Duca vs Carlson was 2016 in a nutshell

For those of you who may have missed it, Lauren Duca, a writer for Teen Vogue, was invited onto Tucker Carlson's show and was essentially talked over for the duration of the interview. If you watch the video on mute, which I just did trying to quickly un-mute my computer, it looks like the two people are having completely separate conversations with people off screen. Now, not shockingly, I have never been a fan of Carlson for the obvious reasons: he's whiny, arrogant and has both the attitude and the wardrobe of a cartoon-version spoiled child. I originally watched the interview because I saw it on Twitter, which I still hate but am seeing some value, and was admittedly baited by the promise of a "Carlson take-down." What I saw in the video clip was hard to watch and resulted in several moments of me looking through my fingers like I was watching a horror movie. For the record, I think Lauren Duca was a vision. She attempted to respond to Carlson's digs and his incessant nitpicking and refusal to actually listen to her responses to questions that he posed with poise and humor. This video was particularly hard to watch for me because it basically summed up my 2016: desperately trying to communicate intelligently and warmly about complex and complicated topics to people who are primarily, if not exclusively, interested in being right and insisting that I am wrong, even when the topics being discussed were too complicated and nuanced to ever be simplified into cases of right and wrong. I felt Duca's frustration in trying to find common ground and explain her position, which is far too complex to be reduced to a single tweet, as Carlson attempted to do. I felt personally insulted by Carlson's continual digging into the details and semantics of her language on Twitter while simultaneously refusing her the opportunity to address the larger issues. I think people should certainly be on the hook for things they say and write. However, Twitter is not the final word in critique and commentary and humor is not the enemy of thoughtful analysis. 

As a cisgender female interested in social critique, I have learned the hard way that my words and thoughts will be particularly picked apart by my (generally white) cisgender male peers. I have to be twice as eloquent, well-researched, calm and collected to even be heard, let alone listened to. I am also aware that my whiteness, my identity as a cisgender female, as well-educated and as heterosexual have afforded me seats at tables, or at least invitations into rooms, that are not offered to everyone. During these conversations, I have to reach across the table and try to find common ground in the discussion, continually reassure and affirm others and use humor to soften even the softest of statements to protect the conversation from being shut down by, most commonly, the white and male fragility that so quickly can end a respectful discourse. If I stray from the course for even a second, I am "aggressive" and the conversation is over. Mind you, the name-calling and threatening language used to silence me in these instances is somehow not characterized as "aggressive," but me suggesting that using the term "cunt" as a derogatory word for females is rooted in a violent history that has oppressed women and denigrated womanhood is, so there's that. Watching the interview, I felt fatigued. Duca was clearly attempting to not only respond to Carlson's questions but also to engage in a conversation that includes a disagreement. It is wholly exhausting to continually be the one reaching out, trying to engage in meaningful discourse without pointing fingers while simultaneously being affronted by a refusal to listen or engage. So why have these conversations, Julia? Great question, internet friends (hi mom and dad!). Much of the time, I am not the instigator of these conversations (and some of the time I 100% am). Up until now, I have not been willing to turn away from a conversation about topics I care deeply for based solely on the reason that the person with whom I am talking does not agree with me. I am not interested in the goal of changing people's minds because I am not arrogant enough to assume that my perspectives are without flaw. However, I am interested in encouraging and modeling respectful discourse when I can. Note: times like weddings or any event with an open bar are not times when one can or should attempt to model anything. As someone who has tried and failed and watched MULTIPLE seasons of America's Next Top Model I can doubly attest to that. That being said, I am getting tired of playing by the rules of a game that is rigged against me; a game that I am not only likely to lose but that was also designed to destroy me, to silence me and to discredit me. Why is it that women like Ms. Duca cannot write about both pop culture and politics without being invalidated when politicians rely on celebrities for endorsements and, most recently, life chats? Why is she receiving rape threats for speaking her mind and responding to the word vomit assault of her interviewer while we give people like Carlson (and, ahem, our PEOTUS) a public platform from which they can verbally (and allegedly, physically) assault women, people of color, people who identify as LGBTQ+ and essentially anyone who is not wealthy, white, cisgender, heterosexual and male? Why are women expected to beautiful and then, when they are, are not allowed to also be smart and funny and powerful and whole? Why is Ivanka Trump to be considered *just* Donald Trump's daughter for the sake of this conversation while she is also meeting with foreign leaders and taking on responsibility for her family's businesses? I know why. These questions are rhetorical.

To her point, Duca was trying to say that Ivanka Trump is *more* than just Trump's daughter. She is smart, she is powerful and, as such, should be held to a high standard and should not be written off as a Trump figurine in her father's campaign toy chest. Women who are beautiful, who seem approachable and who, in Duca's brilliant words "look like they smell like vanilla" should not be written off or given a pass from accountability simply because others can not see their power or value. In general, her position was far more thoughtful and respectful toward Ivanka than Carlson's but he was too busy flooding his own eardrums with the sound of his own voice to hear that. I was happy and proud to see Duca hold her own and keep doing the hard work. It's disheartening, though not surprising, that she is being met with threats and her retweet comebacks are comic gold. The video clip for me was a reminder that, though tiring, these conversations are important. While it is critical for my own mental health to know when a conversation is not worth having (something I want to focus on in 2017), it's also so important to not let some bow-tie with an attitude discredit or invalidate things that matter. 

I joined Twitter and my thoughts on trolls

So, it's been a while since my last post because, well, I've busy finishing up with my semester (woohoo), keeping up with Kardashians (yes, seriously. I started from the beginning and, you know what? I kind of get it.) and selling some motherfxing tank tops!

In under two weeks, I have sold all but THREE tank tops (I have 2 mediums and 1 large left) and have raised over $650 for Planned Parenthood. That fact just blows my damn mind and I am incredibly and unbelievably grateful for everyone who ordered, shared and supported this project. When I ordered them originally I did not imagine they would go so fast, or even at all, and it fills my heart with joy like the Grinch who stole Christmas. I'm not sure yet if I'll order more once I sell out but if there is interest let me know!

In other news, I recently joined Twitter. While I still think it can be a reflection of some of the worst parts of humanity: ignorance, bigotry and terrible spelling, I think for the purposes of enhancing my awareness and seeing what other people are doing it is a great tool. Also, I finally know the best TV sitcom episodes to put me in the holiday spirit so basically it's all worth it. The only reason I really bring this up here is I want to take a second and talk about trolls and I do not mean these gender-neutral dreams from my childhood:

Source

I'm talking about internet trolls. We all know who I'm talking about: the men and women on social media who repeatedly and incessantly chime in, often unprovoked, to deny the existence of white privilege/racism/sexism/any other -ism or construct that has been incontrovertibly demonstrated through research and the shared experiences of generations of people or, at worst, threaten the safety and security of people with whom they do not agree. When I signed up for Twitter, my loving and unwaveringly supportive husband expressed some concern that people would be "mean to me." It's sad but true that my initial response was "yeah. No shit." In truth, one of the reasons I took so long to join Twitter is that I didn't want to invite trolls into my life. I have plenty of experience with people being unkind or critical of me in my personal life, did I really want to open the doors and windows of my world to people I don't even know? My answer for a very long time was a whole-hearted "no." However, after starting this blog and thinking about trolls quite a bit, I realized a few things. Firstly.
a fear of people being mean to me is not a reason not to do something. When I think back on decisions I've made in the past that were based out of or motivated by this fear, I have often done things I have regretted that sometimes resulted in me being unkind to other people and untrue to myself. Why should I allow a fear of people who don't agree with me to silence me? Isn't that the point of speaking out in the first place? To be quiet in the face of bullying and trolling is to play into the system that silences so many. Though this is obviously far more complicated than a competition where there are winners and losers, by allowing bullies to push me into silence I am in this instance allowing them to win.

I'm going to be honest with you here for a second (I mean, really, all the seconds but it sounds good and like I'm about to make some grand reveal when I say it like that. Am I building suspense? Is it working?). Ok, seriously, sometimes writing this blog scares the shit out of me. Not because it's being read by tons of people (it's not. Hey mom and dad! Thanks for the support!) or because what I'm saying is that revolutionary but because I have made the choice to put myself out there and say things that many people don't understand or agree with I sometimes feel as though I am in a vulnerable position. But I made this choice because I think it is unfair to ask other people to put themselves in unsafe, insecure and risky positions in the work of activism and advocacy if I am not willing to do it as well. I'm not suggesting that writing a blog is the same as putting one's body on the line during marches and protests. What I am suggesting is that risk is involved in making change, whether that be the risk of arrest or physical harm during a protest or the risk of having an uncomfortable conversation with a peer. Fear of discomfort and backlash is a very powerful tool in silencing those who believe and know we can do and be better. While people of color are speaking out against police brutality and an unequal justice system, violence against transgender and LGB populations is peaking and indigenous and native people in this country have been hosed in freezing temperatures while protecting land that is legally theirs, how can I allow a fear of someone saying something mean to me to shut me up? This is a clear and overt demonstration of my privilege as a white, educated, heterosexual cisgender female and I need to see it, feel it and do something about it. Each person has to decide for her of himself when it is safe to speak out and, in truth, sometimes it is not. And sometimes people are exhausted and tired of experiencing the same things all the time and don't have the energy at that moment to say something and that is fine. We have to do what we need to to stay safe and sane. However, my point here is that not everyone gets to make the choice about feeling uncomfortable or unsafe. Discomfort is a part of change. Think about how horrible growing pains were as a kid. It's like that except we're talking about people's lives.

So follow me on Twitter if you're nice (@theliberalb). I can't promise to tweet interesting things but I can promise to like AND retweet a post about cozy bars with fireplaces in Denver.

I don't think bigoted squirrels are a thing and you should order this shirt!

Hey y'all, how are you doing today? This morning I burned my toe by dropping scalding hot mashed potatoes - potatoes I was preparing to eat for breakfast - on it. So, yea, I'm doing pretty great. Truthfully, I feel like I'm still spinning out a bit. Last night, as I was leaving my house to walk my dog, I was thinking to myself how great it is that our Black Lives Matter sign had been up on our lawn for almost 2 weeks without incident (kind of a bleak thought already, no?). When I went to look down lovingly at it and sing a little song to myself a la Enchanted about living in a progressive neighborhood, it was gone. At first I thought, am I a witch? Accio nachos. But nothing happened so I knew I hadn't somehow magically willed it to disappear by thinking about it. Then I wondered if perhaps some renegade bigoted squirrels ran off with it in an act of protest against my dog who subsequently loves to chase squirrels. However, there was no evidence pointing to this though I will continue to let her chase the squirrels just in case. So finally, I was forced to come to terms with my third option. Someone actually walked across my lawn, picked it up off its stand (thanks for leaving that in place, by the way. Saves me $2 on my re-order), and walked off with it. Maybe they took it to put it on their own lawn? That would be great. Someone stealing the sign isn't a huge deal. I actually originally ordered two just in case this happened and believe me I am making the next one way more difficult to walk off with because I am stubborn, determined and having someone take the sign only validates to me why I needed to have it in the first place. I know that having something removed from my lawn is small change in reality. Someone vandalized a transgender woman's car in Cheesman Park two weeks ago, swastikas were painted on an elementary school in Stapleton and I am sure many other threatening, violent and overt acts of oppression are occurring every day. My sign being stolen is far from the worst thing that is happening. It's not really in the same ballpark. The reason I am even mentioning it, however, is that it demonstrates the small, quiet acts that can go under the radar. Not only does this act create barriers for me in that I may have to order a new one (already did that), order cameras and find a sneaky Home Alone-style way to protect it, but it sends a message. That message says, "I do not agree with you and I will remove and silence your voice." That's not going to work for me anymore and I will urge all who can to say the same. Small dismissals, quiet acts completed in the dark and microaggressions normalize behavior that needs to be eradicated. By putting my sign back out, I am sending the message that I won't let someone else's intolerance stop me from pursuing equal rights and safety for everyone. It's only by openly and repeatedly pushing back against the messages that aim to separate and silence us can we make progress. It also may be worth putting a smaller, handwritten sign out that informs future thieves that, for every sign that is stolen I will order a new one and 100% of the profits go to the Black Lives Matter movement. So, if you really don't believe in the cause, thieves, best to leave my sign alone.

OK, on that note. I have some super incredible news. The tank tops are ready. THE TANK TOPS ARE READY! Here it is:

Isn't it beautiful? It's better in person. So the plan is, I opened an Etsy shop to "sell" them. They are priced at $19 so that $10 from every purchase can be donated to Planned Parenthood. If you live in Denver and don't want to pay the extra fees and for shipping, email me at theliberalb[at]gmail[dot]com or message me through Facebook or send an owl or however you want to reach out to figure that out. Either way, anything over the cost of printing the shirts will be donated to Planned Parenthood because access to safe, affordable health care is cool and important.  If you live outside of Denver, Etsy is the easiest option because it manages shipping. There is a limited amount for each size so order them now and get them in time to gift them for the holidays or wear them around your random intolerant relative this season. I owe a huge shout out to A Small Print Shop for being so rad to work with. I hope you enjoy them and also order them otherwise I will be spite-gifting many tank tops this year.

White people: we are not the saviors here

Oof that sounds harsh. Maybe it is harsh. And it's also true (when I wrote that I immediately thought about every English teacher I've ever had telling me not to start sentences with "and" but this is my blog and I will do what I want). This is a topic I've wanted to write about for a while because it's something I think about all the time. In the wake of the election, I have seen many posts from, I assume, well-intentioned white folks about how they went up to a person of color or a woman in a hijab and gave them some indication that "they've got their back," be it with a smile or an encouraging whisper in their ear. In all of these stories, the recipient starts to cry or gives the white hero a hug and thanks him or her for the support. Don't get me wrong, in some ways I think these stories are nice. The idea of people coming together and supporting each other is something I love. However, in other ways, I have to wonder what it's really about. I have yet to have another women come up to me at the grocery store and whisper "you are safe with me" in my ear. Instead, I was actually cat-called by some men in a car yesterday, which has not happened to me in at least 10 years. I am too old to be cat-called so those dudes must have really be grasping at straws with that one but still.

Despite the long, sordid history in this country that started with the systematic mass murdering of most of the human beings that lived on this land beforehand, which left fewer that 300,000 people alive out of an estimated 10 million, and moved forward on the backs and necks of other human beings who were enslaved, all of which was perpetrated almost exclusively by white folks, white people have had this notion that we are the protectors of realm. (Was that seriously the longest sentence ever? Jeez) The message has often been: we will keep you safe, despite the fact that in many ways we are the reason you feel unsafe. And believe me, I get it. I used similar language just two posts ago. I am not immune to this.

As a white woman and a feminist, I am no stranger to the trope of the well-intentioned anti-intersectional female. "White Feminism" is and has been a very real thing. Seriously, I tried to include a link there but if you just google "white feminism" there is SO much stuff to look at. The earliest "feminists," most of whom were suffragettes and are lauded today as being the foremothers of the more popularly known feminist movement, were almost exclusively educated white women who were not considering, or perhaps were not even aware of, the disparate experiences of women in this country. They wanted the vote for white, educated women. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the sacrifices and efforts of these women. I look up to many of them. But I'm not kidding myself about reality. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was not inviting women of color or uneducated working class women into her home for tea. These women were not invited into the movement and that trend has continued. Though many great things and great strides were made in the 1970s, women who were not white, not heterosexual, not cisgender and not educated were largely excluded from the mainstream feminist movement. These women were not silent about their anger of being excluded. They formed their own movements and they were powerful as hell. And yet, if you google images for "women's liberation 1970s" almost all of the pictures are of white women.

So what's my point with this? Firstly, it's not to make anyone feel bad. As a white feminist who literally started a blog to talk about her own shit, I am writing this with a heavy dose of self-awareness. A long time ago I wrote a post about intersectionality with the intention of following that up with a post of why it matters. I didn't do that so I will here. Perhaps because of privilege and perhaps because we aren't talking about it enough amongst ourselves, I believe that white people have a tendency to assume universality. All women have the same experiences and issues. The oppression and discrimination of all people who identify as LGBTQ+ are the same and so on. Intersectionality tells us this isn't true and to assume that it is white-washes the experiences and the voices of others. This assumption makes work like activism difficult because, as a result, white people, and all people with a specific privileged identity (read: cisgender, male, heterosexual, educated, higher SES, etc.) tend to swoop in with an "I got this" attitude despite knowing little about the actual issues or listening to the voices of the actual leaders. I have talked before here about how much I LOVE all men who support women's and female empowerment and how much I can not STAND when men, particularly white men, try to tell me what I "need to do" or understand about feminist issues. I know I have done this at points in my life. I might have even done it here on this blog. A lifetime of messaging around racial privilege (and all privilege, for that matter) is powerful and takes effort and vigilance to dismantle. Ultimately, the point I want to make is this: activism in support of groups to which you do not belong is important. It is actually critical. But much of that involves stepping back, centering the voices of others and taking your ego out of it. Activism is not about patting yourself on the back (says the woman who is writing this on a blog, yes, I see it. I know.). I don't have the answers. I'm working on my own stuff, some of which I've already written about. But please, before you go up to a stranger on the street and hold up your fist in solidarity, ask yourself: who am I doing this for?

What I've been up to and why you won't hear me chant "not my president"

It's been a long week, folks. Here's a small glimpse into what I've been doing over the past 7 days:

• I ate a lot of doughnuts. At first, I ate them because I was sad and exhausted. But then it turned into more of a *nom nom nom* screw these unrealistic patriarchal beauty standards *nom nom nom* my body does not need to be thin to be valued *nom nom crunch* (<- that last one is a chip because you better believe I was mixing sweet and salty like a boss) kind of thing.
• I worked out with the kind of vigor and force that could only be powered by the emotional eating referenced above.
• I lamented that I did not have Tipsy Scoop stored up in my freezer, which would have expedited the cycle of eating and drinking (in moderation, of course), is insanely delicious and is also founded and run by a friend and badass female business owner. (Side note: Mel, if you're reading this and ever want to do some kind of cross-promotional flavor, I'm thinking vanilla bourbon base with brownies, pretzels and caramel. This is not some metaphor for how things that are different can come together and make something beautiful. Those are just flavors I like.)
• I read Leslie Knope's letter and wept real, ugly tears. I read the Ways I Am Preparing for a Trump Presidency and laughed. Also I did all of those things too.
• Similarly to Blythe Roberson, I looked in the mirror and said "in this America, I am voiceless."
• I smashed that mirror.
• I ordered Black Lives Matter signs to put outside of my house because as a white person living in a predominantly white neighborhood, visibly demonstrating solidarity and support is important.
• I researched ways to support those currently fighting for their land and their rights at Standing Rock.
• I had several productive conversations with cisgender males in my life about male accountability and how they can help support the strong, powerful women in their lives.
• I cried more real, ugly tears and George Michael walked (example below) around my house for hours in grief, sadness and guilt that it took this much to get me to do the last 3 things.

 (Source)

• I listened to this song and felt the lyrics in the depths of my soul. I listened to this one and this one and thought "I am powerful." Then I read the news and was like oh, wait, nvm.
• I started working with a badass friend and a print shop to make shirts and sell them to donate to Planned Parenthood because I wanted the shirt and realized that anything I want in this world I will have to make myself.
• I made myself a snack.
• I watched and listened to a LOT of Harry Potter. Then I started getting mad that there are no Slytherin students against Voldemort. What is that?
• I felt sad and angry and hurt and desperate and defeated. I found solace in my community and in friends. I cried a lot. I watched a lot of bloopers from The Office.
• I went to a peaceful protest. Honestly I was too sad at that point to be angry or to chant or woo but I thought it was important and meaningful to show up in solidarity. It was powerful, peaceful and not small. There were thousands of people. There were children holding signs that said "I am the future" and men chanting "her body, her choice" and white people chanting "Black Lives Matter" and it was important. There were more tears.

This brings me to my final point. I was struck at the march but the varying reactions. Some protestors, like myself, were there to stand against the racism, misogyny, ableism, classism, homophobia and transphobia the election represented. Many others were there for a variety of similar and also different reasons. There were a lot of chants, including ones founded in negativity.  I could not then, and I will not moving forward, be on the side of "not my president." I resented this statement when conservatives said it about Obama and I don't much like it now. I know there are conservatives and Republicans who do not agree with the ideals of prejudice and bigotry that are being promoted by certain Trump supporters. Drawing lines and divisions will only impinge on our ability to work together to build stronger communities. We need to speak out together about larger issues instead of yelling at each other about smaller ones. I recognize that there is a certain amount of privilege involved in my ability to extend a hand across party lines. Not everyone is able to do this. I also know that, to many, my hand is as meaningless as my brain.

Donald Trump did not create racism or sexism, he supported it. There have always been times in my life when I have known I was not safe, not valued and not respected because I am a woman. People of color have been speaking out to show society that systemic racism is a real problem for a long time. As is evidenced by current state legislation, issues around homophobia and transphobia are far from over and were no closer before this election. These issues are not new or novel and they extend beyond party lines. I have talked about white accountability and male accountability before and I can see now more clearly than ever how much there is to do to support the people of this country and that includes supporting those who don't agree with me.  

Yes, I am mad and sad and scared that the vitriolic rhetoric spewed by the president-elect was given a pass by this country's voters. Yes, I still feel invalidated and upset. Yes, I take issue with the fact that many voters were able to cast their vote for Trump "in spite of" his demonstrated deference to marginalized communities. I sure do think there is some heavy sexism and misogyny in the argument that Hillary lost the vote for being "unlikeable" when the president-elect has the temperament of a hostile 4 year old and the vocabulary of a middle schooler. Yes, these things still bother me but the people who are willing to engage, to talk about it and to work together are not those things. Many of them are pissed at liberals and are scared of us too. Though I expect it to be difficult and challenging, I believe that I have to leave the division behind where I can if I'm going to get anywhere and I do have plans to go somewhere.

Sending Gratitude to ALL of Our Veterans Today

Today, on Veteran's Day, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to those who have served and fought to protect the rights and interests of this country (which I will lovingly remind you includes freedom of religion). Both of my grandfathers were/are veterans - one of whom was also the child of immigrants. Several members of my extended family and people I have loved and cared about for many years are veterans. Though, truthfully, I do not need to know veterans to care about them. The benefits for and treatment of U.S. veterans has not been good. Veterans have struggled to receive adequate care and resources. As of 2014, it was estimated that veterans make up 8.6% of the total homeless population. Roughly 1.7 million veterans are said to participate in the SNAP program (formerly called food stamps) and 25% of veterans are said to utilize some form of food assistance program (if these numbers are confusing, there are an estimated 21,368,156 veterans currently alive in the United States). I am not disillusioned enough to suggest that Democratic Presidents have taken better care of veterans than Republicans. This has not proven to be true. Some people have cited the president-elect as a better option for veterans. I'm not interested in arguing about that now. However, I do not believe that demeaning the parents of a fallen soldier and criticizing POWs, many of whom have endured the type of torture, pain and suffering that I can barely comprehend, demonstrates a foundational respect and understanding of the sacrifices made by our veterans and active service members. I'm not suggesting Hillary was better regarding this issue, I'm simply making the point that it has never been great.

Some of these veterans identify as Muslim and women. People who identify as Black and African American have served and fought in every single war with United States involvement. Women of color have been asserting their right to defend this country for decades. It is estimated that every year, 8,000 immigrants register to enlist in the U.S. military and make up roughly 5% of active duty personnel. Some of the veterans who have fought for this country have been deported following their service. 

People who identify as LGBTQ+ have been fighting for the ability serve this country openly and proudly. Transgender veterans have been found to get sick more often than their cisgender peers, likely due in part to prejudice and discrimination-based stressors. Throughout US history, veterans who identify as Black and African American have been denied access to resources and benefits made available to their white servicemen and servicewomen. There is a very real problem here and the answer is not in division. Discrimination against some does not ensure the fair treatment of others. Our veterans are diverse and all of them deserve the love, respect and recognition of the people in this country, not just some of them. So today I want to say thank you to all of our veterans. Thank you for fighting for us and, in turn, I hope we will all fight for you.

I'm sorry and I love you

I don't honestly know how to start this. I went to bed at 1:30 am crying and woke up at 5:30 with tears still streaming down my face. I am heartbroken. The people have spoken. I understand how democracy works. My candidate lost and I know what that means. I foolishly and naively let myself believe that this country could continue on a socially progressive trajectory. I let myself believe that a woman with whom I identify in so many ways (mostly abstract because LOL let's be real I'm not going to be running for president) could bust a hole in that glass ceiling and validate things that I've always longed to be externally validated. I hoped that this country could show me that women can be powerful, women don't need to play to gender stereotypes to be liked and respected, women can subvert gender norms and get shit done. That is not what happened last night. 

While I was trying to sleep, I couldn't stop thinking about the messages I have received about my self-worth from others and how that's playing out now. I couldn't help but think about the times* in high school when a boy told me "she's so hot if I found her dead but still warm I'd still f*ck her." (*yes, times. With an s. That happened more than once.) That guy might think he could be president. I thought about the boy in college who once poured a full beer on a woman's head as his way of demonstrating to her that he was finished with their consensual physical relationship. That guy could be think he could be president. I thought about all of my strong, smart-as-hell, talented, fun, funny female friends, friends who identify as LGBTQ, friends who identify as Muslim, friends with disabilities. I thought about how many times these friends have been passed over for promotions, physically and emotionally abused, threatened and hassled. I thought about this time at an old job when I was told that no action would be taken towards male coworkers who made derogatory comments about women in the office because they "worked hard" even though some of them worked half the hours per week than I did. 

It makes me mad and sad and scared to think that this country just demonstrated the pervasive power of dominant narrative messages through an election. Most of these things I've known have existed my whole life: the idea that what white people, cisgender males, heterosexual people, wealthy people (and particularly a combo of all of these identify factors) say and do towards others doesn't really matter, that they are entitled to whatever they want and that they are somehow the smartest, best, most deserving people on earth. These things were validated last night by a national election. 

I'm not going to lie, sometimes I feel really despondent and hopeless. Being told I'm "too aggressive" when I assert myself, having to justify my belief that equality is something all human beings deserve, needing to cite actual statistics and research to somehow "prove" that things like rape jokes are damaging to people, arguing for my right to control my body - these things wear me down. Sometimes I think it would be easier to give up because then maybe it wouldn't hurt so damn much. But then I think, "that's total BS" because ultimately this is about so much more than just me. To check out would be me selfishly and lazily claiming privilege I have inherited through unjust means. It would be an abandonment of others who continue to work towards safety and progress. It would be allowing those dominant narratives to take ownership over my soul and I just can't have that. I know my worth and, while it would have been kickass to see my country - a place that I love -  recognize the strength of a candidate I admired, that didn't happen. I feel unvalued, disrespected and hurt but this is not the time to check out. To check out would be to give up. The rhetoric of violence, xenophobia, racism, sexism, ableism, classism and media suppression was thick and heavy this election season and, as a result, many people feel unsafe. To those people I want to say: I love you. I am sorry. I am not checking out.   

These battles have been fought for generations. Realistically, they may continue to be fought by future generations too. When I look at my niece and nephews, I need to believe that the world they live in will be better and more accepting for them - the mere thought reduces me to a puddle of tears. But that's not going to happen overnight and it's not going to happen without work. This feeling sucks but I can't and I won't let it break me. I'm better than that. We are better than that. Now it's time to prove it.  

Things to Do Other Than Talk About the Election

Alright, folks. I've got some serious election fatigue. Apparently, we've been collectively feeling it since July. To combat the exhaustion and the emotional drain of squinting through my Facebook feed to avoid the political battlefield playing out between internet friends who have no interest in finding a common ground, I've compiled a list of things you can do or talk about other than the election. Before I share this list, however, I want to make one last plug to vote. The right to vote has not always been available to everyone in this country. Women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, Lucy Burns, Alice Paul and Crystal Eastman dedicated their lives to fighting for the right to vote, some of them both for themselves and also alongside the abolitionist movement (though not all of them). Some of them withstood physical and verbal abuse, imprisonment, hunger strikes and brutal force feeding in prison to assert their right to having a say in their nation's leadership. Approximately 50,000 people marched in 1965 to protest the systemic and pervasive discrimination that prevented people of color from participating in their right to vote, a right that was technically guaranteed in the 15th Amendment but was actively denied for many until the Voting Rights Act attempted to address voting-based discrimination. People have struggled, suffered and fought to have the right to vote so if you have it, please use it.

And with that, here's a list of things you can do instead of talk about the election:

• Watch a good TV show or movie. It's almost Halloween so it's appropriate to watch Hocus Pocus on repeat. Also Orphan Black, Transparent and the obvious choices of Parks & Rec, The Office and 30 Rock are always good options. 
• Get a massage. If you can't afford a massage, make like Chris Traeger and form a massage train with people around you. 
• Also like Chris Traeger, dance like no one's watching to your favorite tunes (source): 

• Now that I'm thinking about it, you should probably just spend some time watching Parks & Recreation.
• Come to my house and help me humanely handle the mouse situation that is currently terrorizing my kitchen.
• Make yourself a nice meal. Also, make extras for me because there's a mouse in my kitchen.
• Take some fun Buzzfeed quizzes. I personally prefer those that are Harry Potter related. This one is fun. Also this one. And this one is a given (#hufflepuff4eva).
• You know what, while you're at it, you should probably just reread the whole Harry Potter series. Or, if you've managed to make it this far in your life without it, read it for the first time.
• Stay off of social media.
• If you have to go on social media, actively fight the urge to make snarky comments on other people's political posts. 
• Go for a walk. If you're worried about seeing political signs, make yourself a Sensory Deprivator 5000. It may impact your ability to take in the fall beauty, but will also keep you election-protected.
• Do something nice for someone else. Volunteer for a cause you care about if you have the time and the resources. Tell someone you love that you are thinking about them. Hold the door for a stranger. Generally be a decent human being to others.
• Do something nice for yourself. The options are endless. I don't know your life.
• Eat dessert in bed. I did this last night. It was excellent.
• Exercise. Endorphins are awesome and it feels good after dessert in bed.

Need things other than the election to talk about? Here are some suggestions:

• The New Yorker article about the history of the ladder
• dorm options at Johns Hopkins University
• Sonicare instructions
• Accordian music
• Old-timey car horns (please review the 4th suggestion if this list confuses you)
• Literally anything else

If you're opinionated, if you're passionate, if you are dying to share your political views, that's cool. I am too. Just remember that there are a lot of opinions, a lot of emotions and a lot of perspectives out there. Tensions are high and people are tired. I'm tired too. Let's try to be kind, respectful and decent to each other. We still have to live with each other after November 8.

New Season Idea for American Horror Story: Election 2016

Like probably most people, I’ve been equal parts obsessively reading about the upcoming election and trying to avoid looking at any of it. It’s like watching a scary movie. Except this scary movie is real life and it seemingly won’t end. I’m exhausted reading about it – and honestly exhausted talking about it – but I have to get a few things off my chest because this election season hurts, and I know it’s not just me that feels it. 

Image source

I felt it during the primaries when the calls about Hillary Clinton were coming from inside the house; when she was lambasted for “playing the game” and being “too establishment” even though every president to date - and honestly probably every politician -  has played the game. I understand anti-establishment folks’ frustration with that, I truly do, and I don’t blame people for passionately wanting to change things up. I also would love to change things up. However, these comments also rang dismissive and patriarchal in a way that hit me in the gut. It would be impossible for a woman to make it as far as HRC in her political career without playing the game. Because of obstacles put in place by centuries of patriarchal rule, she would have to play the game harder and faster than any of her male counterparts to even make it through the metaphorical door. There is no female Bernie Sanders on the political main stage right now because if a 75 year old woman with very little regard for her appearance who openly identified as a democratic socialist tried to run for president, she wouldn’t even be considered. I’m not criticizing Sanders supporters. I like Bernie Sanders too. But I was also struck by the unbelievable double-standard reinforced in the public rhetoric and the frustration I personally felt. As a woman, I’m not embarrassed to say that I was pumped as hell to have a well-vetted, educated, prepared and seasoned female candidate in the running but I also knew it was only the beginning. Note: if you read that last sentence and said to yourself "HRC is a 'criminal'/'liar'/'predator'/'murderer,'" this may not be the post for you. You are entitled to your opinion as much as I am and I respect that. Please do the same for me. If you really don't like this, don't read it.

And only the beginning it was indeed. After the primaries shit has really hit the fan. I am truly astounded every day when I read the news, look at Facebook or basically do anything that involves other people. Political leanings aside, the aggressive, hypocritical, violent and hateful narrative being emphasized this season has made me withdraw because I can’t. I can’t engage in a discussion about politics because so much of what is being said invalidates my very existence (this link goes back way farther than the election but you get the picture). I can’t be excited or happy that it is very likely we will have the first female president in office because the hateful and hurtful environment fostered in this election has taken that joy away from me. I feel acutely aware of how difficult it is for women (and this is a cisgender, heterosexual, upper-class, white, Christian female– arguably the most privileged position that someone identifying as a woman can hold) to meet the standards set up for us and am overwhelmed by how much work there is left to do to create a supportive and affirming society.  I can’t think about this topic without feeling disheartened, sad and sick to my stomach because I know I’m far from the only one effected. The xenophobic, Islamophobic, classist, ableist and racist messages permeating this election hurt so many. It’s estimated that 8 million adults in the US identify as LGB, 3.3 million people as Muslim, 1.4 million people as transgender, 55 million people as Latino/a/x, 42 million people as Black or African American, 27 million people live with a disability under the age of 65, 43 million people live below the poverty line and 41 million people are foreign-born (Source - this doesn't include considerations for intersectionality). That's a whole lot of people. What are we as a nation telling all of these people by even giving these messages a platform? What is the lasting impact of legitimizing claims that immigrants are criminals (studies have shown that they aren't), building walls will solve problems (it won't) and that the country should be run like a corporation (it shouldn't and many people might suffer if it was)? People who work in, live in and love this country are being assaulted by messages that tell them they are not welcome, not wanted and not supported by the country they belong to and call home. A country, by the way, that was founded on principles of freedom of religion and freedom of speech (including the freedom to protest) and a judicial system based on the mantra "innocent until proven guilty," but I digress. This election will come and go but the impact will continue. Therapists are legitimately worried about our mental health, bullying has increased and distress is climbing. 

I can't wait for this election to be over. I'm tired of continually feeling hurt, upset, angry and disheartened. But I will be able to return to my largely privileged existence fairly easily. I'm sure I will still feel the ripples of misogyny, hate and ignorance but, to be truthful, that's neither new nor solely or even primarily attributable to Trump. He has, however, verified and publicized the existence of issues women have long been speaking out about. But this isn't just about me. Maybe it isn't even about me at all. I'm tired but I feel the need to take one more public stand to say I don't subscribe to the idea that separation is the answer and I will not sit quietly while hateful rhetoric threatens to overwhelm my view of the country I live in. I will stand with those who are actively fighting to make this country better tomorrow than it is today through activism and advocacy and I will use my voice and my privileged position to do what I can to support them. Most importantly, I will vote for the candidate that I believe will best represent the needs of my country and the people in it. Please do the same, even if you disagree with me on who that is. Seriously people, vote.

With that, here's a photo of a chimp and a tiger being BFFs because it's awesome and, if they can do it, so can we.

Source

Where Are the Men? Pussygate and the Bystander Effect

I had to take some time away and now I'm back and trying to avoid a rage spiral. Like many people, I was really supremely pissed when I heard the recording of Donald Trump and other men saying sexually aggressive and demeaning things about women. I'm mad as hell, but likely not for the reason you might think. Obviously what he said was disgusting and degrading. This point has been made and I don't need to spend too much time covering it. However, as I'm processing my thoughts about everything going on, I can't help but ask myself: where were the other men?

What Donald Trump said is par for the course, not just for him but for many men. When he responded to the criticism by saying it's "locker room talk," unfortunately, I know what he means and I think some athletes who are clapping back by saying "that's not what we talk about in locker rooms" are missing the point (though, arguably, many are not). It is no secret that many cisgender,*  heterosexual** men say derogatory, violent or degrading things to and/or about women around other men. Women, arguably, do this too. Society has normalized violent and derogatory language so much that it has become a part of our everyday vernacular. However, due to the power structure in play in a patriarchal environment, the implications for men using this type of language towards and against women are dangerous and scary. I have been both a witness to and a subject of this behavior and can attest first hand that the significant impact these words and actions have is very real. When a man (in my case this has been almost exclusively white, heterosexual, cisgender males) makes a comment that is violent, derogatory or degrading to me, even if he thinks he is joking, the messages I receive are that my body is something to be objectified and sexualized, my emotional and physical safety are not valued, my voice is not important. At that point, it is clear to me that no matter what I say or how eloquently I address the issues at hand, I have lost the conversation. I am not a person of value in the eyes of the speaker and anything I say, no matter how well-articulated, will be invalidated. It's times like these that I find myself looking around wondering, where are my allies? Where are all the men?

Why is it that groups of intelligent, kind, smart, aware people don't feel comfortable, confident or able to have open conversations with their friends about these social issues? I believe that this is due, in part, to the bystander effect. This concept suggests that people are less likely to step in when there are other people present, most often because of social pressure and a perceived diffusion responsibility (the thinking of "no one else is saying anything so why should I?"). So basically, even if one of the men in that van with Trump was uncomfortable with what he was saying, the desire to fit in, not make anyone else uncomfortable and not heighten his own discomfort seems to have trumped (PUN!) the desire to speak up.

It's important to me to note here that I am not blaming men, or anyone, for the bystander effect. I have been an inactive witness to injustice before and understand that speaking out is not as easy as just saying "what you just said reinforces an oppressive patriarchal/heteronormative/white dominant/classist/ableist/cis-gendered social structure and is disrespectful to women/people of color/people who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, asexual/people of a lower SES/people who identify as disabled/people who identify as transgender, genderqueer, gender fluid, intersex/etc.." Because that's an easy cool statement to make when someone makes an inappropriate joke at a dinner party, I know. As a woman who holds many privileged identities, I also have to be accountable and figure out how to have similar conversations with people I love, care for and respect. I have to consider how to use my positions of privilege to work towards allyship without coming across as the "social justice police" or projecting some sort of moral high ground (which I certainly do not feel). Call-out culture has its own issues and difficulties and I'm not suggesting that we all go out and start pointing fingers and making people feel bad for making a mistake or being at a different stage of awareness. What I am suggesting is that words are powerful and letting someone know you have their back means something. As an outspoken and opinionated feminist, I have encountered many men who want to talk to me about feminism - some of whom try to tell me what feminism is and is not (*insert side-eye emoji*) but most of whom want to talk about what they can do and how they want to be a part of a culture that recognizes women as equals. I will tell you what I tell them: talking to me about it is great, I love it and I want to support any person who believes in gender and sex equality. But talking to me about feminism, in my humble opinion, isn't enough if you want to make a difference. Talk to your male friends about it. Let them know verbally, and with kindness, when their jokes, words or behaviors reinforce oppressive ideals. Don't put it in the context of "wives" or "sisters" or "mothers" -  my value as a woman does not rest on my relation to other people - but say it from your own perspective. If you truly believe in gender equality, this type of behavior is an affront to your beliefs and values as much as mine. You are in a unique position to make a difference. If you feel safe, please take it.

If you want to learn more about this:, Jackson Katz is an excellent resource. Here's a TED talk he did about male accountability and violence against women.

In closing, here's a quote from bell hooks, one of the most awe-inspiring scholars and writers I've come across:
After hundreds of years of anti-racist struggles, more than ever before non-white people are currently calling attention to the primary role white people must play in an anti-racist struggle.  The same is true to eradicate sexism - men have a primary role to play...in particular, men have a tremendous contribution to make...in the area of exposing, confronting, opposing and transforming the sexism of their male peers.
*mic drop*

*I don't have the experience or knowledge to speak to transgender men in this case, though I imagine their lived experiences and intersectionality would make this conversation quite different and don't want to assume universality for all men.
**Again, I don't have the experience to speak to this issue outside of a heteronormative framework. I do not want to reinforce heteronormativity and am, unfortunately, limited in the scope of my lived experience in this case.

Intersectionality Pt 1 - What It Is

Recently, people have asked me what I mean when I used the word "intersectionality." Intersectionality is a word I have mentioned on this blog before and it comes up often in my work as a graduate student. Having spent years working to understand it, I may have forgotten that not everyone spends their weekdays nose-deep in articles. I thought it might be helpful to try to explain what intersectionality is because I believe it explains a lot regarding the way I view the world and look at sociopolitical issues. Based on a basic Google search (what did we do before Google? Read books? At libraries?), here is the definition that comes up:

in·ter·sec·tion·al·i·ty

ˌintərsekSHəˈnalədē/ <---- this is super helpful, right?

noun

1. the interconnected nature of social categorizations such as race, class, and gender as they apply to a given individual or group, regarded as creating overlapping and interdependent systems of discrimination or disadvantage.

   "through an awareness of intersectionality, we can better acknowledge and ground the differences among us"

Ok, so what exactly does that mean? As human beings, there are many (many many many) factors that come together to make us who we are and that create the lens through which we see the world and also impact the way the world sees us. Intersectionality argues that systems of oppression, also sometimes referred to or expressed as -isms (racism, sexism, ableism, heterosexism, etc.) do not exist in a vacuum. Instead, these systems intersect (see what they did there?) to create complex and multidimensional forms of oppression and discrimination.

For example, let us consider Olivia Pope. This is Olivia:

Image source]

Olivia is a lawyer and Washington, DC "problem solver." She's also (mostly) fictional and the best dressed woman in DC. Here she is in an amazing white hat:

Image source

Olivia Pope identifies as both a cisgender female and, though I don't know for sure how she racially and/or ethnically identifies, for the sake of this explanation let's assume she identifies as African American. Living in the US, we know sexism exists. We also know that racism exists.  Intersectionality suggests that, for Olivia, racism and sexism will overlap and interrelate and create systems of oppression unique to cisgender females who identify as African American. But we can't stop there because we also know that not all cisgender females who identify as African American have the same experiences with oppression; identities are more complicated and complex that just gender, biological sex and race. 

Now, when talking about Olivia, she also has several privileged identities including education (she is a well-educated lawyer), socioeconomic status (said law degree, upbringing, and general brilliance and badassery has led her to financial success. Her apartment is bonkers), sexual orientation (she has amorous relationships with the most powerful men in the world so she's doing alright for herself), ability status (she presents as physically able-bodied and does not appear to have a mental or developmental disability), and gender identity (her gender and biological sex identities correlate). These factors, in addition to many others, will impact how Olivia experiences oppression and discrimination. Now, many of these privileged identities are also shared with Mellie Grant, fellow Scandal character. Here's Mellie:


Intersectionality suggests that, even though Olivia and Mellie have many similar identity factors (both well-educated, wealthy, heterosexual, cisgendered and able-bodied), the experiences of -isms, which for the sake of this example are being focused on sexism and racism, will be different for both women. Dominant gender and racial expectations, stereotypes, misconceptions and narratives intersect, intermingle and work together to create complex and multidimensional systems of oppression that are disparate between individuals with the same gender-identity and different racial identities, as well as any other combination of identity factors. It's important to note here that intersectionality transcends race and gender identities. It has historically been applied to race and gender but I believe it can be related to all intersections of oppression (ableism and heterosexism, classism and xenophobia, etc.).

 Another excellent example and one of the moist poignant demonstrations of intersectionality to me is Sojourner Truth's "Aint I A Woman" speech. Though the exact verbiage she used has been contested, Sojourner Truth pointed out elements of intersectionality long before their time. In this speech, she is highlighting that, although she identified as a woman, the societal expectations for her, having been born into slavery, were considerably different than for white women. 

This is been a not brief and not perfect explanation of what intersectionality is. Next up, the why it's so important.

Black Lives Matter and White Accountability

For today, I had written a post on intersectionality. I had spent a lot of time on it, used a lot of references to Scandal and was excited to share it. But I won't be sharing it today because I received this email from the group Showing Up for Racial Justice this morning:

"This week Terence Crutcher and Keith Lamont Scott were murdered. Since San Francisco quarterback Colin Kaepernick began his on-field protests, at least 15 Black people have been murdered by the police. As we continue to see racist violence unfold on our TV screens and social media feeds, it is more important than ever for white people to loudly amplify the calls for justice that are reverberating throughout the country."

Colin Kaepernick started his protests just 4 weeks ago. My heart is heavy and my Facebook newsfeed is packed with outrage, leading me to question what I can do. As a person who identifies as white, I am acutely aware of the intricacies and inequities involved in amplifying the Black Lives Matter movement. I cannot make the BLM movement about me, as people in positions of privilege often do in activism. I must find a way to amplify the voices of the movement without appropriating them or talking over them. And, though it pains me to say, I have benefited from the same systems the movement is fighting. That doesn't mean I don't want to fight them too. I believe in the Black Lives Matter movement because I believe that all lives matter and the systems in place in the United States do not adequately or accurately reflect that. Even though white people are more likely do drugs, people who identify as Black and African American are 3 times more likely to be arrested for drug possession. Americans who identify as Black and African American and are unarmed are 5 times mores likely to be shot by police that unarmed White Americans. These are not issues of individual "crooked" cops or crimes, these are large-scale social problems and people are dying - at least 1 every 2 days for the last 4 weeks - as a result.

So what can I do? Truthfully, I often feel overwhelmed and intimidated when faced with such an enormous and pervasive issue. That being said, to take a back seat, to be silent or go along with my everyday routine pretending I don't see and hear what is happening is an overt reflection of my racial privilege. As a white person, I experience a certain amount of safety and security - one that allows me the semi-comfort of even starting this blog. As a white person, I need to hold myself accountable for using that privilege to speak up and speak out, to amplify the voices that deserve to be heard and to educate my fellow white peers about their own accountability. In his book Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates writes that it is not his responsibility to educate white folks about racism and white privilege. I agree wholeheartedly with this statement. It is unreasonable to expect people who are actively fighting systems of oppression while simultaneously enduring the weight of them to educate those who benefit from them and are often blind to their very existence. That being said, I've done some research and here are some resources and things you can do right now to support systemic change and educate yourself:

1. Learn about the Black Lives Matter movement. There are a lot of misconceptions about what the movement actually is and what it stands for. Educate yourself and then share that information with others around you. Saying "Black Lives Matter" is not saying "Black Lives Matter more than white lives" or "police lives." Understanding the movement is a good first step in understanding how to support the change it calls for. Knowledge can ripple out and be extremely powerful when used correctly.

2. Support organizations that are working tirelessly to influence change. The Black Lives Matter website has a whole section on ways to get involved. Showing Up for Racial Justice's whole website is structured around explaining different ways to support racial justice. If you don't want to physically get involved, donate a few dollars or share the information with others who might be interested. 

3. Listen. As a person who identifies as white, I know that sometimes conversations about racial inequity can lead to a defensive reaction. Our society teaches us that, even though prejudice and racist ideas are embedded within us due to social and cultural messaging, being "a racist" is bad and wrong and even admitting or acknowledging having experienced racial privilege is some sort of moral indictment on you as an individual. This is false and, while we are working through our feelings of guilt or shame, people are dying. There are advocates and activists who are openly telling us what they need and it's time for us to listen.

I know that most of this is not likely new information. I truthfully hope that it's not. But, as I said in my very first post, I believe that silence is compliance and it's past time for white people to stand up. That being said, I am not "Ms. Social Justice." I often feel inadequate, unprepared and insecure about my ability to support systemic change. I will say things incorrectly and make mistakes and it's possible I will do so publicly. I won't deny that speaking out can be scary and overwhelming. However, the fear of a negative response, a nasty note or confrontation from a Facebook friend or peer, pales in comparison to the risks activists are taking every day, often putting their lives on the line to pursue justice for those who have been killed. My fear and my safety are not more important than theirs and, though the risks I face are considerably and notably less dire and severe, risks are what is called for now.