Growth Spurts VS Resistance
Resistance.
According the the Borg. It is futile.
And as any hard core Trekkie knows, this is not true. At least not for Captain Jean Luc Picard and crew.
For the rest of us, the reality is that resistance is literally futile. It is pointless. Is does not serve us. It keeps us from our dreams. It is the nasty voice in our head that speaks over everything else and says, "You suck, why bother, someone else already did that and did it better than you ever could."
Steven Pressfield calls Resistance "an impartial force of nature, like gravity or the laws of thermodynamics." It's not OUR voice speaking to us, it is not self-talk, it is Resistance talking. And Resistance is a totally indifferent asshole and is completely full of shit!
Something else....
The magnitude of Resistance we feel is directly proportional to the size of our Dreams/Goals/Evolution of our Soul.
I have BIG dreams and goals right now. And the resistance that I am currently feeling is ALL-CONSUMING. It's involuntarily tear-inducing, terrifyingly paralyzing, curl-up-in-a-ball-in-the-corner-and-rock-back-and-forth, MAMMOTH-sized, capital R, Resistance.
And speaking of dreams, I've had some doozies this week. Apparently this might have something to do with the intense solar flares and storms happening on the sun at this time (and the reason we are seeing such amazing auroras for the past few weeks).
In one of my dreams a few nights ago, two of my writing SHE-roes were with me and we were all at a book tour event. I was in a room with Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) and Heather Armstrong (@dooce) and one of us was about to go out to do a reading. Practical/awake me says that of course it was one of them - Jenny is currently on a book tour and I keep seeing all her photos and updates online - but dreamer me thinks that maybe it was me, and they were my cheering squad. (Talk about #squadgoals!) Could it be that my dreams are sending me a message through two women who I KNOW have struggled through and written about their own epic levels of resistance?
In the Seen and Heard In Edmonton podcast a few weeks ago, Karen Unland and I talked all about blogging and what is next for "The Stay at Home Feminist". I told her how I feel like I am in a transition phase with my writing. With Karen I spoke more about where I want my writing to go, but the truth is that this transition is not so much about where my writing will end up, but about how and why my writing has to grow.
And growing up is hard.
Growth spurts are never graceful or easy. Have you seen a baby or toddler going through one? They fall down all the time, they are fussy as hell, they cry constantly, their sleep patterns are all messed up and NO ONE in the family is happy! The exact same thing happens to teenagers and apparently, to 40-something writers as well.
This is hard for me to write...
For the past few years I have prided myself on being a "voice of reason" in the sea of noise on the internet. I've been the moderate. The more-chewy-than-crunchy mama, the not-too-far-left leftist, the small f-feminist, the advocate-not the activist. I've been wading into the shallow end of issues, but only so far that I can still stand on my tippy-toes and keep my head out of the murky waters. The harsh truth is that I've been steeping myself in mediocrity, because I thought this is what would make everyone happy, including myself. I was wrong.
I am not happy like this.
I made a decision last night. And my stomach clenches and I start to cry just thinking about it, it terrifies me that much (Hellooooo Resistance!). As it turns out, mediocrity is not serving me as well as I thought it would. It is not the example of living that I espouse online or that I want to show my children and yet, it is what I am doing. And it is an option. I could go on like this. I could keep on talking the talk, and just barely walking the walk. Or I could just shut up, stand up, and WALK. Be terrified, bawl my eyes out, and still put one foot in front of the other and will myself to live my dreams.
the war of art by Steven Pressfield - Get it. Read it. memorize it.
Fear never goes away. Resistance never sleeps. We have to wake up and fight the battle against it every day.
So fight I will.
Every fucking day.
In the best way I know how.
With my voice.
The one that somehow got lost in the shallow end.
Excuse me while I dive down headfirst, ruin my make up and hair, and get it back.
N~
choosing and using our words wisely
Tonight I spent a 5-minute TV spot wondering why two men seemed more concerned about why a mom took to Facebook to rant about the hospital worker who told her kid "he probably likes you" as the reason she was hurt and needed stitches for an injury she sustained at the hands of another child, than about the words that the worker used to justify said aggression.
Maybe it's because I am a writer and words matter to me. A LOT. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the words I use when I write, and when I speak, and the impact they have on those around me.
One of the men on the panel argued that the mom was just "going off" on the poor hospital worker who was in all likelihood trying his best to make light of the situation to ease the fears of this little girl. My fellow panelist argued that the four year old wasn't going to remember what some stranger said to her at the hospital, so what does it matter? The other panelist said that if it was such a big deal, why did she not speak to the person directly, or a supervisor, or call the police?
It's hard to undo years of status quo thinking in a five minute TV spot, and though I tried to paint the picture for my fellow panelist and for the audience, I feel like I need to expand on why these words matter, why I am SO there for this mother and her rant and her reasons for doing so and why, YES, this is a big deal and it is one we all have a role in making better for our children.
"Boys will be boys. That's just how they are."
"It means he likes you."
Do you understand what these words mean to kids? How they internalize them? How we are normalizing violence as a form of affection? We are constantly telling our kids when they are toddlers not to hit, not to bite, to "use their words", and then we turn around at some point and then tell them when someone does hit them, pull their hair, trip them on the playground or slam them into a locker in junior high (true story), that this behaviour is somehow now meant to show how much they LIKE you?
NO.
NOPE.
Uh-uh.
Here's the thing... Yes, kids are going to hit, and get into scrapes, and have emotions that they can't find the words for, and they will lash out physically. It is our jobs as parents, and teachers, and caregivers to help them find those words, to calm them down or redirect them in these moments of frustration, to help them get to a place of empathy, and to not perpetuate tired old behavioural stereotypes that make excuses for, or normalize aggression as acceptable and/or desirable.
A child who gets hit and hears, "he probably just likes you", may turn into the tween who thinks that a boy snapping her bra strap at school is flirting with her and think that she should be glad of the attention she is getting. The tween happy for this attention, may turn into the young adult whose boyfriend verbally abuses her, but thinks that he does so because he cares so much. The young adult who tolerates the verbal abuse, may turn into the wife who gets beaten regularly and thinks that she deserves it because she "pushed him too far".
Do you see why these words matter? Because when we change our words, when we move away from these patterns of behaviour, we change the way our kids navigate their way in the world around them. We give them the power to know themselves, to understand that aggression is not affection, with give them the tools to employ empathy, and teach them better ways to communicate with each other and respect each other.
And that is why this is a big deal. Because it's not just one worker at the hospital. It's the patterns of behaviour all around us and once we recognize them for what they are, we need to change them and demand better of ourselves.
As to the mom taking to Facebook to air her frustrations and not to the powers that be at the hospital to discipline this employee, all I can say is that in an emergency room with a sick or injured child, your biggest concern at that moment is your child, not the stranger at the desk. The situation didn't sit well with her and she later communicated that in a way that is common in our world. She did not name this person or cause him to lose his job. What she did do through her Facebook post is start a whole lot of conversations (over 35,000 shares at last count) about WHY OUR WORDS MATTER in these situations.
For that I applaud her and I thank her.
That is how we change our world and make it better for our kids.
We use and choose our words wisely and share them with as many people as we can!
N~
Advice for media reporting of Domestic Violence
Edmonton, we have a domestic violence problem.
For many of you, this is not news. You've witnessed it, you have lived it, or you know someone who is/has.
According to Statistics Canada, Alberta's family violence rate is slightly higher than the national average with roughly 290 victims per 100,000 people (2013).
In the past month in Edmonton alone, there have been four deaths due to domestic violence and this is a very disturbing trend.
Another woman is dead this past week at the hands of an ex-intimate partner. She was the mother of five children and loved by many. Do you know her name? Do you know that there was a restraining order against her ex? That he had a history of violent behaviour? That what happened here is not "woman found dead outside home", but "Woman killed by her ex-partner in yet another incident of Domestic Murder."
Domestic murder.
Do those words make you uncomfortable?
GOOD. They should.
Because the reality is that for a lot of women (and men too), this is the kind of fear they live with each and every day. That one day their partner is going to "snap", that the abuse will escalate, and most of all, that they won't be able to get themselves or their children out of their situations safely.
And while the City of Edmonton does provide services to victims of domestic abuse and violence, for many women, they don't understand how the system works, and even if they do, sometimes the perceived hoops that they need to jump through can be too daunting or too risky for them to even make that first call. As seen with the murder of Colleen Sillito, the woman who was killed this past week, even when she did access these services, even with a Protection Order in place, and an ex with a documented history of violence and uttering threats, she was not protected from him.
The family of Ms. Sillito have called for a public inquiry into her death and the handling of her file by the police. I think it is time to look at ALL of the cases of domestic homicide that have happened in the past year in our city (and province) and find the patterns of inconsistency, the ways that these cases are dealt with and how we can all do better.
~~~
I believe that one way, is in the way these kinds of "news stories" are presented by the media to the general public. In one article about Ms. Sillito's murder, the headline read, "Homeowner Paul Jacob died in Fort Saskatchewan Friday, brother confirms." As if the fact that ownership of the house was the main issue here, and not that he shot and killed his ex-girlfriend and then himself. And based on the comments on the posted link as seen on Facebook and screen shot here, this fact does seem important to certain people who somehow chalk up the murder of Ms. Sillito, a mother of five, as "karma". Is it a wonder with attitudes like this, that the rate of violence against women in Alberta is what it is?
In my opinion, not only do we have a domestic violence problem here, we have a media reporting on cases of domestic violence problem as well. And it is not just in Alberta, across North America, media outlets come up with sensational headlines telling us the "reasons" why men kill their partners. A recent Huffington Post article outlines the dangers of this kind of reporting:
“ ...it’s a serious misunderstanding of the nature of domestic violence to say that one single event — like serving an undercooked hamburger or accidentally saying your ex’s name — caused a homicide. [...] journalists should be asking if the perpetrator has a history of abuse and looking for patterns of behavior. Domestic homicides don’t usually come out of nowhere. There are often red flags before women are murdered. Most killers don’t just “snap,” despite media coverage to the contrary. ”
And for women and men who are in abusive relationships and looking to escape them, reading articles that focus more on the killer than on the victim, that often make victim-blaming statements, or inappropriately cite cultural differences, and speculate on all the "reasons", leave many feeling even more hopeless and alone than ever. Providing information about the warning signs of domestic abuse, how to help, safety planning and crisis hotlines can easily be incorporated into coverage of cases of domestic violence. Media can also acknowledge that domestic violence cases are not isolated incidents of inexplicable tragedy that are beyond the reach of community action. The "not my business, not my problem" attitude that many take when they have knowledge of domestic abuse happening needs to stop - abusers rely on these attitudes to continue exerting control over their victims. Domestic violence is a community issue, a societal problem and we all have a role to play in keeping people safe.
As my friend Jen Rollins said in a recent open letter to the media and Edmonton city officials regarding educating the public and public officials about domestic violence,
“Domestic violence doesn’t happen because of jealousy or anger, domestic violence is about power and control. Domestic violence crosses all educational and financial lines, it knows no boundaries, affecting all ages, races, religions, and sexual orientations.
Education is the key to reducing the high incidence of domestic violence in Edmonton and in protecting women and their children in Edmonton and across Canada. We urge you to continue to educate your staff about the real causes of domestic violence and in turn to educate the public about domestic violence and domestic murder.”
Below is an example of how every article about domestic violence should end in every newspaper, online story, or media interview about cases of domestic abuse, domestic violence, and domestic homicide. (Of note - not one of the articles that I have read in the past 2 weeks about the recent domestic murders in Edmonton included so much as a phone number for victims to call.) Please, journalists, feel free to copy and paste!
~~~~
Below are some warning signs of Domestic Violence, ways to help someone in an abusive relationship and local Edmonton and Area resources and numbers to call.
Warning Signs of Domestic Violence
Jealousy, controlling behaviour, quick involvement, unrealistic expectations, isolation, blames others for problems or feelings, hypersensitivity, cruelty to children, cruelty to animals, use of force during sex, verbal abuse, rigid sex roles, past battering, threats of violence, breaking or striking objects, using force during an argument, controlling the money in the relationship.
Suggestions for Helping Someone in an Abusive Relationship
- Approach the person in an understanding, non-blaming way.
- Acknowledge that it is scary and difficult to talk about abuse, and let them know that no
one deserves to be treated this way. In no way does someone cause the abuse to happen. - Support the person as a friend. Be a good listener and do not tell them what to do. Allow them to make their own decisions, even if you do not agree with them. Avoid ultimatums that require someone to end the relationship or lose your friendship. This only results in further isolating the person.
- Leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time for a woman and her children. A domestic violence advocate can assist in developing a safety plan. If the person being abused will not talk with an advocate, consider getting resource information for them.
- Provide information about where to go for help - See Edmonton and Area Resources below
- Above all, let the person know that they are not alone.
Edmonton and Area Resources
Today’s Family Violence Help Centre: 780-455-6880
Family Violence Info Line: 310-1818
WIN House: 780-471-6709
Lurana Shelter: 780-424-5875
Elder Abuse Help Line: 780-454-8888
Safe Place – Sherwood Park: 780-464-7232
SAIF Society – St. Albert: 780-460-2195
My Fall Favourites - September 2015
The air is crisp. The leaves are all my favourite colours and the kids are in school again! Oh, Fall, how I love you so! And with more time to explore the city on my own and get stuff done on these cooler days, I of course, have a new list of #thingsthatIloverightnow!
~
1. My new Simone Pérèle bra(s)! Listen ladies, especially those of you who have breastfed for a VERY long time. Get rid of that old nursing bra, chuck those uni-boob tank tops and sports bras, and get yourself a proper bra! You will thank me. Your posture will thank YOU! And you'll have saved all that money you were hoarding for that "hypothetical" boob job. Now - before you hop in your car and head to the nearest Victoria's Secret or La Senza, STOP RIGHT THERE! NO - You are not going to find the kind of bra I am talking about at the mall in a 3 for $39.99 bin. A good bra is going to cost you, so budget about $150.00. And then head on over to My Filosophy in Edmonton - or google an actual bra boutique in your city that specializes in bra fittings and also carries European brands - and GET MEASURED AND FITTED PROPERLY! I went to see the wonderful folks at My Filosophy yesterday because I needed a new t-shirt bra. I thought I was a 34E (the size of most of the bras I currently own). A quick measure and it turns out I am actually a 32F. I then proceeded to try on 5 bras, and THEY ALL FIT ME PERFECTLY! I had to whittle it down to 2, and damn it if I am not in love with my new bras! The one pictured above is the one I am wearing right now. Isn't it lovely?
~~
2. By now you know how I love to find new cafés in my city. Places with great coffee, a nice menu and consistent and free Wifi. There is a plain brown brick building not far from where I live that I used to frequent a lot in my pharma sales days (the upper floors are 80% doctors offices). On the main floor is a wonderful place called Cafe Rista. I've been there three times for lunch this past month and they never disappoint. They make a perfect cappuccino and yes, the Wifi is solid too. There is a nice table tucked away in a corner that I can commandeer for an hour or so, and I think after one more visit, I will have officially passed the threshold for being a "regular". If you are in the west end of #YEG anytime soon, please check them out - and tell them I sent you!
Yes, those ARE figs on my salad!!
~~
3. Have you ever bought an item of clothing and then wanted to wear it every single day?
This is how I feel about my new Kit & Ace t-shirt. And really, it's nothing THAT special. It's a plain grey t-shirt, that also happens to be made with cashmere - THAT YOU CAN WASH AND DRY IN YOUR LAUNDRY MACHINES AT HOME! Yes, this part excites me about most of Kit & Ace's line of clothing. This great shirt is also designed with these shaping darts sewn into the back and is the softest thing ever. What I am saying, is that you probably need to get one. And yes, I know, it's a bit pricey for a t-shirt - I did mention the cashmere, right? But just think, you CAN actually wear it every day if you want, because you can also throw it in the wash every night!
~~
4. If you know me, you know I like to talk, AND I like social media, AND I like building community. So it should come as no surprise, that I found somewhere where I can accomplish all three of these things at the same time! Welcome to the world of BLAB. What the heck is Blab, you ask? Blab is a social networking app/website that lets you watch live video conversations between interesting people. It's kind of like Periscope, but with more interaction and conversation. And it is FUN! Also, if you start a Blab at 9 PM MST, it will be 4 PM somewhere in New Zealand yesterday (or tomorrow-I never really know?) and someone from down there is bound to jump on and add a whole lot of fun and some new words to your world. FYI - If a Kiwi tells you he/she enjoys going tramping, they mean HIKING!
Blab works like any other social media site, you create an account (or sign in with Twitter), create your profile, and then start or join/watch a Blab. Easy as that! You can find my Blab profile here and I hope to see YOU on a Blab soon!
~~
5. Finding the perfect bronzer is a challenge. And no, I am not going to get into all that crazy contouring stuff, WHICH DOESN'T ACTUALLY WORK IN REAL LIFE! Sorry, I digress... (but seriously, just don't do that. OK?)
Okay, back to my perfect bronzer. I rarely leave the house without putting this on and sometimes, my makeup routine is simply - bronzer, a bit of eyebrow mousse, and mascara. You too can have that sun-kissed look with the Chai Berry Bronzer/Illuminating Powder from Eminence Organics. The bronzer does come in two other colours, a lighter and a darker one and I have a few other favourites from this wonderful skin care line (I highly recommend the Stone Crop Gel Wash for a nice gentle cleanser). You can find Eminence products at Sweet Momma Spas in Edmonton and St. Albert and in select spas across Canada and the US.
~~
That's it for now. I hope you will try some of my favourites and love them too. What are yours right now? Share your must-have finds with me in the comments!
N~
Cultural Mosaic - A guest post by Kathleen Smith
We are entering week NINE of the eleven week long (the longest in Canadian history) 42nd General Federal Election in Canada. I feel like the longer the election campaigning is going on, the higher the levels of fear-mongering are, especially from the political party seeking re-election. The post below is an important message to ALL Canadians and I'd like to thank Kathleen for letting me share her words (originally posted on Facebook). I am a proud first generation Canadian, raising bi-racial kids, and contributing to the beautiful mosaic of this land. I refuse to let fear rule me, the way that I vote, or the country that I love.
~
Cultural Mosaic.
These two words - above all else - are unique to Canada. Our world counts a number of great democratic nations; countries of freedom, lands that recognize and honour human rights, nations that are shining examples of equality and inclusion and personal liberty.
But of all these nations, only Canada is a cultural mosaic - a nation made more beautiful not by being a "melting pot" that stews every human down to a homogenous sludge, but a nation in which every individual can contribute to the vibrancy and diversity that truly reflects who we are as a collective, while maintaining our singular individuality.
It's not only what makes us unique, it's what has always made us a beacon of light glimpsed from far away lands by those seeking refuge, those seeking equality, those dreaming of a better life for themselves and for their children. It's not that it's made us enviable or "better than", it's that the cultural mosaic has contributed to the life of every individual Canadian, whether they recognize that influence or not. It's made us better neighbours. As the American news anchor legend Tom Brokaw said, "if you're ever in a fight, you want Canada on your side." Not because of our military power, but because Canada has always been on the right side. The side of humanity, not ideology.
It's definitely improved our take out options. It's created vibrant communities of wonder and celebration. It's provided us with countless leaders in every field of study, every political party, enumerable medical discoveries and scientific advancements and inventions and just oh so many wondrous things. All the wondrous things that make this nation something to behold.
The ideal of a cultural mosaic spawned generations of Canadians who went off to explore the marvels and mysteries of worlds they have only heard of from their immigrant neighbours, or the homeland tales of their immigrant parents, or their inclusive school curriculum, and returned to their own doorsteps filled with knowledge, and experience, and an acceptance that benefits every one of us, and turned those generations into leaders. It's what has inspired every human who ever donned a blue beret intent on keeping the peace: Canada recognizes the equality and worth of every human being. We were a leader on LGBTQ equality more than a decade prior to our southern neighbours. We have been a leader on women's rights, on immigrant rights, on workers rights, on HUMAN RIGHTS.
My father - a southern Ontario rural boy - wore that blue beret, not only with pride as a military man but with a love for his home that ran so thick in his blood he would wipe away tears as he saluted our flag; not out of some arrogant sense of nationalism, but out of true love for a nation his grandparents immigrated to, and he had the honour of serving.
"Canada", he would say to me with tears in his eyes, "this is my home." My father's tile in the mosaic was Scottish haggis and German schnitzel. He loved his food. And his Canadian pride.
My mother's family are southern Alberta Mormons, original settlers to Raymond, handcart pioneers of the late 1800's. My grandfather was a proud, conservative, southern Alberta cowboy who would say to me "we are all immigrants. Our family has been here a long time, but we are immigrants."
My grandfather fought front line Italy WW II for this country. Watched the boys he grew up with die in front of him. Grampa signed up before they could draft him. The son of an immigrant, willing to lay down his life.
For Canada.
My grandfather's mosaic tile is the Union Jack, and the Utah Beehive, and a wild rose on a cowboy hat. My family's tiny spot in the mosaic would include Ukrainian perogies, an Irish four leaf clover, a proud Cree heritage, the beautiful calligraphy of Chinese characters, a Scottish Coat of Arms ...
We are a family of immigrants mixed with the original Canadians that are First Nations.
And my First Nations family accept me as an immigrant to their land.
But now I am told by many that to accept immigrants from a land torn and decimated by a war they had no part in is wrong, even though members of my own family came here as refugees escaping unfathomable horrors, immigrants escaping economic atrocities and lives of demeaning poverty. I am told that I should fear these humans who have nothing, who have seen their brothers murdered and their sisters raped and their children left orphans, who have fled their homes in terror and fear, who are starving, who have left their loved ones behind because that was their only path to survival and the safest choice for the family they have been forced to say good bye to, who have been hunted by the extremists my government tells me they are protecting me from a world away but these humans are running from every moment of their waking hours.
My Prime Minister tells me I must fear these refugees. My Prime Minister tells me they are dangerous and only by voting for his party will my children be safe. My Prime Minister feeds me hatred, uses my children to terrify me, insists that a head scarf is a threat to my safety and puts the lives of my children at risk. My Prime Minister tells me that Muslims aren't like the rest of us. My Prime Minister tells me that Muslims are the enemy.
Why?
Because my Prime Minister knows that if he can instil in me an irrational fear of those who seem different from me and make me believe he is my only shield, his team can get my vote.
My Prime Minister is willing to make me hate and dehumanize other humans so he can have my vote. He is willing to turn Canadian against Canadian, brother against brother, daughter against mother, to retain power.
We are all immigrants.
My Prime Minister wants me to believe that the number of years my family has been here and the colour of my skin makes me superior. He wants me to feel special based on nothing more than these inconsequential things so that I will feel a singular allegiance to him.
We are all immigrants.
My Prime Minister wants me to believe that any Canadian who doesn't ingest this fear, this hatred, this false sense of superiority, is my enemy.
We are all immigrants.
My Prime Minister is unfit to lead the nation my grandfather fought frontline World War II for. He is unfit to lead the nation my father served as a peacekeeper in the Middle East for. He is unfit to lead a Canada that has always been about inclusivity and diversity and acceptance.
Stephen Harper wants me to hate and be fearful and dehumanize other human beings just so he can retain power.
And to that I say NO.
A very wise man once said "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
Roosevelt's words have never rang more true than they do right now, in this moment. Because if you have chosen fear, you have made the decision to be controlled by lies spewed by those who have absolutely no interest or concern for anything but their own power. You have chosen hatred based on nothing. You have chosen to believe that other humans love their children less than you love yours, that they hurt less when their children die, that they are less human than you are.
My Prime Minister is attempting to terrify you into voting for him. You have the choice to say 'no' to fear.
No person who would instil fear in the hearts of Canadians, who would turn brother against brother, who would encourage a neighbour to hate a neighbour, who would divide a nation, who would dehumanize other human beings, who would shatter the cultural mosaic with the hammer of ideology, and do this all to retain his own position of power, is fit to be leader of Canada.
No person who would ever try to convince you that Muslims love their children less than you love yours is a decent human being. But Stephen Harper wants you to believe that. He needs you to believe that.
NO!
No more.
I will not hate. I will not dehumanize. My vote will not be purchased by my Prime Minister turning me against my immigrant neighbour, my refugee sister, my basic human decency.
Mr. Harper, you will never buy my vote with hatred.
How dare you even try.
The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
Stop eating the fear, Canada.
We are worth so much more than the price Stephen Harper wants us to pay. Canada is worth so much more. And Harper is writing cheques his hatred can't cash.
To paraphrase a pop song of three decades ago, we share the same biology, regardless of ideology. Believe me when I say to you I know the Muslims love their children, too.
"All tyranny needs to maintain a foothold is for men of conscience to remain silent."
Do not be silenced by fear. On October 19th, say no to hatred.
~
Kathleen Smith is a political commentator, social media personality, and co-host of the web series,"To The Point". Smith is an outspoken advocate for human rights and equality. She resides in Edmonton with her husband and young daughter. Follow her on Twitter or find her on her Facebook page.
little boxes
The topic of gender is on a lot of people's minds lately. From issues close to home that affect transgendered students in our schools, to celebrities coming out about fluidity within their gender expression, to the continued online threats to women and those in gender studies at our institutions of higher learning, there is no lack of discussion about gender and how it colours our everyday lives. While I highly suggest you read about these issues above (and take action where you can), today I would like to discuss the concept of gender neutrality.
As a primer for those who may not understand what I am talking about, gender neutrality is described as the idea that policies, language, and other social institutions should avoid distinguishing roles according to people's sex or gender, in order to avoid discrimination arising from the impression that there are social roles for which one gender is more suited than the other.
In other (far simpler) words, not dividing the world according to BOY things and GIRL things.
This month Ellen Degeneres launched a new line of clothing in partnership with Gapkids. The Gapkids X ED line is supposedly aimed at being a more gender neutral clothing option for our kids. Except all the ads are about girls, and if you go to the Gapkids website, the clothing line is still divided into girls styles and boy styles, with way more options for girls.
Which makes me wonder, how exactly is this gender NEUTRAL?
In a wonderful article in the National Post this week, Audra Williams wondered some of these very same things as well.
“Is it really that revolutionary for girls to wear pants and muted colours, no matter what the soundtrack? Why does “gender neutral” have to mean “without any traditionally feminine signifiers”?”
Don't get me wrong. I really like the new line from Ellen and Gapkids. What with all the funky graphic tees, cool jackets and comfortable leggings, what's not to like? My almost 7-year old daughter is all over it, probably because her main clothing concerns these days happen to be, "Is it comfy?" and "Do I look "cool"?". Truth be told, I'm pretty much at that same place in my style choices as well, and having just perused Ellen's grown up clothing line, I have picked out a few pieces that I quite like too. But, let's be clear, however cute/edgy/funky/cool this new line of clothing is, it is NOT gender neutral.
The problem is when companies start talking about or trying to be more gender neutral and then proceed to NOT actually be truly gender neutral. In this case, (and almost all cases) it is very much as if the concept is distorted to mean making "girl things" more like "boy things" (and rarely ever vice versa). This whole Gapkids X ED campaign leaves me shaking my head and feeling a bit like Inigo Montoya in Princess Bride telling Vizzini that he is not using the word inconceivable correctly.
The default for gender neutral in our consumer-led, historically patriarchal world is almost always MALE. Which in and of itself is a bit funny considering that biologically our default gender is actually female (Fun Fact: for the first 8 weeks of our existences, all fetuses have the exact same rudimentary reproductive and sexual organs that are physically female.) But back to the clothes. Or toys. Or Lego. Ms. Williams goes on in her article to cut to the heart of the issue and says:
“If gender neutral clothes are only made for and marketed to the parents of little girls, it is less a sign of gender equality and more an indication of the misogyny that is so ambient in our culture. There is such a devaluing of anything traditionally feminine that we’d rather chuck it out triumphantly than ever demean our boys with it.”
Now, I have my share of opinions on clothing manufacturers going a bit TOO far on the female gendered spectrum and reducing girls to being "Mrs. {Insert Male SuperHero Name Here}", but like Audra, I question the gender box that boys get forced into as well. Do you know how hard it is to find a toddler boy outfit not depicting some kind of construction vehicle, sports ball or superhero on it? What of the boys who like colours other than green, blue and brown? The ones who love rainbows and art and My Little Pony and cute puppies or kittens or bunnies? Where are the gender neutral shirts for those kids?
The thing with all this gender neutrality talk and the sudden uptake by manufacturers into this market is that I am not sure if it actually exists and I am not convinced we should force it into existence. Also, and this is important - gender neutrality does not mean or necessarily lead to gender EQUALITY.
As our understanding of gender evolves, we know that it is not an easy black and white concept, and I see no reason why our expression of it should be constrained to such rigid definitions of male, or female or, in the case of gender neutrality, neither or both. I am all for empowering girls to do what they love; be it long-boarding down my street at breakneck speeds, rocking out on the electric guitar, building epic worlds in Minecraft, or performing in the most beautiful tutu ever on stage with nine other little ballerinas. I am also all for empowering boys to do what they love and not putting traditional gendered limits on what that is, and also perhaps purposely exposing them to a few things they might not otherwise think of doing because they are considered "girl" things, like cooking, art, dance, babysitting, or design work.
In the current context of the words and in our world, "gender neutral" tends to mean anything that is primarily more boy-like. I believe that this phenomenon of touting gender-neutrality, while not ACTUALLY being neutral for both genders and simply eschewing all things feminine, is just as damaging as all the hyper-gendered labeling of everything in our world.
Ellen rocks a great pant suit and kicky sneakers like no ones business. And while I have always loved her style and aesthetic, I also recognize that it is HERS and is an expression of her gender and her personality. If my kid wants to rock out on her guitar (actually, she's more of a ukelele girl) in a pink sparkly tutu and purple sequins top, who am I to stop her, or tell her that her more feminine choice of clothing is wrong, or that people won't take her seriously, or that it's what she is wearing that counts more than THE CONTENT OF HER CHARACTER and her kick-ass Uke skills? And if it is my son who is doing something he loves in the same tutu and top? Again, am I to tell him otherwise? (And, really? Have you seen the outfits that rock stars wear? Hello... Steven Tyler!)
"And though she be but little, she is fierce and totally rockin' that frilly tutu in the middle of the store LIKE A BOSS!" ~ William Shakespeare
I think it is time that we really take a look at what message we are sending when we say that feminine things, be they sparkly dresses or Lego Friends sets, are somehow wrong and steer our children to more "gender neutral" options. This is not the path to equality and acceptance of all human beings, regardless of their gender expression, as full, beautiful, worthy people. It is once again, a simplified detour around the real issues that girls and boys face growing up in a world that continues to want to keep them in nice, tidy, separate, little pink and blue boxes.
N~
Bravest Thing
bravery masked as silly faces
The nurse walks up to me and hands me a blue hair cover and helps me into a long blue surgical gown. He looks over at my child sitting on my husbands lap and says, "Ok buddy, let's go."
Hand in hand we follow the nurse through the maze of hallways. I give my son's hand the secret three squeeze signal we have for saying I love you and I get four back. I love you too.
This time it's different. This time we are here voluntarily. This time he is walking to the operating room. This time it's not life or death. These are the things I keep repeating to myself.
One more turn (why is this place such a bloody maze?), a press of the big silver button on the wall, and the doors open to the surgical suite. The anaesthetist, whom we met earlier, is there and ready for him. Two nurses are prepping the large table of tools that look like a stainless steel version of a mechanics workbench and I am momentarily taken back to my own surgery twenty years ago.
"Ok, Buddy, hop up onto this bed." That's the nurse again.
I can see by the look in my child's eyes that reality has finally hit him. This is happening. He starts to panic and cry. He won't give them his hand to start the IV and they have to pry it away from his chest. I have to hold him still on the bed. I repeat, I have to pin my child down on an operating table, while two people try to put a large needle in his arm. He's screaming and refusing the sickly sweet strawberry scented nitrous oxide mask. I don't blame him, it is gross.
I am not panicking. At least not outwardly. I've done this before. I've been in an OR with my eldest child three times now. I know the drill. I CHOOSE this role, every time. My husband offers to be the one to take him in, and every time I tell him no, it has to be me.
They get the IV in on the first try, but he is still screaming. The large syringe full of white liquid comes into my view and I know the moment in nigh. The anaesthetist attaches it to the IV and gives a small push. 3... 2.... 1..., he is out.
That moment right there. That's it. He stops crying, his eyes close and his body goes limp. The nurse puts her hand on my back and says, "I'll walk you out now Mom." and somehow I walk out of the room without looking back.
That is the bravest thing I have ever done. And it doesn't matter how many times I have to do it, that moment never changes, and it becomes my bravest moment over and over and over again.
And then I stop breathing. That last conscious breath (his? mine?) stays caught in my throat...
Until I see his eyes on me once again and feel his small hand in mine giving me the I Love You squeeze.
{Exhale}
I love you too Baby. I love you too.
Reading my mind. Or not...
I have a lot of conversations with myself in my head. Truth be told, there is a constant dialogue going on up there at all times. I seriously just don't ever shut up, even when I am talking to myself!
I have lists I am running through, things I want to write, books I want to read, my never-ending to-do, to-call, to-email, and to-fold, wash, tidy, pick up, drop-off, lists. And then there are the convos I have with myself about how I am doing. Hey Natasha, how are you being a good friend, good mother, good wife, good daughter, good sister, these days? How is that writing thing going? When was the last time you worked out? These talks are less pats on the back and more how I should be doing better at all of the above. And then there are the conversations that I have about just normal everyday stuff, things that people probably have with OTHER people. Politics, parenting, opinions, philosophical musings, and all that jazz.
The problem that I am running into lately and in hindsight, probably for most of my life, is that all of these conversations tend to stay in my head, I have ideas and I have REASONS and I have needs and I have wants and dreams and goals, and I rarely ever let them out or share them with anyone else. And then I get mad when people don't understand me, don't know what I need, and don't listen to me. (Except, I forget that I haven't said any of these things out loud, so you see how this is a bit of a problem right?)
This realization happened earlier this week, as I was yelling at my kids to GET THEIR BLOODY SHOES ON AND GET IN THE FREAKIN' CAR ALREADY! They were playing and fooling around as kids do and had no idea that before we could actually be on the road to our intended destination, I still had to fill up the car with gas, pick up food for our picnic, and go to the bank to get some cash.
As I continued to tell them how upset I get when they don't listen to me and how I hate that I have to yell in order for them to do so, it dawned on me that I didn't tell them WHY we had to get a move on, that we were on a schedule and had to be at our destination by a certain time and that I still had all of these other things to do. I stopped berating the poor things and told them that I was sorry that I didn't say (out loud) why I needed them to hurry and made a promise to tell them WHY I needed them to listen and do what I ask, when I ask it, from now on.
And then again, the very next morning, as I was MENTALLY going over the list of items they needed for their camp day canoeing down the river, I once again told them to go get their shoes on and get in the car. And then we got to camp drop off and I looked down and saw that my son was wearing his BRAND NEW SCHOOL SHOES and I lost it! I started heaping on to my child all the reasons why this was a bad choice, how he should have known better and that I didn't have time to go back home to get him a different pair. And then it dawned on me (again). I was being an asshole to my kid for not being able to read my mind and know what the checklist was for the trip, the one I was going over solely IN MY HEAD.
I am sure there are reasons for why I am the way I am. Deeply grooved neural pathways carved into my brain that would explain all of this, but that kind of psychological musing and re-jigging of my own neuroplasticity does nothing for me in that moment when I am upset because someone didn't read my mind. I've always been the person who walks around with her heart on her sleeve and figured that everyone would just kind of know, this is me, what you see is what you get. I simply didn't think that while my heart may be on my sleeve and my emotions at the ready, my brain is safely tucked away behind heavy closed doors and keeps a whole lot of thoughts completely to herself.
And while keeping thoughts to myself is not a bad thing, you know, because social filters, and not being rude, and appropriate conversations and all, I'm at a point where I feel like she (my brain) is becoming a bit overbearing and selfish. This safe-guarding of ALL the thoughts in some deep chamber of secrets is actually starting to become debilitating and is affecting my relationships, especially those that matter the most to me. Let's just say that for a person who tends to think of herself as somewhat of a communications expert, I TOTALLY suck at communicating - with actual people (other than my overbearing brain-self).
In an effort to stop travelling along those deep, habitual, groove-paths in my brain, I am going to make a concerted effort to forge new pathways and take these conversations out of my own head and start having them with people around me.
Especially right now. Because as hard as this is for me, at this very moment in my life, I need to ask for help. Our little family is about to embark on another medical adventure (that's happy talk for my son is having major surgery in less than 10 hours) and I know that I won't be able to do everything for everyone ('cause that's what we do right?). The lists are going to have to come out of my head, the keys are going to need to be handed over to helpful hands, and I am going to need people.
And since I now realize that no one can in fact read my mind, I wanted to put together a short list of things that I may need in the next week or so, in case I forget and don't actually say them out loud.
Here it is, a list - NOT in my head:
1. Twizzlers. I blame Tanis for this, but she is right, for some reason, Twizzlers are good "waiting around a hospital while your kid is an inpatient/recovering from surgery" food.
2. GOOD coffee. I am partial to a nice flat white or a cappuccino.
3. Play dates for L. Because hanging out at a hospital all day is not that great for a kid, no matter how much she loves her big brother.
4. Volunteers to help with dog duties. I hate when Willow gets neglected, it just adds to my guilt of not being able to do all the things, and it helps to know that she is getting some love, even if it is not from her mama.
5. Prayers, healing thoughts, funky good voodoo juju, or whatever it is that you like to do when stuff like this is going on. It may sound hokey, but I believe in the power of collective energy.
6. Forgiveness and understanding if I don't answer an email, tweet, text or message promptly or if I don't post anything on social media consistently for the next little bit. I know it sounds silly, but this is something I worry about and I just don't want to right now. Okay?
7. Texts, emails, tweets or messages from friends far and wide. While I may not respond to them (see above), getting them and showing them to C, helps us both to know how many people are pulling for him and thinking of us.
That's all I can think of right now. Because, mostly, I am thinking that I should go to bed, but then I also know that I am not going to sleep, so I may just go watch that silly witch show on Netflix and fold laundry.