the fusillade of bullets turned Morgan a human sieve and put him in the hospital for seven months.

He was later charged with four counts of attempted murder; three counts of aggravated battery and one count of aggravated discharge of a firearm at a police officer.

Morgan languished in jail until an anonymous donor put up the $2 million bond.

In 2007, a jury acquitted Morgan of aggravated battery and discharging a weapon at a police officer. They deadlocked on attempted murder charges.

Prosecutors retried the case and in January, and a second jury found Morgan guilty on the attempted murder counts. Morgan’s supporters argue that the verdict subjected him to double jeopardy because he was acquitted in the first trial of discharging a weapon.

“It’s just wrong. They want to sweep this under the carpet and don’t want to take the blame,” the wife said.

“All of the young people who were victims of police shootings are dead. They can’t tell their side of the story. Mr. Morgan was shot 28 times — 21 in the back of his body and seven times in the front. The man deserves to be treated fairly,” she said.

This controversial police shooting occurred around the same time the cover was being pulled on police torture and corruption in Chicago.

Yet similar to the public’s initial nonchalance with respect to the Jon Burge torture victims, the Morgan case hasn’t sparked any protests.

“None of the big ministers have gotten involved. Jesse Jackson hasn’t stepped in,” Morgan told me.

I caught up to Jackson in Memphis where he is taking part in observances marking the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Jackson’s been all over the Trayvon Martin shooting. But he agreed that it has been difficult for the public to sustain outrage over the Morgan shooting.

“When he first got shot, we visited him in the hospital,” Jackson said. “After the first trial, we thought we won the case, but this has gone up and down. We intend to go to court with him on April 5th, and a number of our people intend to be in the courtroom,” he said.

“This [police involved shootings] is pervasive.”

Meanwhile, the Morgans are pursuing a civil suit in federal court against the police officers.

“It’s horrible, but I have to take up the mantle of justice for my husband,” the wife said. “If they can get away with double jeopardy, they can get away with anything.”

Howard Morgan, Black Off-Duty Cop Shot 28 Times By White Chicago Officers, Faces Sentencing

Posted: 04/ 3/2012 1:39 pm Updated: 04/ 4/2012 11:02 am

Howard Morgan.

As much of the country follows the Trayvon Martin case, activists in Chicago are hoping to bring some of that attention to Howard Morgan, a former Chicago police officer who was shot 28 times by white officers — and lived to tell his side of the story.

Morgan was off-duty as a detective for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe railroad when he was pulled over for driving the wrong way on a one-way street on Feb 21, 2005, the Chicago Sun-Times reports. While both police and Morgan agree on that much, what happened next is a mystery.

According to police, Morgan opened fire with his service weapon when officers tried to arrest him, which caused them to shoot him 28 times. His family, however, very much doubts those claims.

“Four white officers and one black Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad police man with his weapon on him — around the corner from our home — and he just decided to go crazy? No. That’s ludicrous,” Morgan’s wife, Rosalind Morgan, told the Sun-Times.

She was not the only person to doubt CPD’s side of the story. A Change.org petitionsigned by more than 2,600 people called for all charges against Morgan to be dropped, and now Occupy Chicago is getting involved.

“After being left for dead, he survived and was then charged with attempted murder of the four white officers who brutalized him,” Occupy wrote on their website, adding that Morgan was found not guilty on three counts, including discharging his weapon. The same jury that cleared him of opening fire on the officers, however, deadlocked on a charge of attempted murder — and another jury found him guilty in January.

That jury was not allowed to hear that Morgan had been acquitted of the other charges.

Protesters and Morgan’s family say the second trial amounted to double jeopardy, and claim officers have gone to great lengths to obstruct justice in the case:

Howard Morgan’s van was crushed and destroyed without notice or cause before any forensic investigation could be done….

Howard Morgan was never tested for gun residue to confirm if he even fired a weapon on the morning in question.

The State never produced the actual bullet proof vest worn by one of the officers who claimed to have allegedly taken a shot directly into the vest on the morning in question. The State only produced a replica.

“If they can do this and eliminate double jeopardy and your constitutional rights, then my God, I fear for every Afro-American — whether they be male or female — in this corrupt unjust system,” Morgan’s wife told the Sun-Times.

Howard Morgan will be sentenced Thursday. He faces 80 years in prison.

from www.freehowardmorgan.com :

On Ignorance, blissfully.

Posted on April 4, 2012 by kb

Um, I thought the goal of pro-lifers was to protect life from its conception instead of trying to blow up not only small clusters of cells growing inside of women but other people who may happen to be in the clinic too.

This is why abortion arguments and such make me so incredibly angry. As a society, we have an obligation to protect our people. We have an obligation to speak our minds (not blow up buildings to make a point). We have an obligation to participate actively and engage in politics and all-things government related. Instead, I feel like people jump on the social-issues bandwagon just because their pastor talks about it at church on Sunday. They believe what they feel in their hearts, what they know in their hearts to be the word of God.

Um, hello? I don’t care what your God says. What I care about is the Constitution. What I care about is how we as a society are working together for positive change, forward progress, that whole bit.

We’ve regressed to the point that we’re no longer able to discuss politics in a civilized manner.

We’re no longer intelligent enough to talk politics at all. In my opinion, that’s why we’ve reverted to fighting so desperately for social issues rather than the much larger (and arguably more important) issues of economics that are plaguing our country. We’ve chosen to be ignorant, to place our futures in the hands of Congress and the people pulling their Senator’s strings, the big corporations that are funding campaigns and driving policy decisions. It’s sickening.

We’ve stopped looking past the superficial facade that our candidates present. We’ve stopped caring about anything except their sex scandals and their family lives. Why? What good has it done?

And we – the American people – are blind to it, because we simply haven’t taken the time to learn anything about our own policies. We long ago stopped reading bills. We long ago stopped trying to take an active role in the decisions that our leaders make about our future as a people.

And that’s when everything started to go to hell, pardon the expression.

Stop listening to candidates who talk solely about social and religious issues. Better yet, keep listening, but listen better. Listen to what they’re not saying. And for those of you who vote solely on religion, remind yourself of a few things: Jesus didn’t hate people, Jesus didn’t react violently to people he didn’t like/was afraid, Jesus helped people.

We have to stop hiding from our own fears under blankets of grateful ignorance. They’re making everything worse. Stop worrying about abortion, gay marriage, whether or not the President spent too much time talking about basketball. Start worrying about bigger picture shit, like the fact that we won’t have a government to crucify if we continue along the path we’re on. We’re not a superpower any more. We are not #1. We need a huge slice of humble pie and some reflection about what we’ve done that’s landed us in this nasty situation. (and by nasty situation, I mean the fact that we stand overloaded with debt and war and overwhelming internal discontent and that some of our citizens are even suggesting that we invade yet another country. That’s hilarious, in the worst way.)

Start reading about what’s actually going on in your government. Start trying to understand the policies that we make. Understand our budgets, our structures, our strategies. Give it ten minutes a day. Look deeper than what you see on TV. Look past the sweater vests, the snappy campaign ads, the promises.

Vote according to what you know in your heart to be true, but first, fact check those feelings.

[by the way, violence usually isn’t the answer. To any question. Bombing a Planned Parenthood is sick. I don’t care if they perform abortions there. They do abortions at your local hospital – are you bombing them, too? No. And you wouldn’t. Reminder: 3% of what PP does is abortions (are abortions? subject-verb agreement issue here). 97% is other stuff that’s important. Like STI testing. Like birth control. You may not support abortion, but you shouldn’t try to stop those who do from having them. It’s not your life. Stop interfering. Also, I just love Wisconsin. They’re the home of custardlist.com, Kopp’s, and the Cheese Castle. How could you bomb such a beautiful (if politically contentious) state?]

Wisconsin Planned Parenthood Bombing Draws FBI Vow To Protect Public Access To Abortion Clinics

Posted: 04/ 4/2012 11:54 am Updated: 04/ 4/2012 11:58 am

In the wake of the Planned Parenthood bombing in Grand Chute, Wisc., the Federal Bureau of Investigation has reaffirmed its commitment to protecting women’s access to reproductive health facilities.

Teresa Carlson, special agent-in-charge of the FBI’s Milwaukee office, announced the arrest of 50-year-old Francis Grady for “arson of a building used in interstate commerce” and “intentionally damaging the property of a facility that provides reproductive health services” on Tuesday. She said in a statement, “The FBI will always investigate and bring to justice anyone who resorts to violence as a means to harm, intimidate, or prevent the public’s right to access reproductive health services.”

Around 7:30 p.m. Sunday evening, a bomb was placed on the windowsill of a Grand Chute Planned Parenthood clinic — one of the three Planned Parenthood facilities in the state that offers abortion services. The bomb went off, causing a fire at the clinic that damaged one of the exam rooms. No one was hurt.

Grand Chute law enforcement was able to track down Grady after his white SUV, which was spotted leaving the scene shortly after the bomb went off, was involved in a traffic accident nearby. Grady is scheduled to make his initial appearance in U.S. District Court in Green Bay at 1:30 p.m. Wednesday afternoon.

U.S. Attorney James Santelle, Eastern District of Wisconsin, will be prosecuting Grady. He said in a statement:

“When the Congress passed the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances (FACE) Act in 1994, it specifically empowered law enforcement to respond to those who engage in violent and other obstructive behaviors that interfere with access to reproductive services. The complaint that we filed today in federal court not only responds to the particular conduct of Francis Grady in committing arson at and causing damage to the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Grand Chute, but it also signals the continuing, strong commitment of federal, state, and local authorities to ensure access to clinics — and to seek criminal penalties against anyone who would compromise that right.”

source: Huffington Post, regrettably

On Black Babies Who Grow Up to Become Black People

Posted on March 20, 2012 by kb

I know a white woman with a black daughter.

I babysat the daughter when she was just a baby. There was a terrible incident with a sweet potato and a microwave and smoke. The baby cried when I put her on the porch so that she would be out of harm’s way while I dealt with smoke detectors and disposed of the blackened mass in the microwave. (Talk about a moment of sheer panic!) The baby cried. I soothed her tears, read her stories, and distracted her. She smiled. By the end of that warm summer evening, with all the windows open to air out the rancid smell of burnt potato, that beautiful baby was laughing. Oh my god, her laugh. I’ll never forget it. It’s loud and clear, the epitome of pure joy. It bounces off the walls and fills your soul with the kind of happiness that you couldn’t ever buy. She lights up when she laughs. She’s clever and quick; she loves to dance around, loves to read, loves to play. I’ll never forget the sight of her in her footed pajamas jumping around, playing hide and seek with me. She giggled when I popped up, then I hid again, and reappeared. Her face cracked. The laugh spilled out into the coming night. My heart overflowed.

The woman adopted the baby and brought her home and loved (loves) her, just like my parents did with me.

But that baby is black.

It’s the first thing that many people comment on. I know, because I’ve read her mother’s posts. I’ve heard the annoyance, felt the pain. The comments don’t just come from white people, either. That mother is attempting to do the best she can for that beautiful child. To her, diversity is important. They have all sorts of friends who come in all sorts of colors. They do colorful things, eat colorful foods, live a colorful life. And no, I’m not just talking about racial diversity. I’m talking about life. They lead a beautiful, charming life.

So who cares?

Well, this mother cares. Knowing that her daughter is exposed to everything is important to her. She wants to educate her and show her the world. All of it.

And apparently, a lot of people care enough to comment. Even if they don’t think they’re doing it. They say critical things. They ask rude questions.

The baby will grow up. The baby will become a young woman. She will go to college. She will become an adult. She may even have children of her own someday. She’ll have the support that she needs; she’ll have all the love in the world behind her. She’ll face challenges, of course, as all babies who grow up do, but she’ll also have to learn a lot about race and our country. She’ll some day face adversity. She might even face hatred.

That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?

And while we all sit there and talk about how we have such diverse friend groups, and how it’s such a shame that racism exists, we’re not doing enough. We can do better. That doesn’t just go for white people either. Everybody needs to be better. Everybody CAN be better. It just takes a step or three in the right direction and pretty soon you’re on a better path.

No one should ever have to face the prospect of explaining racial inequality to their child.

We’re not afraid of black babies. (You all know that I’m such a huge fan of babies anyway, but oh my god, they’re ALL so cute!) No one is afraid of toddlers, or children. Those babies grow into gangly adolescents, with long arms and silly haircuts. Those babies listen to music that you’d most likely consider noise. They struggle to find their place in the world. They dream and laugh and love. They learn, they grow, they get jobs. They go to concerts. They go out to eat. They watch tv. They are exactly like all the rest of the young adults in the world.

But once those children start to grow up, start to become adults, people start to get a little nervous. They edge away on the bus; they hold their bags a little tighter; they look at their feet instead of making eye contact.

Do you do that, even unconsciously? If you do, you might want to reexamine your approach. Because when someone does that, they’re doing the worst thing that can ever happen to a child, an adolescent, or a young adult. When they do that, they’re invalidating everything that that child/adolescent/young adult/adult knows. They’re sending them the message that they’re afraid. Of them. They’re sending the message that they assume the worst. From them. They’re sending a message. That message says, “You’re not equal. You’re not okay. You’ll never be good enough.”

You don’t want to send those messages, do you? Of course not. You’re a good person. But good is relative. Be a better person. I hate to quote the Marines here, but “be all that you can be.” (That is the Marines, right?)

I promised myself I wouldn’t dive into a sociological rant, and I’m doing my best not to. Black doesn’t just have negative social implications. There are negative employment, economic, educational implications. We must stop this. We must fight to change the way we view color in our society, in our world. We must act. That doesn’t mean you have to join a diversity club or march around Civic Center Park on a Sunday with a giant sign. All you have to do is start implementing small changes in your own life. Trust me, they’ll ripple out around you like you’d tossed a stone into water. Everyone’s ripples can create giant waves of change. (So what if that’s a lame metaphor?)

The next time you get nervous on a bus, or in line at the grocery store, or wherever, think about this: the person you’re not looking at was once a baby. That person has a mother and a father. That person has family, maybe brothers and sisters. That person has hopes, and dreams, and inside jokes with people. That person has a beautiful smile. By humanizing the person you’re edging away from, you might be able to open channels of communication, create the possibility of love in your heart. Start thinking of them as a dynamic human being. Smile. Ask them how their day is going. You might be pleasantly surprised by their response.

When I was sixteen, I started working at a local Dairy Queen. As we were about to close for the night, our cleaning guy Melvin would come in. Melvin was a middle-aged man with a raspy voice and rough hands. He had a wife and a ten-year old daughter who was at the top of her fourth-grade class (I know because I double-checked – and sometimes helped out with – her homework). Melvin and I would sit on the concrete sidewalk outside the store for a while after we closed. He’d always pull this beat-up orange cushion out of his van and sit on it, while lecturing me about my own sitting habits. He told me that if I continued sitting on the ground with no cushion, I’d get hemorrhoids. (For the record, he was wrong.) He taught me a lot about love. When I was seventeen, and in love with a boy who was never going to love me back, he watched my heart break and told me that I deserved better. I loved Melvin. I was always happy to see his headlights pull into the parking lot. I felt safer when he was there. (I was robbed at gunpoint when I was seventeen. The robber was white.) He had a beautiful laugh; he told wonderful (if entirely inappropriate) jokes; he was the best cleaner we ever had. After he left, we couldn’t replace him. No one was the same. Melvin died a while ago, of lung cancer. He was a black man. But more than that, he was a wonderful man.

Let me tell you this – your life will be a sad and lonely place if you don’t let people in. It’s not about what they look like or what they do, it’s about who they are. Everyone has something to give you, something to share with you, something to teach you.

Everybody was a baby once. Everybody has loved, lost, and learned. Everyone has stories to share and jokes to tell. Everyone is dynamic in their own way.

Speaking of babies, here’s the story that inspired this: A black baby who grew up to be a young man, is now dead because someone is an idiot. 17-year old Trayvon Martin lived in a gated community in Florida with his dad and brother. During the NBA All-Star game in February, he went to buy some skittles and an iced tea. On his way home, the neighborhood watch guy – one George Zimmerman – followed him, questioned him, and ultimately, shot and killed him. Trayvon had nothing wrong. Following his murder, Zimmerman wasn’t arrested. He’s been receiving death threats. He says that he killed Trayvon because he looked “suspicious.” Yep. That terrible word.

I’ve been loosely following this story, but I think that this post says so much: (The post was written by a white blogger.)

White People, You Will Never Look Suspicious Like Trayvon Martin

Posted March 19, 2012 by Michael Skolnik

I will never look suspicious to you. Even if I have a black hoodie, a pair of jeans and white sneakers on…in fact, that is what I wore yesterday…I still will never look suspicious. No matter how much the hoodie covers my face or how baggie my jeans are, I will never look out of place to you. I will never watch a taxi cab pass me by to pick someone else up. I will never witness someone clutch their purse tightly against their body as they walk by me. I won’t have to worry about a police car following me for two miles, so they can “run my plates.” I will never have to pay before I eat. And I certainly will never get “stopped and frisked.” I will never look suspicious to you, because of one thing and one thing only. The color of my skin. I am white.

I was born white. It was the card I was dealt. No choice in the matter. Just the card handed out by the dealer. I have lived my whole life privileged. Privileged to be born without a glass ceiling. Privileged to grow up in the richest country in the world. Privileged to never look suspicious. I have no guilt for the color of my skin or the privilege that I have. Remember, it was just the next card that came out of the deck. But, I have choices. I got choices on how I play the hand I was dealt. I got a lot of options. The ball is in my court.

So, today I decided to hit the ball. Making a choice. A choice to stand up for Trayvon Martin. 17 years old. black. innocent. murdered with a bag of skittles and a bottle of ice tea in his hands. “Suspicious.” that is what the guy who killed him said he looked like cause he had on a black hoodie, a pair of jeans and white sneakers. But, remember I had on that same outfit yesterday. And yes my Air Force Ones were “brand-new” clean. After all, I was raised in hip-hop…part of our dress code. I digress. Back to Trayvon and the gated community in Sanford, Florida, where he was visiting his father.

I got a lot of emails about Trayvon. I have read a lot of articles. I have seen a lot of television segments. The message is consistent. Most of the commentators, writers, op-ed pages agree. Something went wrong. Trayvon was murdered. Racially profiled. Race. America’s elephant that never seems to leave the room. But, the part that doesn’t sit well with me is that all of the messengers of this message are all black too. I mean, it was only two weeks ago when almost every white person I knew was tweeting about stopping a brutal African warlord from killing more innocent children. And they even took thirty minutes out of their busy schedules to watch a movie about dude. They bought t-shirts. Some bracelets. Even tweeted at Rihanna to take a stance. But, a 17 year old American kid is followed and then ultimately killed by a neighborhood vigilante who happens to be carrying a semi-automatic weapon and my white friends are quiet. Eerily quiet. Not even a trending topic for the young man.

We’ve heard the 911 calls. We seen the 13 year old witness. We’ve read the letter from the alleged killer’s father. We listened to the anger of the family’s attorney. We’ve felt the pain of Trayvon’s mother. For heaven’s sake, for 24 hours he was a deceased John Doe at the hospital because even the police couldn’t believe that maybe he LIVES in the community. There are still some facts to figure out. There are still some questions to be answered. But, let’s be clear. Let’s be very, very clear. Before the neighborhood watch captain, George Zimmerman, started following him against the better judgement of the 911 dispatcher. Before any altercation. Before any self-defense claim. Before Travyon’s cries for help were heard on the 911 tapes. Before the bullet hit him dead in the chest. Before all of this. He was suspicious. He was suspicious. suspicious. And you know, like I know, it wasn’t because of the hoodie or the jeans or the sneakers. Cause I had on that same outfit yesterday and no one called 911 saying I was just wandering around their neighborhood. It was because of one thing and one thing only. Trayvon is black.

So I’ve made the choice today to tell my white friends that the rights I take for granted are only valid if I fight to give those same rights to others. The taxi cab. The purse. The meal. The police car. The police. These are all things I’ve taken for granted.

So, I fight for Trayvon Martin. I fight for Amadou Diallo. I fight for Rodney King. I fight for every young black man who looks “suspicious” to someone who thinks they have the right to take away their freedom to walk through their own neighborhood. I fight against my own stereotypes and my own suspicions. I fight for people whose ancestors built this country, literally, and who are still treated like second class citizens. Being quiet is not an option, for we have been too quiet for too long.

-Michael Skolnik

Michael Skolnik is the Editor-In-Chief of GlobalGrind.com and the political director to Russell Simmons. Prior to this, Michael was an award-winning filmmaker. Follow him on twitter @MichaelSkolnik

Read more: http://globalgrind.com/node/828497#ixzz1phB5TcWR

On Gay. On Suicide. On Bullying.

Posted on March 8, 2012 by kb

It’s been awhile, I know. Work keeps getting in the way of the rest of my life.

But alas, I’ve got something to say that’s important enough for me to give up some time to say it.

Jacob posted a link to a Rolling Stone article on my Facebook wall. (I think we still get a subscription to the magazine, but I hadn’t read it, so this goes to show that I’m out of touch with everything.)

It was about bullying and gay teens. While I think the article has some serious flaws (look at me, being all critical), I do think that it raises some serious questions about problems with having policies specifically related to homosexuality in our public schools.

But more than that, I (never thought I’d say this) partially agree with one of the anti-gay groups when they say, “…much of society seems not to be looking closely and openly at all possible causes of the tragedies.” Granted, they did precede that by saying “Because homosexual activists have hijacked and exploited teen suicides for their moral and political utility…” so that still makes them really insensitive and downright hateful.

We do need to really examine these tragedies. Being a child, an adolescent, a young adult: it all really sucks. I had such a rough time because of bullying in grade school – I remember crying and begging to go a new school. I withdrew quite a bit in high school but came out of it just fine. Bullying isn’t just about gay kids. Bullying is about anything, everything. Kids are really cruel. And it blows, for everyone involved. People carry those emotional scars with them long after the bullying has ended.

So let’s talk about parenting, because that’s where those little seeds of hatred get planted, nourished, and encouraged to grow. These parents hold certain political ideologies, certain religious beliefs, and live by an individual moral code. It stands to reason that their children will as well, having grown up hearing their parents espouse their beliefs, complaining about taxes, etc. That’s not the problem. The problem is when parents fail to explain to their children that there are other (equal) ways of thinking. I respect your beliefs; I respect your rights; I cannot respect your hatred, no matter where it comes from. We’re all guilty of putting a blanket over the “other” and forgetting that those people all believe those things because it gives them strength, hope, faith, solace, comfort, joy.

But at what point does my right to believe in whatever I want stop? At the point at which it infringes on someone else’s right to believe in whatever they want. This is why schoolyards are going to remain a political battleground.

They say that knowledge is power and it’s true. I don’t know why we’re against teaching our kids anything. At one point in the Rolling Stone article, a woman named Barb Anderson is quoted as saying, “Open your eyes, people. What if a 15-year-old is seduced into homosexual behavior and then contracts AIDS?” I wasn’t aware that we’re still under the impression that only the gays get AIDS. Yes, 61% of new HIV infections are found in “men who have sex with men” or MSM, according to the CDC. (I always read MSM as metro-sexual men, so that’s problematic for my brain.) But 23% of all new infections are in women. And the race most affected? Black men.
How many people know this? How many people can pull this out of their heads? Not knowing breeds fear and fear breeds the sad situations we’re seeing today. Fear breeds death, hatred, bigotry, disgust, anger. Fear does not bring about positive change, cooperation, or community.

I just don’t know why we’re not teaching our children everything that we can teach them. Creationism, evolution, reincarnation – we should be teaching it all. French, algebra, history, banned books: learn it all! I’m much more comfortable arguing with someone who’s chosen to believe what they believe than I am arguing with someone who’s had their beliefs molded and shaped for them. Schools should be a place of academic achievement, not fear. Teachers report being afraid to address the bullying situations that may be based on perceived or real homosexuality because they don’t want to lose their jobs. So these kids are left alone and helpless to cope with bullying that they don’t understand and can’t control.

Youth is a very fragile time. Even though these people are quickly growing into young adults, they’re not there yet. They need to be taught. Educated. Supported. Mental health issues among teenagers are increasing. Depression, suicide, eating disorders and behaviors are becoming increasingly more and more common.

The US lacks the mental health resources to treat the growing number of kids displaying symptoms. The social stigma surrounding mental health prevents a lot of progress and instead, causes much more harm to our society than a progressive dialogue would. (I’m not known for my avoidance of issues, but I’ve been avoiding talking about my own ADHD diagnosis and treatment for fear of negative repercussions.) We medicate, medicate, medicate. I don’t agree that that’s a great solution to any problem, mental health related or not. But it is too bad there’s no medication to make insensitive, insecure teens blind to differences.

But that’s exactly it: these teens (both the ones doing the bullying and the ones being bullied) are insecure. They’re trying to establish their own identities while being assaulted by their own hormones on a daily basis. They’re trying to figure out where they fit in the world, and they’re using anything they can for guidance. Instead of knowing that their bullying might stem from their attempts to appear more masculine, they think that this bullying makes them more powerful, respected, admired. It doesn’t. It makes them weaker than they’d be if they approached these in-school social situations more logically. But they don’t know that, because no one has ever explained all of that to them. Let’s start teaching sociology in the fourth grade and see how far that gets us. If kids could understand more about what they’re feeling and experiencing, they’re far more likely to make the mature choices not to engage in behaviors. But instead, they’re left to fend for themselves, trying to make sense of everything without appearing weak. Newsflash: we’re all weak. We all need help, support, and guidance.

Feel-good seminars and classroom discussions aren’t going to help either. The message that these kids are getting is that being gay is all butt-sex and glitter. While that’s simply not true, they don’t have any real-life context for understanding homosexuality. In reality, being gay is just like being straight. Couples wear ugly sweaters and make dinner and fight about who’s going to take out the trash. Short-shorts aren’t the norm. But how are these kids going to understand that when we won’t talk about it, teach it, or protect the gay kids from being attacked? Oh wait, there’s always TV. (That’ll help.) Our examples are terrible representations of what gay is.

Gay. Bullying. Suicide. They go hand in hand and they exist separately. In order to get to the bottom of this to stop our kids from killing themselves or driving others to kill themselves, we need to take a long, hard look at the messages that we’re sending to them.

If I ever catch my kid(s) bullying, or engaging in any behavior that I find predatory, disrespectful, or downright offensive, there will be hell to pay. The parents of the kids who say things like, “You’re a fag and you deserve to die,” should be held accountable for the actions of their children. This is a really good example of when it’s okay to ask “What would Jesus do?” Your religions, whatever they may be, do not say that it’s okay to hurt other people. They do not say that it’s okay for you to taunt, tease, punish, and terrorize your peers.

Instead of fighting about what we can’t teach, let’s just teach it all. Let’s teach everything and let our kids learn to think for themselves. Let’s expose them to everything we can expose them to. Let’s make them cultured, intelligent, young people who have adventured, and failed, and come to understand the ways that the world works.

Let’s fight to end teen suicides. Let’s fight to end bullying. But more than that, we need to fight to give our kids the coping skills to handle these things when they do happen. We need to address these issues openly, so that when a kid thinks about committing suicide, they are able to reach out to someone who can help them. So that when a kid thinks about putting another kid down just so he/she can feel better about him/herself, that kid will think twice.

I know that it gets better, but they don’t. It’s up to us to guide them all through.

On Upward Mobility, at 23.

Posted on January 30, 2012 by kb

[this is a really pathetic post. If you’re not in the mood for serious self-pity, please don’t read any further…]

It has been a rough few days. Right now, I feel like the part of me that feels anything but that strange apathetic misery has disappeared.
I’ve been prone to bouts of tears. They come at random times.
Last night, Kevin brought home Chinese food (I’d been camping out on his couch, feeling sorry for myself and watching Mission Impossible) and I cried. So that was awkward. For a man who has no idea how to deal with the waves of feminine emotions, it might have been too much to handle.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked.
Well. About that.

But let’s rewind.
5pm Friday.
I was seriously excited to see Katie, who was in town for the weekend. We were going to meet up, grab drinks, and meet up with her/our friend Mark after he got off work.
I’m driving home. 6th and Colorado (I always get held up at the light.) One of my Gmail accounts dings. Mail. I open it.
UCD rejects me swiftly, before the light changes.
I catch my breath. Humiliation sinks in. Shame.
I had considered many scenarios. Many. None of them included being rejected. Flippantly, I’d been saying that if I didn’t get into grad school, I’d have no idea what to do with my life. But those statements were made with the underlying assumption that I’d get in.
What?!?!? The email said that while they couldn’t tell me why, blah blah blah, something about recommendation letters. I may have ignored one of their requirements that I have two letters of recommendation from former professors. I had one. It was a beautiful letter, but I neglected to get the second, and instead used a family that I babysit for.
Idiotic move, in hindsight.
But regardless of my disregard for the stated process, I am still not good enough for UCD. So, wow.
Of course, I handled it incredibly maturely and proceeded to get absolutely, ridiculously drunk. Classy, I know. Sloppy. And to make matters so much worse, I wore heels.
Now, if you’ll remember the incident in Chicago in mid-2010…the one where upon being denied entry to a club due to my status as a “liability”, I told the bouncer that I wasn’t drunk, I just had double-jointed ankles that prevented me from walking straight. (I actually do have double-jointed ankles, for the record. Should probably stay away from heels any time my BAC is above .08.) It was basically like that.

I’m now a walking failure. Just completely lost. Doomed to pull a tiny salary for the rest of my life. I’m so upset. I can’t even tell you the last time I felt this lack of optimism. (Actually, I can. The last time this happened, I got a cat. So about two years ago. But don’t worry, I have enough cats [one is always enough cats] and I don’t have the cash for anything wild.)

I know that life is a funny place.
I get that.
But watching everyone else around me find contentment and success professionally, personally, romantically, academically…it’s all just too much.

I’m just in a position in my life where nothing is going right. When Heidi Klum and Seal announced their divorce last week, I was uncharacteristically shaken. If they can’t do it, who can? My own relationship is shaky, at best. It’s not meeting my needs, and it’s frustrating. I so badly want it to work. I don’t think he’s willing to meet me halfway. I don’t think he quite understands what I need and I’m not sure how to tell him. My job is fine. I love my company, I really do. But it’s hard to see a future where I still only pull $1800 month after taxes. It’s hard to make a life like that. I want to own a home. My future is uncertain. I hate that uncertainty. That’s the worst part.

And don’t start with the “but you’re young” bullshit. I’m almost 24. I get that I’m young. But when you were 24, did that seem so young? No. It’s that precarious time where the shedding of our adolescent predilections is finalized and our adulthood settles in. I was out with a friend and he started in with the “you’re young” business. Well, I’m not young enough that you can’t take me home with you, so don’t patronize me. I can and will play ball on your level. You just need to realize that your level is the same as everybody else’s.

I get that I’m foolish and full of thoughts. But I don’t think that those stem from my youth. I think that some of us are eternally doomed to steep in our emotions, in our thoughts, in our heads. There are plenty of people at all ages who are just as lost as I am right now. And there are plenty of people at all ages who will never have the qualities that I have. At my core, I am a beautiful person. I know that I’m fiercely intelligent. I’m open to new experiences; I’m polite (situationally, of course); I’m beautiful; I’m funny; I’m kind-hearted; I’m sarcastic; I’m an excellent maker of French toast; yes, I’m hyper-aware of my emotions – it’s the greatest gift and ultimate worst curse. I’m constantly growing and changing, becoming more and more the person that I want to be. But at my core, I’ll always be a little wild. And I like that.

I’ve been making a list of things that I can be instead of a therapist, because the door just got slammed hard on that one. But I won’t list them here, because they’re basically the primetime lineup for A&E and History channel: logger, pawn shop owner, swamp person, etc. (I’m way too much of a girl to be a swamp person, just for the record. And I refuse to eat squirrel.)

And please don’t think that I’m not grateful. I may be wallowing (I need a few days to really embrace the depths of the sadness before I can kick my way out), but I’m still aware of the blessings in my life. Sort of. Mostly. Maybe.

On Abortion Opinion Pieces (this is one of them)

Posted on November 3, 2011 by kb

I realize that there are different sets of beliefs on this planet. I really try to see the other side of things. It’s so hard to understand where people who don’t believe the same things as you are coming from. To understand that is the first step toward being able to rationalize their thought process. Or perhaps for mutual respect and compromise. Oh wait, compromise isn’t real.

I get that you, believing whatever it is you believe, might want to turn a news story into something that fits your own agenda. So you write an opinion piece and then you publish it. People read it. That’s great. Now they’re aware of your opinion and they’re seeing the connection between whatever it is that you wrote and your agenda.

Below is an article about how Steve Jobs’ adoption “defied Planned Parenthood’s abortion agenda.”

Seriously? That’s how you want to use his death? I guess it got my attention, so you must be doing something right. Actually, I was distracted while reading an article that used such terminology as “the abortion business” and how Planned Parenthood, said “abortion business”, by offering birth control such as free condoms, is bilking Medicaid out of millions of dollars. Since I couldn’t verify the validity of the article – and I tried – I could not tweet it for the healthcare company I do contracted social media work for. So naturally, my next move was to spend twenty minutes digging through this site reading anti-everything articles. To my surprise, there was a very rational one about Gardisil (the HPV vaccine) and religion, abstinence, and parenting. I recommend reading it. And then getting your kids vaccinated.

Abortion accounts for only 3% of Planned Parenthood’s services. 3%. Their agenda is not in fact abortion. It’s not to kill of all the unborn babies. They’re not grim reapers sitting in dark alleys waiting for pregnant women to happen by so they can lure them into killing the kid. They do a lot of other things, too. Good things. Cancer screenings, free condoms, birth control, testing.

As someone who was adopted (and was arguably closer to the possibility of abortion than most of you who came from married people or single mothers who chose to raise you), I am so pro-life it’s ridiculous. While I would personally never have an abortion, I do see it as a viable option for those who fall pregnant in really bad circumstances. Of course it’s not birth control. Of course it’s actually not that hard not to get pregnant. But accidents happen. And abortion – in serious moderation – isn’t the end of the world. (See the second article, below the Steve Jobs one, for 10 questions for pro-lifers.)

(I put a socio-economic rant in here but then deleted it. In conclusion: life is really beautiful, but it can be really ugly, too. Also, insert medical issues that could affect mothers’ health. Those can get problematic under anti-abortion laws. Abortion isn’t really the issue for me. It’s not my thing. It’s the fact that laws that govern abortion really govern my body. And my body belongs to me. I worry that it’s a slippery slope from anti-abortion to anti-…well, anything. I don’t want the government to be able to assert eminent domain over anything connected to my reproductive system or any other system either.)

This really bothers me on a personal level. Steve Jobs’ biological mother was a graduate student. She made an active decision to give him up to a family. She made them promise he’d go to college. She wasn’t plucked from the operating table mid-abortion to achieve some sort of salvation for the future-tech-god living inside of her. She made a choice that didn’t involve Planned Parenthood at all. But again, it’s just an opinion piece.

Steve Jobs’ Adoption Defied Planned Parenthood’s Abortion Agenda

by Ciara Matthews | Washington, DC | LifeNews.com | 10/10/11 10:21 AM

Opinion

Following the news last week, the nation is in mourning over the loss of one of this country’s greatest innovators, a man who has shaped technology, communications and human interaction and networking in a profound and unprecedented way. Apple visionary and co-founder Steve Jobs has left an eternal footprint on mankind that will be forever seen in the way we interact and connect with the world around us.

But, if Planned Parenthood had any say over his destiny, chances are he would have never been given the chance to live such an extraordinary life and lead the next generation of technological advancements.

Born February 24, 1955, Jobs was given up for adoption by his parents because of pressure his biological mother received due to her relationship with his biological father. He was adopted as an infant by Clara and Paul Jobs who named their new son Steve Paul Jobs. And, the rest, as they say, is history.

Thankfully, the man the world has come to know and love due to his success as Apple co-founder, CEO, revolutionary, innovator, and entrepreneur as well as Chief Operating Officer at Pixar Animation Studios, was given a chance at life, a life that Planned Parenthood denies approximately 330,000 unborn babies each year. According to Planned Parenthood’s own numbers, in 2008 it was reported, the organization gave 2,405 adoption referrals the entire year. In that same time they performed 324,008 abortions. This means that for every adoption referral Planned Parenthood gives, it performs 134 abortions.

Clara and Paul Jobs valued the life of a child Planned Parenthood labels a “crisis,” and Steve Jobs did not become just another “problem” Planned Parenthood attempted solve. Steve Jobs adoptive parents, as well as his birth parents, what Planned Parenthood refuses to see – a helpless life with the potential for greatness. He could easily have been an abortion statistic. The world has been touched by Steve Jobs because he parents recognized the value his life held. While the beginning of his life may have been “unintended,” the life and legacy of Steve Jobs had meaning and purpose. He accomplished great things in his 56 years. Unfortunately, the abortion industry has ensured that the potential and greatness of millions of boy and girls will never be realized.

Learn more about other great thinkers, entertainers and leaders that were given a chance to accomplish great things thanks to their mother’s decision to choose life.

From Ms. magazine:

10 Questions for Anti-Choice Candidates

October 20, 2011 by Holly L. Derr · 65 Comments

Amanda Marcotte posted an interesting rant at Double X yesterday about the cognitive dissonance between the desire of anti-choice individuals to make abortion illegal and their unwillingness to address the legal issues that would arise if that happened:

The widespread delusion that advocating for bans on abortion won’t mean that abortion is, you know, banned, runs so deep that if you ask a typical anti-choice obsessive how much time women should do for breaking the law they wished existed, they straight up can’t answer the question because they’ve quite literally never thought that banned means banned.

Click the link above and you’ll see what she means–many anti-choice individuals haven’t ever thought about that detail before. It made me think: There are a lot of questions I’d like to ask candidates running for office over the next year.

1. How many years do you consider to be a fair prison term for a woman who has an abortion?

2. How many years for a doctor who performs one?

3. Will the punishments be greater the second time around?

4. Where will the state get the money necessary to prosecute one-third of all American women for this crime?

5. Forty-two percent of women who have an abortion have incomes below 100 percent of the federal poverty level (that’s $10,830 for a single woman with no children, if you’re counting). When women are forced to have children they cannot afford to raise, will those children become wards of the state or simply new Medicaid recipients? Where will the state find the money necessary to support them?

6. Will you be willing to watch your wife die in front of you when her life is threatened by an unsafe pregnancy that no one is allowed to do anything about? Your daughter?

7. Will rapists have to pay child support to women who are forced to have their children?

8. Will the child of incest be in the custody of its rapist father or the father’s teenaged daughter, his mother? In fact, 18 percent of women who have an abortion in America are teenagers. Will they be required to drop out of high school to raise their children or will the state provide free childcare?

9. Will upper-class white women be prosecuted as vigorously as other women who have abortions?

10. You are aware that upper-class white women have abortions, aren’t you?

Help me out here, what else would you like to have asked? The only way to hold people accountable for their views is to question them relentlessly. These people are running for office–ask them what kind of society they envision creating.

Sublimation. Or the Gray Area I Call Home.

Posted on August 24, 2011 by kb

When you’re younger, the answer is always easy.

Second grade math problems are just like all others: there is only one answer.

You’re either right.

Or you’re wrong.

You learn the opposites. Hot. Cold. High. Low. But you never really learn about the states in between.

Adulthood is a great languishing.

Of course, there are highs and lows and hots and colds. But mostly, there’s a lot of nothingness. It’s the kind of nothingness that stems from the fact that you thought it would be all hots or colds. Or highs or lows. It’s not always a bad nothingness, not at all. It just is. There’s certainly room for debate, for argument, for decision making (steak or chicken? reply today or tomorrow?), for progressive thought. All of these are followed by fits and starts of manic activity (sometimes solely contained within the still hopeful mind).

The melancholic side of the nothingness brings about the inevitable introspection, which leads to planning, which leads….back. And sometimes, a little change is enacted and you’ve suddenly reverted from melancholic nothingness to that blissful nothingness, where everything is calm and smooth and beautiful.

For a time.

Alas, we’ve arrived back in the gray area.

There are no answers.

There exists no right, no wrong. We’re all waging war against opinions.

After pining and creating this odd little relationship (that isn’t one, he’ll be quick to add), everything has fallen into place.

Or out of place, perfectly.

Whichever is a more apt statement.

He came this weekend.

He met Mom and Dad and Mike and G and AJ.

I met his friends.

He stayed at my house five nights (all except for Friday) – which was something I definitely did not expect and something that wildly pleased me.

He told me he wasn’t going to be with any other girls.

I smiled.

We began to think ahead (a bit), based on the thought that he may end up back in Denver as soon as January. Would I be his girlfriend then?

The cracks appeared, began to show and spread.

With my detective hat on, I began putting clues together.

It’s a minor incident, but it may very well be the deal breaker that ends it all.

It’s seriously little better than an episode of the children’s show Blue’s Clues.

Clue #1 was a chance glance, a peek. Too bad I’m an incredibly quick reader.

Intrigued but not irate, I put it aside.

Clues #2 and #3 were more tangible. A story of a meeting, an incorrect name. There it was again, my brain flagged it. And three pushed me over the edge.

What’s wrong? he asked me as I sat slumped, nauseous from the ill-advised blood donation without any food. I guess he gets points for discerning anger through nausea.

We talked. He told me she was a girl he knew in college.

I’m no moron.

Our night continued with his promise of some modern form of long-distance fidelity.

After he left, I spoke to one of my co-workers, a woman I have mad respect for, who told me, “Honey, let me tell you something. They never grow up. Trust me.” Great.

I spoke to one of my dear friends in Chicago. “You need someone who impresses you. Who gets you. Who respects every single inch of you.” I asked her why it is that I have such terrible taste in men. She laughed. “Daddy issues. You can totally blame it all on him. I certainly do.” We commiserated over the fact that there are so few intelligent, mature, responsible, fun, adventurous, adorable, assertive-yet-not-an-asshole men.

I called him on it last night. I told him that it wasn’t the other woman (but it is, and we all know that) but it was the lie (that’s a serious violation for me. I don’t lie, cheat, or steal, and I expect the people I associate with to do the same). The words “trust” “respect” and “honesty” dominated my appeal. I remained calm, collected and clear (odd, right?). I laid out the situation. I laid out why I was angry. I listened to his responses, called him on his bullshit, and told him I didn’t know how I wanted him to fix it. I told him I was too angry with him to cry. I pushed him. I’m glad I did.

Frustrated and tired, I told him I had to sleep. Of course I didn’t. I stared at the dim screen of my laptop while it played reruns of 30 Rock.

Today, I woke up numb and even more exhausted, if that’s at all possible.

Dragging through the morning, doing my very first support bit – eek! I’m going to have to start handling technical issues with our product, and as exciting as it is, it’s really scary, too! – and then it came. The buzzing of my phone. I didn’t look. Three more buzzes lead me to believe something catastrophic may have happened or that I’d just received a novella.

It was in fact that latter.

A novella of contrition. Of admission. Of (his) understanding (of the situation). A little bit of my anger melted away when he admitted that he’s been taking me for granted, and that last night made him realize how much he stands to lose if I bail. (duh, I’m Katie Barry)

I’m still hurt, still annoyed, still frustrated. But it’s salvageable, I think. We spoke again at lunch today, a soft, quiet conversation. But positive. Communication is not a bad thing. But my bullshit meter is on high alert (threat level orange).

And while I am well aware that this may be one of my more fantastic mistakes, I also think it’s a fantastic adventure. Sorry, Mom, I know you’ve tried tactfully to hide your disapproval, but it’s going to be awhile before this is over.

Welcome to life in the Gray Area (I’m imagining that it must be something like the Twilight Zone, although I’m not entirely certain).

God, give me the strength…

Posted on August 8, 2011 by kb

And so it begins anew.

This is a continuation of previous post, which can be found here. (I got a bit heavy-handed with my use of [Redacted] in that post, and for that I apologize, but also smile a little – I think it’s odd that I attempted to apply such civility to that post. It adds a small element of youth, of naivete, of hope, I guess.)

Again, I share the sentiments that I am entirely confused.

I guess the refrain is this: I cannot understand what I’ve done wrong.

The email came from G on Thursday, and can basically be summed up as saying, “Let’s meet in Washington Park on Sunday night to celebrate the 57th wedding anniversary.”

I was keen.

Friday night, I get a text from Aunt X saying that they’re in town. How about Saturday? I respond that I’m unable to do Saturday as I’ll be babysitting (Barney live, anyone?).

The response comes via email. Here’s my favorite line: (Katie & Mike can’t make it…understandable at it is a Saturday night and they are in their 20’s!)

I am in my 20s. But the implication lying beneath that sentence would have you believe that I was out partying, rather than helping a family with three children attend their first Barney concert. For the record, they loved it. It was a really magical experience for them, and the day went smoothly. I stayed there from 2pm until 8pm. After, I went to Aunt S’s birthday at other G’s house. I arrived in time for lemonade and cake. And then I went home and went to sleep, as I had to babysit another family the next morning.

No partying at all this weekend. Babysitting. (Just so we’re all clear about my priorities.)

I texted Aunt X and asked for a drink/coffee date so that we could have a heart-to-heart. She responded that she’d get back to me, then asked if I could let her know if Dad was going to be coming that night. (It was Saturday) I responded that I hadn’t talked to him.

At this point, I was livid. Fury. I am a passionate person, but I’m slow to anger. Once I’m there, though, is a different story. But don’t think that just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I can’t be rational – I consider myself very logical, rational, even cold, at times.

I will not relinquish a point simply because I feel pressured to do so. I don’t lie. And I’m not fake, so pretending nothing’s wrong isn’t my style, either.

And so Dad, Jeanie, Mike and I had a lovely evening in City Park last night, listening to jazz and playing frisbee. It was non-argumentative. It was light. I gushed about S and blathered on about my exciting news and future plans.

This morning, I woke up happy. Calm. Family is what you make of it, good or bad. And creating your own family is something that’s the most fun to do.

I got a text from Aunt X saying that we were meeting for a picnic at the pool at 6pm tonight. I groaned inwardly. I don’t get off of work until 6 at the earliest. I’m not trying to use that a crutch, I’ve got time quotas to meet.

So I wait, text my brother, see if he’s going. He is. I text back that Mike is in and that I’ll be there as soon as I’m off of work, what can I bring?

I am not by my phone when I get the call.

I listen to the voice mail. My stomach lurches, the hurt crawls back up into my heart. My ears ring. I turn up my music. I gulp for air.

I call her back. We exchange muted pleasantries, and then I say, “First of all, I want you to know that I’m not looking for a food hand-out. I offered to bring something, and I’d be more than happy to bring whatever you’d like. Just let me know what I can bring.”

And suddenly, she’s off on me. Talking about the medical conditions of her hostess, my G, and this and that and how she’ll take care of dinner and she’ll haul it over to the pool by herself. I cut in, “I am well aware (of the medical conditions),” I say. She tells me not to bring anything. Just to show up. The line cuts off.

My hands are shaking.

I’m more confused than ever.

I consider myself a strong woman, not one to back down from something that’s seriously upsetting me. But I’m finding myself unable to find a logical opening on the other side. It’s as though every step I try to take is a misstep.

I guess I’m not sure if this means that it’s time to stop trying so hard to be a part of a family that seems to be making it very clear that I’m not welcome.

My Aunt X once told me not to go to grad school, and then made some joke about “not everyone can be a housewife.” Well, being a housewife isn’t everyone’s dream. I mean, it must be nice. (Don’t for a second think I’m negating the stresses and workload of the domestic spouse – it’s a very necessary and overwhelming experience. The raising of children is a complicated matter.)

But for someone to question why I babysit and who I babysit for – that’s crossing lines I’m not prepared for. I don’t want a running commentary going on about the rich people I babysit for. That’s hardly the case. Sometimes two parents work – it must seem strange to someone so removed from that – but in that case, childcare becomes a very necessary, and expensive, expense.

And that’s where I come in.

I babysit for two reasons: I love it and I need the cash.

I love children. I am not making enough at my day job to sustain myself, and in order to not have terrified tears streaming down my face at the end of every month, I work extra hours to make ends meet. It’s not a new thing, the idea of two jobs has existed forever.

I’m great with children – all of my families love me, have loved me, and continue to love me. I’m engaged, polite, I uphold their disciplinary standards and their values. I’ve sat for Christians, Jews, atheists…and my manner has not wavered. Respect, I believe they call it. I’m not sure if they are teaching that in churches these days or not. (And yes, that comment was derogatory and disrespectful. I’m not turning my other damn cheek – I am no doormat. I wasn’t raised to not stand up for what I believe in and I’m sure as hell not going to back down now, especially because I am the one who has been attacked.)

I find it interesting that the financial element keeps rearing its ugly head. I’ve been told no less than three times this weekend that I’ve got a financial obligation toward my Gs. I wish I could explain that I’ve offered to bring over dinner, that I do offer consistently. I provide my G with a magazine subscription, something that I know he really appreciates. That’s a lot of money for me, and it’s something I do out of love. If I had more money, I’d be more than happy to buy groceries, to treat them to things, but the fact is, I don’t. I could start mailing some small amount every month, if they’d like. It wouldn’t be much, but maybe it would help.

But again, I’d like to reassert that I’m not asking for anything monetary or good-related. I don’t need crackers and chips or snacks or food or cash in an envelope. If that’s who they think I am, then they need to step back and reassess.

From more than one of the U or A’s, I’ve heard that someone or someone else doesn’t want to cook, or entertain, or this and that. I’m not asking to be fed (again, I don’t need a food hand-out). I’m just asking for some face time. I’m not asking for a five-course meal, or for treats, or for anything. I’m not asking for money for holidays, or my birthday.

I just want to see my family.

I want to feel like I matter to them as much as they matter to me.

But it’s clear that it doesn’t work that way.

Being rejected by people who should know you, people who you love, is really hard. And it’s tearing at me. At the very least, I’d like some closure on the subject. I’d like to be able to understand fully what I’ve done that is so reprehensible that they can’t be civil toward me. That’s all I’m asking for.

It’s one thirty now. I have four and a half hours until I leave work. Four and a half hours to decide if I should show up or not.

I’m a proud woman. I am proud of who I am, proud of what I do, proud of what I stand for. I live my life in the best way possible. I try to make sure that my actions have few ripples, and other than a few minor skirmishes with friends (no more than anyone else I know), I maintain a very balanced life. It’s full of love and loyalty, and people who genuinely care about me. I genuinely care about them as well.

I call a friend for advice:

“What are you maintaining, other than this idea of a family?…your mom’s side loves you. It’s not like vindictive and gross and vile as your dad’s side is being to you…It sounds like they can’t even pretend to be decent. Why do you keep trying to make amends? It just doesn’t sound right. If you do have this obligation toward your grandparents, then they’d better start treating you right.”

That friend is right.

I try to explain that I guess I want to stay in it for my Gs and cousins, but at the same time, I wonder if their minds have been poisoned against me as well.

This is where I’m sure that the root cause of all of this must be bigger than me. I honestly can’t believe that I could have done something so egregious as to be excommunicated from my own family.

I really hate to stir up trouble in an otherwise happy family.

So perhaps it’s time for me to back down and back away.

Family. What does that word mean to you?

a mile high and then some…

the space between reality and the rest

Category Archives: anger