If you're familiar with the "This I Believe" radio essays, you may relate to this post. I just wanted to -- had an urge to -- proclaim my deep belief in mentoring.
I met with a young woman through a W&M mentoring program today. Got me thinkin'.
I'm fortunate to have a variety of intelligent, ambitious, virtuous, complicated, older women in my life who have served as mentors. Many women for many parts of me. I've never had great success with male mentors. So happens that when I have been wisdom-seeking, I have found an older role female role model. In turn I have been lucky to mentor and be a mentor to some, too.
We are our parents and our children.
Monday, June 30, 2008
At This Moment
What I do is what I need. I do for which I am responsible to myself or others. This week, today, at this moment.
Several times last week I had conversations about present-mindedness. I also had another conversation about routine. By the end of the week I had linked the two ideas together with the insight that developing habits, or even changing ingrained habits is easy if you have a focused consciousness. Making a lifestyle choice is not difficult if you possess present-mindedness and have a purpose for your choice. I've found it easy to make a lot of fundamental routine choices this year. You just do what you do.
On Saturday night I had a special dinner with my mom, Dwayne (her boyfriend whom I like), Rhonda (her boss whom I also enjoy), and her boyfriend (whose name I can't remember). My mom insisted that I have the Sea Bass. She tried three times and each time I politely declined.
I realize her persistence had to do with her denial that I am no longer a meat-eater (she's proud as she is perplexed), but too, since I became an ovo-vegetarian about 6 weeks ago, she reasons, "she can cheat and have just a little bit." She reminded me that refusing to eat meat was a "choice" and not a necessity. That's true in her mind, but not my own. Principled choices are where choice and necessity merge. I'm not tempted to eat Sea Bass, even though I loved fish in a past life, because I don't eat meat. For the same reason, I exercise everyday because that is what I do. I began not flushing my toilet at every visit in order to conserve water and power, part of a new environmental ethic I am integrating into my life. A shift takes place, so it is done.
The only challenge I've encountered, however, is when I am changing habits which have helped me cope in some way. Dealing with "money matters" comes to mind. I minimally think about budgeting, money, and costs since it excavates deep financial anxieties connected to childhood. Raised separately most of my life by a compulsive gambler father and poverty burdened mother, money emotionally represents discomfort, sacrifice, pain and manipulation.
Intellectually, I have come to associate money with greed, excess, deprivation and unbridled capitalism. Changing certain habits have been more a struggle, in which along with a routine, I am forced to uproot bad feelings for new impressions. Money continues to pay a minimal role in my life. I choose to live as simply as possible for myself. More importantly, it's a choice not motivated by fear, but rather--principle. It's a welcomed change, one that is liberating from my own self-limitations.
Discipline is all that is required to make personal changes. It takes a commitment to leave places that have helped you hide from things which may not even exist anymore, if they ever did.
Several times last week I had conversations about present-mindedness. I also had another conversation about routine. By the end of the week I had linked the two ideas together with the insight that developing habits, or even changing ingrained habits is easy if you have a focused consciousness. Making a lifestyle choice is not difficult if you possess present-mindedness and have a purpose for your choice. I've found it easy to make a lot of fundamental routine choices this year. You just do what you do.
On Saturday night I had a special dinner with my mom, Dwayne (her boyfriend whom I like), Rhonda (her boss whom I also enjoy), and her boyfriend (whose name I can't remember). My mom insisted that I have the Sea Bass. She tried three times and each time I politely declined.
I realize her persistence had to do with her denial that I am no longer a meat-eater (she's proud as she is perplexed), but too, since I became an ovo-vegetarian about 6 weeks ago, she reasons, "she can cheat and have just a little bit." She reminded me that refusing to eat meat was a "choice" and not a necessity. That's true in her mind, but not my own. Principled choices are where choice and necessity merge. I'm not tempted to eat Sea Bass, even though I loved fish in a past life, because I don't eat meat. For the same reason, I exercise everyday because that is what I do. I began not flushing my toilet at every visit in order to conserve water and power, part of a new environmental ethic I am integrating into my life. A shift takes place, so it is done.
The only challenge I've encountered, however, is when I am changing habits which have helped me cope in some way. Dealing with "money matters" comes to mind. I minimally think about budgeting, money, and costs since it excavates deep financial anxieties connected to childhood. Raised separately most of my life by a compulsive gambler father and poverty burdened mother, money emotionally represents discomfort, sacrifice, pain and manipulation.
Intellectually, I have come to associate money with greed, excess, deprivation and unbridled capitalism. Changing certain habits have been more a struggle, in which along with a routine, I am forced to uproot bad feelings for new impressions. Money continues to pay a minimal role in my life. I choose to live as simply as possible for myself. More importantly, it's a choice not motivated by fear, but rather--principle. It's a welcomed change, one that is liberating from my own self-limitations.
Discipline is all that is required to make personal changes. It takes a commitment to leave places that have helped you hide from things which may not even exist anymore, if they ever did.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
15 Best Intentions for a New Life
Fair warning: The following is a sufficiently selfish post, containing little introspective appeal. I've found blogging to be an equally efficient "document of personal record" as a thought-dispensing forum.
Alas, I have about six weeks until I leave the suburbs. There may not be enough cyberspace to express my joy, certainly there's not room on Meta-Minute, so I'll sum it up by saying: it's about time.
In my organizing mind, I've begun making three separate lists related to the move. One is a purely practical list, full of things I need to procure or change upon leaving Lorton. Another is house-related, though, also painfully pragmatic--after finding our place, what do we need, and what should I do with anything that's left?
My final list is my "New Life Virtues" list. These are the commitments I will make to myself because they either have made my post-graduate life much better, that is, I'm happier, in part, due to these choices or with an appreciation that law school can be disorienting, promises to myself for myself.
So I am sharing:
1. Eat locally produced, cruelty-free, and fresher foods. I'll rely on Farmer's Markets and local co-operatives.
2. Exercise everyday (which can include walking or biking). Exercising at the gym five times a week with a one year goal to become a certified personal trainer or class instructor.
3. Attend a sangha at least twice a month. Meditate weekly.
4. Enjoy a new cultural "artifact" every month downtown. I should try to spend time in all parts of DC.
5. Leave the city once a month to breathe. Particularly to visit family and friends.
6. In lieu of activism, I will make donations to several, local, community-rooted organizations, and Barack Obama's campaign. To the extent possible, I also will steer any law school opportunities toward community action, beginning with the Pro Bono Pledge. (Challenging to do first year, yet easier afterward.)
7. Saturdays will continue to be "sabbath" days. Limited studying/reading, if any.
8. Continue my quest to be "unplugged." That is, avoiding online idol-ness or always being accessible via cell phone.
9. Minimize weekday dining out. Establish a breakfast and dinner at home routine, if possible. No social drinking, consistent with non-drinking.
10. Maintain at least one active creative endeavor whether it be writing, reading or producing of another kind.
11. Listen to my NPR favorites and catching-up on news on a weekly basis.
12. Write Terrell regularly. Keep in touch with other friends, likely via phone and Facebook.
13. No new relationships (which also means sex) for the first two months of law school. (May be interesting to know that I changed "two" to "three" several times before finally deciding on 8 weeks.)
14. Continue pursuing preventative health-care needs, like dental and vision.
15. Any of these commitments are subject to change.
This final one may seem out of place, but it is, indeed, perfectly arranged. Circumstances change, so do we. These virtues, as I call them, are more like intentions. Yet none should dramatically change unless given deep thought and due consideration.
It's all so very beautiful. Thank you for allowing my indulgence,
R.
Alas, I have about six weeks until I leave the suburbs. There may not be enough cyberspace to express my joy, certainly there's not room on Meta-Minute, so I'll sum it up by saying: it's about time.
In my organizing mind, I've begun making three separate lists related to the move. One is a purely practical list, full of things I need to procure or change upon leaving Lorton. Another is house-related, though, also painfully pragmatic--after finding our place, what do we need, and what should I do with anything that's left?
My final list is my "New Life Virtues" list. These are the commitments I will make to myself because they either have made my post-graduate life much better, that is, I'm happier, in part, due to these choices or with an appreciation that law school can be disorienting, promises to myself for myself.
So I am sharing:
1. Eat locally produced, cruelty-free, and fresher foods. I'll rely on Farmer's Markets and local co-operatives.
2. Exercise everyday (which can include walking or biking). Exercising at the gym five times a week with a one year goal to become a certified personal trainer or class instructor.
3. Attend a sangha at least twice a month. Meditate weekly.
4. Enjoy a new cultural "artifact" every month downtown. I should try to spend time in all parts of DC.
5. Leave the city once a month to breathe. Particularly to visit family and friends.
6. In lieu of activism, I will make donations to several, local, community-rooted organizations, and Barack Obama's campaign. To the extent possible, I also will steer any law school opportunities toward community action, beginning with the Pro Bono Pledge. (Challenging to do first year, yet easier afterward.)
7. Saturdays will continue to be "sabbath" days. Limited studying/reading, if any.
8. Continue my quest to be "unplugged." That is, avoiding online idol-ness or always being accessible via cell phone.
9. Minimize weekday dining out. Establish a breakfast and dinner at home routine, if possible. No social drinking, consistent with non-drinking.
10. Maintain at least one active creative endeavor whether it be writing, reading or producing of another kind.
11. Listen to my NPR favorites and catching-up on news on a weekly basis.
12. Write Terrell regularly. Keep in touch with other friends, likely via phone and Facebook.
13. No new relationships (which also means sex) for the first two months of law school. (May be interesting to know that I changed "two" to "three" several times before finally deciding on 8 weeks.)
14. Continue pursuing preventative health-care needs, like dental and vision.
15. Any of these commitments are subject to change.
This final one may seem out of place, but it is, indeed, perfectly arranged. Circumstances change, so do we. These virtues, as I call them, are more like intentions. Yet none should dramatically change unless given deep thought and due consideration.
It's all so very beautiful. Thank you for allowing my indulgence,
R.
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Great Egg Search
Beak-breaking isn't sexy.
In fact envisioning dismemberment when staring at my omelet makes me lose my appetite. Gross.
After a little research I learned that cruelty-free eggs are non-existent at the vast majority of chain grocery joints. If I were approaching dietary enlightenment, I wouldn't eat eggs at all. I'm not there yet. Instead, the best I can do is locate free-range, certified humane or cage-free eggs.
The search was on!
Could I find a list of cage-free brands through a simple Google search? Sadly no. I visited the Humane Society's Battery Cage Campaign webpage but no brand list. Apparently demand is outstripping supply. Hoards of Obama voters want cage-free but McCain funding industrial farms are reluctant to pay the costs for ethical business.
How about if I see what my local grocers have? I get on the phone with Bloom, which is across the street, walking distance. "May I ask about your eggs?" "My what?" "Bloom's eggs." "Oh." "Do you have anything that's cage-free, free-range, certified humane, etc?" "Uh. We have an Organic section, Nature's Place." "OK. Thanks."
Shoppers. "I have a question about your eggs?" "What did you say?" "Eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes, eggs." "Do you have any free-range or cage-free eggs?" "Oh, no." "Thanks, anyway."
Two closest stores down. (I'm cursing the suburbs at this very moment.) Should I drive 10 miles to a store for which I don't shop for eggs? Does this mean I need to drive 20 miles round-trip to do my socially-conscience shopping at Whole Foods? Criminey! I save a chicken but contribute to climate change.
I found a Giant only 6 miles away. Shot in the dark. (Metaphorically-speaking, I'm against violence here.) It's reported that Safeway has some cage-free brands. The nearest one to me--9 miles.
I call Giant. "Hello. I have a question about eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes. Eggs. Do you have any cage free or free range eggs?" "Actually, we do. Cage free, I believe. I can check for you?" "Would you? That'll be great. Because I'll drive out there for them." 4 minutes later. "Yep. They're brown. Cage free and cage free organic." "THANK YOU!"
So we come to the end of the Great Egg search. I'll now become a regular shopper of Giant Foods on 2205 Old Bridge Road in Woodbridge until I finally move downtown.
'Cause cannibal chickens? Not tasty.
R.
In fact envisioning dismemberment when staring at my omelet makes me lose my appetite. Gross.
After a little research I learned that cruelty-free eggs are non-existent at the vast majority of chain grocery joints. If I were approaching dietary enlightenment, I wouldn't eat eggs at all. I'm not there yet. Instead, the best I can do is locate free-range, certified humane or cage-free eggs.
The search was on!
Could I find a list of cage-free brands through a simple Google search? Sadly no. I visited the Humane Society's Battery Cage Campaign webpage but no brand list. Apparently demand is outstripping supply. Hoards of Obama voters want cage-free but McCain funding industrial farms are reluctant to pay the costs for ethical business.
How about if I see what my local grocers have? I get on the phone with Bloom, which is across the street, walking distance. "May I ask about your eggs?" "My what?" "Bloom's eggs." "Oh." "Do you have anything that's cage-free, free-range, certified humane, etc?" "Uh. We have an Organic section, Nature's Place." "OK. Thanks."
Shoppers. "I have a question about your eggs?" "What did you say?" "Eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes, eggs." "Do you have any free-range or cage-free eggs?" "Oh, no." "Thanks, anyway."
Two closest stores down. (I'm cursing the suburbs at this very moment.) Should I drive 10 miles to a store for which I don't shop for eggs? Does this mean I need to drive 20 miles round-trip to do my socially-conscience shopping at Whole Foods? Criminey! I save a chicken but contribute to climate change.
I found a Giant only 6 miles away. Shot in the dark. (Metaphorically-speaking, I'm against violence here.) It's reported that Safeway has some cage-free brands. The nearest one to me--9 miles.
I call Giant. "Hello. I have a question about eggs." "Eggs?" "Yes. Eggs. Do you have any cage free or free range eggs?" "Actually, we do. Cage free, I believe. I can check for you?" "Would you? That'll be great. Because I'll drive out there for them." 4 minutes later. "Yep. They're brown. Cage free and cage free organic." "THANK YOU!"
So we come to the end of the Great Egg search. I'll now become a regular shopper of Giant Foods on 2205 Old Bridge Road in Woodbridge until I finally move downtown.
'Cause cannibal chickens? Not tasty.
R.
Celibacy Anniversary
June 10th is my self-appointed celibacy anniversary.
Several, keen twenty-something friends of mine have asked me why on Earth is June 10th an anniversary? (As opposed to say, a funeral.) I've usually stumbled on my words, managing to garble a few things about life changes, spirituality, and singledom. An explanation that doesn't sound too different other (seemingly sudden) changes this year from healthier eating to abandoning alcohol (not that I'll much notice the latter).
Indeed, tomorrow is a celebratory day. How best to explain?
My year of celibacy (and accompanying singledom) marks a turning point. Particularly during the previous year, I jumped from my longest relationship to a shorter, high-impact one and finally, to a serious one that unexpectedly ended. I was exhausted and yet, I was uncertain why I hadn't paused in between relationships before.
This was the Year of Self-Care. Since my dating life began (nine years ago) I was always seeking -- always looking -- or always tending to a girlfriend. I unveiled the source of my serial monogamy several years ago with a campus therapist. Still, I was unwilling or maybe even unable to let several opportunities go in order to turn improving my relationship with myself. My miserable break-up last year was Universe, calling. This time I answered.
I was able to escape a nasty pattern, substituting one commitment for another. For the first time in my adult life I am listening and responding to mind, body and soul. I did not make this realization at first. During the fall I was anxiously"on search" as usual. Then, I received some great advice, made the promise, and managed to live it out.
I no longer feel apologetic for being single. I know how it feels to be geniunely happy as I am. Present-mindedness has replaced future-planning. There's no longing, no self-pity, no confusion. I'm satisfied and to some degree, liberated from a self-tied anchor.
Celibacy symbolizes represents me being with me. I make light of my decision by sarcastically despairing as a sexless 23-year old. You know, though, I honestly don't notice for the most part. Instead, I'm thrilled that I've done something that I never thought I could, adding to my list this year. So, I say, "cheers" to every person who has or is suffering from some level of inner-poverty* forcing him or her to seek out companionship for its own sake wanting to break free. Listen deeply.
See ya,
R.
*Term originally used by Angel Kyodo Williams in Being Black: Zen and the Art of Living with Fearlessness and Grace. I liked it enough to borrow.
Several, keen twenty-something friends of mine have asked me why on Earth is June 10th an anniversary? (As opposed to say, a funeral.) I've usually stumbled on my words, managing to garble a few things about life changes, spirituality, and singledom. An explanation that doesn't sound too different other (seemingly sudden) changes this year from healthier eating to abandoning alcohol (not that I'll much notice the latter).
Indeed, tomorrow is a celebratory day. How best to explain?
My year of celibacy (and accompanying singledom) marks a turning point. Particularly during the previous year, I jumped from my longest relationship to a shorter, high-impact one and finally, to a serious one that unexpectedly ended. I was exhausted and yet, I was uncertain why I hadn't paused in between relationships before.
This was the Year of Self-Care. Since my dating life began (nine years ago) I was always seeking -- always looking -- or always tending to a girlfriend. I unveiled the source of my serial monogamy several years ago with a campus therapist. Still, I was unwilling or maybe even unable to let several opportunities go in order to turn improving my relationship with myself. My miserable break-up last year was Universe, calling. This time I answered.
I was able to escape a nasty pattern, substituting one commitment for another. For the first time in my adult life I am listening and responding to mind, body and soul. I did not make this realization at first. During the fall I was anxiously"on search" as usual. Then, I received some great advice, made the promise, and managed to live it out.
I no longer feel apologetic for being single. I know how it feels to be geniunely happy as I am. Present-mindedness has replaced future-planning. There's no longing, no self-pity, no confusion. I'm satisfied and to some degree, liberated from a self-tied anchor.
Celibacy symbolizes represents me being with me. I make light of my decision by sarcastically despairing as a sexless 23-year old. You know, though, I honestly don't notice for the most part. Instead, I'm thrilled that I've done something that I never thought I could, adding to my list this year. So, I say, "cheers" to every person who has or is suffering from some level of inner-poverty* forcing him or her to seek out companionship for its own sake wanting to break free. Listen deeply.
See ya,
R.
*Term originally used by Angel Kyodo Williams in Being Black: Zen and the Art of Living with Fearlessness and Grace. I liked it enough to borrow.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Rude Awakening
7:51am.
Outside my window, I hear an upset man. Peaking out my blinds, I see a white SUV parked across the street, a man with a cell-phone pacing back and forth, and an exasperated police officer turning his back toward him, hands on hips, slowly walking toward his car.
"Do you hear me?? My car was broken into and this guy asks me 'What the hell do you want?' He's a police officer!"
The SUV owner is black and the officer is white.
I hear him desperately try to receive assurance with whomever was on the other end for several more minutes. He's clearly flustered. A few more minutes pass by as I begin my morning routine until both vehicles vanish. I notice a moment later that the police car re-appears where the SUV was, and the SUV drives by. Then, another glance outside, after I pour a glass of water, both cars are again gone.
I never heard any defense from the officer, if he uttered any words. I distinctly recall, however, the disbelief, frustration, and anger twinged in the SUV-owner's voice, which carried throughout the complex. His complaint -- that the officer seemed inconvenienced by his legitimate call for help --was compounded by final claim on the phone that the officer departed with a "fuck you."
Same, awful story.
Good morning, America.
Outside my window, I hear an upset man. Peaking out my blinds, I see a white SUV parked across the street, a man with a cell-phone pacing back and forth, and an exasperated police officer turning his back toward him, hands on hips, slowly walking toward his car.
"Do you hear me?? My car was broken into and this guy asks me 'What the hell do you want?' He's a police officer!"
The SUV owner is black and the officer is white.
I hear him desperately try to receive assurance with whomever was on the other end for several more minutes. He's clearly flustered. A few more minutes pass by as I begin my morning routine until both vehicles vanish. I notice a moment later that the police car re-appears where the SUV was, and the SUV drives by. Then, another glance outside, after I pour a glass of water, both cars are again gone.
I never heard any defense from the officer, if he uttered any words. I distinctly recall, however, the disbelief, frustration, and anger twinged in the SUV-owner's voice, which carried throughout the complex. His complaint -- that the officer seemed inconvenienced by his legitimate call for help --was compounded by final claim on the phone that the officer departed with a "fuck you."
Same, awful story.
Good morning, America.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Gendered Me
From Rita Mae Brown, originally printed in The Lesbian Tide, 1973, and re-printed in Self Made Men by Henry Rubin (Thanks, T.):
CHAIR: The general meeting of the Radical Revolutionary Anti-racist, Anti-capitalist, Anti-imperialist, Anti-discrimination, Anti-smog [it was L.A.] Lesbian Feminists will come to order. 'Today's meeting is devoted to] a discussion of the topic: How do we reach the masses?...The chair recognizes Susan Savedwoman.
SUSAN SAVEDWOMAN: The name of our group. It turns a lot of new people off, and most don't even come at all. For example, a lot of bar people don't like the word, "Lesbian." They prefer the word "gay." I propose we make a change.
CHAIR: That's a very good idea...[after much democractic posturing] The name of our group has been changed to the Radical Revolutionary, Anti-racist, Anti-imperialist Gay Feminists.
NANCY NOTTASLAVE: Yes. I think our problem is that we ignore new people who come to this meeting...I see two new women sitting over in the corner who haven't said anything at all...I'd like to ehar from them: why they're here and what they'd like to see this group do.
NEW PERSON: My name's Nicki and my old lady, Suzie, and I thought we'd come and see if you guys can help us out. I got fired yesterday from my job as a foreman at a factory because they found out I'm gay, and I want to know what I can do to fight it.
FRANCES FREEDOM: You do have a problem, but more than you think. First off, calling your lover, "old lady" is very sexist and monogamous. Secondly, we are not "guys" we are women. And thirdly, you couldn't have been a foreMAN because your'e a woman. Now what were you saying?
NICKI: What? Oh...I was saying I want someone to help me get my job back...Look, I need a job to pay the rent NOW. If you don't want to help, we're splitting now.
FRANCES FREEDOM: Suzie--wait! Don't leave with Nicki. Don't you realize she oppresses you?
CHAIR: Order please! Let them leave. They obviously have no consciousness. Now who has some other ideas on how we can reach out to the masses?
I read this passage and nearly choked laughing. So familiar!
Today, I incidentally read about the "lesbian menace" debate within the women's "lib" movement. It's a little amusing to think that their daughters may not even understand its context. We're in a multi-gender, pansexual, globally-political generation, after all.
I began an essay that I didn't manage to finish called "Gendered Me." Mostly for my own edification, I was trying to uncover my own gender identity based on my gender expression. I realized how much of my personal lens is un-gendered and in contrast, how gendered others see me. Shopping for clothing is a good example. I aimlessly wander from male to female sections; folks stare--they always do. Or, occasionally, I'm called "sir" by an employee when wearing casual athletic wear. (I'm admittedly thrown off by this because my face is so traditionally feminine.) Forty years later, we appreciate that it's even more complicated than we initially thought...
I'm still uncertain how a multi-gender person relates in this world. Whereas "woman identified" may have been an adequate descriptor during the 70's, I gotta say, it doesn't satisfy now. I like peace, Mother Earth, violins, dancing, politics, sports, progressive bluegrass, and stand-up comedy. I spend an inordinate amount of time weight-lifting and sometimes, waxing. One friend calls me "un-feminine" and another "proto-gay" (short for proto-gay man).
Degrees better than "soft butch." Whatever that means ;)
So what's your gender today?
R.
CHAIR: The general meeting of the Radical Revolutionary Anti-racist, Anti-capitalist, Anti-imperialist, Anti-discrimination, Anti-smog [it was L.A.] Lesbian Feminists will come to order. 'Today's meeting is devoted to] a discussion of the topic: How do we reach the masses?...The chair recognizes Susan Savedwoman.
SUSAN SAVEDWOMAN: The name of our group. It turns a lot of new people off, and most don't even come at all. For example, a lot of bar people don't like the word, "Lesbian." They prefer the word "gay." I propose we make a change.
CHAIR: That's a very good idea...[after much democractic posturing] The name of our group has been changed to the Radical Revolutionary, Anti-racist, Anti-imperialist Gay Feminists.
NANCY NOTTASLAVE: Yes. I think our problem is that we ignore new people who come to this meeting...I see two new women sitting over in the corner who haven't said anything at all...I'd like to ehar from them: why they're here and what they'd like to see this group do.
NEW PERSON: My name's Nicki and my old lady, Suzie, and I thought we'd come and see if you guys can help us out. I got fired yesterday from my job as a foreman at a factory because they found out I'm gay, and I want to know what I can do to fight it.
FRANCES FREEDOM: You do have a problem, but more than you think. First off, calling your lover, "old lady" is very sexist and monogamous. Secondly, we are not "guys" we are women. And thirdly, you couldn't have been a foreMAN because your'e a woman. Now what were you saying?
NICKI: What? Oh...I was saying I want someone to help me get my job back...Look, I need a job to pay the rent NOW. If you don't want to help, we're splitting now.
FRANCES FREEDOM: Suzie--wait! Don't leave with Nicki. Don't you realize she oppresses you?
CHAIR: Order please! Let them leave. They obviously have no consciousness. Now who has some other ideas on how we can reach out to the masses?
I read this passage and nearly choked laughing. So familiar!
Today, I incidentally read about the "lesbian menace" debate within the women's "lib" movement. It's a little amusing to think that their daughters may not even understand its context. We're in a multi-gender, pansexual, globally-political generation, after all.
I began an essay that I didn't manage to finish called "Gendered Me." Mostly for my own edification, I was trying to uncover my own gender identity based on my gender expression. I realized how much of my personal lens is un-gendered and in contrast, how gendered others see me. Shopping for clothing is a good example. I aimlessly wander from male to female sections; folks stare--they always do. Or, occasionally, I'm called "sir" by an employee when wearing casual athletic wear. (I'm admittedly thrown off by this because my face is so traditionally feminine.) Forty years later, we appreciate that it's even more complicated than we initially thought...
I'm still uncertain how a multi-gender person relates in this world. Whereas "woman identified" may have been an adequate descriptor during the 70's, I gotta say, it doesn't satisfy now. I like peace, Mother Earth, violins, dancing, politics, sports, progressive bluegrass, and stand-up comedy. I spend an inordinate amount of time weight-lifting and sometimes, waxing. One friend calls me "un-feminine" and another "proto-gay" (short for proto-gay man).
Degrees better than "soft butch." Whatever that means ;)
So what's your gender today?
R.
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