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.