Barnmaven

Dear Karen, a geography lesson for you. **UPDATED**

To Karen Handel and the Susan G. Komen Foundation:

Just in case you missed the basic human anatomy lesson they gave you in your junior high sex education class, here's a useful little fact about the female body:

MY BREASTS ARE NOT LOCATED IN MY UTERUS.

No, really.  Its true.  Pinky swear.

I haven't been too thrilled in the past years over the flood of pink (PINK!  OMG PINK!  BUYING PINK THINGS CURES CANCER!) and the clear contempt for consumers that the whole pink ribbon fiasco has displayed.  You trained us well.  We see a pink ribbon and our little brains automatically start processing. "Must. Buy. Pink. Spatula.  Save. Women."  How many of the advertising dollars for the damn pink ribbon actually went to fund research?  How many went to executive salaries?  How many (the bigger question, really) just went straight into the pockets of the people smart enough to stick pink shit on their products?

After more than a quarter century, no one doubts that the Komen Foundation has the most brand name recognition and political power of any of a number of charities focused on raising public awareness, providing screening and education and funding research for a cure for breast cancer.  But as time has gone by and you've grown bigger, there have been plenty of questions raised about just how much you're actually doing to cure cancer and how much you're doing to line your own pockets. 

Still, though, I've donated to friends who took part in your Race for the Cure events.  I'm not a breast cancer survivor, it doesn't run in my family, but I had my own lump scare and I take getting my annual mammograms pretty seriously.  

In 2009-10, Planned Parenthood provided almost 750,000 breast exams through its 840 health centers.  Karen, thats a LOT OF BOOBS.  Did you know that fully 14.5% of Planned Parenthood services provided were for cancer screening and prevention?  And did you know that a mere 3% of services provided by Planned Parenthood are for abortions?  Yep.  Just 3%  Planned Parenthood, in case you weren't aware, does a hell of a lot more than provide parking lots for anti-abortion protesters to carry signs and yell chants and places for pro-life wingnuts to hold shoot-a-baby-killer parties.  Planned Parenthood is seriously involved in the business of improving health, not just for women but for people everywhere.  They provide prenatal services, colonoscopies, STD screenings and treatment.  They do adoption referrals. 

I also take women's health as an overall issue pretty damn seriously.  Yesterday, you cited a federal probe (which you know damned good and well was probably politically motivated) to pull funding that provided mammogram screening from Planned Parenthood.   I'm not certain how it helps prevent or cure breast cancer by pulling funding from an organization that provides low-cost screenings to women, but there you go.  I'm sure you have a really, really good reason, because otherwise I'm sure you're getting my breasts confused with the politics surrounding my uterus.  WHICH IS NOT WHERE MY BREASTS ARE.

Picture by Lian Maris

****UPDATED 2/3/2012  The Susan G. Komen foundation announced today that it has reversed its decision on funding cuts and will continue to fund Planned Parenthood's existing grants as well as continue PP's eligibility for future grants.  Now lets everyone get back to the business of preventing and curing cancer. 

 

 

Most DEFINITELY in my backyard!

Its about damn time.

Washington State is poised to pass a bill establishing marriage equality.  Senator Mary Margaret Haugen announced her support of the bill this afternoon, providing the last vote needed for a majority in the state Senate.

I'm trying to find the right words to express my joy and delight without being too far on either side of emotional/rational.  I am thrilled for my friends and family and for every couple in my home state who will now be able to enjoy the same freedoms and protections in their relationship as straight folk.   Its for damn sure they'll show a lot more respect for the institution than a few right-wing conservative politicians we could name.

I'm proud that my state is laying grounds for true liberty and equality for ALL of its citizens by structuring this bill to protect the rights of all people to marry without restricting the freedom of religious organizations to determine who they will or won't perform weddings for (even if think that's pretty bigoted and completely antithetical to the way God asks us to love one another, not to mention DUMB).

There are going to be many churches who will be delighted to open their doors and their blessings to gay couples who want to finally have that church wedding they've always dreamed of. 

Its so exciting!  Wedding registries!  Invitations!  Printed napkins!  Balloons!  Gowns!  Tuxedos!  CAKE!!!

I just hope someone remembers to invite me.  Man, I love wedding cake. 

 

Do what it takes?

The Interwebs are abuzz over Catherine Hakim's new book Erotic Capital.  Hakim, a British sociologist,  is best known for authoring books and articles centered around women in the workplace and gender equality.  A self-described feminist, Hakim has made a career of attempting to understand and iterate the social, political and economic impact woman have in the workplace and how pressures of conformity and patriarchal values create challenges for women.

Given her background, many feminists are perplexed by the assertion she makes in her latest book, that a woman's best bet in the workplace is to leverage her sexuality in order to even the odds.

Yep, that's right.  A feminist telling us to use our looks to get ahead. 

Not only that, Hakim asserts that women who don't take the time to maximize their sex appeal via diet, makeup, wardrobe and options like Botox are being are simply lazy and counter-productive.

To be fair, I haven't read the book yet.  Its sitting in my Kindle account, waiting for my droid to have a 3G signal to download it.  However, the salient points Hakim makes via her interview with The Daily Beast, are worth discussion and don't require the finer points of the book to be open to debate.

"Anyone, even quite an ugly person, can be attractive if they just have the right kind of hairstyle, clothes, and present themselves to the best effect...This isn't a frivolous spending of money.  It has real benefits."

In and of itself, nothing about this statement is truly offensive.  I remember attending a seminar geared toward women in business back in the late 1980's where we were advised to pay attention to how the senior executives in our company dressed.  If we wanted to succeed, an easy way to demonstrate our "acceptability" was to dress the same way.  If the men wore suits and ties, women should wear suits and low heels.  If everyone wore solid colors - black, blue, etc - so should you.  If the environment was casual, be the best-casually-dressed worker in the office.   I don't think its such a stretch to encourage people to look their best at work, it demonstrates a level of attention and ambition that assures higher-ups that you are someone who's not just marking time at your job, you're in the game. 

Social research doesn't lie; people make assumptions about other people all of the time based simply on how they look.  It stands to reason that a competent employee who dresses like a slob is going to be less favored than an equally competent employee who dresses well, all else being equal. 

Hakim asserts that "Everybody should use all the assets they've got, and this is one asset that women have often been told is inappropriate to use.   I think women need to stop having a chip on their shoulder, or feel uncomfortable investing in erotic capital.  Attractiveness and beauty has real value."   She claims that things such as Exercise, tanning, coloring your hair and even plastic surgery are necessary evils for career success.   She identifies social skills as another invaluable asset.

Its disconcerting to have someone with Hakim's considerable research behind them to bluntly advise us that we must look better in order to compete.  But is it true?

I wonder if the reaction to this book would be different if the title were less threatening.  Looking good doesn't necessarily convey "erotic" appeal.  Dressing nicely and maintaining one's looks don't necessarily insinuate that a woman is exuding sex appeal.  Utilizing a word loaded with not-so-subtle visual imagery as part of her hypothesis is certainly one way to create controversy and ensure a greater number of book sales.  But then, without having read it, I have no idea whether Hakim is simply advising women to make sure they look good at work and not telling us to show off our boobs in low-cut tops and wear stiletto's to maximize the draw power of our legs and asses.  Because truly, those are completely different concepts.

I've met plenty of women in the business place that easily fall into stereotypical categories.  I've worked with women who were gorgeous and marginally competent, who slept with or sucked off whichever man was required in order to get a better salary, a better bonus or a promotion.  I've worked with women who were incredibly good at their jobs but who were challenged either by less-than-stellar looks or a timid personality or both, and heard them degraded behind their backs by coworkers and higher-ups based simply on the scale of their physical attractiveness.  I've heard people say things like "Oh yeah, she's really good at what she does, but..." 

Then there are those women - the ones who have it all.  Either blessed genetically with good looks or having earned them via a lot of time in the gym or under the scalpel, these women also have the brains and the personality to boot.  And frankly, they blow the competition out of the water.  They work hard, they get things done, and they look good doing it.  That's pretty hard to compete with. 

I can see it from both sides, honestly.  I value a person's ability over their looks, and as a manager I know that I want to hire people who will get the job done.  But as a woman in the workplace who is also interested in cultivating my own success, I often must consider how my physical appearance might benefit or harm me.  One button too low?  Does this make me look too casual?  Am I over- or under-doing the hair and makeup?  What is it I want to accomplish today and what meetings do I have where I may need to generate a better impression?

I have had the (mis?)fortune in the past of supervising stereotypical office bimbos. Women that reported to me but who were also sleeping with other managers in the company or getting massive boob jobs and distracting the entire office with their low-cut shirts, I can tell you quite honestly I'd rather have someone who is a lot more discreet in their clothing choices, regardless of the quality of their work.  Its not that I resent another women for being pretty or sexy, I don't.  We come in all shapes and sizes, and just because someone looks different from me or is younger than I am doesn't mean I'm competing with her.  However,  in my experience, a woman who openly flaunts her sexuality in the work environment becomes a distraction, breeds jealousy and resentment in her coworkers.  Even if she isn't sleeping her way up the ladder, if she's wearing micro-minis and being obviously sexual in her behavior, everyone will believe that she is.  

When you're managing people, you need teamwork from your people, and the pockets of overt hostility that such a woman engenders, unless she is staggeringly brilliant at her job, aren't worth it.  On that basis alone, I'm going to assume that Hakim isn't telling us to "whore it up" to get ahead, but that she rather means to look and act our best and that success will naturally follow.

I'm inclined to follow my natural instinct that the inclusion of the term "Erotic" in the book's title and the somewhat inflammatory nature of Hakim's comments in her Daily Beast interview are deliberate and designed to increase interest in the book itself, and that what she's actually proposing to her readers is something other than what the book's title suggests.   And if I'm wrong, and that's what she's actually suggesting, I will less-than gently opine that she's got it all wrong.  Crossing a certain line when it comes to what you wear and how you act at work will do you more harm than good.   And the more women that cross that line, the harder they make it for the rest of us to remind the corporate patriarchy that we are competent, we are personable, we are capable of success without using our lady parts to get there.

 Edited and added:  There is no question that our concepts of attractiveness are largely culturally defined.  There has always been an existing conundrum for the career woman who is also a conscious feminist:  How do I work to change cultural concepts while also surviving within them?  If I attempt to change the culture yet still conform to it, am I damaging my message?  Hakim's new book does little, if anything, to solve this dilemma.

Talking to my daughter about race

Mr. C has had a belly ache the past two days.  We're not sure what's going on there, but it appears he may have a deepening milk allergy.  I dread the thought of doing an elimination diet with a six year old who already has a limited appetite and sensory processing disorder to boot, but I guess it can't be helped.  Hold my hand, yes? 

He got to stay home with SG today, and as SG called to inform me that they found a surprise batch of baby chicks in the rafters of the barn, I expect they are having a great time.

Because her brother stayed home, A and I had a nice long ride to work together today.  She's been having some trouble sleeping lately.  Talking about that led to talking about her dad and I, and that led to talking about relationships and being in love.  Thinking of SG and I, I offered her some of my thoughts on what I find to be important in relationships, such as choosing someone that you really like and enjoy beyond that sensational feeling of floating you get whenever you're around them, and choosing someone who really cares about you and who is kind and sweet.  We talked about what people look like and what makes someone attractive to you and how that's a really individual and subjective thing that changes with time and with deeper knowing.

And she says to me, Mom, there is someone that I really like. 

O.   RLY?

My little baby girl likes somebody.  Not the same way she likes her buddy from class that she hangs out with at recess, but the way you like someone when just thinking about them is better than eating ice cream.  Or at least, almost as good as that.  Because, Ice Cream.  Duh.

And I want to know who is this person who has snared the attention of this beautiful child who says EWWWWWW, that's gross! everytime SG plants a smooch on me and who says that boys are yucky.  So I ask some questions, like What is this person's name? which she tells me, and what does he look like? and she hesitates. 

Ummm, he's brown.

And I'm thinking to myself immediately that the time/space continuum must be really working in my direction, because there's this amazing conversation going on over at Kelly Wickham's blog.  When I read her first post on the subject I wanted to comment but didn't, then went back a few more times and commented yesterday, and today there's a great followup post that I expect will lead to more followup conversation.  We are talking about something important, here. 

I have white privilege.  I'm a middle-aged middle-class white woman who has never experienced a drop of racism directed toward me (that I was aware of) in my entire life.  I've been treated differently by others in business and in my daily life because of my gender, but to assume that I can as a result of that understand what it's like to be black or brown or golden-skinned would be utterly wrong.  I can never understand because I lack context. 

But that doesn't mean I don't care.  

So back to my daughter.

He's brown.  OK.  Is there a reason you are uncomfortable with that?

I don't know, mom.  I didn't know if you would mind.  He's not dark brown, like black people.  He's brown like Mexican people.  And he speaks Spanish.

And here is where white privilege comes into play and this is where we as human beings must learn to check our perceptions and learn to channel our conscious thought in new ways.  I live and work in an agricultural community where many of my neighbors are first or second-generation immigrants.  But my immediate assumption should not be that my daughter likes a boy who (poor thing) has a family who is toiling today picking onions in the hot sun.  And if it is?  Smack me in the face and send me back to remedial humanity class right now.  

For all I know his dad owns the crop circles that other people are working on and they live in a house three times the size of mine.  Or his mom is an administrator at the bank where I have my mortgage, or is a teacher at my daughter's school.    Yes, we make assumptions about people all the time based on what they look like, how they speak, what they do.  Part of overcoming the insidiousness of racism is to put our assumptions in check.  To hear ourselves.  To learn to think differently.   To hear the ways we minimize others and their experiences and to replace those thoughts with something better, something that doesn't pigeonhole people into other people's stereotypes.

How do we do that?  Expand your cultural reach.  Read books about black people that were written by black people.  Enjoy a community event in your town that isn't one born of your culture but of someone else's.  Recognize and appreciate how you are different, but seek the ways in which you are similar.  Listen.

I don't think I'm some hip white woman who is way ahead of the game when it comes to solving the intricate difficulties racism presents.  I'm only able to speak for myself and say that there are things I do not know and do not understand and there are thousands of small ways that my privilege has impacted my thinking and I need to be aware of that.  I need to be open to hearing what someone who IS black or brown or golden has to say about it and not be afraid to hear criticism from them about the way I think or react.  If I can do that, I can be part of the solution and stop being part of the problem.

Step one. My daughter likes a boy.  And until I meet him and I learn more about him, the only things I know about him are that:

My daughter thinks he's handsome

He speaks more languages than I do.

Its neither cool nor is it awful, except that oh god, my little girl likes a BOY and I'm not ready for this!

 

All mixed up

You can't listen to the radio or turn on the TV or look at Twitter or Facebook and not be aware of what happened in Pakistan yesterday.  Few people aren't talking about the death of Bin Laden, and the range of response is...what's the word I'm looking for?  Fascinating?  Curious?  Expected?  I don't know.  I don't know how I feel today.

Like so many Americans I remember vividly the events of 9/11, being hugely pregnant with my daughter and working not very far from New York City.  Everyone I worked with and socialized with knew someone who was in the towers, we were all affected.  My manager's husband was one of a very small number of people who was on the 104th floor of the South Tower who actually survived the attack, fire and collapse of the building. 

I remember how stunned we were, all of us, even our then-president.  I remember the drawing together as a country, in the way that groups will do when they have been attacked.  I loved the feeling of solidarity between us and the other voices around the world that lifted to inform us of their love, their outrage, their sorrow.  Being overwhelmed when I thought of the victims and their families, the responders who lost their lives saving others. 

In the years since, memory has dulled.  A coast away from where I was, the Twin Towers and the loss that was experienced that day is not as big a topic of conversation as I am sure it still is  back in Jersey.  A decade, two wars, a recession, and the minutiae of life have the cumulative effect of allowing the past to be...well, the past.

From the time that I turned on the news last night, after receiving a call from a friend back East, until now, as I type this post, I continue to experience a range of emotional reaction that leaves me still undecided as to what I feel about Osama Bin Laden and his death.

Of course there is a sense of grim satisfaction, the kind where your eyes narrow and you snarl in triumph.  We got you, you sonofabitch.  Finally.  A hot flash in my gut, some long-forgotten desire for revenge filled.  Paybacks are a bitch.  Not just for 9/11, either.  I remember the 17 sailors who were killed in 2000 aboard the USS Cole, and let us also not forget the 6 victims of the 1993 bomb attack on the World Trade Center.  Bin Laden was a man whose ideology was to wage war against America.   He would not see you or I as individuals with lives of value, he would see us only as his enemies.  And so in that context, a part of me grins savagely at the thought of his demise.

I am proud, of our President and his succinct, to-the-point speech last night.  Whatever else he is or is not, I think we can all agree the man is a spectacular orator.  I am reminded again of why I cast my ballot for him, when in a field of candidates marked by rancor, idiocy, hatred and paranoia, he stood out to me as a man of great conviction and great ideas. More so, though, I am proud of our military and the precision and professionalism with which this operation was carried out.  I imagine there are some men who are celebrating quietly today, even though their names will likely never be made public. 

And because I feel some satisfaction and some pride, I also feel ashamed.  Ashamed because I do not believe in violence as a solution.  I believe in loving people, even when they act in ways that are unlovable.  I can't just abandon my belief that we were all created by the same God, regardless of our nationality, culture or ideology.  I cannot join those who are celebrating death today.  I agree that this is a major, remarkable event, but I don't think it is cause for celebration, flag-waving or fireworks.  Killing Osama Bin Laden will not likely prevent future deaths by terrorism, nor will it bring back those whom we have already lost.  It is at best an act of revenge.

I feel sorrow as well.  Sadness for the victims of the USS Cole bombing and of 9/11, people who survived or family members of those who did not, for whom the events of yesterady - even if they bring some measure of relief - will dredge up memories of horror and tragedy.  Sorrow at the reminder of the terrible waste of human life, human potential inflicted in those events and in other acts of terrorism carried out by Al Quaeda and its operatives.  Sorrow that we live in a world where war and hatred will seemingly always be part of our present and our future, not just part of our past.  Sorrow for all the loss, all the pain, for the children being taught to hate by their parents and their peers - not just children of terrorists, but children of everyday people who because of fear and intolerance are being taught to hate anyone who is part of a particular religion or culture, or simply happened to be born in the wrong country.  Sorrow for the divisiveness that has grown here in our own country because we could not agree on the right response, because our leaders took us to wars that so many of us felt did nothing to avenge the past or prevent future attacks. 

And that leads to frustration.  Frustration over the endless violence begetting violence begetting violence.  A violent end to a man who promoted violence as a way of life; deserved? Maybe.  Maybe not. I don't know.  I'm not God.  I'm not willing to pretend I know the answer.  Frustration because I know that this death will not end the war in Afghanistan any time soon.  Frustration because even when we do eventually leave Afghanistan that we will probably still be engaged in Libya or anywhere else in the world that our government feels that they can protect American interests under the guise of "preserving democracy." 

I don't know why I lack the certainty so many others feel about this, but there it is.  I don't know if that makes me a bad American, a bad Christian, a bad parent or a bad example.  I suppose I can hold some measure of relief that at least I'm still really, really good at writing run-on sentences and being overly parenthetical.

Rant ON.

Finally, something has me more frustrated and angry than relationship issues.  I guess I just needed a good controversy to pull me out of the soup.

I can't recall that I've ever used this space to address my complete and utter distaste for Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church.  Consider this a remedy of that omission.

The fun-loving folks over at WBC sent out a press release on Saturday announcing their intention to picket the funerals of the 6 people who died at the hands of Jared Lee Loughner in Tucson on Saturday.  Their "press release" (I hadn't realized that "press release was the new terminology for delusional hate-filled ranting.  Apparently I'm out of touch) contains such gems as "Thank God for the shooter!", "God sent the shooter to shoot you!  And He's sitting in Heaven laughing at you!", "Your federal judge is dead and your (fag-promoting, baby-killing, proud-sinner) Congresswoman fights for her life."  The pick of the crop, though is this one:  "WBC prays for your destruction - more shooters, more dead carcasses piling up, young, old, leader and commoner - all."

As if it weren't disgusting enough that they own the rights to the domain name "godhatesfags.com," they've also managed to acquire "godhatestheworld.com," among other gems.  They protest at military funerals, celebrity funerals, memorials, at churches and even the Holocaust museum.  They've been allowed, in the name of free speech, to torment more families in mourning than I thought was humanly possible.  And they do it all to spread the hate of God.

That's right.  God hates us all, according to the Phelps family, who comprise the majority of this so-called "church"s 71 members.  They spend around $200,000 a year to fly protesters to every event possible so they can spread their belief that every tragedy in the world is the result of increasing tolerance and acceptance.  After poisoning my eyesight researching their filthy rhetoric I've concluded they pretty much hate everyone.  Possibly even themselves.  No group that I can see has been excluded from the reach of the hate-speech that flows from their lips and pens like reeking sewage.

I'm not sure how WBC can actually qualify as a "church" or how in the name of all that quacks like a duck their hate rhetoric can be equated with a "religion," but I'll bet ya dollars to donuts they take that religious exemption on their federal tax filings year after year. 

Fortunately, the hole they've been digging themselves into with their vituperation has begun to fill to the neckline with a rising tide of common sense.  There's a case sitting in front of the U.S. Supreme court now resulting from them being sued by the father of a soldier whose son's funeral they picketed.  The initial ruling awarded $2.9 million in compensatory damages to the Snyder family.  They appealed, of course, and the district court upheld the ruling.  The Snyder's momentum in the case fizzled a bit in 09 when a federal appeals court reversed the lower court's award and ruled in favor of the WBC.  However, the U.S. Supreme court granted certiorari in March of last year.  The case has been heard and a decision is expected this summer.  I'm a big fan of free speech, but the events in Tucson show us the cost of fanaticism flamed by the fires of hateful words.

There is no room in the national dialogue for the kind of words that reduce our level of communication to that of locker-room bullies.  We must, in the name of enlightenment, peace and justice, condemn the seeds of hate that people like Fred Phelps and his "congregation" sow. 

Fortunately, legislators in Arizona have pulled together to pass a nonpartisan bill that bars protesters from coming within 300 feet of funeral services.  With the distance afforded by this tidy little bill, a group of angels is forming to ensure the families of Christina Green, Gabe Zimmerman, John Roll, Dorwin Stoddard, Dorothy Morris and Phyllis Schneck will not have to listen to or see Fred Phelps and his evil, intellectually challenged minions. 

A young University of Arizona student, 20-year old Chelsea Cohen, has organized an angel action inthe tradition of those created by Romaine Patterson to protect mourners at the funeral of Matthew Shepard.

 

In addition, both local Dems and Repubs have asked members to line the funeral routes to form a human barricade between the mourners and the Nuckfuts from the WBC.

When I see the things that people like Fred Phelps say and promulgate, I want to throw up.  In this world where violence and hatred end human life every single day, it is easy to become jaded. Its easy to look the other way and say "oh well, it's not about me, so why should I care?"  Ultimately, it IS about you.  About me.  About the humanity and the spirit that lives within all of us.  I might call that spirit God and someone else might call it the Universe and someone else just might call it Life, but regardless of what you believe, I know you must agree with me that a human life is worth more than simply being the tool for a hate-filled, delusional whackjob like Fred Phelps to spread his ugly rhetoric.

May God grant peace to the families of all of the victims in Tucson, especially those who have died.  May God's justice prevail as Jared Lee Loughner stands trial for his crimes and as the courts consider the question of whether the WBC should be liable for the pain and suffering it has caused so many.  And may we, every one of us, be reminded that life is both short and precious and let that impel us to show more love, more tolerance, more acceptance, more grace. 

Glee

Not the show.  MINE.

My post that Blogher syndicated has now been picked up by TodayMoms!!

Can someone come over and pick me up off the floor?

On a more serious note, there will be a lot of comments, both negative and positive.  I encourage respectful dialogue, but I'd love it if some of my readers would pop over there and drop their two cents in. 

Now I'm going back to jumping up and down and screaming. 

There's a lesson in this

Nothing good can last

DO look a gift horse in the mouth

Nothing is ever quite as good as it seems

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is

And last, but really not least:  ALWAYS GOOGLE THE PERSON YOU ARE THINKING OF HIRING AS YOUR SITTER.  BACKGROUND CHECKS ARE RIDICULOUSLY NOT INFORMATIVE.

You'd think that researching the criminal background and historical address files of a person would be sufficient.  If you're like me, you'd never assume that anyone in your relatively small community might have some notoriety.  If you're like me, you don't read much beyond the first few lines in local newspaper stories unless they have to do with you personally or are about politics.

So if you're like me, you might one day find that your babysitter does not show up at 7 am as expected.  You might leave her a few messages and then start to get worried because you know of some health issues she has.   You might make other emergency arrangements for your childcare because you have a very busy day at work and meetings that require your presence.  On the long drive to work you might start trying to reach the few people you know who might be able to check on her.  You might start imagining her passed out or even worse alone in the apartment she shares with no one.  You might even, after you get to work, try to locate someone at the church she is a member of to see if someone can check on her.  Finally, you might call the local police to go to her apartment to do a "welfare check" to see if she is OK.

While you're waiting for the officer to call you back, you might consider that maybe there was a car accident that she was involved in or something similarly catastrophic, and thinking that perhaps if the newspaper reported it they might include a victim's name, so you might google her name.

That's when you find out all the things that probably would have prevented you from hiring her in the first place.  And when the officer calls you back to say that she failed to show up for work today because she is in jail?  By that time you won't be the least bit surprised.

Then you'll leave work early, go home and have your locks changed. 

 

Conundrum at Amazon **UPDATED**

I was going to take a break from blogging today.  Actually, I was going to be at work, starting early, and wasn't going to have time for blogging today, but my poor sitter is in the ER after having a bad reaction to a new medication, and so I'm here with my kids, praying that she recovers quickly (and not just for selfish reasons).

Watching the sun turn the clouds pink in a deep blue early morning sky while I drink my coffee, I am chewing over yesterday's plethora of tweets and posts regarding Amazon's listing of a book written by a pedophile that apparently provides "advice" for other pedophiles on having (this really turns my stomach) "better" relationships with their victims and how to avoid being caught.  I say "apparently," because I am not going to read the book to see exactly what the author says, and I am not going to link to the page for the book because I don't wish to drive any more traffic to this guy, and I'm not even linking Amazon here, because I don't feel like sending them any more page hits today.  (They should be sending ME page hits in thanks for all the money I've thrown at them over the years, really.)

However.

This is one of those times where my morals and my convictions have a little tug of war with one another, and right now I'm not certain who is winning.

Background and context, for starters.  I've written about my birthmother and family.  I've actually submitted a piece to Violence Unsilenced that I compiled interjecting my own narrative with chunks of a manuscript that my sister Vicki sent me several years ago.  It is her own story of growing up with a stepfather who is a pedophile. At some point in the future, I hope, that piece will be published.

I have five siblings.  Four living.  I was given up for adoption, the rest of them were raised (using the term very loosely) by my birthmother. My sister was raped by her stepfather for the first time when she was around five years old. 

Here is what happened when she told her mother, in her own words:

She slapped me so hard across the face that I was knocked several feet backwards and fell to the floor.  She screamed at me, that I was a liar and sent me to my room.  I sobbed, hurting from the pain in my bottom and the pain in my heart, knowing that I was going to die.  He was going to kill me.  There was no one to stop him.  So I did what all good Christian girls did:  I prayed to God that I would die in my sleep before morning.

That was the longest night of my life.  Somewhere in the night I fell asleep.  When I woke up, the Monster was smiling down at me once more.  My heart was racing and I knew I was about to die and he just kept smiling.  He puts one hand on either side of my head holding me down by my long brown hair, and smiling the whole time, he said, ‘She didn’t believe you, she never will and if you ever try to tell again I will kill you.’  Then, like nothing ever happened, he walks to the door, opens it, and calmly says, ‘Breakfast is ready when you are.'

I had a younger brother.  I never met him.  He called me once, a few years ago and asked if we could meet. He was just out of prison and was looking for someone to give him a hand in getting back up on his feet. It was the only conversation I ever had with my brother. 

"I wish I could meet you, wish I could offer you some help, but I can't.  I have children."

He went to prison for raping a little girl.  While in prison he contracted HIV.  Look, I'm not stupid.  Statistically, the recidivism rate for men who molest boys is twice as high as for men who molest girls, but those statistics are based on convictions and not the actual number of crimes being committed, and who in hell could know what those statistics are? Who's to say my brother hadn't also molested boys?  And honestly, did it really matter?  I wasn't exposing my children to a convicted pedophile.  Period. 

Two years later, he died of complications from AIDS.  As sad as I feel for never having met my sibling, I still stand by my decision to protect my family.

Remember the incident back in 1993, when Ellie Nesler shot David Driver in the courtroom as he was being tried for raping her son?  She was my hero, then and now.  If anyone and I do mean ANYONE hurt one of my children, it would take more than a legal system to keep me from hurting that person.  I have no doubt whatsoever that I would kill to protect my kids.  As much as I believe in second chances, in following the law, in respecting our legal system, none of that reason could override the animal instinct that raises its head in me when I consider what I would do to someone who hurt my child.  I think I would be capable of just about anything, including violent murder.

So that's where I stand on pedophiles. Reason and logic don't apply.  Look, I know most pedophiles offend because someone hurt them when they were children.  I know they are mentally ill.  AND I DON'T CARE.  My reaction is visceral.  I am being as honest as I can here. 

As a mother, as a human being who believes that the death penalty is a suitable punishment for people who rape children, I want that book GONE.  OFF THE SHELVES.  I don't want to give Amazon another dime of my money so long as they will carry that kind of filth on their website. 

And then there's the other thing.  The part where I believe in the constitution and the right of free speech.  If Amazon can carry a book that teaches people how to make bombs, if I believe that our constitution also protects that kind of speech, then I have to agree that so long as that vile piece of filth that passes for a book contains nothing that falls within the legally defined boundary of child pornography, so long as it contains no evidence of someone actually committing a crime in its pages, so long as it is theory and not practice, then it may be published and sold.  We can't call for it to be burned or banned or torn into little tiny shreds and stomped on with manure-covered jackboots.

Can we?

I don't know.

I'm torn.

I was so proud when Google said they were going to pull out of China because China's policy on free speech was in direct opposition to the company's values and to the principles of democracy and freedom.  So disappointed when they caved in to the almighty dollar.

Should I be proud of Amazon if they take the logical and legal position that free speech is a protected right and that as a seller of books, they take no position on whether a book ought to be listed so long as it doesn't violate the boundaries of the law?

Or should I be proud of Amazon if, after reviewing the situation, decides that they will concede to the majority opinion of their customers (and the weight of the consumer dollar) and pull the book?

You tell me.  What do you think is the right thing for Amazon to do?

 **UPDATE**

Amazon has removed the book from their online catalog.  Good choice.

Two things to add. 

First:  My friend Drew shared a quote with me on FB that is now being added to my favorite quotes list:  “I have always been among those who believed that the greatest freedom of speech was the greatest safety, because if a man is a fool, the best thing to do is to encourage him to advertise the fact by speaking”
~Woodrow T. Wilson

Second:  There is a great discussion going on in the comments over at Adam Avitable's blog about this issues.   Come join in.

 

On friends and gay teen suicides and other random things

I haven't written a blog post in so long you probably all thought I'd skipped town with a hot young Flamenco dancer.  You did, didn't you?  Admit it.

I didn't mean to take a vacation from blogging, but honestly, I didn't have much to say.  My friend Jaimee, the original vagabond, finally showed up on my doorstep after a meandering drive West from New Jersey.  I wasn't sure when she'd arrive or how long she'd stay.  Unfortunately it was horrible timing work-wise, so I couldn't really take any days off.  When I was home and got done slogging through all the other stuff I needed to do, the last thing I wanted to do was sit at my computer when I could be spending time with one of the most lovely people on the planet.

When you're me, or when you're like me, friendships and people aren't easy.  As Jaimee would say, I'm crunchy on the outside but the crunchy layer is only there to mask my soft nougaty center.  I'd like to think that as I get older I get more comfortable with who I am and less afraid to show my feelings, but I'm sure I'm not as far along that path as I'd like to be.  People scare me.  I don't trust easily, and I have a terrible phobia of being made to look ridiculous.  The end result is that I will twist myself into the most convoluted of knots to avoid allowing anyone to see how sensitive I truly am. 

Jaimee is one of those people that can get along with just about anyone.  She's part tree hugger, part hippie chick, part beautiful, sophisticated center of attention at parties and she can put on a dress and heels and have every guy in the room wishing she'd dance with him.  In many ways you would think that we have nothing in common aside from our mutual love of nature and the outdoors.  When I left New Jersey for Washington Jaimee gifted me with a beautiful necklace - a Yin/Yang symbol made of a white and a black pearl on a silver circle.  She told me that she thought it was symbolic of our friendship. 

What we found, though, when we were comfortable with each other to actually talk about the important stuff, is that we are inwardly very much alike.  She's just far better than I am at masking her vulnerability.

So we've been hanging out a bit the last week and a half.  We didn't *do* much, really, just sort of hung around.  Sadly I was unable to convert her into a Cowgirl.  I like her anyway.

 

It was good times. 

~@~@~@~@~@~

On the home front, C started medication two weeks ago.  We've been gradually increasing dosage, and he's been doing better.  He had two days last week that he didn't get written up at aftercare, which was a first.  He's still apparently not doing all that great fitting into the routine in Kindergarten, or at least that's what the prinicipal observed to me, since his teacher hasn't communicated a damn thing.  I requested last Friday that I get an email from his teacher just letting me know what kind of a day he had - even just a sentence or two so that I could communicate that to his doctor.  Its Thursday.  Guess how many reports I've gotten from his teacher?  Yeah.  I requested the IEP testing be conducted and that's underway.  I know a bit more now than I did when this started with A a few years ago.  I now understand that the IEP is not only to address cognitive function but life-skills as well.  So even if the testing shows no cognitive impairment, under the I.D.E.A. he is still entitled to assistance in social and life skills. 

And because I'm in a good mood at the moment, I'll refrain from discussing the nightmare arguments I've had with the insurance company over coverage and refills. 

I have friends and acquaintances I've met who are very anti-medication, and friends who are pro-medication except when it comes to their own children.  Lest anyone think that my very first avenue of approach is to medicate, let me clarify a few things.

From my perspective, medication isn't always a requirement when behavioral problems are present.  As an adult with ADHD, I'm not even certain that medication is a necessity for all children who have the disorder.  I had no idea I had ADHD until I was almost 40 years old.  I spent my whole life learning how to live with it with no pharmaceutical help whatsoever.  It CAN be done...but I can tell you from experience that it's not easy. 

When it came to my own children, my first steps were to find out what was wrong and to understand how much it was a problem.  We tried things prior to going the medication route, and honestly, I'm almost sorry we waited as long as I did.  My daughter's quality of life before Focalin and Lamictal was so awful compared to how it is now that there I times I feel guilty for not pursuing it sooner.   We actually waited a little bit longer to medicate C than we did with his sister.  His issues have manifested much differently, and I wasn't really certain how he would react to a school environment. 

For my family, medication has made a colossal difference.  But I also respect that it is not the avenue of choice for every family.  At the best, though, I hope that parents of children who have ADHD, Bipolar illness, Anxiety disorder or any other neurological disorder that affects corporate governance and cognitive function will at least consider looking into medication. 

I've heard so often, "Medication just turns your kid into a zombie."  I can't promise that every medication out there won't turn your kid into a zombie -  but I can tell you that there are very likely many that won't.  We did find one medication that had results we disliked - weight gain, general listlessness - and very few positive results, so we discontinued it very quickly and found something that worked better.  I can't imagine any parent that wants their child to be a zombie.  I mean, can you imagine how hard it is to clean all of those brains out of their school clothes? 

 

~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Finally, if you've stuck with me this far, I will weigh in on the hot topic of the news, blogosphere and twitterverse this week - suicide amongst gay teens.

It is distressing and disheartening that even with all we know now about sexual orientation being an integral part of a person's hardwiring, with LGBT stars living open lives, with television shows and movies and reality shows either featuring LGBT cast or at least having them as key cast members.  Unfortunately our growing awareness and acceptance hasn't reached every family, particularly people in small, conservative towns, and the social conservatives among us have only stepped up the hate rhetoric in response to such wide acceptance. 

I hope that the hard of heart among us will be moved by the recent attention to this issue, that anyone who is a parent or an aunt, uncle, grandparent, teacher, classmate, or spiritual leader will read the following statistics and if they have been unsupportive before, will mend their ways:

According to a recent study, LGBT teens who have experienced rejection from their family are

• 8.4 times more likely than their non-LGBT peers to attempt suicide;
• 3.4% more likely to use drugs; and
• 3.4 times more likely to engage in unprotected sexual activities than their peers who have received family acceptance and support.

There are people who want to argue that the bible preaches against homosexuality.  I'm no biblical scholar, and I won't pretend to be.  There are plenty of respected scholars out there, though, who have researched the etymology and original context of the earliest writings the bible was translated from, and who have concluded that the writers may have been speaking about something entirely differently than the current commonly accepted meaning.  Issues of biblical scholarship aside, as a Christian, I find that my understanding of God and Christ are so much bigger than what one can find in a book.  If you want to see the love of Christ in living color, all you have to do is look at the eyes and hearts of the people around you.  In my belief system, each and every one of us is a child of God and each and every one of us is loved equally.  I could say more about my opinion of people who aren't biblical scholars, have never researched its many translations or read all the many versions and scholarly treatises regarding it, but are absolutely willing to take the word of some pastor or religious commentator that it is the unequivocal word of God and only the one translation they're reading from is the "right" one, but I won't.  It would be a waste of breath.

Science has taught us that being gay is not a choice, that it is the way people are born.  How can it be a sin to be born gay?  Seriously.  God doesn't make those kind of mistakes.  If God thought being gay was sinful, people wouldn't be born that way. I am so tired of Christians who need to feel morally superior to other people.  Stop being so damned judgmental, will you?  Your hatred and fear are, literally, killing our teenagers. 

~@~@~@~@~@~

 And finally, in other news, the chicken is off the nest and happily wandering around the yard eating worms like all good chickens should.

I know this was long.  I'm sorry.  I missed you.  How have you all been?