too pretty to be a feminist

My last post was kind of my standard "white people/rich people/first world problems" fare. But today, I feel like I have to warn you, I'm not peddling suburban mom jokes. Shits about to get a little opinionated. I know (and appreciate) that I have some conservative readers despite being a fairly raging liberal, so I just wanted to give you a heads up. I honestly don't think any of this should be a "Left" vs. "Right" issue though, more like a human issue, so hopefully we can still be friends. Welcome, friends, to the dark wandering halls of my little mind.

A professor once told me I was "too pretty to be a feminist." I'm not even that pretty so I don't know what that says about you real feminists. Anyway, what does this even mean?? If I had to guess, I'd say she was referring to the fact that I wear heels and makeup and all the other trappings of femininity created by old white men to subjugate women and make sure we can't run fast or eat too much of their pizza for fear of busting the seams of our skinny jeans.

I resent the implication that I have to be some sort of angry, bra-burning, bushy-pitted woman to be a feminist.

Actually, I resent the implication that we aren't all feminists already. My general take on it is, "Do you believe men and women should have equal rights? If yes, you are a feminist. If no, you are an asshole." But that's a discussion for another day. In the meantime may I refer you to my boyfriend Mark Ruffalo. And my other boyfriend, Aziz Ansari.

Here's the deal. I like (trying to be) pretty. It makes me happy. It makes me feel good. I like to paint my face and dress myself in the most glorious finery that Target affords. Granted, I sometimes feel a slave to it. I envy the people who can look effortlessly chic with their hair in a messy bun, bare face, and ratty yoga pants (or, who just don't give a shit). But that is not me.

I actually own this sweatshirt. Yes, I am a terrible feminist and role model. But tell me this isn't your dream date. F*ck long walks on the beach at sunset ;)

Still (and I've talked about this before) with a daughter (and a son), I have to be careful about the message I'm sending. Otherwise, this might happen:

C: Mama you look so pwetty.
Me: Thanks baby.
C:...
Me:...
C: [stage whispers] What about me?
me: Oh! Yes. You always look beautiful, love. But you know what's even more important than being pr...
C: JUST TELL ME I'M PWETTY!
Me: You're funny.
C: I am NOT funny. You're funny.
Me: Thank you! I think I'm hilarious.
C: You are NOT funny. Only boys can be funny.

I guess I should at least appreciate that she has already picked up on certain social cues like mandatory gratuitous reciprocal compliments.

Another professor once told me that I could be an effective "marketer" of women's causes because I was pleasant and attractive, and therefore didn't come off as "an angry feminist." I found this strange and somewhat disturbing (but also weirdly truthful) and was reminded of it recently when reading Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I loved this book, by the way, but I eat this kind of stuff up - critical race and gender theory, the intersectionality of oppressions, etc, etc, etc. May not be everyone's cup o' tea. Anywho, the book discusses how American Blacks cannot talk about certain things (e.g. racism) without coming across as angry/threatening/intimidating to White Americans. There's also a chapter on "the white friend who gets it," and how you should use that white friend as a resource for advancing your cause because they can say things you never could. Which is kind of like having a pretty, pleasant feminist friend. Obviously, as a privileged white girl I have no knowledge or claim on the experience and oppression of women of color. I just found it to be an interesting parallel.

Okay, I'm getting all kinds of tangential up in here, but THIS is reminding me of something else. The backlash to the #BlackLivesMatter campaign. It's like whenever I give my daughter a compliment, my son gets all butt-hurt and acts like I said the equal and opposite thing to him. For example, I tell my daughter that she looks pretty. My son instantly pouts, "What, and I'm ugly or somefing?" Yes, son. When I tell your sister that she is pretty, I am implicitly saying that you are a despicable troll. I can't even bear to look at you.

Duh. No. That's not how this works. #WhiteLivesMatter too. All of the colors. The mens and the womens and the childrens. #LIVESMatter. Oh, and #LionsLivesREALLYMatter. Like, BIG TIME. (Not saying that the Cecil the Lion situation isn't FUCKED UP, just, you know, interesting in comparison to the human life thing. Also, crazy ass vigilantes need to fuckin' chill.)

The thing is, all the lives should matter the same. Young black males are 21 times more likely to be killed by law enforcement than their white counterparts. People of color are more likely to be stopped by the police, as well as become a victim of excessive force. Excessive force in general is a concern, of course. But it's hard to deny the skew.

I'm at once grateful and ashamed to admit that this is not really something that plagues me in my daily life. My kids are the whitest half-ethnic kids you will ever meet. But I don't want my insulation to morph into ignorance, or worse yet, complicity.

The other day Jack said "Did you know that when Martin Lufer King was alive, black people couldn't go in the same stores or restaurants or dwink from the same dwinking fountains as white people? Dat's awful. If I was alive back den, I would open up a store wif a restaurant and dwinking fountains and let all the people go dare." For some reason, having this conversation with my blond-haired, blue-eyed half-Persian son with a backdrop of #BlackLivesMatter really brought home how not far removed we are from this. I have friends who are trying to raise strong, confident children of color RIGHT NOW. And sure, their kids are allowed to use the same drinking fountains. But... imagine that your child is more likely to be pulled over, arrested, or shot by law enforcement? More likely to drop out of school? To be expelled from school, which can kick off a downward spiral to the juvenile justice system, and ultimately, prison. A black male born today has a one in three chance of spending time in prison. He's more likely to be unemployed. More likely to live below the poverty line. Skipped over for an interview, an apartment, a home? Just because of the color of his skin?

And, to bring it back full circle... What if your daughter was destined to be paid 70 cents on the dollar for doing the same job as her brother? Or told she's not strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough, because she throws/runs/thinks "like a girl?" That her brain isn't equipped for math or science or engineering? That she isn't thin enough or pretty enough? Or, she's too pretty? Too pretty to be an engineer? To feel the unique gut-deep fear of walking in a dark alley alone at night? Simply because she has a vagina?

What if your son was three times as likely to experience verbal or physical harassment because of his sexual orientation? Or because he has two moms? To be four times as likely to attempt suicide?

I mean, shit. Do you know how, like, baseline hard it is to not fuck up your kids? To teach them and protect them from the big scary world, yet give them the tools to survive and thrive and grow? And then you have to go and add all this shit into the mix?

Anyone who claims that racism and sexism and homophobia "just don't exist anymore," and equality reigns supreme in the promised land of milk and honey needs to come back down to Earth. Just go read some internet comments and get back to me on that one. In the meantime, I'm going to keep doing my part as a White Ally and a Pretty Feminist and add one more voice to the mix.

It's kind of like having the sex talk with your kids - awkward and uncomfortable and embarrassing and terrible and categorically imperative. Except instead of the birds and the bees its race and gender and inequality, and instead of teenagers, it's the entire country, or the world. Which might actually be easier. Or not. 

And while we're on the subject of things we don't want to think/talk about, watch this:



Thank you. And I now return you to the regularly scheduled suburban working mom jokes.

no h8

i'm not gay, though a friend of mine does joke that i am a lesbian who likes penis and my husband is a gay may who likes vagina. i'd say i'm pretty textbook hetero... as long as that textbook has a standard exception for "that one time in college." BUT. what if i was a lesbian? would you love me any less? would you value me any less? could you look me in the eye and tell me i should be relegated to a lesser set of rights and protections than you? if you answered "yes" to any of those questions, then we are not going to be friends.

i'm somewhat ashamed to admit that i actually do have a couple of "friends" posting ridiculous bigotry online today in the wake of the Supreme Court's decisions on DOMA and Prop 8. if you are really really old and/or related to me then i give you a tentative pass because i can't really bring myself to divorce grandpas and grandmas and family, but otherwise, this seems like the perfect opportunity for some "spring cleaning" on facebook. DM actually prohibited me from getting on FB today because i get so worked up over stuff like this. (i disobeyed ;)) i don't mean i get "upset." i mean, basically, steam starts coming out of my ears and i can't think or eat or sleep and i give myself panic attacks. my primary care physician actually recommended that i not watch/listen to the news in general because i am such a stressball. sigh. i know some people get hurt feelings about being deleted from FB and i guess i can see that, but DM made a valid point when discussing it the other night - if you were at a party or whatever and someone started spouting shit you found offensive and which incited a burning sense of rage in your soul, you wouldn't stick around to listen to it and you sure as hell wouldn't invite that person to your parties anymore, right? so why subject yourself to that BS in the virtual world? yes, i am creating my own little utopia where everyone believes that all humans should be treated equally under the law. so fucking sue me.

my happy little world will be wallpapered with rainbows, and unicorns will abound, and there will be singing. lots of singing. today, the king of rainbow unicorn land is my little bro, who just "came out" on facebook. most everyone he knows already knew that he was gay, or at the very least suspected, based on the guy liner and the v-necks and the uber-tight girl jeans he buys at forever 21. but some people didn't know or suspect (don't underestimate the power of denial) and based on their vocal anti-gay and/or anti-gay marriage comments, may or may not react all that well. i am so proud of, and nervous for, my brave, beautiful baby brother. i have loved that boy with all my heart from the instant he graced our world 22 years ago. he had a whole welcoming party at the hospital when he arrived, which is befitting. with the 11 year age difference, i always sort of felt he was my very own. when my mom and stepdad died when brother was only 7, that only served to underscore my sense of responsibility and fierce mama bear protectiveness of him. it makes me so sad that Mom and Stepdad aren't around to see the amazing and really really ridiculously good looking young man he's become (and also to maybe convince him, as we have yet to do, to expedite the whole 8 year college plan ;)) i know they would be so, SO proud of the strong, thoughtful, brilliant, creative and independent man he has grown up to be.

i had a dream last night (in the few hours i slept between stressing about the Supreme Court rulings) that my brother and sister and mom and stepdad and stepgrams and stepgramps and DM and the littles and i were all sitting on funky quilts on a huge sunny porch in san francisco. it didn't feel like SF, because it was sunny and HOT, but it was. there was an enormous rainbow flag hanging off the porch and tons of happy noisy people in the street below. "Flash" the nearly nude rollerblader from pacific beach was also there in a glittery thong with rainbow butt cheeks and a mini american flag wedged between them. we were celebrating something and toasting with Wet Woodys and Mom and Stepdad were having a friendly disagreement about the proper proportion of the ingredients. i don't dream of them often anymore and this one really stood out because it seemed so real but at the same time part of me knew that it was a dream, and i was acutely aware of the fact that we were all just enjoying each other's company as "grown-ups" which is something my siblings and i never had the opportunity to do with our parents and something i really "miss" even though i never actually experienced it. it's weird too because two nights in a row now mister J has woken up in the middle of the night scared, saying "someone" was in his room. maybe this is something that kids just say. i remember i used to be completely convinced that the incredible hulk was in my room when i was little. nevertheless DM and i were both looking at each other like "what the crap?!" and i sent a little mental note into the heavens that if it is them haunting us, please come to my room, not the babies', because they wake up enough on their own as it is! but who knows. maybe they've been visiting, in spirit, to celebrate my brother and equality and summer and love.

okay ANYWAY. here's what my brother said. i love it and i love him. and if you have anything other than utter positivity in response to this, then i kindly invite you to take a long walk off a short pier.

Today is a fabulous day! In case you hadn't heard, the Supreme Court's ruling has officially overturned California's 2008 gay marriage ban, as well as the Defense Of Marriage Act. This is welcome news not just because I'm a bleeding heart ...liberal. I'm ecstatic because it affects me personally. Most of you know, some of you probably suspect, and an even smaller portion of my Facebook friends are unaware of this fact: I'M GAY. Phew! That was really hard to type. But it's something I've been meaning to do for a while. Here's why: Women won the right to vote in 1913. Racial segregation in schools was deemed unconstitutional in 1954. Though both women and African-Americans are "equal" in the eyes of the law, racism and sexism still exist today in shocking amounts. And this in spite of the fact that pretty much everyone has family/friends/acquaintances in both of these minority groups. That isn't the case for homosexuality. For too long have we hid our true selves. We've pretended that we could be "normal", some of us have even been subjected to "fixing". I for one have censored my Facebook posts and restricted content because I was worried about what people would think. But I say no more. I want everyone I know to know who I truly am; and being gay is part of that. It doesn't define me just like your eye color doesn't define you. I'm sorry for being long winded, but this is a big step towards true equality. I hope that by stepping all the way out of the closet, I can be an example of what I wish everyone could be: proud of who they are. I also hope to change a few minds. Who knows, maybe you've known me my whole life and the idea of treating me as lesser doesn't sit right with you. Maybe now that you "know a gay", you won't vote to take away my rights. Maybe we can talk as friends/family without secrets between us. Maybe, one day, you can congratulate me for walking down the aisle with the man of my dreams.

Happy Marriage Equality Day, California.

Happy Pride Month, USA.