I've Moved!

Thanks to the efforts of my thoughtful and supportive husband, The Liberal Bitch is now official. The new site, and my latest post, can be found at www.theliberalb.com. Thank you for the continued support and I hope you like the new digs.

Why I'm Marching on January 21

Hey there party people. First off, how kickass was Corrie’s post about body positivity? It’s such an important message and movement and I am so happy to have someone who knows much more about it than I do speak about it. If you haven’t already seen it I encourage you to check it out. The following post was hard for me to write so here's a life-affirming, heart warming Joe Biden-President Obama meme to get it started: 

Who’s excited about Inauguration weekend?! *crickets* *sky falls downs* *I eat cookies over the sink while screaming at my phone as it streams the Senate hearings* *I wipe off my phone* OK, for obvious reasons based on the title of this blog, I am not excited to see the Obamas leave the White House. But, even though DJT might be planning on taking his first weekend in office off, I do not. I will be heading to Washington, D.C. to march with my mom and a few hundred thousand other people on Saturday, January 21 in the Women’s March on Washington. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to travel and march with my mother and add my voice to the estimated 1.3 million other people who will be marching across the globe (that number keeps changing so click the link if you want to see if it's changed). *Also, a side note for any potential robbers, my house will NOT be uninhabited. My husband will still be home so please don’t try to rob me k thanks.* I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed about the impending inauguration and am experiencing a resurgence of a lot of the same feelings I felt the day after the election. I am grateful to have the opportunity to participate in a movement that speaks to many of my concerns and surround myself with others who are standing up in support of things I believe in, though of course there is also some “infighting” because women and feminists and activists of all genders are diverse and different and, historically speaking, "women's" issues have largely been dominated by the voices of white, educated women at the exclusion of everyone else and that legacy remains today. As the date of the march approaches, I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts around why specifically I am marching and I basically need a pensieve to organize my thousands of thoughts and reasons. I’m marching because I think it is, and has been, time to stand up and be counted. I’m marching because I need to feel like I’m not alone. I’m marching because I believe that Black lives matter, that trans lives matter, that indigenous lives matter, that women’s lives matter and that policies, politicians and ideologies that demonstrate or suggest otherwise must be changed, stopped and eradicated. But what I feel most strongly right now, and what I am embarrassed to admit, is that I am marching because I am afraid.

I wish I had some grand statements about hope and progress and empowerment for you. I wish I could tell you that I believe it will all be ok and we’ll all be fine but I cannot do that. The truth is, I am afraid for myself and I am afraid for the people in this country. I am afraid that policies that have limited access to resources and oppressed this country’s most vulnerable communities will continue to be passed. I am afraid that the longstanding history of racial, socioeconomic, gender and sexual-orientation based inequity upon which this country was founded truly will represent what this country will be defined by indefinitely. I am afraid that admitting my fear will alienate others because it is an unjust and unearned privilege that I have not always been afraid. I am scared of being shot while going to the movies, walking through an airport, shopping at a mall or going to class and I fear that the new administration’s stances on both human rights and guns will fail to adequately address policy reforms that would make us safer. (side note: know what I am not afraid of? Grizzly bears).  I am afraid for the people who will continue to be dismissed, overlooked, harassed and attacked for using their voices or having the audacity to suggest that they receive equal rights as human beings in this country. I fear the apathy that is bound to set in for white upper-class America when it becomes clear that new policies and changes will only affect some. I am afraid of the statement “well at least we will be fine” and what those words mean about how much we care about the safety and value of others who aren’t in the same position. I am afraid for my niece, who will have to fight hard to stop this world from stealing her power. When I watch her run around and shout and laugh with a ferocity only a 2 year old knows, I am heartbroken to think that she will have to resist society’s messages that will tell her she must be more quiet and take up less space or be swallowed by the sea of unrealistic expectations. I am afraid of what messages she will learn from a president who brags about sexually assaulting women, denigrates immigrants and people of color and mocks people who are disabled. I am afraid for my nephews, who are sweet and sensitive. I fear that this world will try to steal those qualities from them and replace them with ideas of masculinity that are fake and false and cruel. I am afraid because people will die without access to health care. People will continue to die without adequate gun control and people will die because this country’s soon-to-be president has made it clear that not all lives are valued equally in this country. I am afraid because none of this is new and history has demonstrated that lives will be lost and most people don’t want to change.  

I wish I could say that the voices of people who will be marching across the globe on Saturday will shatter the glass ceiling and tear down the structures in place that continue to limit access to resources and oppress people of color, people who identify as LGBTQ+, people with disabilities, people with limited socioeconomic access. I don’t think anyone is expecting that to happen. I fear the divisiveness and disregard for humanity highlighted in this election cycle and demonstrated throughout U.S. history. I worry that we are so separated by political affiliation that we’ve lost sight of our humanity and what the real problems are. I am fearful because, in many ways, this country as a system has never really demonstrated a sense of humanity for all. 

This is not to say I don’t have hope. I do. I have hope that the shock waves that resonated through some communities on November 8 will open up communication barriers and break down defensive walls that have made it hard for white people to listen to the realities of people of color, men to acknowledge the imbalance in our gendered system, cisgender folks to recognize the continual oppression of people who identify as transgender, and so on. I also know that this won’t happen overnight. I know this because this type of oppression has been going on since the start of U.S. history and those who have been active in the fight against it have never been in the majority. Marches matter but one march isn’t going to change the past or completely reroute our future. The real hard work will be in the every day. It will be calling our politicians and voicing our concerns. It will be staying up to date on politics and getting involved on a local level. It will be having hard and uncomfortable conversations. It will be asking those who were shocked by this election, those who feel they are finally “awake,” to stay awake. It will be listening to people who are doing the work and not assuming we have all the answers. It will be in self-reflection, humility and acts of humanity every single day. It will be tiring and thankless and critical.

I know that marching isn’t enough on it's own but it is an opportunity to join voices, share in strength and stand together. Marching doesn’t make me an “ally” and it doesn’t make me a “savior” but it does provide the chance to add my voice to a call for equality and I believe that every voice counts. We won’t all be marching for the same things but I will be showing up because I think it’s important to show up as much as I can. I’m marching because change cannot happen in isolation and there is power in numbers. I’m marching because there is no safety in standing still and no security in staying silent.

I hope you will consider marching this weekend too if it speaks to you, wherever you are. Even if you don't agree with me or believe what I believe, your opinions matter and your presence is meaningful and I support every person's use of their voice as long as it isn't being used to harm others. If you want to march and you can’t for whatever reason, remember that this work is every day, marching isn’t the only form of activism and every moment you have to make progress is power.

Stay safe, y'all!

First "guest" post! Why I am marching on Saturday: body positivity and social justice

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day, folks! Hopefully everyone is able to take a minute today and remember the principles and rights for which he fought and died and honor those who are continuing to push for forward progress. 

I am SO excited to post my very first "guest" piece! (Guest is in quotes because, though I started this blog, it's not really my space alone and I am hopeful to have more posts like this in the future.) Corrie doesn't just talk the talk when it comes to body positivity, she walks the walk and does the hard to work to encourage others to love and honor their bodies. This is a topic near and dear to my heart as someone who has spent many years conflating self-worth with physical appearance and internalizing media messages even when I consciously knew it was all smoke and mirrors. I am so happy and honored to have Corrie share why she's marching in the Women's March on Denver this weekend and why body positivity is social justice! I'll be back here in a few days to talk about why I'm flying to Washington, D.C. and marching next weekend too. But first, thank you, Corrie!

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I have struggled in my relationship with my body. I spent a lot of years trying to make it thinner, stronger, more “healthy,” and eventually I came to realize that it was not my body that was the problem, it was the society and culture in which we live. Throughout my youth, I remember overhearing female role models talk about the latest diet they were on. I remember hearing men I respected and valued objectifying and dehumanizing women for their large breasts or fat thighs. I remember being given praise for the way I looked, or ridiculed just the same. I remember being taught to keep my virginity, as it was something to be treasured and saved, and used to please a man, my future husband. I remember thinking my worth was wrapped up in my physical beauty, and in finding a husband. So, find a husband I did. I got married when I was 21. Things were good when I was quiet, but when I found my voice I also got divorced. It wasn’t until I started playing roller derby that I began to see the world through a different lens. I started to see women, real women; white, black, gay, straight, Christian, atheist, small, big women embracing who they were. The formerly unnoticed truth of our society and culture began to inescapably come into my clear view.

I wish I could say that the nature of the messaging that exists currently has changed, but its pretty much the same. The difference is that I no longer internalize any of those messages; instead I fight against them. I know I am not alone in this struggle of relationship with body. I now work with people on a daily basis who are fighting the fight of eating disorder recovery, and really in my opinion, we together are fighting against the patriarchal system of oppression of women’s bodies. Now, I realize that there are plenty of cultural expectations of men’s bodies too, but for this particular article I am going to focus on the oppression that women face in our culture and society.

We live in a society that is obsessed with the shape and size of women’s bodies. There is a plethora of potent messaging that is constantly telling us through social media, advertising, television, diet promotion, the fitness industry, billboards, magazines, and through many other avenues, that we are not good enough. We are not thin enough, strong enough, pretty enough, we don’t have clear enough skin, we have too many wrinkles, we are too fat, too weak, our teeth are not straight enough, ultimately we are not enough. The deeper message here is that we are too DIFFERENT. I believe the source of this oppressive messaging is fear, and desperation to hold onto power. The fear is rooted in our differences. The patriarchy has a deep embedded fear of anyone who does not look like the mythological woman that it promotes – the “thin ideal,” because if we all look and act the same that gives the patriarchy some semblance of control, and it confiscates our power as women.

Body positivity is a belief and a movement that focuses on the recognition, and the internalization of the idea that all bodies are good bodies, and it is also so much more than that. Our societal messaging, which I believe comes largely from the patriarchy, is what many in the body positivity movement refer to as “diet culture.” Diet culture is the oppressive messaging we see and hear all around us that tells us that our bodies will never be good enough. I would like to take this one step further, and address the idea of what diet culture promotes. Size-ism and weight-ism are the pillars of diet culture. These pillars are the cultural prejudice, discrimination, and stereotyping of any body that does not fit into the thin ideal. Now size-ism and weight-ism may be the obvious components of diet culture, but it goes a lot further than that. In my opinion, diet culture also promotes an undercurrent of sexism and racism. What is an often time overlooked or ignored reality when examining diet culture is that the “ideal” body that is promoted goes beyond just the size, shape, or weight of the woman, and also subliminally addresses gender and race. More often than not diet culture promotes white bodies as the ideal, as well as cisgender bodies. There is little or no representation of people of color and/or of those who do not identify within the cisgender binary.

                                              

Body positivity is about accepting and internalizing the notion that all bodies are good bodies – regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, age, class, size, weight, shape, or ability. Body positivity is about bestowing each individual with autonomy over their body and allowing them the space to express themselves freely in this society without oppression through law or otherwise. Body positivity is also about recognizing and internalizing the idea that we are more than our bodies, and our bodies do not define us. It is taking back our power and believing that our bodies are not who we are.

Learning to accept and possibly even love our bodies, and even more importantly our whole selves, is an act of rebellion against diet culture and its enmeshment with the patriarchy and white supremacy. This is social justice in and of itself because loving ourselves, and believing we are enough right now – just as we are  - are exactly what diet culture and the patriarchy want to keep us from. When we band together and embrace our differences, celebrating our breadth of diversity of shape and size, we become a force that cannot be reckoned with. We as women get to stand up and say my voice matters, regardless of how my body looks. We get to demand equal pay, access to healthcare, protection from violence, and equal rights because we are no longer distracted, wasting our time worrying about figuring out a way to fit into the thin ideal.  We not only get to embrace our own bodies, but we also get to hold space for, and celebrate every BODY, recognizing that there is enough space for all of us. Ultimately, we get to embrace, and step into our POWER.

I will be stepping into my power by marching to advocate for body acceptance and size diversity (among many other things) on January 21^st in the Women’s March on Denver (as a Sister March to the Women’s March on Washington) to fight for justice for ALL BODIES, and I will continue to fight for this in my day-to-day, everyday. As Roxanne Gay put it in her book Bad Feminist, “I’m trying to lead, in a small, imperfect way. I am raising my voice as a bad feminist. I am taking a stand as a bad feminist.” I hope you will join me in Denver, or in your hometown!

New year, same me

I'm six days late but I hope everyone had a nice New Year's celebration if you celebrate it. I ate pasta, drank red wine, played with a puppy, watched the Jason Derulo carpool karaoke (for the second time that week) and several episodes of Grimm and cried while brushing my teeth because I am terrified of 2017. So, yea, I had a pretty wild NYE. 

I don't typically put much stock in resolutions because I generally don't think they last. However, 2016 was rough for me and I thought it might be a good idea to take some time to reflect on the year and identify things I'd like to focus on doing differently to be a better partner, student and person moving forward. Here are some of the highlights.

• Be f*cking compassionate. I don't want to be just a little compassionate, or only compassionate towards some people. I want to be so f*cking compassionate that it's coming out of my ears. As we enter 2017 with a president-elect who is clearly trying to encourage division, compassion is not only important but, for me, will be a survival tool. We are all living under the same messaging and cultural influences and may react to them differently. At the end of the day, we are all human beings and even if someone doesn't see me as a human being who deserves safety, respect, access to affordable healthcare or to live in a world where I do not have to walk around at night with keys sticking out of my knuckles, that doesn't mean that I should respond with anger or disdain. Don't get me wrong, I am angry. But I also know that I need to be smart and thoughtful about the ways in which I plan to tear down patriarchy and conserve my energy. I genuinely believe in the value of human life and that the oppressive systems at play hurt us all and, for my own sanity, I want to lead with that.
• Lead by example. It has taken me a long time to get to this point, but I recognize now that I am strong and confident enough to keep speaking up. I think it is so important to address oppressive systems head on. People are quick to react in horror to actions that overtly reflect -isms like violence. However, when it comes to jokes, comments and "locker room talk," a lot more gets away unchecked. I'm not saying I'm going to become some sort of call-out machine (though I could buy one of those giant sports fan fingers and go around at parties pointing at people shouting "that's racist!" or "that's homophobic!" Maybe with a referee costume?). I'm not the be all and end all of social justice. I'm certainly still learning too. However, I cannot tolerate comments and jokes that reflect racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, ableist or classist (etc.) messages and I'm not sorry if it ruins the mood to say it. It ruins my fun to be around that kind of language and I know that the more I speak up (with *compassion*), the more other people get comfortable speaking up too. I'm more than happy to be the "wet blanket" or the "bitch" in the situation if it helps others recognize how pervasive oppressive systems are and encourages others to recognize that they don't need to tolerate it either. *Narrator: and she was never invited to a party again*
• Be more affirming. I received a tremendous amount of support in 2016, for which I am grateful beyond words. Through a variety of experiences in the past year, I realized how important it is to verbally affirm and support my loved ones. I think it can be easy to assume that support is implied, particularly for friends and family who have been in your life for a long time. However, I think to assume this is a mistake. Also, where is the harm in saying it even if it is unspoken and understood? Every time I have been flooded with self-doubt and insecurity, especially regarding this blog, someone else's words of encouragement pulled me out of it and made me feel so many things but mostly gratitude. It is easy to compliment friends about shallow things, "I love you shirt" or "your hair looks great," but it is more difficult to get deeper and say "I'm proud of you for x, y and z" (those are the technical terms) or "I admire your tenacity and think that's such a strength." I want to be the kind of source of strength for others that I want for myself and to focus on lifting up those around me. There is so much negativity in the world and I think every positive act makes a difference.
• Be more honest. Ok, it's not like I am lying all the time but I have realized this year how exhausting and unfair it is to make excuses for things when honesty would be easier and kinder. For example, as a textbook introvert, I often make plans in advance and then simply don't have it in me to put on real pants and walk out the door when the time comes. Instead of trying to soften the blow of bailing by making up some excuse like "I'm sorry this day has been crazy busy I've been running around all day and won't make it back in time" (as I already said, I'm not even wearing real pants in this scenario), instead I'll say "I'm sorry I just don't have it in me tonight." I think these type of white lies are justified because people take on the position that they are protecting the feelings of their friends (by people here I clearly mean me). What I learned this year is that it is neither my job nor within the scope of my ability to "protect" my friend's feelings in that way. In all honesty, I was trying to protect myself from an uncomfortable conversation. And how arrogant is it to think that I know what is in the best interest of my other adult friends? Instead of dancing around issues, I want to focus more on speaking honestly and openly and encouraging my friends to do the same with me.
• Keep focusing on intersectionality. It's not a secret that activists and advocates are going to continue to have a lot of work to do in the coming years. It's important to me to recognize that even the fight for equality has never been equal. I've seen the quote floating around that "feminism without intersectionality is white supremacy" and that is true true true (I can't find who said that). Even in Pantsuit Nation, which tries to be some sort of liberal beacon of hope, women of color are actively silenced and their perspectives diminished by white folks who respond defensively to the assertion that feminism has not represented all women. To move forward, I plan to continue educating myself, engaging in conversations with white women about the complexity of women's issues and listening to what women of color are saying to understand more clearly how to use my own positions of privilege to amplify their voices.
• Eat more pasta. There's no lengthy explanation needed for this. I love pasta. It makes me happy and I want to do it more.
• Exercise.  I do this already. I do it so much that I'm right on the brink of becoming one of those people who posts pictures of tupperware containers full of steamed chicken and broccoli with a caption like, "you have to eat like a beast to train like a beast." I do not, I repeat, I do NOT want to be that person in 2017. But I will need the endorphins for sure and also need to be in tiptop shape for all the political marches I have coming up.
• Listen to more early 2000's throwback music. This isn't really a thing but Usher's "Yeah" just came on my Pandora and it is excellent. 

And finally

• Stop undermining my own abilities. One thing I do very often is downplay my own knowledge or power. When talking about politics, I recently realized that I always preface my statements with "I never really followed politics" or "I've never been that political," which, looking at it now, is totally ridiculous because, um, I am obviously political and I do follow the issues. I think I've always done this as a way to soften my opinions (because, you know, women have to be soft and silent), and also protect myself in case I was wrong about something. As a woman, I have definitely internalized the idea that men are the experts even though I consciously know that this is BS. But if Donald Trump has taught me anything, it's that I can know nothing but say I know something and that automatically makes it true! The new America! I'm kidding but I have realized that, you know what? A lot of the time I do know what I'm talking about. I don't need to soften that or feel weird about it. And if I'm wrong about something? Ok. My bad. Now I know. Why do I feel bad or weird or need to preface my statements with "now I'm no expert..." when I have quite literally watched people on Facebook dismiss or reject ideas that they clearly know nothing about with no shame or awareness? I definitely don't want to be those people but I do want to be confident in what I do know and honest about what I don't. And, truthfully, it's amazing to watch someone aggressively argue that something doesn't exist while simultaneously demonstrating that he/she has no idea what that thing even is. So I am going to focus on not apologizing when I don't need to, not undermining my own knowledge and remaining curious and humble when I really don't know something. 

That's it, y'all. See ya next week.

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.

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