Check Yourself

The latest news from back home is that a former co-worker of mine, a 32-year old woman, was just diagnosed with breast cancer.

By now, we've all heard that breast cancer strikes earlier and earlier but, for me at least, it was an urban legend; the stuff of made-for-TV movies and Marie Claire articles. This is the first time it's ever hit close to home.

Check yourself, girls.

That Darn Biological Urge ...

Among the many things I have done in attempts to rid myself of my stubborn, disgusting acne:

• visited 4 dermatologists
• used various topical ointments
• taken various antibiotics
• taken birth control
• entertained religious thoughts
• used at-home peels
• wasted thousands of dollars on over-the-counter products
• applied masks made of aspirin, egg yolk and honey
• trolled acne message boards day and night
• learned how to read cosmetic product ingredient lists in search of comedogenic components
• performed wildly unsuccessful "acne surgery" at home
• exfoliated with Scotch tape
• used unknown acne supplements from skincare boutiques
• used vinegar, straight, as a toner
• swallowed vinegar
• gone on a no wheat/no dairy/no processed sugars/no junk food diet

The last attempt is the most recent, borne out of desperation. Despite all my attempts, the acne is still there after 15 years and thousands of dollars and I've recently noticed a good bit of ice pick scarring on my cheeks; hence the no-holds-barred stab at altering my diet. Despite being loved by friends and family and having a boyfriend who constantly tells me I'm sexy, I'm feeling uglier than I have in decades.

As I fret, research, put extra effort into my appearance to distract from the spots and eschew a delicious pasta product that I crave, I sometimes think to myself how fortunate I really must be. Not fortunate to have persistent and ugly acne, of course, but fortunate enough to have such an easy life that I can become obsessed with my looks. Witness: in researching volunteer projects I'd like to take part in next year, not ONE of the "relief" projects in Tanzania, Cambodia, Costa Rica or Chile involves "Bolstering Self Esteem" or "Sexy Makeovers."

I soothe my guilt by telling myself that my vanity is a biological urge and cannot be helped. Species are driven to carry on their genes and they do this through natural selection. I must be fit if I am to be considered a desirable partner for DNA recombination. No one, I am sure, will want to chance passing on skin like mine. Or turkey thighs like mine. Or my puffy hair.

So there. I do not combat disease or hunger or bad breakups or financial misery but I do plenty of combat in the fight to carry on my genes.

Now back to the vinegar and green vegetables .....

Hell yeah

Great News, curvy women! I'm so glad I broke out of the eating disorder phase of my negative body image issues.

(click on the title of the post)

New, Old

It is strange to look at the scuffed, painful, ugly and dowdy shoes in my closet and remember a time many years ago when I first spied them in the store window and stopped short, heart in throat, wondering just who at Nine West had read my mind and produced the exact black leather pumps with round toes and 4 inch high stacked heels that I had been dreaming of. 

And I would rather walk the spit, dust and gum-strewn streets barefoot than wear them now. 

Wounds still Fresh

One of my friends sent this to me. I hear the message, but I don't know what to think yet.

Mayda Del Valle - To All The Boys I've Loved Before

calling all spammers

we're not interested in your phony biz deals, lame ecards, lottery notifications or penis enhancements. i will continue to delete your posts whenever i find them, so please move on to the next site. try posting your trash elsewhere!

Completely Useless?

The other day, between classes, I told another teacher that I am planning on taking the annual Japanese Language Proficiency Test this December. Never you mind what level, especially when I tell you that the teacher I was talking to is taking the highest level of the test. Since Japanese is one of the hardest languages for native English speakers to learn (3 systems of writing plus grammar that is just about the inverse of what exists in English), the simple act of saying, "I am taking the 1-kyuu level exam" tends to have the effect of evoking a silent, reverent hush among the Westerners in the room. I nudged my piddly low level exam preparation book to the recesses of my purse, thoroughly shamed that I had even thought to tell her I was taking the exam. After all, she knows over 1000 Chinese symbols, multiple thousands of Japanese words and has mastered enough Japanese vocabulary and its twisted, devious grammar to read a newspaper. I wasn't worthy; I wasn't worthy ...

My coworker saw that I was impressed and immediately began to denigrate her skills. She was taking the 1-kyuu, sure, she said, but there was no way she'd pass. It took her 6 years, after all, to learn 1000 kanji* and now she had 2 months to learn 1000 more. "It is," she declared, "impossible."

*Chinese symbols used heavily in Japanese writing

"Oh, it can't be," I said. "You've already come so far. And how fantastic that you've learned so much Japanese in the first place!"

Here, my coworker grimaced. "It honestly isn't that great," she said. "As a matter of fact, I didn't recommend it, considering that learning Japanese is really sort of useless."*

"Useless!" I was flabbergasted. "What do you mean?"

(*Let me pause here to state that before she declared the study of Japanese "useless", my coworker told me she was having an "I hate Japan" day - very common for ex patriots. That said ... )

"It's useless," she continued, "because for the insane amount of work it takes for a native English speaker to even learn the language it just isn't worth it when you'll probably never have the opportunity to use it once you move back home."

My coworker had a point. Realistically speaking, how exactly is Japanese going to help either of us when we move away, beyond helping us speak to waiters at Japanese restaurants and impressing Japanese friends, or the random nihonjin we meet? Myself, I'll never have the sort of job where I have to deal with Japanese businessmen and I really don't foresee myself marrying into a Japanese family. So why even try to master Japanese grammar?

I started studying Japanese in the first place because I didn't want to be an ignorant Ugly American who stomped all over the culture and ran around further embarrassing her people by insisting on speaking English to shopkeepers. Furthermore, I hated depending on my Japanese-speaking friends (all men) to speak for me. Lastly, I love languages and especially love learning anything new. And I love learning new things because, ultimately, though I see her point, I am not like my coworker on her "I hate Japan!" day.

You see, I don't think there is such a thing as "useless knowledge."

"Random facts," "useless knowledge": these terms are popular in American culture. People who can quote scientific equations or name the number one hits of cultural icons from the 40s are sniggered at - until they win cool millions on Jeopardy, of course. Learning skills you don't actually use or being an Arts major in college is especially scoffed at. What will you ever do with a head full of theory? our parents, friends, and parents' friends complain. Computers; go into computers. Or business. Something you can touch. Double major - why?

I double majored in college - two majors that could only be considered "useless" - English and Paleoanthropology. Granted - the latter is hardly a "useless" field but if you aren't planning on entering it then the hours spent in the lab, the papers sweated over, the numerous primate taxa memorized do start to seem un-worth it. I double majored because I was fascinated in evolution, stones and bones - I needed to know more. I also wanted to study literature because I saw myself as a novelist, from the time I was small. I wasn't particularly interested in working for newspapers so English, rather than the rule-heavy Journalism, was really all that fit, even if it didn't necessarily translate itself to a sure-fire job once I graduated.

Five years later, I'm proud to report that I've been making a living ever since I graduated; first at TV Guide and then as an editor at a media research company that went from a start up in Chinatown to a swanky operation on Park Avenue. Today, I'm an English teacher living abroad and since I moved to Japan my creativity is higher than ever. No, I have never been required to discuss Shakespeare or Faulkner at my jobs but just because I am not required to discuss them doesn't mean I don't. I'm never far from someone who loves to read as much as I do and I've yet to find someone who is unimpressed by my knowledge of human and primate anatomy. I love the things I learned and even if I did feel disgruntled during the lean times when I was out of work nothing could ever take from me the ecstasy I felt each time I was inspired by Hemingway or examined the unmistakable evidence of the valgus knee in an archaic hominid.

Any fool will tell you that knowledge is power. Most of us will never have the opportunity to use what we learned in science camp to create a bomb out of chocolate and foil, but for those of us who live simple, quiet lives, our hard work is usually reward us through the sweet, random little life surprise.

Hands-down, my favorite thing about life is the sweet, random little surprises. Let me illustrate: at 15, you buy a blue T-shirt at Wet Seal with the image of a frizzy-haired woman you can't place so you ask your mom and discover that it's Gilda Radner, star of Saturday Night Live in the 70s. You develop an interest and research her career, discovering a genuine admiration for the woman's comedic gifts. At 20, you meet a woman in a coffee shop while wearing that old T-shirt who is so impressed she comments on it. She loves Gilda Radner, she gushes. Gilda was her favorite comedienne - ever. You chat it up and before you know it, you find a wonderful new friend who, actually, later introduces you to the man who will become your new boss at a time when you are desperate for work. Surprise!! Thank you, Gilda and Wet Seal.

All right, so maybe that's an extreme example but I'm sure the general pattern is familiar; or at least I hope it is because the random little surprise is such a sweet part of life. The random little surprise ... so very often brought about by a shared or obscure knowledge gleaned at some point when it seemed completely unimportant.

Here, some examples from my own life:

At 13, I decided to write a novel. It would be set in Germany and take place during World War II. My protagonist would be Jewish and, of course, she would be sent to Auschwitz*. I read everything I could find on the Holocaust, Judaism and even started trying to learn German.

*Please ignore the ludicrousness of this idea - I was 13, after all, and I had great ambition.

When I was 15, I realized how fabulously ridiculous and offensive my nearly-completed novel was. I was a 15 year old girl surrounded by Catholics and Protestants in a Florida town that had, perhaps, 5 Jewish families. I'd never starved, I knew nothing about life. How could I possibly write a novel about the Holocaust??? I set aside my hard work, burning with shame. Oh, the waste of all those hours in the library, fueled by creative passion and empathy.

Three years later, I became infatuated with a half-Jewish man who was living in Germany and obsessed with World War II. He laughed at what he called my "scheiss German" but was impressed with my other knowledge. Our relationship was poisonous and things ended badly, but nonetheless, my research at age 13 had not been in vain. I moved to New York at 18, where I was surrounded by Jewish people and got plenty of opportunity to expand my knowledge of their culture. Just the other day, I met a German tourist in Thailand who was impressed that I knew various cities in Germany - things learned from my time with the World War II nut.

In college, as I stated, I studied Paleoanthropology. It hasn't earned me a dime (... yet) but it has made impressed countless acquaintances and made me extremely aware of my anatomy. On a crowded train with no straps to grab, I tuck my knees in towards each other since I know that part of the reason H. sapiens can stand upright is because our femurs are slanted inwards (the valgus knee), which affects our center of gravity. As the train jostles, I give my center of gravity a little help. I never, ever fall.

At 6, I decided I was going to be an author and taught myself to type on the typewriter in my father's office. I soon discovered that I was extremely fast at it and after taking a typing course my Freshman year of high school, I could literally type over 100 words per minute with my eyes shut. At 27, I have no creative work published but since I was 20, I have run a transcription side business that brings in at least a couple of thousand extra dollars per year. No, I'm not an author ... but was learning how to type useless? I think not. And who knows ... I might write that novel yet.

No knowledge is useless; it only depends on how open you are to using it and how large you expect your reward to be. Sometimes we use it in a small way, sometimes we use it in a large way. Your mosaic of knowledge makes you who you are. We can never, ever know what opportunities will arise or how anything we know now can help us. Good Boy and Girl Scouts fill their minds and are always prepared. You don't have to be an ace at building fires to shine - although I do recommend learning things like tying slip knots and building fires. Just look at those poor folks on Lost. Again, fictional, but ....

My boyfriend is Irish. Years ago, I worked in an Irish bar with a number of his countrymen. I learned a lot of Irish slang, that a fantastic Irish TV show called Father Ted existed, the fact that Catholics call the Northern Irish city "Derry" and Protestants call it "London Derry," and a number of folk tunes. At the time, I was angry and humiliated to be working as a waitress when I had a double bachelor's in Arts from NYU. I look at it now as getting a head start.

But if my relationship with Colm doesn't work out, I suppose could meet and marry that Japanese boy yet. In any case, I'll be ready.

gee golly goodness, granny!

Doris Lessing wins Nobel for literature - Yahoo!

News http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071011/ap_on_en_ot/nobel_literature

simone sent me this link today...coolness! pls, check it out :)

The Aftermath

How do you deal with the break up of a relationship that lasted longer than all your previous relationships combined? Yes, these are relative terms.... I'm talking 6 years.

Preaching to the (culturally-aware) choir

I do apologize for being totally AWOL. I have since started medical school, and because this is the week of our first exam, I am SERIOUSLY PROCRASTINATING! But also, we started a new unit in our "fuzzy" half of the curriculum, and an event in today's class particularly bothered me. I've copied the post I wrote on my own blog, below.

Wish me luck! It all goes down Friday!

**********

Today, we began the small-groups sessions of our Communications class. This is where we're going to learn to gain patients' trust, built empathy, and overall communicate effectively. Part of this class requires us to research some "difficult topic", and then make a presentation to the group and practice the scenario with a patient instructor.

My school is starting this new program, a pilot, really, where they want to introduce culturally sticky situations into the repertoire of uncomfortable topics and situations. So, during our first small-group session, today, in the midst of our introducing ourselves to each other and talking about our backgrounds, one of the course's co-directors came in to talk about this program. At the end, she passed out the handouts that explained the pilot and asked interested parties to take one.

Everyone did EXCEPT the two white-male students in the group.

After everyone talked about where they were from, including those of us born in or have traveled extensively abroad (at least three of us), it just does not seem right. Here in medical school, you should be learning to deal with people from other cultures, and it shouldn't be optional. You're not really going to have the option of excluding cultural groups from your practice*, so shouldn't you be learning how to "be respectful at all times" within a variety of contexts? No, not an exhaustive course in the nuances of every cultures, but rather an idea of the variance in interpretations of major life crises and sickness.

Maybe it is because these two men intend to practice in their home states, somewhere rural, maybe. An all-WASP town. However, you're here now. You're in Chicago, with the largest Hispanic population outside Los Angeles, with social problems of gentrification, amongst other aspects and issues of diversity. You can't hide from it.

It's not even a matter of the school's curriculum, although I think there are limitations to that - there's a couple sessions (a handful of hours) of cultural sensitivity training in the spring. But in a room where you are the only WASPs amongst your peers, it's a slap in the face of everyone else that you passed the stack of sheets on - totally uninterested in (or most likely oblivious to) bridging the gap - and passed on the opportunity to seem empathetic within your own classroom. Honestly, if you're going to be offensive to your peers on the first day of class, I can only wonder how you, after you have the "M" and "D" next to your Anglican surname, will treat the patients whose names you cannot pronounce, who you may have to speak to with an interpreter, or who are scared and apprehensive or overly obedient because they come from another culture.

Will you show them the same kind of empathy you showed us today?

*No, you should not be excluding cultural groups from your practice. Unless you are racist. Which, if you are, that's a whole other ethical issue.

**********

Any questions/comments you want to direct specifically to me can be sent to: da period pan period jin atsign gmail period com.

Call Me a Hypocrite ...

Technically, the video I am about to share with you should offend each and every one of us, as feminists. It shows - shock! horror! - a male publicly degrading a female. In his familiar eyes is a sadistic gleam and his barbed words are veiled in a friendly tone. To add to the horror, the aforementioned public degradation is an ambush. The female, to her credit, reacts with arguable poise and stands up for herself: "You're making me sad I came," she says. "You're hurting my feelings!" The audience is less than sympathetic - they roar with laughter each time the man licks his chops and delivers yet another carefully crafted attack.

So why am I not outraged at this display that occurred on national television, on a major American network? Why am I not sympathizing with the mistreated female? Why am I, instead, posting the video of this occurrence in this forum and about to hit you with what I intend to be the clincher for this blog post?

Because the man committing this act is David Letterman and the woman is Paris Hilton.



Call me a hypocrite if you want. Sorry, sisters - this is one time when I've gotta side with the boys.

Besides; Dave hasn't been this sharp in a long time.

Choices

Today, as soon as he opened his eyes, I told my boyfriend:

"Good morning! My friend wants me to proofread an article for him so I might be busy for a little while. But you are welcome to take off your shirt and prance about for my amusement."

As soon as I said the words, I thought that perhaps I was being unfair and decided to give him another option:

"Or if you prefer," I said, "you can also make me breakfast."

He can never say I'm not a good girlfriend.

You Go, Girl

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/23/us/politics/23dems.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin

____________________________________________________________________________________
Pinpoint customers who are looking for what you sell.

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Spam, Lame Spam, Pointless Spam

The Women's Writes Early-Fall Menu:

eggs and bacon
women's rights and bacon
feminism, credit card e-spam and bacon
thoughtful musings, real estate e-spam, wedding talk
bank e-spam, political issues, scam e-spam
drug pushing e-spam, personal recollections, feminist history

Click off, spammers. We have real work to do here.

Meat Market

So I took a second job at one of the major Fitness Clubs in town. Yes, I should have seen it coming from a mile away, but UGH these men! I expected that I would make the acquaintance of some regular members because I would see them every day, and I did. It's also normal to have friendly conversations them about how life is going. BUT UGH (again!) the more open they are with their comments the more revoltng they are! esp. about women and other people who they think are unattractive. I'm not beyond trash-talking the people who are less-than nice or oh-so-power-tripping, but the people they insult are people they don't even know.

How naive it was to think that a gym could be a place free of thinking and compassion beyond the way people look or dress. DUH... 70% of the people that go there want to look bigger, smaller, more this or less that. 20% go there for that same reason but say it's to stay healthy (that's where I fit). and the last 10% are truly there to keep up their health or have fun on the courts.

Maybe it would help if I joined them in admiring the beautiful people.

NAH.

ACK!

dear women's writes readers and contributors:

i apologize for any weird spam posts that you may have come across on wwm recently! dolly and i have both been making major life changes and haven't been able to monitor this site as closely as usual this week. we delete bogus spammy posts whenever we catch them...

happy reading and posting!

Feminist is not a Bad Word By: Courtney Phillips

The word feminist has gone from possessing a revered meaning of female strength and pursuit of equality to being avoided and unclaimed by most of a generation.  It is not uncommon to hear a woman say something along the lines of, “Well, I’m not a feminist, but…” and then talk about women deserving equal pay in the workplace.  Let me be the first to break it to all of those women who are denying being feminists, but harbor beliefs that women deserve equality.  You are a feminist.  You just aren’t claiming the title.

 

There are so many misconceptions about feminism that many shy away from owning the title.  The undoubtedly ridiculous stereotypes about feminists have cast a negative cloud over the entire feminist movement.  Most of the stereotypes have to do with the appearance and attitude of feminists; some believe that in order to be a feminist you must be loud, abrasive, man-hating, lesbian, give up makeup and skirts, stop shaving, and abandon your religion.  Collectively, our society agrees that stereotypes are bad, and in fact, most of us are taught not to stereotype groups of people at a young age.  There are, however, always a few individuals that are representative of those negative stereotypes.  For example, there are feminists who are loud and lesbian, (which isn’t a bad or harmful thing) just as there are some athletes who are scholastically challenged and some Americans who are gun-toting, overweight, and arrogant.  Stereotypes are negative and insulting to any group of individuals, feminists included.  A core belief within the ideals of feminism lies in personal choices and individuality.  No woman or feminist fits neatly into any mold; feminists celebrate the personal freedom to look, live, and just be that way that you are most comfortable.

 

Now that we have figured out what a feminist is not, let’s discuss what a feminist is exactly.  Feminism is the movement toward full social, political, and economic equality.  Being a feminist is different for each person.  It’s about each person (not just women) having enough information to make informed choices.  It’s about not being limited to societal expectations.  Feminism isn’t about women being more like men, or the two becoming one.  Feminism recognizes that men and women are capable of different things, not based on gender, but on individuality.  It’s about being liberated and making genuine choices.  The focus on feminism needs to be on the freedom of choice, and not on the choices that any one individual makes. 

 

Some people have problems reconciling the idea of being both religious and a feminist.  Can one be a feminist and religious?  Absolutely, yes one can be both.  There are many feminists who also endorse the Bible.  For example, although a Catholic may not personally believe in the use of birth control, he/she would not prevent others, Catholics or non-Catholics, from deciding for themselves whether or not to believe in or use of birth control.  The problem is not with religion.  The problem lies with the interpreters of religion.  Specifically, the Vatican has made it difficult for an individual to comprehend being both religious and a feminist.  The Bible does not directly promote inequality or interfere with human rights.  Rather, the Vatican and other individuals have inappropriately used the Bible causing people to confuse the actual text of the Bible and what the interpreters have determined.  There are groups who are devoted to helping feminists maintain the balance between their feminist beliefs and their religious beliefs.  Catholics for a Free Choice is a group that is supportive of both religion and an individual’s choice.  Their website, www.catholicsforafreechoice.org, opens with a quotation by Fances Kissling that reads, “Are we not capable of walking and chewing gum at the same time; of valuing life and respecting women’s rights”.  The point is that no individual has to abandon their religious beliefs in order to be supportive of women’s rights.

 

Society seems to have forgotten that feminists were calling for action against the Taliban a decade before the September 11^th tragedy in New York.  Feminists were paying close attention to the Taliban; particularly how they were denying basic human rights to women and girls and the negative impact that this had on them.  Feminists were the only ones who were putting pressure on the U.S. government to intervene in order to stop the hostile reign.  It wasn’t until September 11^th that others started paying attention as the feminists had been.

 

Feminists were active against domestic violence long before anyone else was talking about it.  The federal government did not allocate any money to assist with ending violence against women until 1994.  It was only after the brutal murder of the beautiful Nicole Brown Simpson that Americans as a whole began paying attention to this issue.  Domestic violence is still a pervasive issue, so much so, that it is viewed independently of feminism.

 

Feminist is not a bad word.  The term feminism has always been an ideological fire starter.  In general, words that are associated with being either progressive or female tend to get degraded.  If the word “feminist” were changed to something else, then over time that word would come to possess negative associations.  Conservatives and right-wing supporters have captured the language in this way.  For example, look to how the right-wing has manipulated the use of the term “pro life” in the debate on abortion.  Would the abortion discussion be viewed differently if the pro-choice individuals had adopted the term “pro life” first, as in not wanting women to die from illegal abortions.  Feminists are in pursuit of full social, political, and economic equality.  Feminists have an important voice and should never be ashamed of their beliefs.  Hasn’t our society learned to be accepting and tolerant of all individuals, feminists included?  Being a feminist means living by your own convictions and living a self-respecting life.  Feminists of the world, stand up, speak out and be proud.

 

Sources:

Catholics for a Free Choice, www.catholicsforafreechoice.org, email cffc@igc.apc.org

 

Delamotte, Eugenia. Women Imagine Change: A Global Anthology of Women's Resistance from 600 B.C.E. to Present. Routledge, New York, New York 1997.

 

Meeting the Mum

In less than a week, my parents and brother are coming to Japan to visit me during our summer holiday. Words cannot express how excited I am - it will be the first time I've seen them since they bid me goodbye at the airport last January. I have reorganized my apartment-tini so that it will look super kawaii and am busily grilling my students for recs on where to take them (not that I don't have any ideas of my own after 7 months, but I'm always on the lookout for something new and cool). When my students and fellow staff members ask if I have any plans for the summer holiday, I am quick to tell them that my family is coming - my family is coming!

And yet, despite the glee, I feel twinges of panic. Said twinges swell up in tiny bubbles, cutting through my euphoria, threatening to burst when I think of the fact that not only are my folks coming to town next week, but so are my boyfriend's mother and brother. Thus, for the first time ever in my life, I will be meeting the mom. Or meeting the mum, rather - my boyfriend is from Ireland.

I met my boyfriend on my second day in Japan. He was my tall, adorable, unintelligible downstairs neighbor and we became fast friends. Within the next couple of months, romance bloomed and we are now about to hit the 5-month mark. For some reason, we are still in the 'honeymoon phase' of things and things are quite, quite excellent. This is my second 'serious' relationship - my first was quite some years ago, in college, and as my ex is Indian, he was careful to keep me as far away from his parents as possible. To be sure, I spent quite a bit of time with his very cool siblings, cousins and friends but, as he explained to me, Indian parents and children keep things such as relationships private unless a wedding is imminent. In the years between my ex and my current boyfriend, there were no relationships beyond flings - which is how I have gotten to the age of 27 without ever having met the parents.

27 and no parents met! Some might think this a most glorious state of being - from many accounts, parents can often upset a happy couple with prying, strict moral values, mewling about grand children/marriage and all around personality conflicts. I used to joke with my ex that I didn't mind never having met his parents - "Who needs the stress?" I would tease - even if I really longed to meet the people responsible for the quirky, grumpy Anish and was secretly hurt that, the one time he took me to his home town, he craned his neck at every intersection to make sure no one his parents knew saw us together. After we broke up during my Senior year of college, knowing that no parents would despise me was a comfort, even if I did worry about what his brother and sister and friends thought. For five years there were no boyfriends or parents in sight. And now, unexpectedly, my time has come.

Colm assures me that I have nothing to worry about. His mum isn't like crazy American moms, don't I know, like? She doesn't have anything out for her darling b'hoy's girlfriend. I'm sure he's right - the photos he's showed me reveal a darling looking woman whose gentle smile seems incapable of morphing into an anti-American girlfriend sneer. And quite honestly, I am really excited to meet Colm's mum and little brother. From what he's told me, they sound delightful and, of course, I want to meet anyone connected with him. I have a quiet dream of telling Ms. O'Doyle that she raised her son right and look forward to catching similar twinkles in their eyes over the cuppas of Barry's tea we might share in his apartment. Yet, I can't help but worry. Will she find my American way flat and uncharming? Will she look at my pimply skin and be unimpressed? Will she secretly think I am stocky or that I look strange next to her 6 foot tall son? Will she, like many others, be annoyed by my less-than-gentle world view and sarcasm? Most of all, will she think I am an aging woman ruthlessly enjoying a b'hoy toy? Neither Colm or I have mentioned to our parents that we're four years apart in age - with me his senior but I'm sure both sets of relatives will figure it out at some point during their visits. Not that it's something either of us are ashamed of - especially not Colm. For my part, I do worry about how we will be perceived, and any issues the age difference could stir up later on. But that's another story.

Tonight, I chatted with my brother over IM. In the past 11 years, my brother has been in four serious relationships and has successfully become part of his girlfriends' families each time. I asked him, "Diego? What are your best tips for meeting the mom?"

"Don't you mean 'the mum'? She's Irish, isn't she?"

"My bad."

"You want tips?"

"Yes," I tope, adding, "Colm isn't nervous at all about meeting you, ma, or dad. I really envy his calm."

"You shouldn't be nervous, either." said Diego. "You want tips? S***, just don't say anything stupid."

"That helps," I told my eternally charming brother.

"Ha ha, just kidding." he said. "Just talk like you'd normally talk. And smile. And act like you actually care about whatever stupid s*** they're talking about. Smile and nod."

"Well, I do care what Ms. O'Doyle has to say," I typed, slightly wounded.

"And you can knock off that kiss-a** act," Diego said.

Talk like I normally talk ... what kind of advice is that? Talking the way I normally talk has done nothing but get me in trouble ever since Catholic school. Smile and nod? She'll think I'm a ventriloquist's dummy! And then another thought troubles me even further: at 27, am I really still so insecure? I tell myself it's only because it's my first time. Everyone knows about the first time!

In the past, my friends have met their significant others' parents and fretted. "What will I wear? Will my boyfriend like my crazy family?" they asked me.

"Of course he will!" I always said. "And they'll all love you, too! How could they not!" Because I love my friends, I couldn't imagine how I could be wrong about this. How could they - wonderful, smart, beautiful - worry about what parents would think of them? Similarly, I can't imagine that my parents wouldn't like Colm. He's handsome, quiet, intelligent, and respectful. He has a good job, loves classical music and eats everything set in front of him (a big plus in my Italian parents' book). Already, my father has shown more interest in him than he ever showed in Anish and once my mother hears Colm talking in that seductive, Irish purr of his I imagine I'll have to pry her off of him.

I just wish I had the same calm about myself.

What will I wear, come to think of it? Something tells me that my fishnet stockings and red leather basque are the wrong choice.

I put the question to you. How did you win over your men's moms?

A WOMAN'S STORY ABOUT CERVICAL CANCER-SARAH K

I RECENTLY READ THIS STORY OUT OF A TEXAS NEWSPAPER AND IT DEEPLY TOUCHED ME.  AS SOMEONE WHO ADVOCATES FOR WOMEN'S RIGHTS, I UNDERSTAND THE BATTLE FOR THE VACCINE FOR THE HUMAN PAPILLOMAVIRUS.  IT IS CRITICAL TO WOMEN'S HEALTH AND YOUNG GIRL'S HEALTH.

HEATHER BURCHAM WAS ONLY 31 YEARS OLD WHEN SHE DIED OF CERVICAL CANCER.  SHE SPEND THE LAST FOUR YEARS OF HER LIFE IN PAIN DUE TO THE DISEASE.  THROUGHOUT HER BATTLE OF THE DISEASE SHE SPOKE OUT STRONGLY FOR A NEW VACCINE THAT WOULD PROTECT WOMEN FROM MOST COMMON FORMS OF THE HUMAN PAPILLOMAVIRUS.  IT CAUSES CLOSE TO 70% OF ALL CERVICAL CANCER CASES.

SHE WAS VERY SUPPORTIVE OF GOVERNOR RICK PERRY WHEN HE MANDATED THAT ALL GIRLS ENTERING SIXTH GRADE IN TEXAS WOULD BE GIVEN THE GARDASIL VACCINE AS PART OF THEIR BACK-TO-SCHOOL IMMUNIZATIONS.  THE GARDASIL VACCINE PROTECTS AGAINST THE HUMAN PAPILLOMAVIRUS WHICH CAUSES CERVICAL CANCER.  BURCHAM WAS SUPPORTIVE AND ONLY WANTED TO PROTECT OUR DAUGHTERS FROM CERVICAL CANCER. 

UNFORTUNATELY, LAWMAKERS OVERTURNED THE GOVERNORS MANDATE.  THERE WAS CONCERN THAT THE VACCINE WOULD ENCOURAGE GIRLS TO BECOME SEXUALLY ACTIVE.  GARDASIL NEEDS TO BE ADMINISTERED BEFORE GIRLS BECOME SEXUALLY ACTIVE.  THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF POLITICS INTERVENING IN A MATTER THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT TO THE GOVERNOR.  THE VACCINE CAN SAVE LIVES.  AT THE END OF THE DAY, THAT SHOULD BE THE BOTTOM LINE. 

PARENTS CAN TAKE THE INITIATIVE AND HAVE THEIR GIRLS RECEIVE THE THREE DOSE VACCINE OF GARDASIL.  EVERY PARENT SHOULD WANT TO PROTECT THEIR DAUGHTER FROM GETTING CERVICAL CANCER.

HEATHER BURCHAM SAID "IF I COULD HELP ONE CHILD, TAKE THIS CANCER AWAY FROM ONE CHILD, IT WOULD MEAN THE WORLD TO ME."

THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION ESTIMATE THAT ONE IN FOUR AMERICAN WOMEN BETWEEN THE AGES OF 14-59 IS INFECTED WITH THE SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED HUMAN HUMAN PAPILLOMAVIRUS, AND MOST DON'T KNOW IT.  IT OFTEN TURNS INTO CERVICAL CANCER.

CERVICAL CANCER KILLS 10 AMERICAN WOMEN A DAY.

PROTECT YOUR DAUGHTERS AGAINST THIS KILLER CANCER FOR HEATHER BURCHAM AND ALL THE OTHERS WHO DIED OF CERVICAL CANCER. 

heh!

Today's work attire: jeans, a tee, flip-flops, and long, dangly earrings.

Why? Because if FT employment won’t allow me to be at the beach, then I’m going to @ least dress, and pretend, like I’m there!

Ha!

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND HOMELESS LINK-SARAH

Domestic Violence/Housing

            There is a link between domestic violence and homelessness in America.  Women who decide to leave their abusive partners have little economic resources. Economics is one of the main reasons women stay in an abusive relationships.  Women that leave become low-income mothers.  They are subjected to finding low-income housing that unusually does not exist.  Most places have waiting list.  The federal programs to assist women who are low income for housing have waiting list for up to 2 years.  What is worse is that women are subjected to a zero tolerance for family members who commit crimes.  So if a husband batters his wife she must also leave the premise.  Therefore, the innocent victim of violence is homeless or sent to a domestic violence shelter if room is available.  This law has recently changed. 
            Some women are able to gain some independence through the Welfare System.  Women do face challenges within the system.  In 1996, The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996 “mandated that women be employed with 24 months of initial enrollment in welfare and place a 5 year time limit on a woman’s ability to receive.”  This was impossible for women to complete.  This was a hinder to woman.  Abusive partners saw this as a way for a woman to gain control in her life.  Often, abusive partners would return and batter their partner again. Also, the welfare system did not allow enough time for victims of domestic violence to regain control of their life.  (Baker, 758)

            Today, many states have adopted the Family Violence Option.  “It allows states to temporary waive time limits and work requirements for women who self-disclose domestic violence.” (Baker, 758)  The problem with the act is its implementation. Caseworkers at the Welfare Office are not trained properly.  Some caseworkers are resentful of the law because it gives them a larger workload.   Changes in the implementation and the attitudes of caseworkers will allow domestic violence victims gain economic security.

            The National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty in 2005 stated that 50% were homeless as a result of domestic violence.  It stated in the survey that 92% of the women who were homeless experienced some form of domestic violence or sexual assault.  The study states 63% of adults have experienced domestic violence as an adult. (National Law Center, 1)

What I Like ....

... is the sight of my boyfriend cooking me dinner when I come visit him after a long day of work.

... ahhhhh .....

FEMALE ELECTED IN INDIA BY SARAH K

IT IS VICTORY FOR WOMEN'S RIGHTS IN INDIA TODAY.  THIS COULD MEAN A END TO THE LONG COMMITTMENT TO DISCRIMINATION TO INDIAN WOMEN.  THIS IS VERY EXICITING NEWS. 

INDIA ELECT PRATIBHA PATIL IS THE FIRST FEMALE PRESIDENT OF THE COUNTRY.  PATIL RECEIVED 65.82% OF THE VOTES CASTED BY THE NATIONAL LAWMAKERS AND STATE LEGISLATORS, AND ELECTION COMMISSION HEAD P.D.T. ACHARY.  SHE HAD BEEN EXPECTED TO WIN.

PATIL STATED "I AM GRATEFUL TO THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, TO ALL THE MEN AND WOMEN OF INDIA.  THIS IS A VICTORY OF THE PRINCIPLES OF WHICH OUR INDIAN PEOPLE UPHOLD". 

HUNDREDS OF CONGRESS SUPPORTERS DANCED IN THE STREETS AS A RESULT OF THE THE ELECTION.  PEOPLE WERE BANGING DRUMS AND SETTING OFF FIREWORKS. 

SHE WILL BE SWORN INTO A 5 YEAR TERM ON JULY 25, 2007.

THE ELECTION OF THE FIRST FEMALE COULD LEAD TO WOMEN'S RIGHT'S BEING ENFORCED.  THE SOCIETY OF INDIA MUST COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THE WOMEN ARE EQUALS IN SOCIETY.  WOMEN HAVE BEEN TREATED SO POORLY IN INDIA THAT IT WILL TAKE A WHILE FOR SOCIETY TO CHANGE. 

dressing for success (or, the converse-wearing executive director)

on the my first day of work at my current job, my male supervisor suggested that i "dress to the level i want to be promoted to," meaning that if i'd like to be executive director one day, i should start donning the clothes of a would-be director right now. while i appreciated his input (he was genuinely trying to help), this advice absolutely horrified me. to dress in that way would be so counterintuitive for me in more ways than one.

i admittedly have a big problem dressing "like a grown up." i tend to like to think that clothes don't matter much in my life, yet i firmly believe i would work happier and more effectively if wearing clothes that i feel comfortable wearing. i wonder what impact this thinking has had/will have on my career.

looking back, my attitude toward clothing has shifted with the passage of time. as a child of the eighties, i looked to pop culture rather than my elementary school teaching mom for fashion inspiration. i expected to spend my grown up years wearing tight minidresses and heels on a daily basis and was somewhat excited about that prospect.

now fast forward ten years to high school, when i was a thrift store-shopping bargain hunter with a passion for funky old finds. although i wore a uniform to my all-girl catholic high school, i had a penchant for fifties and sixties dresses which i seemingly had no occasion to wear. (my friends and i would wear these to rock shows around L.A. or alcohol-free parties at our parents' homes.) at that tender age, it was important for my clothes to proclaim to the world that i was an individual and not a cookie-cutter clone.

ten years later, i find myself feeling indifferent when it comes to fashion. i have little to no interest in fashion trends and don't really read mainstream women's magazines, so i don't know what's supposedly in or out, nor do i particularly care. yeah, i still like cute clothes, but i also still feel foolish spending more than $30 on any one item. (plus, there are more important things happening in the world, and thus, more important things to spend money on. funds would be put to better use on responsible philanthropy than a $500 purse!) i feel that my clothes are one part of my identity that gives people clues to who i am, but there are loads of other ways to find out, like, say, talking to me. furthermore, i'm getting less and less inclined to care about strangers getting to know me through my damn clothes. (if someone wants to be my friend, they've got to like a lot more about me than whatever piece of fabric i decide to throw on that day!)

still, getting back to the original thought-- whether i like it or not, i must acknowledge that the clothes i wear send a message, especially in my professional life. naomi wolf's beauty myth mentions studies illustrating the fact that women who wore power suits or professional uniforms to work tended to be taken more seriously than those who didn't. my big problem is accepting that fact. are work dress codes a necessary evil of professional life? i am responsible, capable and qualified, so why can't i be taken seriously wearing jeans and a pair of converse to work? why can't our society move PAST clothing and other aspects of our appearance to seek out the substance beneath them?! until we do, we'll always be forced to conform to superficial standards. as a nonconformist, i just can't help feeling confined by dress codes. still, i comply whenever necessary, despite the nagging feeling that i'm "faking it" all workday long.

i have been wanting to write about my relationship with my clothes for a while, so thanks to noelle for reminding me! this is my first stab at getting some of these thoughts down, and i hope to expand on this more later.

what's your relationship with your clothes like?

INDIA WIDOWS SHUNNED BY SOCIETY, PART 2 : SARAH

INDIA WIDOW'S FLEE TO THE HOLY CITY OF VINDRAVAN CITY BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO PLACE TO GO.  MOST FLEE THEIR HOMES BECAUSE THEIR AFRAID OF BEING SEXUALLY ABUSED OR PHYSICALLY ABUSED BY OTHER MEN. WIDOW'S OF INDIA ARE VIEWED AS PROPERTY TO THEIR HUSBANDS.  WHEN THEIR HUSBANDS DIE THEY HAVE NO VALUE. 

AGE DOES NOT MATTER TO THE STATUS OF THE WIDOW.  IN MY RESEARCH I FOUND A GIRL THAT WAS MARRIED AT AGE 8.  HER HUSBAND WAS 33. SHE BECAME A WIDOW AT AGE 23.  SINCE AGE 23 SHE HAS BEEN AT THE CITY OF VINDRAVAN.  SHE WAS EVICTED FROM HER HOME BECAUSE WIDOW'S DO NOT HAVE PROPERTY RIGHTS.  JUST IMAGINE AT THE AGE OF 23 HAVING NOTHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO.

THE INDIA SOCIETY IS VERY CRUEL TO THE WIDOW'S OF THEIR COUNTRY.  IT IS LIKE THEY DO NOT EXIST.  THE GOVERNMENT LOOKS AT MERE PRESENCE OF A WIDOW AS BAD LUCK.  WIDOW'S ARE FORCED TO HAVE THEIR HEADS SHAVED.  ALL THEIR JEWERLY IS TAKEN AWAY FROM THEM AND THEY MUST WEAR WHITE GARMENTS. 

IT IS ESTIMATED THAT 40 MILLION WIDOWS ARE IN INDIA.  IT HAS THE LARGEST NUMBER OF WIDOWS IN THE WORLD.  54% OF THE WOMEN OVER 60 ARE WIDOWS IN INDIA.  12% OF THE WOMEN BETWEEN THE AGES OF 35-39 ARE ALSO WIDOWS. 

THERE IS SOME HOPE FOR WIDOWS OF INDIA.  MOHINI GIRI A WIDOW OF INDIA.  SHE WAS ABLE TO ORGANIZE WITH OTHER ORGANIZATIONS TO CREATE A PLACE IN VINDRAVAN THAT EMPOWERED WIDOWS.

SHE CREATED A PLACE CALLED "AMAR BARI".  AMAR BARI IS A PLACE THAT OFFERS VOCATIONAL TRAINING TO THE WIDOWS. GIRI, GOAL FOR THE WIDOWS IS TO REHABILITATE EACH AND EVERY WIDOW. 

AMAR BARI WANTS TO TEACH THE WIDOWS SOCIAL SKILLS AND LEARNING SKILLS.  THEY HOPE TO MOTIVATE THE WOMEN TO GAIN ECONOMIC INDEPENCE AND CONFIDENCE. THE WIDOWS PERFORM JOBS SKILLS FOR WHICH THEY RECIEVE INCOME.  SOME OF THE JOBS INCLUDE THE FOLLOWING: WEAVING, SPINNING,  AND NURSES.

THE WIDOW'S PRODUCE GOODS SUCH S QUILTED JACKETS, BEAD WORK, LEATHER POUCHES, AND CLOTH BAGS.  SOME OF THE WIDOWS WORK AS NURSES TAKING CARE OF PATIENTS AT THE AMAR BARI.

THE TOUGHEST BARRIER FOR WIDOWS TO CROSS IS THIER OWN CULTURE AND WHAT THEIR SOCIETY SAYS THEY MUST DO.  IN INDIA WOMEN AND WIDOWS DO HAVE CERTAIN RIGHTS.  THEY HAVE CUSTOMARY AND STATUTORY LAWS THAT PROTECT THEM.  THE WOMEN OF INDIA DO NOT FEEL A SENSE OF EMPOWERMENT.  THEY DON'T FEEL LIKE THEY CAN FIGHT FOR THEIR RIGHTS. 

PLACES LIKE AMAR BARI ARE TRYING TO CHANGE THE MIND SET OF THESE WOMEN.  OTHER ORGANIZATIONS ARE HELPING TOO.  GUILD SERVICES AND THE NATIONAL COMMISSION FOR WOMEN ARE HELPING TOO.  I AM THERE ARE OTHERS TO.

WE NEED TO RAISE AWARENESS ABOUT THIS ISSUE.  WE NEED TO GET OTHER WOMEN'S RIGHT'S GROUPS INVOLVED.  WE MUST ALSO ASK OUR PRESIDENTAL CANDIDATES ABOUT THEIR POSITION ON THIS ISSUE. 

PLEASE RAISE AWARENESS ABOUT THIS ISSUE.  THESE WOMEN DESERVE RESPECT AND DIGNITY. 

SARAH

Women of India Shunned for No Reason Other than Tradition--Sarah K (must read)

IN INDIA THERE IS A SAD STORY THAT MUST BE TOLD.  WOMEN ARE BEING SHUNNED BY SOCIETY.  WHY? BECAUSE IT IS A TRADITION IN INDIA.  LET ME SAY THAT AGAIN.  IT IS A TRADITION IN INDIA. 

THE WOMEN THAT ARE BEING SHUNNED ARE WIDOWS.  THEY ARE CONSIDER TO BE THE POOREST INDIVIDUALS OF THE COUNTRY.  IN INDIA HINDU WIDOWS CAN NOT REMARRY.  THEREFORE, WHEN THEIR HUSBANDS DIES THEY ARE SHUNNED FROM SOCIETY.

THEY ARE ALSO SHUNNED FROM SOCIETY BECAUSE THEIR SOCITY KNOWS THAT WHEN THEIR HUSBANDS DIE THAT THEY WILL BE A FINANCIAL BURDEN ON THEIR FAMILIES.  SO INSTEAD, OF THE FAMILIES TAKING CARE OF THEIR MOTHER OR SISTER THAT JUST TELL THEM TO GO AWAY.  THEY HAVE NO COMPASSION FOR WHAT THEY ARE GOING THROUGH.  IT IS LIKE THE FINANCIAL BURDEN IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD.

THE HINDU WIDOWS CAN NOT REMARRY.  THEY CAN NOT WEAR JEWERY.  THEY ARE FORCED TO SHAVE THEIR HEADS.  MOST ARE FORCED TO WEAR WHITE ONLY.  MOST WALK HUNCHED OVER WITH WALKING CANES.  YOU CAN SEE THE PAIN IN THEIR FACES.  IT JUST BREAKS YOUR HEART WATCHING IT UNFOLD.  IT IS ESTIMATED THAT INDIA HAS 40 MILLION WIDOW'S.  I JUST CAN NOT IMAGINE THAT MANY PEOPLE IN THIS CONDITION.  IT MUST BE STOPPED. 

MOST OF THE WIDOW'S GO TO A CITY CALLED VRINDAVAN. THE WIDOW BELIEVE THAT THE CITY WILL FREE THEM FROM THIS TYPE OF LIFE IN THE AFTERLIFE.

WE CAN NOT ALLOW 40 MILLION WOMEN TO SUFFER LIKE THIS.  WE NEED TO REACH OUT TO THESE WOMEN.  INDIA MUST BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR THESE WOMEN.  WE CAN NOT ALLOW THIS TO BE THE MIND SET OF THE GOVERNMENT TOWARDS WIDOW'S IN INDIA.  IT IS AN OUTRAGE.  IT HURTS TO HEAR IT.  IT HURTS TO WATCH IT.  IT HURTS TO IMAGINE THESE WOMEN WITH NOTHING.  WE MUST STOP THE PAIN.  PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD. 

Anti-choice supporters trying to use guilt tactics to gain support: sarah

Today, I received a very graphic bulletin by someone who was anti-choice.  The bulletin was full of graphic photos of aborted babies.  I do not appreciate these tactic's by the anti-choice movement.  It is really sad that they have to resort to this type of propaganda.  They will not win people over this movement.  It will only outrage people more.  People will turn against them.  People do not want to see to type of material.

Getting this bulletin angered me so much.  These people do not know the situations that these women faced before choosing to have an abortion.  How dare this person pass judgment on some else.  In the bulletin it said if you don't pass this on you don't have a heart.  That is absolutely wrong.  I have one hell of a heart.  I care about others but, I don't believe abortion is wrong.  Everyone gets to make that decision by herself.  Everyone has different circumstances.  My body, My Choice. 

I am bothered by the fact that in this bulletin it said if you can't take care of a baby don't have sex.  Not everyone chooses to have sex.  Thousands of women are raped each year.  They didn't get a choice so don't stand there and tell me that those women should not have had sex.  They were raped against their will.  You don't know the HELL they went through.  NO ONE IS GOING TO TELL ME THAT THESE WOMEN CAN'T HAVE AN ABORTION.

sarah

picture perfect? no! should I want to be? Never!

"Ugly! Hideous! Tub of lard!" I spouted off as my husband and I poured over our wedding photos. I had just arrived home from a tasty dinner with Mo, and just then, my delicious mix of sticky macaroni and assorted baked goods turned into a lethal reminder of why my beautiful wedding gown was spotted with bulges.

If my eyes didn't scan each picture for fat pouches, my gaze was set upon the acne scars, which not only stain my face, but my self-confidence as well. Why was my reaction so negative? My husband gasped and filled the night air with complimentary superlatives: "you were the prettiest," and "it was the happiest moment of my life," he said, trying to cajole me into seeing the photos as a visual rendering of our love. But while he was genuinely pleased, and sincere in his sentiments, my eyes -- those damn, critical enemies to my sense of beauty -- fought his logic with infantile despair.

I HATE that my initial reaction was, more or less, an adult tantrum; I HATE that my grievances were centered on extrinsic self-loathing; I HATE that instead of joining my husband in the light of true beauty and awareness, I opted for the dark caverns of insecurity; and most of all, I HATE that this pattern of, well, hating my looks creeps up on me during the most inconvenient of times. When I divulge feelings such as "my acne scars are why I’m so ugly," or "I'm such a chunky monkey," I debase my core-values, and hold the same self-deprecating opinions that I chastise other women for having. Thus, I morph (argh!) into what I dislike the most -- a hypocrite! (double argh!!)

These emotions catapult me back to Simone and David’s Twilight zone party that I attended last Saturday. During the marathon I saw the thought provoking episode, “number 12 looks just like you,” involving a culture’s compliance towards standardized beauty.

In response to the same episode, Simone writes in her blog:
i just watched an amazing episode of the twilight zone, written by charles beaumont, that illustrates precisely how oppressive and damaging our society's looks-centric values can be…a young woman unsuccessfully attempts to resist a culture in which the unavoidable rite-of-passage is "the transformation"-- a process by which each person loses their individual looks and personality in favor of a physical and psychological makeover sanctioned by the government. Simone’s response to the storyline, “while our day-to-day interactions with the pervasive concepts of mainstream beauty might not be as dramatic or intense as this storyline, they can be just as brutal and devastating to the core of a woman,” encapsulates the plight that most women I know endure. Everyday we are fed information that is tainted with the objectification of the female form; whether it’s through music, movies, commercials, ads, etc., women are subjected to, as Simone puts it, “the tyranny of mass conformity to mainstream american/western standards of beauty."

Recently, for me, such idealized images of beauty came via bridal mags. Thus, my internal dialogue reads something like, “how can my wedding photos not be seen through a distorted lens of self-doubt, and how am I not expected to compare myself to the images of the beautiful women I witnessed in bridal magazines?” Truth be told, I am reasonably pleased with my looks, but truth also be told, I can be reasonably critical of myself too. I need a mantra that stabilizes my sense of self, and I need to rise above mass media’s harmful, latent effects. What that mantra is, however, I must ultimately decide; I think it’s different for everyone.

So, in the end, my hub went to bed content while I remained awake, and hated myself for hating myself. The next night, I suddenly snapped out of my delirium and, with a cup of chai tea in one hand and the hope of a self-revelation balancing in the other, I popped in the DVD for a 2nd showing. With a fresh outlook, I saw past my insecurities and felt nothing more than the deep love, which emanated among close family and friends. Smudged eyeliner or a goofy smile was second rate to the rich quality of a couple who chose to spend an eternity together. Again, in the end, I opt not to photo-shop or doctor my pictures because the importance of these photos was to give a tangible testimony to the intangible, authentic feelings of a cherished love -- NOT to document me as some reigning beauty queen. If media was more realistic, and I wasn’t so pessimistic, then maybe I would have realized that point much sooner.

Anyway, why worry over hyped up "dilemmas" when I should be concentrating on my new copy of M. Goodman's, The Anti 9-to-five Guide. Escaping the cubicle is where my mind should be!

two quick tidbits

hi everyone. just wanted to share two things:

1) here's a recent interview with janeane garofalo. i've loved her since i was a preteen - am i the only one who appreciates her? it's a pity that the powers-that-be in hollywood only allow her to play romantic leads in animated films...how effing ridiculous!

2) if you are sick of hearing about the plight of a certain famous heiress, please check out this feisty clip. mika shows some moxie, but it's too bad her male counterparts (incl. joe scarborough the mofo) are such condescending lameasses.

special thanks to my homegirl mary for passing this along!!

a letter to h&m

dear h&m,

god dag. i'm writing this to inform you that it's over. i can no longer shop at your stores, at least until the sixties-thing stops being so swingin'.

it's the babydoll dress. i find myself buying and wearing these frocks of infantilized femininity with alarming frequency. and it's not because i want to be en vogue, or bring back riot grrl even. i simply cannot resist peter pan collars, trapeze shapes, short hems that are on your hangers (and then mine.)

this would not be such a big problem were i not trying to be a big girl now. i'm 27 years-old and embarking on my first career. did mia farrow look like a career gal in rosemary's baby to you?

maybe there are ladies of such stature that they can wear this stuff to work like a powersuit. but they are models and/or live in new york. i'm only 5'2" and the way most of your clothes fit makes me feel even more like a little girl playing dress up, and there are no play dates or tea parties on my things to do list.

i'll be back in the fall for some pants and vests if you decide to do the annie hall thing.

yours truly,
noelle

cheer up, charlie!

Sometimes, which seems like all of the time, this world seizes my ability to think non-cynical thoughts. My focus can become so centered on what's lacking in dollyland that I fail to muse over the amazing subtleties of life, which surround me. Why do I resort to this line of logic? Why do I obsess over fickle desires or emotions and not enjoy what the ever-present "now" has to offer?

Well, in an attempt to defeat the self-defeating, I give you...

"My list of small, everyday occurrences that reinforce my love for the everyday!" phwew!

1. Nice drivers
2. Yummy salads
3. People who ask, "how's yr day going?" and are genuinely concerned/interested
4. Watching birds take dirt baths
5. A good cup of java
6. Prayer
7. Hugs
8. Sweet words and kisses from my husband
9. Learning new words
10. Friendly strangers
11. Watching mothers and their newborns
12. Meeting self-confident women
13. Feeling appreciated
14. Thinking of a song and then hearing it on the radio shortly after
15. A good laugh
16. People who are socially (on big and small scales) aware
17. a great conversation
18 .... ???

Well, I'm sure my list could go on and on, but I feel that you and I get the point: there's much in life, which engenders happiness. And, this "much" I'm referring to isn't hard to locate on your personal map...and while I know this post is sappy to the 10th power, it was cathartic for me ;)
if you've anything to add to this list, feel free to do so!

heh.

this morning while walking from the transpo depot to work, i read a sticker on a nearby suv that said, "DON'T TRASH CALIFORNIA."

it was clear from the design that it was referring to waste/pollution, not trash talk from out-of-staters.

i wanted to knock on his window, and say, "dude, do you not realize you're polluting california with your car use right now?" jeez!

I heart t-shirts

poem

number 12 looks just like you

i've been extremely disturbed by the tyranny of mass conformity to mainstream american/western standards of beauty lately.

this seems like a trite subject for an entry on a feminist-related blog, and that's exactly what i want to avoid, so let me explain...

recently, i've discovered two instances of women who i've known (in different capacities) that have made the decision to get breast implants. while these two women weren't close friends of mine, i was still stunned and devastated by this news. while the third wave girl in me wants to say, "they have the right to do whatever they want to do with their bodies!" there's a much louder inner voice, perhaps the second wave feminist in me, that screams, "why would they mutilate their bodies in this way? why put themselves at risk for future health problems for such a superficial reason? and to what end? to gain the approval of men?!"

each of these women, while not my best friends, were women who i believed were somehow "stronger" than this. one was a high school classmate, whom i always admired for her outspokenness, political awareness (at an early age), intelligence, sense of self, and creative writing abilities. the other was a spunky, independent, and extroverted co-worker who was a talented performer. as a plus-sized (real-sized!) woman who wasn't afraid to strip down and show what a pear-shaped woman w/curves looked like, i felt that she was proudly making a statement against size-ism. i thought that in her own way, she was proclaiming that she should be admired just the way she was, and beneath the glamorous burlesque posturing, i found something admirable in that. was i wrong? were these women not the ballsy and defiant individuals i believed them to be?...or is the decision to have plastic surgery more complicated than that?

i just watched an amazing episode of the twilight zone, written by charles beaumont, that illustrates precisely how oppressive and damaging our society's looks-centric values can be. (the title of the episode is the title of this post.) in it, a young woman unsuccessfully attempts to resist a culture in which the unavoidable rite-of-passage is "the transformation"-- a process by which each person loses their individual looks and personality in favor of a physical and psychological makeover sanctioned by the government. as a result, everyone literally looks and thinks alike. with the transformation acting as a great equalizer, each person is equally externally "beautiful" and internally vapid.

while our day-to-day interactions with the pervasive concepts of mainstream beauty might not be as dramatic or intense as this storyline, they can be just as brutal and devastating to the core of a woman. i know that some men (and women) believe a woman is weak or stupid if she succumbs to the powers of mass media's unrelenting assault (read: having occasional self-doubts, sometimes feeling insecure about appearance, or taking it a step further and actually having plastic surgery done). i now recognize that this is just another shitty double standard. it's yet another example of how women are judged more harshly than men, and as evidenced above by my assumption that women who get breast implants are somehow "weaker" than those who don't, i myself am guilty of this same line of thinking! i somehow felt disappointed or let down by their decision because they don't have the same ideas about plastic surgery that i do. (in all honesty, a little part of me even felt superior for not having had plastic surgery!) while i have a right to my opinions, who am i to judge?

...the pot calling the kettle black?

i do consider myself to have a healthy body image, but i'll admit that occasionally i even wonder and/or fantasize about what it would be like to have a different body type (bigger breasts, tighter butt, pretty feet, thinner thighs, skinny, etc...the possibilities are endless). i think this curiosity is natural to a certain extent, kind of like wondering what it would be like to be a boy, astronaut, sea otter, or jamaican. while sometimes frustrating, it's just another step in exploring my identity-- finding out who i am by honestly recognizing and acknowledging what i'm not. in the end, i try to be satisfied with the knowledge that i'm the only person on earth with this exact combination of my particular physical and intellectual features, and that this unique blend of charming imperfections makes me wholly lovable (as corny as that sounds). i'm still a work-in-progress, and this inner dialogue meets with varied results...

Mixing it up a little

I love otters. Apparetly so do the female visitors at this zoo.

Misogynist Propaganda?

Note: The title of this blog comes from the title of an article I read as a pre-teen in Sassy magazine about PMS. The phrase has been burned into my memory and still plays a role in how I think about things. I also thought of titling this entry "Don't f-- with my body, Don't f-- with my brain."

I wanted to rant a little about 2 things related to the Science & Sociology surrounding women's body systems and add my wtf?!

Science and the media tell me my eggs are rotting.
Well, not exactly. These little voices are telling me that if I wait too long to have children, there is a small chance I will not be able to conceive naturally. Nevermind these 60+ year old women who are having children through IVF (I have a different issue with them), there are stories upon stories about how having children over 35 is risky: miscarriage, premature babies, endometriosis, Down syndrome. I keep telling myself, Dammit, Madonna was able to do it naturally (I think)--So can I, if I wanted. The good news is that the majority of healthy (e.g. non-smoker, getting your vitamns and exercise) women over 35 have successful pregnancies. So how much of this stuff is put out there to tell women to have children before age 30? It might just be me because it seems like everyone and their mother is telling me to get married and have children already. (See my comment from Julia's previous post.) BTW, there is also an increased chance of having twins if having children in your late 30's.

"The FDA has approved Lybrel, the first low-dose contraceptive pill that gives women an option to stop their menstrual cycle for an indefinite period of time."
As annoying as menstruation can be, this feels wrong. Like there should be suspense-building music in this part of the horror movie, wrong. The birth control part I'm ok with... the science of the pill has been around for over 40 years. And birth control has been around for a lot longer. Don't think I didn't notice that there was only one woman from the drug company quoted in the article: Ginger Constantine, Wyeth's vice president of Women's Health Care and Bone Repair. WTF? VP of what and what? Did they run out of money and thus had to combine two categories? Anyway, this just seems like another product for women, invented by men. I guess they do work. I mean, I use tampons and they have made my life easier. Soooo.. if you're down with the ability to control and regulate your own period, it should be available for prescription July 2007. I'm not signing up for this one just yet.


One more thing, have a healthy cervix day! That reminds me: I have to schedule my check up.

... Horse and Carriage?

Note: Julia has written this muddled, convoluted post with no real point in response to the recent concise and meaningful posts about marriage by Taberlykim and Simone. She thinks that by prefacing said post with a note she can get away with having no real point. Read at your own risk.

Like most women my age (with 30 just beginning to loom), I think about marriage - not because I am planning to get married (I favor elopement, anyway) but I think about it lately because I live in Japan where the concept of marriage is rather different from the concept we have in America. Though the Japanese usually choose their own marriage partners, the woman still often quits her job upon getting married, even if she doesn't plan to have children for a few years. Follows next; housekeeping and bento box making. Some of my male students, when I ask them what their wives do, will loftily reply, "Oh, she's just a housewife." In Japan, the glamour career of choice for young women is that of the airline stewardess. A friend explained to me that airline stewardessing seems so appealing because a) it offers a chance to travel and b) it offers a chance to meet husbands. I sometimes ask my male students what they think of working mothers - each one I've asked (regardless of age) has put on a sour face and said it was a bad idea - after all, who would take care of the child? Yes, God forbid a grown man should clean a diaper or fix a lunch. In contrast, a few women I've asked about working mothers said they think they're cool, but when asked to explain why their reasons had to do with money rather than female equality.

This system works for them and I have no right to criticize what other cultures do; I'm here to teach the Japanese English, not female emancipation. I'm fully aware that the American system is similarly preposterous to them and probably a few of my students would like to give me a stern 101 on being a respectable woman. When I think about it, the mainstream Japanese system of marriage probably unsettles me mostly because it reminds me of what love-based marriages evolved from; a contract between families, legalized to protect the interests of the male. Over much time, marriage in our society (and many other societies) became, instead, a legalization of a romantic bond - the bride became a lover, a soulmate, a best friend, a potential mother. This is a beautiful idea. The romantic ideal of love in a marriage came before female emancipation - in the West (and more recently in parts of Asia) men and women began to revolt against being given to people. They wanted to live their lives with someone they actually were suited to live with. This idea went down like gangbusters, but it took a lot longer in North America for women to be seen as equal to the man in a marriage. Depending on one's view, the North American system can be seen as encompassing the best of all worlds - love, family and equality. Yet, in North American marriage, women still take their husband's names (a custom begun because the property - or the bride - was changing hands from her father's family to her new husband's). They also very often wear white, even though the fact is widely known that white dresses were worn as symbol of purity to show the new husband the quality of the good he was getting. When I think about those things, it makes me feel that I don't want to get married, i.e., perpetuate those customs, even if the current feeling towards marriage is that it's a beautiful, romantic thing. As Taberlykim mentioned, it is often viewed the pinnacle of a romantic relationship. I know a lot of people who feel that it's not worth dating someone if you can't see yourself marrying them - they feel it's not worth the bother. I come from the "life experience" school - I see the idiots who paid for dinner with a gift certificate and showed up hungover as helpful; they reminded me of what I didn't want and what I wouldn't stand for in a mate. Yes, I said "mate" - though I bristle at the reasons behind customs in today's American marriages I, too, wouldn't mind finding somebody I can grow old with and, perhaps, love enough to want to start a family with. But does that bond really need to be made legal?

Advantages to getting married in today's society:

-the legalization process protects your assets (nothing more romantic than protecting one's assets!)
-relatives and friends shut the hell up***
-said marriage provides an excuse to throw an awesome party and wear a pretty dress
-the gnawing, secret nerves that your mate didn't respect you enough to make you "honest" are quelled
-any resulting children will have a stable environment to grow up in. Assuming, of course, that the marriage lasts.

***a potential deal maker right there

Simone is right - young feminists in the year 2007 still face enormous amounts of outside and internal pressure regarding marriage. Marriage is still viewed as a natural part of life - and let's face it, regardless of their origin, the accompanying customs can be extremely appealing (for the record, I like wedding favors I can eat). I sometimes think the women who began the Feminist movement were more liberated than my generation is - I know of couples in their 50s who have been together (but unmarried) for over 20 years but almost all of my married friends took their husbands' names and were champing at the bit to tie that knot.

Or buy that dress. Whichever.

word of the day!

SELF-DETERMINATION
self-de·ter·mi·na·tion, n.
-Determination of one's own fate or course of action without compulsion; free will.
-The capacity to manage one's own affairs, make one's own judgments, and provide for oneself.

as someone who values independence, i must say that this is one of my very favorite words in the english language. it kicks me in the pants whenever i need a little boost! i'm all about it.

[my] Life's big Questions

I spent the night with one of my best friends and her husband last night. After dinner at Souplantation and internet shopping for bathing suits and Spanx, she laid it on me: the hard questions about my relationship.
- So how long are you going to hold out/on until you say, "Shit or get off the pot."
- If you are not the center of his life now, after almost 6 years, will you ever be?
- How long is he going to string you along before he makes up his mind?
- What the hell are you waiting for?

Last year, these questions occupied my thought, initiated by my own mind. Within the past year I have decided that more important than wedding vows to me was sharing my life with my man. If that meant he needed more time, then I'd give it. If it meant I needed to hot pass on the familial pressure to get married, then I'd oblige. I felt freeing and I have been less worried about it...

Then the questions rear their ugly heads, again. And if anyone mentions that damn book, He's Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt I will cry. I read it and I hate it. A man wrote it and who cares if he was a writer on Sex in the City.

I will always prefer the freedom of knowing over the freedom that comes from overlooking or forgetfulness.

Answering questions with questions: What have others done in my situation? What should I be asking myself to determine my decision? Why do people so many people see marriage as the ultimate goal of a relationship?

who's gonna love me the way that i am?

TMI @ the Spa

I'm writing this post as a result of two things that I have been dying to do:
(1) Write an introductory post on this blog and
(2) Tell someone what happened to me last Tuesday.

So... hello! and Simone, thanks for providing this wonderful space for feminist expression. Number one, check.

Number two: When I say what happened to me, I do not intend to play the victim or infer that the action that took place was unwarranted or that I was wholly unprepared. But it means that I was--and still am--in amazement and wonder about it. (Now that I have built up a reasonable amount of suspense, the revelation will be anticlimatic.) But anyway, I got my first bikini wax.

Do not read on if you want to be spared the details.

Since it was my first and I needed to find someone/someplace with a good reputation I asked around, did a web search and put it off for several months. I eventually found Jodi and Queen Bee Waxing. Let's go back a few steps... what would compel me to do such a thing? This is not a subject I have talked too much about with my girlfriends or with anyone for that matter. Only one had mentioned that she got a Brazilian last year and she was pleased with the results. I guess that now, after spending a week being more than 90% hairless, I can see where she is coming from. The initial impetus for the wax was the desire to be less self-conscious during swimsuit season. Since learning how to swim a couple years ago, I have been afraid of exposing my special hairs creeping out like spiders while hanging out at the pool or beach. Yes, they are natural. Yes, every adult woman has (or can have) them. But something about other people's pubic hair is disgusting to me. Maybe it's a threat of an STD--is this real or irrational? Anyway, it was a big deal to me. Nevermind about the sex possibly being better or the desire, in any way, to please my partner. To me, it was all about hygiene... and vanity.

Back to the spa... don't worry, I'll try to keep it polite and not to get into the explicit details. But anyway, I drove up to the salon in Culver City and was promptly greeted by Jodi. (You can read more about her on the Queen Bee Waxing website.) After a few minutes, she escorted me to a back room that resembled a mix between a doctor's exam room and a massage therapist's room. Usually in either of the aforementioned settings, the practitioner leaves the room for you to disrobe. But of course, this place and procedure is special. Jodi, in her lingering British accent, instead says, "Don't be shy. Just take off your bottoms." Already, I know it's going to be "like that." I went to an all-women's college so I was used to "like that." The natural upfront-ness and frankness of female to female interaction. The attitude that reassures me that the bikini wax should not be as strange or awkward as I was expecting, but rather technical and straight-forward. Just get on the padded table (covered in white doctor's paper) and spread 'em as I would at the gyno. It was so quick. Everyone who has commented about Queen Bee waxing mentions Jodi's skill and speed. 15 minutes after I stepped into the salon, I walked out with Jodi describing that Asian women are lucky to not have as much hair down there and that I probably don't have to come back for another month. [I start to feel bad for women who have more down there...] We hug (because we're now on that level of intimacy) and I leave, only just beginning to feel the sting.

The shock and awe probably more stems from having not discussed it with others who have done it, and NOT the actual waxing experience. I was embarrased and ashamed to bring it up. AND I didn't want to gross anyone out. What was I to do? I think this feeling is related to the Vagina Monologue discourse about loving your labia, et al. in all it splendor but geez. How does a woman burst through all that society has taught her about how disgusting her vagina is, outside of mustering up the courage to talk about her adventures with her V. I guess that's just what we have to do.

The sting is all gone and there have been no adverse reactions. Still, I have to see in a few months whether I will go back to see Jodi. The pain was worth it, but was the $45?

Thanks for allowing the space for this indulgence. Please feel free to comment and explain to me whether I should or should not be concerned about peeping stray hairs or other perceived un-niceties.

supermarkets ain't so super...food for thought (yes, cliches suck...sorry!)

When I was young, I had a deep penchant for grocery shopping. Nothing thrilled me more than my dad (who by-stepped gender lines & did all of the household shopping) electing me to tag along on his shopping adventure. Well, it was an adventure for me, but more of a business venture for him. Y'see, while I reveled in being able to “play store” in the real world, my dad marveled over the knowledge that, with a brick-like stack of coupons in his hand, he could waltz out of Alpha-Beta with $200+ worth of groceries for half the amount. His action was a snub against “the man” who figured that the population at large wouldn’t set aside time to collect, let alone cut out and organize tiny, colorful pieces of supermarket currency. Well, my dad was wise; he knew, that a family of twelve was not going to eat much if he didn’t find loopholes in the food industry.

So, growing up, I was a mega lo mart gal. I was brought up in supermarkets, k-marts, and safeways. But in time, w/the exceptional lazy jaunts to Vons, I morphed into a Trader Joe's woman. As I got older and began living on my own, my health consciousness increased with each year; if I didn't start tending to my body now, I'd pay financially and emotionally later with increased risks for disease. Despite those fast food impulses, which pounce on my self-rule from time to time, I vowed to be more healthful and limit the amount of foreign, and sometimes toxic, substances entering my bloodstream. Since LA air is 30 proof in toxin levels, and we're asked to block out UV rays with a vat of sunscreen, the natural way I found to sustain a more organic lifestyle was monitoring what I ate. Not only was I improving my eating habits, but I saved some green by eating green.

This epiphany altered my mindset and, I thought, everyone should have the luxury of eating healthy foods. But why isn't this the case? The transition from single to married life has me beached @ my mom's house in El Sereno for a few weeks. In this time, I have become outraged @ the lack of healthy food choices accessible to inner city families. The closest market to my mom's is Albertson's, where with $200, my brother and I barely bought enough food to last our family of five for a week. I was incensed, not only by the lack of organic food choices, but at the steep price tags attached to semi-edible crap!

A dozen cage-free eggs @ TJ's is 99 cents; a dozen “who knows” eggs is around $4 @ your local Albertsons. A loaf of bread w/natural ingredients is $2 @ TJ's, but @ Albertsons, yup, $4 for nutrient free slices. Sure you can get the cheap stuff, but the cheap stuff is...well...CHEAP! The market did carry a few organic lines, but they were often 2-3x the amount as the processed stuff. If you live in the inner city and shop for a family of five, what are your thoughts? If you're of lower income and grasp tightly to ever cent earned, which item are you ultimately going to reach for: expensive, but organic, or cheap and plentiful?

Well, why don't urban families just go to TJ's? They do not bc of awareness and the proximity of such stores. My mom always though TJ’s was a posh and pricey joint; and, if she did decide to go there, she only has one to frequent, which is 15+ minutes away. At the end of the day, she's going to go to Albertsons bc it's 5 minutes from her house. When I lived in Pasadena, I had 3 TJ's to choose from! And, they were all about a 5-minute drive.

In essence, it's easy to suggest that people clip their coupons and try to eat more healthy. Yes, they should drive the 15+ minutes if it means saving $$$ and getting quality food. But why can't a person merely go to their local market and get wholesome food w/out having to take out a 2nd mortgage? Why are the simple things...the fundamentals of life hard to attain in our society? Capitalism? I suppose. Yeesh! And DON’T even get me started about gas prices!!!!!!!!!!!

"F*ck you b*tch! It's my turn."

These were the words uttered - no, shouted - at me around 1 AM this morning by a complete stranger.

I, too, was on my way home, minding my own business, IN MY OWN CAR. You'd think that at that point you should be safe from unwanted harassment.

Let me tell you the story.

I was on the freeway home after a lovely, but late, evening out. There were some road repairs so the normally 5-lane traffic becomes 1 lane. Here I am, amongst this stop-and-go traffic in the dead of night, when some big truck tries to forcefully cut me off - no signaling or anything.

Now, I generally do not take to anyone's manipulation easily. Likewise, I inched forward to indicate that, no, that's kind of a dick move, sir.

The driver (white male, mid- to late- thirties) opens his door in the middle of traffic, gets out of his huge Ford (250?) truck, and shouts at me through my windshield, "FUCK YOU BITCH! IT'S MY TURN."

I am smaller than he is and my car is smaller than his. Maybe I should have just run him over, but can someone please explain what in the world I could have done to respond to this?

I simply switched lanes and drove away. But I wish I could have expressed, in no uncertain terms, how inappropriate and unacceptable his words and behavior is. It was the one time I wish I carried a gun, just to overcome this stupid difference in intimidation potential.

a post!

Hello, Women's Writes. Julia here - you might recall that several months ago I introduced myself to the group and then vanished. I'm an English teacher in Japan and months of living without internet in my apartment plus adjusting to my international move and
new career have severely affected my internetting habits for which I apologize - Women's Writes is such a great movement and I've seen a lot of great posts here since it began. I really wish I had posted more often. I read a post here yesterday by the wonderful miss Simone that finally inspired me to move my rear end and add my two cents.

In her last post, Simone writes on the topic of female vulnerability. When I read her post, my thoughts immediately went to a conversation I had recently had with another female teacher at my school. She told me that one night, she was coming home on the subway and had an experience quite similar to Simone's when a creepy fellow began to follow her and ask her leading questions. She didn't choose earphones to ward off the scumbucket, however - she chose an imaginary boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go. My boyfriend is waiting for me and I need to meet him." The would-be pervert nodded and vanished without another word.

When she told me this story, I was relieved that the creep had gone away, but I couldn't help thinking howunfortunate it was that she had had to invent a man as a form of protection. Worse, the knowledge that despite my own raging aversion to depending on men, I might have very well done the same thing. A would-be attacker seems to think preying on a lone female is
fine but often backs off when a big, strong man is in the picture - someone who could potentially give him trouble. The lie often comes instinctively in a big, spastic blurt before one can remember their wits: "I'm sorry, I don't know the time but I have to go because
my boyfriend is waiting for me. Yep, I sure love Gunther - I'm so proud of him! He's a second-degree blackbelt in karate and he might make the third degree tonight...!"

A similar lie is often told when an undesirable fellow asks us out: "I'm flattered," we gush, "... but, unfortunately, I have a boyfriend." We rationalize the lie by telling ourselves that it is the quickest, easiest way to spare the other guy's feelings, but what the lie actually says is "I don't have the strength and confidence to say 'no' to you because I want to - I need to invent another man to provide a viable excuse as to why I don't want to date you."

Despite having used this ploy at times in my life, I resent it. I resent that after centuries of attempts to be viewed as equal to men - gaining the vote, demanding control over our bodies, carving out financially and emotionally independent lives - we still sometimes resort to needing male protection. Somehow, even the imaginary threat of a man seems to be better protection than, say, our pepper spray or even our ipod earphones.

As I type this, I am chatting via IM with my (male) friend back home for feedback. He says he doesn't see why it is so bad for females to need male protection - women are, after all, generally weaker/smaller thanmen ("And wait, you weren't upset when I walked you home from work that night, were you??"); therefore it's a fact of life that we might need male protection from other males. I know my friend means well but I am nonetheless getting upset. And I am probably getting upset because I know that ultimately, he has a point.

I know I'm physically smaller and weaker than a man. I know that in nature, animals fear what might hurt them and at 4'11" and under 100 pounds I just don't pose that threat. I know that when I walk home with my 6 foot tall boyfriend (who actually is a 2nd degree black belt in karate) I am more likely to seem like too much trouble to deal with. I know that even if I,
too, became a black belt in karate or an ace with a knife I would still seem like an easy target on sight if I walked home alone at night - until I donned a yellow jumpsuit and with my katana blade slit the rat bastard from navel to nose (yes, I watched Kill Bill last night). Until I can do that, though (and the chances of that are likely to none) I know I am still an easier target than a man.

And that is a thought I absolutely hate.