Wendy Davis, Mizuno and Me

To begin with, I have never paid $100 for a pair of shoes.  Ever.

The first shoes I bought with my own money (that I had earned for babysitting when I was in high school) were a pair of white high-top Reebok Freestyles. Remember those?  They had Velcro closures around the ankle (before every pair of shoes in North America had Velcro) and the soles were made of all these wee suction-cup looking circles. I used to go out for a walk in them, then come home and use a pair of tweezers to pick out the little tiny rocks and debris that had gotten caught in the cracks between the suction cups.  No lie. I had spent maybe $40 of my very own money on those shoes and I expected them to last me at least through my 20s. Suffice it to say that they didn’t quite make it that far, but they lasted a good long while.

I must admit that I’m not much of a stereotypical ‘girl’ when it comes to things like shoes, handbags, clothes, etc.  I don’t covet fancy threads or drool over upscale purses from outside shop windows, and I couldn’t tell you the difference between Manolo and Miu Miu if you paid me (in fact, I had to Google “designer shoes” just to find those names).  I believe this stems from a combination of spending many years as a poor college student, being too cheap to spend that kind of money in general, and quite frankly just not caring about the next ‘in’ thing.  I cannot think of one thing I have ever bought simply because it was considered the cool thing to have or because some celebrity threw their name/face/persona behind it.

No, in the long list of adjectives that friends and acquaintances might come up with to describe this 40-something gal, “stylish” and “trendy” would never be among them.

But here I am, in my Mizuno Wave Runner 16’s, Rouge Red/Apple Green, size 6.5 W. My Wendy Davis shoes.

Wendy Davis is the Texas Congresswoman who held a filibuster this summer over an ultra-restrictive anti-abortion bill which proponents claimed ‘protected women’s health.’ Opponents like Wendy argued that the conservative legislation, in actuality, would do the opposite, putting women’s health at risk across the state and severely limiting Texas women’s rights. During this filibuster, Rep. Davis was not permitted to eat, drink, use the restroom, lean on anything, stray from the topic, or stop talking. She did this for 11 hours. In her Mizuno Wave Runner 16’s, Rouge Red/Apple Green.

No matter what side of the issue you come down on, you have got to admit that’s pretty damn impressive.

Davis’ eye catching shoes were certainly the talk of the town the next day.  Among all the zaniness that comprised that first Special Session (including the falsification of official state government records) sat images of Wendy Davis’ Mizuno’s, front and center, demanding to be seen. Far from silly commentary on female politicians’ fashion choices (think Hillary Clinton’s pants suits), those ‘Rouge Red’ (pink, really) sneakers with the Apple Green accents took on a life of their own.  As Sally Kohn notes in her July 6 article:

“I couldn’t help but wonder: is commenting on a woman leader’s footwear in media coverage the same thing as coveting a woman leader’s iconic sneakers? No…her shoes are a symbol—a talisman of feminism and political voice and literally standing up for what’s right. Her shoes are legitimately part of the story of filibustering for 11 hours, especially because they stood out.”

(http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/07/06/why-wendy-davis-s-iconic-shoes-are-newsworthy.html)

Sally Kohn wanted a pair of Wendy’s shoes. Apparently so did a lot of women. And I did, too.

The idea to buy a pair of Wendy’s shoes didn’t come to me immediately. While not a native Texan, I lived in the state for many years and watched from afar as the politics played out.

In the end, Wendy was unsuccessful in her endeavors. While her filibuster was a super-human effort, it failed to prevent the ultimate passage of the bill, which was passed in a second special session called specifically for this legislation. Wendy knew this. And yet she made the physical, emotional and mental commitment to literally stand by her convictions for 11 hours to make a point. To stand up for what’s right.

I ordered my shoes from Amazon.com, which was apparently the go-to place to find the now iconic Mizuno’s. I tracked their progress online and knew when they had been delivered to my front porch. I couldn’t wait to get home. I couldn’t wait to show them to my almost 7 year old son, who loves bright colors, patterns and designs. My color palette is generally much more subdued than his, as I don’t particularly like to call attention to myself.  Much more of an ‘under the radar’ type am I. So I knew he’d like Mommy’s new shoes that were quite a bit out of her color comfort zone yet smack dab in the middle of his. But mostly, I couldn’t wait to tell him the story.

I had him close his eyes and a broad smile crossed his face when he opened them and beheld my latest acquisition.

“Those are pretty, Mommy!” Then after a pause, “Did you need them because your old sneakers are worn out?”

“No, I got them because they were worn by a lady in Texas.  A politician. And she wore them when she was making an argument in the Texas State Congress about something she really believed in.”

I explained to him what a filibuster was and what the rules were.

“How long do you think she talked?”
“An hour?”
“Longer.”
“Two hours?”
“Longer”
“Five hours?”
“Longer”
“TEN hours?
“Nope.  Longer”
“Twelve?”
“Eleven”
“Wow! That’s a long time! And she wore those shoes?”
“Well, not this exact pair, but a pair just like these. So I bought a pair just like hers, because she inspired me. And when I think I can’t do something, or think it’s too hard, I want to look at my shoes and be inspired to think like Mrs. Masters taught you in first grade—we don’t say ‘I can’t,’ we say, ‘I’ll try.’ I want to remember to stand up for what I believe in and not be afraid to speak up when it’s really important to me.”

“That’s cool, Mom.”

Cool, indeed.

So, here I am, in my Wendy Davis shoes, both stylish AND trendy.  And damn proud of it.

On Being Liberal: Why It Matters

Are you still reading?  Then you probably think of yourself as a liberal or democrat or both, too.  And that’s a shame.  Because in the current political climate, as it has been for several years now, we simply do not listen to one another’s point of view.

It is a shame that we have completely lost the fine art of debate.  Let’s face it, our political “debates” are about as far from a debate as one could possibly get, where politicians from both sides completely ignore the moderator’s questions and instead bring any and all questions back around to their own talking points. Or simply shout each other down. Is it any wonder that we’re loosing the skills to engage in an intelligent conversation of differing opinions?  We certainly have few good examples to look to in our “leaders.”

True, those early days of American politics were surely no tea party (pun, anyone?).  Historical documents lead us to believe that our forefathers did not sit together quietly and congenially, working through their ideas. No, it seems there was quite a bit of shouting and gnashing of teeth as they pounded out the documents on which our country was based. But there was also no CNN or Fox News.  No texting. No internet.  By the time word got to their constituents that anything was happening, it was already done and over with.

Those founding fathers (with more than a little input from several outspoken founding mothers) worked long and hard hashing out the points they felt were important.  There was lots of arguing.  Innumerable disagreements.  But ultimately, they were all working for the greater good of a fledgling nation, not just the sound bite for their next election campaign ad.  And they actually got things done.

I have heard it said that “liberals” are as closed-minded as they claim conservatives to be, just as stubborn about their beliefs. And this may be true.  But ultimately, I find myself more readily “left justified” than aligned with the right. And although there are left leaning Republicans and right leaning Democrats, I believe, at the end of the day, that, if I have to be labeled, I fall to the side of the liberals for one very simple reason. Fundamentally, I find that liberals, on the whole, embrace, while conservatives shun, particularly in matters of social significance. We may not always go about it the right way, and assuredly we do not always succeed, but overall we allow our beliefs to guide us in ways that more often than not INclude rather than EXclude.

There are a multitude of examples I could provide, but I will choose from some of the thorniest to make my point. Hang on to your hats, ladies and gents, I’m about to step up to my soap box…it may be a bumpy ride…but then I’m probably preachin’ to the choir…

Pro-choice versus pro-life. First, please stop trying to inflame people by saying that pro-life equals pro-abortion. IT DOES NOT. I am pro-choice.  Meaning, as the term would imply, that I support women’s right to have choices regarding what to do with her body.  The problem, in part, is a question of terminology. The opposite of pro-choice would be anti-choice, NOT pro-life.  I am not against life. Since I, myself, am alive, to be anti-life, would mean I was basically suicidal, regardless of what was going on inside my body, wouldn’t it? So not the case.

It also doesn’t mean I’m out there like some warped version of Oprah—“And YOU get an abortion! And YOU get an abortion!  EVERYBODY gets an abortion!” Pro-choice doesn’t mean you demand that people make a certain choice, it means you support the existence of a choice.  In my book, this is a deeply personal issue, and I hope and pray that I never find myself in a position to have to choose. I hope you don’t either. But if you do come to such a crossroads, ladies, the liberal position supports your decision either way.  Should your views, religious or personal, not support this option, then you should follow your beliefs.  Because you have a choice.  Having a choice allows both options to be available for use according to one’s views, situation, etc. The conservative (or perhaps ultra-conservative) viewpoint takes away my choice, and makes me have to conform solely to its belief.

The same holds true for availability of birth control (female birth control-clearly condoms can be sold at any gas station). If you do not believe in birth control, then you should not use it.  Plain and simple.  The fact that it is available does not mean you are in any way forced into it. Use it.  Don’t.  It’s an option.

In my mind, these are not even issues of the left and right so much as they an issue of men try to control women and their bodies. No, I don’t think all men are evil or out to get me as a woman, and if there are men that don’t believe in abortion or birth control, they have every right to their beliefs and every right to voice said beliefs. But they don’t get to make rules about it. If you don’t HAVE a uterus, you should not be allowed to legislate what goes on in mine. And since women are so pathetically under-represented (number wise) in congress and politics in general, this is clearly something that the government has no business legislating in the first place.  What happened to no big government?  Now you’re going to, what, create a whole section of government to police women’s reproductive systems? Sheesh! Interesting that no one is talking about making condoms illegal. I’ve always said that if, when two people had sex, either of them could get pregnant, then birth control, abortion, rape, none of these would be an issue.  There would be no arguments whatsoever.

And then there is same sex marriage. Why, why are we still discussing this? Conservatives want marriage to be exclusive.  One man, one woman. This is the “definition.”  Well, who defines things? Definitions are not static; they change constantly through usage, knowledge, understanding. We use words differently, define them differently, over time. Read some Shakespeare, for heaven’s sake!

Everyone is hung up on the word “marriage.”  And while some in the gay and lesbian community have made the actual word part of their fight for equality, I would venture to guess that the majority of people are not so much concerned with what you call it. They are more concerned with not being considered “less than”:

Their relationships are less valid than heterosexuals.
Their partners are less entitled to gain medical information about them.
Their partners are less deserving of spousal benefits afforded to heterosexual couples, including health care, pensions, FMLA, etc.
They are less capable of raising healthy, happy children.

Allowing gay and lesbian couples to get married does not infringe upon your right to not believe in homosexuality.  If you don’t think it’s right, then you don’t have to get “gay” married.  You can choose a church that doesn’t support homosexuality.  You can surround yourself with people who don’t believe in it either. You still have the right to choose not to accept it. The liberal stance embraces their rights while recognizing your own.  The conservative stance preserves your right to your beliefs, while denying them theirs.

And don’t even get me started on “entitlements.” Seriously.  There is much talk on the conservative side of pulling oneself up by their own boot straps.  Which is fine when you have a pair of boots. Everyone doesn’t.  And when we make promises to people, about things like social security and medicare, we ought to keep those promises.

It is hard to even start a conversation with a conservative about social security, as the immediate response to any discussion is that ‘social security was never meant to be a sole source of income.’ Well, that may be true, and I think it is clear to my generation that social security is in no way secure, nor anything that we can possibly hope to count on in our old age (although we continue to pay into it).

But for my Mom and Dad’s generation, the promise was stronger and the argument was not made quite clear to them. In my parent’s time, they counted on a guaranteed pension promised to my Dad through his work as a state employee, and social security.  Dad’s pension was reasonable, but upon retiring from the state with 30+ years of service, it was not large enough for him to take the option of a smaller income in order to guarantee a benefit to my mother upon his death.  For her part, my mother had worked prior to getting married, then stayed home to raise our family. After my father retired, she went back to school to be a medical technician and worked for a local “doc in a box.’  What little retirement she had from working there disappeared when the company closed and filed for bankruptcy.

When my father died four years ago, Dad’s pension was gone, his health insurance was gone, and she was left with only a small portion of his social security in addition to her own.  A whopping $900 a month total. Cut her social security and what exactly is she expected to live on? At 70 years old, she’s had to go back to work part time just so she doesn’t have to fret about paying her house insurance or buying her groceries. She’s not looking to start a new career, she’s just trying to survive. She has been a good citizen, a good wife, a good mother.  Why is it too much to ask the government to make good on the promise they made to her? If we need to change social security going forward, so be it.  But maintain your commitment to those already counting on it.

It seems that conservatives presume that people who currently rely on social security were just too stupid to invest or to plan for their futures. Maybe that’s why so many people are against “Obamacare”—less healthcare means people may die off sooner and we can quit paying them out.  A modern day Modest Proposal! You may think that’s a cynical potshot, but I assure you my mother was not laughing when federal budget negotiations threatened to delay he social security check. She was visiting me for my son’s birthday and fretted the whole time she was here about how she was going to pay her bills.  Congress may have been playing at politics (on both sides), but her worry was real. I’m not sure Congress always remembers that there are real people who are affected by their decisions, or indecisions.

In the case of Medicare, there is an incredibly easy and guaranteed way to fix it, by the way. Simply take away the great insurance that congressmen, both Republican and Democrat, get after leaving office and replace it with the same Medicare benefits everyone else in the country is entitled to. Medicare will be fixed tomorrow. No lie. Come to think of it, maybe we should change their retirement benefit exclusively to social security, and get that fixed, too.  Ah, but I digress…

There are also different types of federal programs that provide assistance to everyday people like me.

Here’s a good example.  Before I had my son, I wanted to buy a house.  I had gotten myself into a debt hole with credit cards, and worked my way, slowly, out of it.  I began to save money and eventually started looking for a house.  I contacted a mortgage company to get pre-approved for a loan.  As a first time home buyer, I qualified for an FHA loan that allowed me to buy a house without having 20% down. I was grateful for this government program that provided me the bit of assistance I needed to make my dream of owning a home of my own, with a front porch and veggie garden, with a bed of iris and a lawn to mow, a reality.  I was careful to buy only as much house as I believed I could afford, and in the 7+ years I’ve owned my home, I’ve never missed a payment.  I pay my property taxes. I pay my government version of PMI each month. I am a good citizen to my neighbors.  I just needed a little assistance to get where I was going.

I am often reminded of the old joke about the man in the flood who refuses assistance time and time again because “God will save him.” When he ultimately dies in the flood and meets God in heaven, he asks why God did not save him, to which God replies, “I sent a car, a boat, a helicopter…” While God helps those who helps themselves, it was a core mission of Jesus to help the less fortunate.  Those who needed a helping hand.  What is wrong with striking a balance?

Oh, and I never would have been able to get my degrees had it not been for student loans, which I continue to pay back until my balance is paid in full. Unfortunately, I could not ask Mom and Dad for a loan, like some have suggested. Not that they would not have helped me if they could. But that type of financial support was simply not part of my reality. If it’s part of you’re reality, more power to you, my friend. I am happy for you. But allowing programs like federal student loans to exist give those of us without such means the opportunity to earn an education as well.

I could not bring myself to watch either convention this year, but I have read quite a few reviews and watched some of the commentary afterwards on Charlie Rose. After listening to various guests talk about Obama, I guess I share one of the president’s perceived flaws. Like him, I want to believe that rational people can sit down together and talk about things, and when making logical points on either side, can eventually come to an agreement. Clearly this presumes too many things to come to fruition. I am left frustrated at the lack of conversation on every level and a logical train of thought derailed by a fundamental inability to be inclusive.

Why do I think being a liberal matters today?  Because I believe somebody has to keep trying to have the conversation, and keep trying to find those people on both sides of the aisle who can engage in genuine debate and fashion solutions that take into account and accommodate as many beliefs as possible.  Care to start a conversation? Perhaps eventually we can get rid of all these labels and actually work together, as our forefathers did, with the goal of a government that actually works for the all people it represents.

The Magical Myths of Mommy-hood

This weekend, I saw the Johnson’s Mother’s Day commercial, “You’re Doing OK.” If you haven’t seen it yet, do give it a view (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yotq4zr0dRc).  The message is sweet and sentimental, but also straight up (“there was that strained carrot incident”).

It made me smile and think back, over six years ago now (was it really that long ago?), to when I decided to try to become a mom. I knew it would be hard to do it on my own.  I had thought through the logistics, the finances, the physical and emotional challenges.

Because I was choosing to be a single mom, I thought that meant I had to prove to everyone that I could handle it all on my own.  No help from the studio audience for me!  Why would you need to hold the baby while I’m eating?  I can do both!  Why would I take you up on your offer to do my laundry?  I can get up and down the basement stairs after my C-section…if I sit on my bum and drag the laundry up behind me (or in front of me…depending on how you look at it)!

I look back on that time and wonder who exactly I was trying to prove something to.  Certainly not to my friends or family, who knew if anybody could make it work, I could.  No, I had created my own Myth of Mommy-hood.  I told this myth to myself over and over until it became necessary and real and valid.  And then I went out to eat dinner while still on maternity leave with my good friend from work. She offered to hold the baby while I ate.  I valiantly declined.  She looked me in the eye, told me to shut up, and took the baby (who simply adored her) from my arms. I began to eat with two hands: how refreshing to cut a piece of meat with a fork AND knife simultaneously!  The spell was broken! The myth had fallen by the wayside.

This got me thinking about some of those other Mommy Myths that have been passed down through the generations. Myths that have been clung to, told and retold. Myths of epic proportion.  Myths that need to go down…

Mommy Myth #1: You will not remember the pain
To put it bluntly, this pure and utter b.s. Luckily, or not, I wound up having to have a C-section, so I did not have to go through the entire, full throttle birthing process, although I was in labor for about 12 hours. But if you think for one minute that I don’t remember how sore my throat was from the breathing tube (yes, the localized anesthesia didn’t work and I had to be knocked out), the thrill of the catheter, and every time I forgot to get out of bed without twisting at the waist (and the blinding pain resulting from said movement), you are c-ra-zy.

Perhaps this myth would be more feasible if it were renamed “you will not CARE about the pain.” Of course you care about the pain at the time, but in retrospect, withstanding that pain seems a decent enough trade off for the freshly minted person you get at the end. I remember the pain, but I didn’t hold it against my little man.  And it didn’t stop me, or most other women, from considering another one.

Mommy Myth #2: You will instantaneously and magically fall in love with your child
I cannot tell you how many times I heard this when I was pregnant: that magical moment when they hand you your child, your eyes meet, your minds meld, and if anyone so much as moves a hair on their head, you will immediately rip out the heart (and eat it will some fava beans, and a nice chianti).

No myth caused me more angst than this one (except maybe #3). Perhaps it does work this way for some moms. It did not work this way for me. As far as I know, I did not have postpartum, yet the magical moment eluded me.

Firstly, I was unconscious when he came into the light, so I did not even get to see him until I was back in my room. I woke up with a sore throat, and having never had any kind of surgery, I was quite discombobulated by this, as I was sure all the action had happened further south.  They brought him into my room, but I wasn’t quite fully functional yet and was afraid my arms would not hold him.  My best friend brought him to my side.  He was adorable, squeaky clean, and perfect in every way. He looked at me with his little old man face and it was clear that he was mine. There was most definitely a maternal connection.  But no shaft of light from the heavens.  No Hallelujah choir. No jolt of lightening. What was wrong with me? I was already a horrible mother before I’d even had a chance to get started!

After a few days, I took him home, my best friend went back to Texas, and I was left alone with the boy and my inferior thoughts.  I most assuredly adored this wee person I grew, but I waited for that amazing wave of something…mythical…  It did not come. I began to panic.  Perhaps I would never bond properly with my baby.  I did not share my fear and guilt with anyone, lest they realize what a truly terrible mother I was. After a week or two, my friend from work (the same one who shattered my personal myth), came over to visit.  We were sitting on the couch talking, when suddenly I burst into tears, weeping uncontrollably about my inability to “connect.” She hugged me and rubbed my shoulder.  “What took you so long?  It took me less than a week to freak out with my kids.” She assured me that there was nothing wrong with me and that very few women were blessed with an actual light beam from on high. And of course, she was right.  One would be hard pressed to look at my son and me today and think we had not “bonded.”

Mommy Myth #3: There is something fundamentally wrong with you as a mother if you cannot or will not breastfeed your child
My angst over a lack of angels singing in the in the recovery room was doubled down by the fact that I was not able to breastfeed.  I believe there was a combination of reasons for this, medical and physical, but the fact was, I could not make it work and I was utterly distraught. I was sure I was destroying my child’s life through this shortcoming of mine. I actually had one nurse tell me I was “ruining” him by giving him a pacifier. Really?  He’s hot off the presses and I’ve already ruined him? Damn, talk about a heavy cross to bear.

I pumped.  I took meds. The results were unimpressive. It was my attending doctor who helped dispel this one.  An older woman than I by a generation, she assured me that while we knew breast milk was the best if possible, her entire generation was bottle fed, and they seemed to have turned out ok. God bless her wisdom.

Mommy Myth #4: You must sacrifice yourself and your needs at all times for your child
Here, again, we have absolute and total b.s. Of course there are times when you put your child’s needs and wants above your own—I mean, did you REALLY want to read One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish for the 46^th time…today? No, you did not.  But sometimes, you do it anyway. Sometimes you give your child the last drink of water, even though you are really thirsty.  Sometimes you don’t buy something for yourself so you can get something special for him or her. Sometimes the sacrifice is real and deep. But let’s face it, women are trained by our society to put other people’s needs ahead of their own, and there are those that take great pride in the fact that they never, ever do for themselves because they are too busy taking care of everyone else.

I personally believe in two basic guiding principles here.  The first is the old adage: ‘if Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.’ That doesn’t mean that Momma gets everything she wants all the time and to hell with everyone else.  But it does mean that Momma needs to have a life that is somewhat happy and fulfilled so that she can reflect those qualities to her children and teach them how to find these things in their own lives.

The second is from your basic flight attendant instructions prior to takeoff: ‘in the unlikely event of a loss in cabin pressure, please secure your own mask before assisting your child.’ If you do not take care of yourself, you cannot take care of someone else.  Plain and simple. What good is it to run yourself into the ground for your child when you will eventually break down, and then who will take care of them?  Keeping a happy healthy you gives you the ability to take raise happy and healthy them.

 

Mommy Myth #5: You must treasure and adore every single moment with your child
A few months ago I read a great blog post about this very topic that puts it more eloquently than I ever could.  Some friends were passing it around on FB and it is a great read. It’s by Glennon Melton, titled “Don’t Carpe Diem.” (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/glennon-melton/dont-carpe-diem_b_1206346.html).

It is about being a mom and how other (usually older) moms will come up to you, at random, and tell you how much they loved every moment of motherhood and how you should enjoy every single minute, too.  She is usually telling you this in the middle of a the grocery store or your local Target, at a time when your children have driven you so close to the edge that you have contemplated, even for a brief, fleeting moment: A.) strangling them within an inch of their life or B.) simply walking away and pretending they do not belong to you. You know that moment I’m talking about.  If you don’t…you will. Of course, you do NOT do either of these things, because you are a responsible adult in charge of their well-being.  But having someone tell you you should be savoring this very moment really makes you want to turn around and commit choice A upon her.  But you don’t do that either, because she means well, and that would only get you arrested, and then who would look after the children? (although the woman would probably assure you, as you were choking her, that you would someday look back fondly on this very moment. Making you want to squeeze even harder…).

There are many moments of motherhood I have not enjoyed.  Being vomited on. Discovering the six-foot scratch my son etched in his bedroom furniture.  Mysterious medical maladies that come and go with no known cause or cure. I do not treasure them. I do not cherish them. And like Glennon, I do not think it makes me a bad mom to admit that I do not hold them near and dear to my heart.  There are many, many other memories that I do, but not these.

 

I’m sure you’ve heard other Mommy Myths; these are just the ones that came to mind at the close of this lovely spring on which we celebrate all things maternal.

In truth, I find motherhood, like most things, is a dichotomy. Amazing. Exasperating. Inspiring. Infuriating. Frightening. Awesome.

An old ad campaign for the U.S. military (Army, I think) had the tag line “the toughest job you’ll ever love.” I think that sums it up pretty well, don’t you?

Happy Mother’s Day, ya’ll!

“Rush”-ing to judgment

There have been so many things out there to write about lately that I’ve gotten writers block in reverse—a sort of constipation of the brain where everything wants to come out at the same time, but instead it all gets compacted in my head and nothing comes out…until the continuing saga of Rush Limbaugh’s verbal attach on Georgetown Law School’s Sandra Fluke.  And suddenly, like mental Dulcolax, my brain gave way and a rant on Rush’s big ole pile of poop came steaming out.

Now, I have to admit, I don’t really pay much attention to Rush.  Many adjectives come to mind to describe his show and the things he says on it, and not one of them is complimentary. I gave up being offended by him long ago and wrote him off to that distant corner of my world with all the other crazy people. He strikes me as the kind of person who merely exists to stir the pot—someone who just says things to say them, whether he believes them or not, and then basks in his astonishment that someone could be offended by his “soothsaying,” and then immediately dismisses anything contradictory that you could possibly say about him or his comments.

But this one, this really gets under my skin.  As I’ve mentioned before, I am somewhat of an “armchair feminist.”  Generally speaking, I don’t believe that men are out to get us or that they are evil, and I don’t want to turn men into women, or whatever other bologna Rush and those like him believe feminists are up to. However, in this instance, I DO believe that the effort to control female reproduction is tied to a fundamental belief by some that men should not only be allowed to, but entitled to, control women and their bodies.  It’s great how men who can control their own fertility by purchasing a condom at any grocery store, convenience store or gas station get to call women “sluts” and “prostitutes” because we want access to the same reproductive rights.

Some have tried to say that this argument is not about contraception at all but about religious freedom and the right of religious based medical facilities to not have their spiritual beliefs overrun by being mandated to provide birth control or allow insurance to cover it. But Rush goes against this very premise when he calls Ms. Fluke a slut for support the right to availability of birth control. His direct quote was:

“What does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute… She wants to be paid to have sex. She’s having so much sex she can’t afford the contraception.”

(http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/health/rush-limbaugh-calls-law-student-a-slut-wanting-contraception-covered-health-insurance-religious-institutions-article-1.1031283#ixzz1oDOPv3vq)

Sooo, it’s not about the right to have access to birth control IF you support denying said access based on religious principles, but if you support it’s availability THEN it’s clearly solely due to your desire to prostitute yourself?  Okay.

His statement doesn’t even make sense. “She’s having so much sex (as a prostitute) she can’t afford the contraception.” If you are making money as a prostitute, wouldn’t you have money for contraception? Does she want to be paid in contraceptives to have sex? What does that even mean?!

He goes on to insult Ms. Fluke further by insinuating that she has brought shame to her family through her testimony:

“Can you imagine if you’re her parents how proud of Sandra Fluke you would be?” he said. “Your daughter goes up to a congressional hearing conducted by the Botox-filled Nancy Pelosi and testifies she’s having so much sex she can’t afford her own birth control pills and she agrees that Obama should provide them, or the Pope.” (nice pot shot at Nancy, here, btw)

Quite frankly, I would be incredibly proud of my child for standing up for what he/she believes to be right, particularly in such a public way.  What a good job I would have done as a parent, to have taught my child to have the courage of his or her convictions!

Additionally, Rush dismisses Ms. Fluke’s claim that birth control can be used for other medical purposes besides contraception, thus making affordable birth control in some cases, a medical necessity. Nope. All those girls are just out there procreating at every possible moment.

As a woman who’s been on birth control since she was 18 years old due to a medically diagnosed hormone imbalance, I am in a unique position to clearly point out how little Rush knows of what he speaks. Not only were birth control pills used to regulate my otherwise nonexistent cycle, my OB/GYN recently informed me that at 40, she wanted to keep me on the pill for a few more years because she was concerned that my low estrogen levels during my youth had hindered my bone density which develops (with the help of estrogen) during a woman’s 20s and 30s.

I can also speak to the expense of the pill, since when I moved back to the East Coast, I did not have health insurance and had to pay out of pocket for my annual exam (required to get the prescription for the pill) as well as the pill itself, which at that time had no generic equivalent and cost over $25 per month. Needless to say that due to the expense, I did not rush off to the OB/GYN or the pharmacy.  I was well overdue for my annual by the time I was able to afford to visit the doctor.

Over the past few days, Rush has issued not one, but two “apologies” on this topic. I use the word apologies in quotes, because even when he is apologizing (whether heartfelt or not), he cannot help but take a pot shot:

“I descended to [the left’s] level when I used those two words to describe Sandra Fluke,” Limbaugh said.

(because clearly his poor word choice is the liberals’ fault)

“…those two words were inappropriate… They distracted from the point that I was actually trying to make… My choice of words was not the best, and in the attempt to be humorous, I created a national stir.”

(in an attempt to be humorous? ‘You are a slut and a prostitute whose parents should be ashamed of you and your slutty ways.’  Wow, you’re right, that is frickin’ hysterical!!)

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/cutline/limbaugh-not-think-sandra-fluke-slut-prostitute-181711551.html

He claims that his apology has nothing to do with the advertisers who have left, as he “reject[s} millions of dollars of advertising a year, much to the chagrin of my ad sales team” and will be able to easily replace the lost revenue. I hope he’s started calling around, as I think he’s down about 10 companies as of this writing.

In His brilliant way, I’m sure Rush would simply dismiss me as some bitter little femi-nazi who just needs to “get some” (because if you’re not a prostitute, you are obviously a shrew who is not “getting any”).  Of course, once I do, I’ll need some more birth control.  And then I’ll be a slut. And it all comes full circle once again.

Unicorns, Bad Guys and Princesses, oh my!

The other day, my son started a random conversation over breakfast.

“Mom,” he said, “ I don’t like girly things.” He gestured with his hand for emphasis as he clarified: “I like girls, but I don’t like girly things”

I tried to remain calm as sirens began to go off in my head. Part of me wanted to react immediately and I fought the urge to step up on my soapbox and launch into a speech on how there weren’t ‘girl things’ and ‘boy things’ and how you could do or like or be whatever you wanted. Instead, my curiosity piqued, I took a breath and sought further clarification. Sometimes what you think kids are talking about is not what they actually are talking about.  “Like what?”

“Like unicorns.”

“Unicorns?”

“Yeah, you know they have that horn that’s pointy on top of their heads and it could stab me. I don’t like them”

Ok, let’s face it, it’s difficult to dispute that kind of logic. “And princesses. I don’t like princesses.”

This one was news to me, as I had it on good authority that, despite the fact that he had not seen any of the Disney movies to date, he knew every Disney princess by name and had, in fact, pointed them all out to me in the princess collection in the toy section at Target, having been schooled by the older girls in his mostly female pre-K class last year. “Why don’t you like princesses?”

“Because they wear dresses.”

Attempt to insert adult logic: “Well, Mommy wears dresses, does that mean you don’t like me?”

“No, I LOVE you. But they wear dresses ALL the time. There is one princess movie I’d like to see, and that’s The Princess and the Frog.”

Before I had a chance to pursue this line of questioning further, he pressed on: “I do like one girly thing, that’s horses, because I’d like to ride a horse.”

Now, I generally don’t think of horses as particularly girly, but again, in his class last year, some of the girls were into ‘ponies’ so apparently the whole equine line has been tinted pink.

Not to be one sided, he continued by providing ‘equal time’ to his own gender’s stereotypes. “There’s also some boy things I don’t like. I also don’t like bad guy boyish things.”

“No, I don’t like bad guy things either,’ I concurred.  In his current year at pre-K the tides had taken a decided turn, with a younger and almost all male class that tended to conform to the “typical” boy interests in guns, fighting ‘bad guys,’ wrestling, tackling, etc.

And then, just as it had begin, the conversation was over, and he’d moved on to finishing his breakfast and then heading into the living room to watch Martha Speaks on PBS while I got ready for work. I sat for a moment both amused and appalled at the inner workings of my child’s mind.  Don’t misunderstand, I wasn’t upset with him in any way.  But it was somewhat startling how he had already so clearly begun to designate ‘girly’ things and ‘boyish’ things. I did take some comfort in the fact that he had chosen in his mind to allow himself to both embrace something he identified as feminine (horses) and reject something he’d identified as masculine (playing bad guys). It is fascinating. Having a kid is like observing a lifetime science experiment.

I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with society (and myself) against gender stereotypes since I got pregnant. When I first found out I was having a baby, I just assumed it was going to be a girl. As a single mother, I would raise her to be a smart, competent, kick-ass girl who would have strength and confidence and be full of ‘girl power.’ So finding out my feminist-in-training-to-be was a boy initially threw me off my game.  Of course I would love him with all of my heart, but was I really meant to have a boy? I knew so much about being a girl, how would I approach raising a boy?  Eventually it occurred to me that the idea was to raise a human being: a confident, caring, compassionate, upstanding member of society. Duh.  One of many lessons learned (learn-ING).

I was determined not to raise a stereotypical boy, or at least not surround my boy with stereotypical things, and at my baby shower requested guests refrain from gifts involving blue, cars, and sports. It’s not that I don’t like blue or cars or sports.  It’s that I didn’t want everything the child owned from birth to involve one or more of those things.  And that’s pretty much all that’s out there. It’s truly amazing how important it is to some people to know the gender of a child simply by looking at it. If a baby’s not in pink or blue, these people get downright cross—as if you were trying to trick them.  As if the infant in your arms was to suffer some irreparable harm if a total stranger could not readily identify whether the child possessed a penis or vagina by the onsie it wore.

Realizing that my request basically prevented anyone from purchasing newborn boy clothes from most mainstream stores, I set out to purchase the 5 items in existence in the apparently ‘universally neutral’ baby colors available: green and yellow. Shopping for boy clothes can be so utterly depressing.  There, in one part of the store, taking up nearly ¾ of the available space, are the girl clothes, in all manner of hue. In the other part, a few aisles wide, lie the boy clothes. Blue, generally navy and baby.  Red. White.  Perhaps some brown.  On a lucky day, there may be some dark green, dark orange, or brighter blue.  It will probably have a race car, basketball, or dump truck on it.  Or words like “All-Star” or “Team Captain” emblazoned across it. Or a big number, like a sports jersey. Ugh.

I thought it was bad when he was a baby, until I started looking for underwear when he was potty training. If you do not want a licensed character (which I did NOT), you have exactly two choices: pink or blue.  In extraordinary cases, a lone package of white may be found. By the time they’re ready to hit the bathroom, your little one’s booty better be color-coded, my friend.

In his daycare pictures one year, the boys held a football while the girls held a flower.  There weren’t any ‘neutral’ choices, like a book or a pumpkin.  Boy: football; girl: flower. Period. Beginning leveled reader books? Princesses or Spider Man. And try to find purple ANYTHING (my favorite color, and one of my son’s as well) for boys.  Until the last year or so, it was impossible (thanks, Old Navy, for sporting a plethora of purple this Fall!).

I work hard to fight against this stifling gender conformity and let my son have as many choices as possible.  When he chooses to play with dump trucks and train sets, that’s just fine.  And when he wants to paint his toenails, like he did last summer, that’s AOK with me, too. Mommy uses power tools.  Uncle is a gourmet cook. My son dons his green and blue apron to help make cookies (a gift from another Uncle). Happily, these are part of his everyday life, and not seen as ‘exceptions’ to gender-specific ‘rules.’

I have to admit that while contemplating my choices on one underwear-buying occasion early on, I nearly bought a package containing cotton briefs with pink flowers just for spite at the whole ‘system.’ I knew my son wouldn’t care—he was just excited to be wearing ‘big boy’ underwear instead of diapers (he’s still excited about that; in fact, he recently stuck his hand through the front of his newest underwear and said, ‘Look, Mom, it’s got a pocket!’ (lol!)). What stopped me was the thought of him being in pre-K and possibly being picked on by other boys (and/or girls) in his class.

And that is where I currently find myself negotiating the choppy waters

How do you balance the desire to instill in your child the courage to be his or her own self, and to embrace the things they like and to be who they are, with the real-life fear existing in our world today where bullies take our children’s lives, or make them feel so bad that they believe that taking their own life is their only option? These types of cases used to be extreme.  Now they seem to be the ‘norm’ and are occurring at younger and younger ages, all across the country.

To me, this is one of the great struggles of parenthood. Where the balance lies, I’m not quite sure.  Right now, I’m trying to roll with it.  And tell him every day, many times a day, that I love him.  Even if he makes me mad.  Even if I don’t like his choices. Always.  No matter what. Because Mommy’s love is like that.

Bill O’Reilly, Feminism and Me-How this all got started

I never figured myself as a blogger.  A little too hip and trendy for me, I thought (see more on this below). But late this summer I read a few articles that “inspired” me to write a bit of a rant, which I posted in my Facebook page. In response, some of my friends inquired, ‘why don’t you have a blog?’  And so, I give you the note that brought PostModernMommy into being:

Dads be Damned!, or how I am destroying American civilization as we know it.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not a girl known for being in vogue.  I’m not the kind of woman who, when you pass me on the street, elicits words like ‘hip’ or ‘stylin.’ I’m not big on trends.  I generally have no desire to be the first person to have the latest gizmo or gadget, preferring to wait til they work out all the kinks…and the price goes down. I often will not do something I was considering if it becomes trendy in the interim, like getting a tattoo. I rather consider myself the anti-trend.

I also consider myself an ‘armchair feminist.’ I believe in women’s rights. In equal pay for equal work. That women are still treated unfairly and in some cases detrimentally in many sectors of our society, and certainly around the world. I have a solid, but what most would say less radical approach to the expression of my beliefs.  No bra burner am I.  Sorry, ladies, but that polyester, spandex, lycra, elastic contraption is a friend of mine, particularly when I’m forced to sprint after my 4 year old (and I assure you that this 39 year old body does not readily sprint in general, let alone without sufficient upper body support). I make no demand that we spell women with a “y.” I do wish I could list one of my titles at work as “web mistress” instead of “master,” but one must pick her battles.

Given the above, imagine my surprise when I was notified by two articles I read this past week that by being both a feminist (armchair or otherwise) and a single mom (raising a son, no less), not only am I part of a growing trend (and therefore trend-y), but that I:

“view men and women as being the same instead of different but equal” (emphasis mine)

“[believe] men are not important in the raising and nurturing of children”

‘diminish the value of two-parent households and role of good fathers’

“equated maleness with everything that’s repugnant”

and

“just love a movie that glamorizes teenage pregnancy and deprecates the male role in conception…” (Well, I’m not sure if I can argue with this last one—who DOESN’T love a movie that glamorizes teen pregnancy AND depreciates the male role in conception?  It’s a two-fer, people—who’s not on board for BOGO?)

I had no idea I was such a busy woman! So much to do! Pack lunch, lay out clothes, go to work, pay the bills, castrate the entire male gender, destroy the very fabric with which our great society was created…  Whew.  No wonder I’m always so tired!

If only I were a LESBIAN, feminist, single mom, I’d have a trifecta: like a frickin’ atom bomb, I could obliterate culture, civilization, and all sense of order and moral decency in one foul swoop…sigh…maybe in my next life…

The two articles that schooled me in my destructive ways were “Why Jennifer Aniston Taking a Stand Against Bill O’Reilly Criticism Matters” on The Women’s Media Center site (http://womensmediacenter.com/blog/2010/08/jennifer-aniston-takes-stand-against-bill-oreilly-criticism/) regarding comments Jennifer Aniston made while promoting her new film “The Switch,” and one called “Skinny Jeans, John Wayne, And The Feminization Of America” in The Bulletin: Philadelphia’s Family Newspaper (http://thebulletin.us/articles/2010/08/24/commentary/op-eds/doc4c73e3d4a0055039646585.txt) on gender roles and how men are no longer allowed to be ‘men.’

The Jennifer Aniston article talks about recent comments that she made while promoting her new film “The Switch” about a woman who decides to become a single mother by using a sperm donor. Mayhem ensues.  A good time (she hopes) will be had by all. Her initial comment as quoted from the article was:

“Women are realizing it more and more, knowing that they don’t have to settle with a man just to have that child,” she told press last week. “Love is love and family is what is around you and who is in your immediate sphere.”

This comment apparently set off Bill O’Reilly (and really, what doesn’t set off Bill O’Reilly?) who, on his segment called “Cultural Warriors,” accused Jennifer of “throwing a message out to 12-year-olds and 13-year-olds that hey, you don’t need a guy, you don’t need a dad” and calling her public support of single parenthood “destructive to society.”

Considering it’s Bill O’Reilly, it is clear that anything that doesn’t fall into his definition of “the norm” would be destructive to society.  But how is it that a film about  “an unmarried 40-year-old woman [who] turns to a turkey baster in order to become pregnant”, that is rated PG-13 for “mature thematic content, sexual material including dialogue, some nudity, drug use and language,” is “throwing out a message” to TEENAGE girls?  Has Jennifer been hitting the middle schools to give speeches about her cool new movie and how they all should follow in her character’s footsteps, immediately, if not sooner? Obviously both the film and the comments she made about single motherhood were directed at women of a certain age, namely those clearly out of puberty.

Bill certainly has the right to take issue with single motherhood if he so chooses, but let’s stop trying to twist things around to make ignorant charges completely unrelated to the point.

(speaking of completely unrelated, this is somewhat off topic, but—a turkey baster? Really?? Having gone through this process, I assure you that for most women, it’s much more clinical, and complicated, than that. I believe it’s safe to say that, in general, there is not a passel of single gals running amuck in the kitchen gadgets aisle with conception on the brain.)

Since The Switch is “from the people who brought you Juno” it’s serendipitous that the second article I read on the feminization of America should reference Juno, (quoted in the list above) as a film that “feminists just love” for both glamorizing teen pregnancy and dismissing the father figure.  Since THIS film actually IS about teen pregnancy, I can honestly say I can see how some might view it as a ‘glamorization’ of the situation. However, I’m not sure how or why feminists in particular would have such adoration for it.

Aren’t feminists supposed to be for reproductive rights, and family planning centers, and female contraception? I guess I lost the memo from Gloria Steinem indicating that I should begin promoting teenage pregnancy. As I said, I’m an armchair feminist, so it must have slipped by me.  I will get right on it.

What disturbed me most about this article on ‘gender roles’ was its inference that by choosing to be a single mom (and feminist—don’t forget that part), I had somehow declared men and all things manly as irrelavant, useless, and unsavory (“repugnant,” in fact). Like being trendy and promoting teen pregnancy, I had no idea that I was suddenly required to hate men and all they represented. The ignorance of this train of thought is truly mind-blowing.

While I’m sure there ARE single moms and/or feminists who DO hate men, for whatever reason, I have a news flash for author Jane Gilvary.  I do not hate men.  I love men.  I have many wonderful, amazing men in my life.  I adored my father who, along with my mother, raised me to be independent and stand on my own two feet.  I am the product of the ‘family unit’ and I bear said unit no ill will. I place great importance on the role of men in raising and nurturing children, and consciously make an effort to include positive males in my son’s life. Luckily, I am surrounded by many such men, so the task is not as daunting as it could be for some. I DO view men and women as ‘separate but equal’ and have no desire to have us considered ‘the same.’

Oh, and I’ve never seen Juno.

My choice to become a single mother had nothing to do with devaluing or dismissing the role of men in the raising of children.  It DID have to do with my strong desire to have children, my age (tickticktick), and the fact that I have not yet met the right man for me.  He may be out there (I still hold out hope) and if he is, he will most certainly play an important role in the upbringing of my child.

In the meantime, I want my son to be happy, healthy, and comfortable being who he is.  I am making my best effort to raise a good citizen and responsible human being. And the many males in my life assist me in doing so.

I have to say while I knew single motherhood was a hot button topic, I didn’t realize that that and feminism still drew such ire from certain spheres of our society.

I had no idea I was involved in a cultural war.  I believe I will need a better bra for this.