I'd like to talk about racism and colorism a little.
When I was young- Jr. High & early high school, I, a mixed race, light-skinned, nerdy-ass queerlet on the edge of self discovery, was also totally racist as fuck.
I believed the self-serving narrative that my mother wasn't as smart as my dad, due in part to her background. I believed that my cousins and siblings on welfare were there because their parents were lazy and irresponsible and their poverty was their fault- if they would just Do Work, they'd be all right (Oh my god, I knew jack shit about people's lives at this point). I mocked my younger black cousin for not knowing how to read. I thought that my much more black looking brothers got into fights because they were just violent, and that they could do something to stop being such targets, without having any clue what that could be (taking off their skin, maybe).
And my best friends? A big, lovely black girl who was also a geek, and constantly shunned by our white peers for not fitting their standards of beauty, and another, asian geek girl who had very similar issues. And I? I hung with them, but I looked down on them. Secretly, I was incredibly relieved that I was skinny and light, unlike my big, dark friend, because I was "pretty" and she was- I thought at the time objectively- not. It was much easier for me to gain acceptance into wider groups, and when we started high school, I completely ditched them for about a week to hang with a much "cooler" (all white) crowd.
Sure, I did bring them into that group after that, and they were accepted, but still- our friendship was much, much cooler after that. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't do it, in part, to assuage some guilt over something I couldn't name, but knew was wrong.
What I am saying is that I, a person of color, had best friends of color, and family of color, and I still behaved like a fucking racist, alienating people I claimed to care about because I could, because I look white.
If they had called me on it at the time, THIS WOULD NOT BE RACISM. And this is the thing that drives me nuts about people saying that blacks and other PoC are racist when they point out their oppression. Talking about and identifying racial injustices and biases is not racist. Leaving them to fester is. Talking about them is the only way to dismantle them, because do you understand how fucked up it is that there's a so-called objective standard of beauty in this country that is focused around paleness, except for a few fetishists of dark skin- like, for example, my own father? How fucked up is it that everything black women do, wear, and say in this country is subject to a level of scrutiny and judgement that white women can glimpse, but don't experience? But if you want to say, "I can't be racist, my [Person you know or are related to] is a person of color, you are completely fucking wrong, and you need to examine your internal attitudes and your actions. You need to understand that just because you didn't mean to be racist doesn't mean you weren't. Maybe your offhand comment about someone looking like a drug dealer got them nailed by the authorities and frisked when they didn't do anything. Maybe you screwed somebody seriously over because you convinced other people not to take them seriously based on their color. Maybe you dismissed the people who shouted and spit at them because you didn't see it, and you don't want to make snap judgements that someone else you know is racist.
Maybe you didn't mean it. But you fucking did it, just like I did, and you need to own it, and fix it.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Monday, November 14, 2016
Your favorite pet theory.
The trouble, as my friend said, is that this election isn't a referendum on neo-liberalism or neo-conservativism or whatever else we wanted it to be about. No, this election is about who does and doesn't get to be an American.
And the Know-Nothings won it.
I am incredibly angry and disgusted, and all of the think-pieces in the world can't buy me love.
And the Know-Nothings won it.
I am incredibly angry and disgusted, and all of the think-pieces in the world can't buy me love.
The Soul of How We Got Here.
The Teal Deer has been silent over the past... nearly forever, for a number of reasons. But silence, as I have said numerous times, is the enemy. Silence and fear = Problemz. So...
So Ferguson. So Baltimore. So Sal's Pizzeria.
And on the other hand-- so Charleston. So the Confederate Battle Flag. So this fucking election.
And on the other hand-- so Charleston. So the Confederate Battle Flag. So this fucking election.
So to understand these things, and more specifically, the reactions of most of the black people in this country to what is happening with them, it might help to understand Reconstruction, and what happened after the slaves were emancipated, and the civil war was won by the North. Also, there's a thing we haven't really talked about, because it has a bit of middle child syndrome-- poor white people.
There's some homework to do here: I suggest Black Reconstruction in America and the Souls of Black Folk by Du Bois in particular, but you're not going to go read those right now, so let's get into it.
White and Poor is a distinct racial identity, and it's time to admit it. White and Poor is an identity that is functionally powerless, but which possess the possibility-- the hope-- of becoming powerful one day, if they work hard enough and do all the right things. White and Poor couldn't vote before the civil war, because the planters had property requirements at the polling place. White and Poor in the south were stuck in an untenable position: the employer class had slaves, so they were only hiring whites to do things like help keep the slaves docile-- overseers, police, bounty hunters. If you could get a bit of land, you could do some sustenance farming, but competition was a laugh. You might be able to get lucky and move into the planter class, but that was a long shot, like the jackpot on the slot machine.
Let's be clear-- I'm not saying that the situation of the poor white is the same as, or comparable to, chattel slavery. But this doesn't mean that we should never talk about the situation of the poor white. And right now, we have to, because it is the reality that informs Dylan Roof, and informs white folks in the South who think that the confederate battle flag is their heritage, and informs white folks who don't get why we can't just move on.
The problem is that white culture, particularly southern, white, poor culture, has been for too long linked and bound with racism, with ignorance, with a certain down home wholesomeness that looks nice on the surface but really equates ignorance with honesty by demonizing intellectualism. "Black Culture"(tm, because seriously, there isn't just one) has something similar, in point of fact; the difference is that you can't really buy your way out of it as a black person, because to be black, regardless of personal wealth, is to be associated with the poor and criminal.
The problem of the poor white has a lot on common with the problem of the mulatto: but it is not the ability to pass for "a white person," it is the ability to pass for rich, or at least, the ability to past for someone who could, legitimately, have wealth.
Now, I can already hear people saying, "but Rabbit, you're making it about class, not race, and that's simplistic." My argument is that the two cannot be separated in America (I can't speak for other nations), and that race fundamentally defines an economic class. The construction of the white race in America was an economic function, but it was also a lie: for the White Property Owner was not about to share anything but a thin label with the white person who didn't own property. Not even the vote, for a very long time.
Anyway, here is a white person, who does a really excellent job of illustrating this here.
What do I think this all means? I think it means that we need to stop shutting down white people, especially poor white people, when they want to talk about race and class, and about themselves in relation to it. I think we need to point out that white people need to talk amongst themselves about it, and also to people of color constructively. But we really, really have to stop treating marginalized white people as if they are invisible, and as if they don't exist. The great trick of reconstruction was playing on the fear of the poor white that black people would be raised above them, and they would be at the very bottom of the pile, and we can see this in the results of this election. One of the first and immediate consequences is that like it or not, white people are now a group for which the actions of one reflect on the whole. The rest of us can relate, and understand exactly how shitty and insulting it is. But it is the new reality, and it's a bad one.
Now, what I am NOT saying here is that black people need to be patient and complacent when we are being actively and physically assaulted and attacked by white people, poor or not, doing the dirty work of this kind of enforcement of white supremacy. Fuck no. What I am saying is that a culture in which, to a white person, being called a racist is the worst, most unthinkable insult, while actually being racist in effect and result is not even noticed is the opposite of useful. And further, we're seeing, in effect, that if white people with no positive identity to adhere to are continually denied one, they'll stop seeing the bad things associated with the negative identity as bad. So I'd expect the white supremacy to get worse, going forward- and people of color, people who aren't white in general- we are not going to be the ones who are going to be able to stop it.
There's some homework to do here: I suggest Black Reconstruction in America and the Souls of Black Folk by Du Bois in particular, but you're not going to go read those right now, so let's get into it.
White and Poor is a distinct racial identity, and it's time to admit it. White and Poor is an identity that is functionally powerless, but which possess the possibility-- the hope-- of becoming powerful one day, if they work hard enough and do all the right things. White and Poor couldn't vote before the civil war, because the planters had property requirements at the polling place. White and Poor in the south were stuck in an untenable position: the employer class had slaves, so they were only hiring whites to do things like help keep the slaves docile-- overseers, police, bounty hunters. If you could get a bit of land, you could do some sustenance farming, but competition was a laugh. You might be able to get lucky and move into the planter class, but that was a long shot, like the jackpot on the slot machine.
Let's be clear-- I'm not saying that the situation of the poor white is the same as, or comparable to, chattel slavery. But this doesn't mean that we should never talk about the situation of the poor white. And right now, we have to, because it is the reality that informs Dylan Roof, and informs white folks in the South who think that the confederate battle flag is their heritage, and informs white folks who don't get why we can't just move on.
The problem is that white culture, particularly southern, white, poor culture, has been for too long linked and bound with racism, with ignorance, with a certain down home wholesomeness that looks nice on the surface but really equates ignorance with honesty by demonizing intellectualism. "Black Culture"(tm, because seriously, there isn't just one) has something similar, in point of fact; the difference is that you can't really buy your way out of it as a black person, because to be black, regardless of personal wealth, is to be associated with the poor and criminal.
The problem of the poor white has a lot on common with the problem of the mulatto: but it is not the ability to pass for "a white person," it is the ability to pass for rich, or at least, the ability to past for someone who could, legitimately, have wealth.
Now, I can already hear people saying, "but Rabbit, you're making it about class, not race, and that's simplistic." My argument is that the two cannot be separated in America (I can't speak for other nations), and that race fundamentally defines an economic class. The construction of the white race in America was an economic function, but it was also a lie: for the White Property Owner was not about to share anything but a thin label with the white person who didn't own property. Not even the vote, for a very long time.
Anyway, here is a white person, who does a really excellent job of illustrating this here.
What do I think this all means? I think it means that we need to stop shutting down white people, especially poor white people, when they want to talk about race and class, and about themselves in relation to it. I think we need to point out that white people need to talk amongst themselves about it, and also to people of color constructively. But we really, really have to stop treating marginalized white people as if they are invisible, and as if they don't exist. The great trick of reconstruction was playing on the fear of the poor white that black people would be raised above them, and they would be at the very bottom of the pile, and we can see this in the results of this election. One of the first and immediate consequences is that like it or not, white people are now a group for which the actions of one reflect on the whole. The rest of us can relate, and understand exactly how shitty and insulting it is. But it is the new reality, and it's a bad one.
Now, what I am NOT saying here is that black people need to be patient and complacent when we are being actively and physically assaulted and attacked by white people, poor or not, doing the dirty work of this kind of enforcement of white supremacy. Fuck no. What I am saying is that a culture in which, to a white person, being called a racist is the worst, most unthinkable insult, while actually being racist in effect and result is not even noticed is the opposite of useful. And further, we're seeing, in effect, that if white people with no positive identity to adhere to are continually denied one, they'll stop seeing the bad things associated with the negative identity as bad. So I'd expect the white supremacy to get worse, going forward- and people of color, people who aren't white in general- we are not going to be the ones who are going to be able to stop it.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
In Which Kainenchen Is Naive About Political Realities.
This morning, as I have the day off to pack for DragonCon, I've been watching Under African Skies, a documentary about the making of the Graceland Album. And the most interesting thing to me is that, at the time the rhythms were recorded, the ANC protested it, because the UN had declared a cultural boycott of South Africa. And it made sense, from a degree, to have this boycott: South Africa was still under apartheid, and political wisdom was that the country ought to be shunned, so that no one in the world could be seen to support Apartheid, in any sense- economically, militarily, or culturally.
Thing is, this is the complete and utter wrong way to go about dealing with a nation which is abusing its citizens: to lock them away from the rest of the world, in the cesspit of their abuse. It's like saying that a person being beaten by their spouse should be shunned along with said spouse, and the two of them should be locked away until the spouse stops the violence. Isolation, I think, is the exact opposite of what you should want for an oppressed country- especially when they have such amazingness to offer, musically, artistically, and yes.
I was 6 years old when Graceland: The African Concert aired. My parents taped it, and I still have that tape to this day. What the people protesting the Graceland Album and the Concert didn't see, and couldn't see, was that little kids of all races, in all kinds of places would see this, and know "Bring Back Nelson Mandela," and about Apartheid at all, and about this music and the people who make it, rather than this music being locked away behind a curtain of evil. Music, and art, and literature help people relate to others. It's one thing to know, "yeah, they have no rights, and no citizenship, and no anything else- that's sad," and another to know, "OMG, these people who make these things that I love, are being treated this way."
When Ladysmith Black Mambazo came to New York to record with Paul Simon, they wanted to go to Central Park, and asked where they could get a permit. They had no idea that you didn't need a permit to go places. And it's frigging valuable, to learn something like that, that the way things are where you are, a culture of fear and terror aren't the way it is everywhere, or the way it has to be. It doesn't change anything right at that moment, but it never goes away, knowing that kind of thing.
Paul Simon was accused of cultural appropriation: of exploiting these South African musicians for his own profit. He argued, in return, that it was a collaboration. He and the artists he worked with created a hybrid, something that hadn't existed before, and showed they could work together and make an amazing, explosive album. And in the long run, I think I agree with him. He did the right thing, and so did the artists who worked with him. It's all well and good for people of color to make art for other people of color, but it's not... satisfying, not to me anyway, to be a colored person doing colored things in a colored corner. Maybe it's being mixed race, I want to share art from all of my various backgrounds with people from each of those. And I am not really jazzed hearing fear and hesitancy from my white friends and loved ones, because they're so afraid of messing something up, they don't want to engage with anything outside of their familiar.
And maybe that's their own problem, but I've always found that it's better, and more satisfying, to just roll with it, assume good intent, and be okay.
In the meantime, Miriam Makeba's voice still nearly makes me cry, after all these years. Nkosi Sikileli Africa... just yeah.
Thing is, this is the complete and utter wrong way to go about dealing with a nation which is abusing its citizens: to lock them away from the rest of the world, in the cesspit of their abuse. It's like saying that a person being beaten by their spouse should be shunned along with said spouse, and the two of them should be locked away until the spouse stops the violence. Isolation, I think, is the exact opposite of what you should want for an oppressed country- especially when they have such amazingness to offer, musically, artistically, and yes.
I was 6 years old when Graceland: The African Concert aired. My parents taped it, and I still have that tape to this day. What the people protesting the Graceland Album and the Concert didn't see, and couldn't see, was that little kids of all races, in all kinds of places would see this, and know "Bring Back Nelson Mandela," and about Apartheid at all, and about this music and the people who make it, rather than this music being locked away behind a curtain of evil. Music, and art, and literature help people relate to others. It's one thing to know, "yeah, they have no rights, and no citizenship, and no anything else- that's sad," and another to know, "OMG, these people who make these things that I love, are being treated this way."
When Ladysmith Black Mambazo came to New York to record with Paul Simon, they wanted to go to Central Park, and asked where they could get a permit. They had no idea that you didn't need a permit to go places. And it's frigging valuable, to learn something like that, that the way things are where you are, a culture of fear and terror aren't the way it is everywhere, or the way it has to be. It doesn't change anything right at that moment, but it never goes away, knowing that kind of thing.
Paul Simon was accused of cultural appropriation: of exploiting these South African musicians for his own profit. He argued, in return, that it was a collaboration. He and the artists he worked with created a hybrid, something that hadn't existed before, and showed they could work together and make an amazing, explosive album. And in the long run, I think I agree with him. He did the right thing, and so did the artists who worked with him. It's all well and good for people of color to make art for other people of color, but it's not... satisfying, not to me anyway, to be a colored person doing colored things in a colored corner. Maybe it's being mixed race, I want to share art from all of my various backgrounds with people from each of those. And I am not really jazzed hearing fear and hesitancy from my white friends and loved ones, because they're so afraid of messing something up, they don't want to engage with anything outside of their familiar.
And maybe that's their own problem, but I've always found that it's better, and more satisfying, to just roll with it, assume good intent, and be okay.
In the meantime, Miriam Makeba's voice still nearly makes me cry, after all these years. Nkosi Sikileli Africa... just yeah.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Starting on Hard Mode.
So, this has been the week of A Senate guy running in Missouri saying things about rape that are wrong, and The American Family Association backing him up on the wrong, and him making an apology that didn't make it better.
So I says to myself, I says, "Kainenchen, this is it. Can you talk about this without losing your shit, and going off the deep end of explosion and the like?"
So, here I am, and we're going to talk about it, and yes.
There's a lot here to talk about, you see. The misconceptions and what exactly is wrong with what Akin said, why he said it, the greater issues of rape, and the greater issues of abortion. Let's start with rape, in the interest of Silence is Not So Good, and rape being one of those things where silence is still again (though less than it was), the status quo.
I knew that when Todd Akin said, "legitimate rape", he was referring to violent, forcible rape. I do not know the specific image in his head, but I can guess, and I know what image this evokes in the part of my brain what is tapped into the conventional wisdom. Rape by a stranger. by a degenerate in a back-alley or a skeever in a bar after a girl's had a few too many. The kind that dominates the popular idea of rape, but is actually fairly rare.
And you know what? I know at least two people, personally, who got pregnant from exactly that kind of rape.
As for the rest of the kinds of rape out there... Here, have some statistics from RAINN.
I know a lot of people who have been sexually assaulted or raped. As do you. The number for women is 1 in 6. Fortunately, the numbers of people being raped have dropped dramatically since 1993. Awareness is a Thing. Talking about it is important. So that you who have been raped/assaulted know you're not alone, and those of you who think you don't know anyone who has know that well... you haven't been told about it.
And the same thing, frankly, about abortion.
On abortion, I'll step away from statistics a moment, because I don't actually want to talk about the facts about who, in abstract, has them, who doesn't, and why. I want to talk about me, and about belief. Specifically, things one believes about oneself. Like "I would never, ever, for any reason have an abortion."
Which is something I believed about myself, up until the moment I didn't any more.
To spoil the ending, I didn't get pregnant the time in question, so I didn't have to make the choice. But you see, the sex that made me worry about this was not sex I had wanted to have. The only thing that stopped the sex in question from being rape was a final, last minute "Okay" that came out of my mouth because I didn't want my friend, who was doing this to me, who was not hearing that I didn't want to do this, to be a rapist, and I didn't have the wherewithal to fight him or get angry. So I put up with it, and when it was over, he left, not realising why I was upset.
(Something to remember, folks: Trust is very, very delicate. If someone betrays what they want to give into you, you may have won your way this once, but there's a very good chance you've lost something much more important. I will never trust this particular person again, even if we still, on the surface, remain friends.)
The circumstances surrounding what happened, however, were insignificant next to the circumstances of his life and mine at the time. So when I missed the first period after this, I about panicked. If I were pregnant, this would be devastating to way, way too many people, and I would not be in any condition to raise it, besides. And at that point, I knew that if I _were_ pregnant, in this circumstance, I would have the abortion. I couldn't ever give up a child for adoption... carrying a child to term would be a commitment to raise it, for me. But I couldn't have it, not like this. And the realization made me incredibly sick. But.
The lesson here, as I learned it during the couple of weeks before my period finally came, is that you don't know what deeply held beliefs and values you will sacrifice when and until you are faced with the decision. Yes, there's always the, "I hope you never will be!" and that's important, and I am not saying that you can't speak to things you haven't experienced. But please be careful, when passing judgement on something like abortion, or what you'd do if someone tried to rape you, or whether you'd leave an abusive relationship/family situation, that you don't make speculations that diminish the experiences of those who actually have gone through these things, and did not make the choice that you- let's face it- hope you would make. And frankly, the people I know who did make the choice to keep a child, who fought off the rapist and stopped them, who called the police, who left their abuser- those aren't the people I've seen judging their opposite numbers.
And this is the thing that I would like Todd Akin to understand, when he talks about punishing the rapists instead of the unintended children of rape. It isn't that easy (I am not here getting into the difficulties of rape prosecution, though they're manifold), nor that cut and dried. Even when it is rape, there's no talking here about the punishment of the women who have abortions: that they inflict on themselves, for making the decision, that they get from abortion advocates who are terrified that a woman who regrets it (or doesn't regret it, but is still broken up and upset) will look bad politically, from anti-abortion activists who now believe that the woman in question is an evil murderer, whatever her circumstances. And that's a silence that isn't cool. People need support, and to know that there are resources there for them, and my personal feeling on it is that a woman who has chosen to have an abortion has done the right thing, because actually going through with it, as I know from many women who have, is not easy. If you do it, it is because having it- or in some cases, anyone knowing that you were pregnant at the time- needed to not happen. Right then. In that instance. With no judgement on what happens in the future.
There are a lot of stories like mine, a number of which end in making the hard choice one way or another, and a number of which I know, but they're not mine to tell here. And there's a lot of documentation of women, even, who are violently opposed to abortion, even as they're on the table, even after the fact. Doublethink is a real thing, as is, "my situation is different" syndrome.
As we have these conversations, especially lawmakers who seem to have, for various reasons, to make legal decisions about medical and personal things, I sincerely hope we can keep these things in mind.
So I says to myself, I says, "Kainenchen, this is it. Can you talk about this without losing your shit, and going off the deep end of explosion and the like?"
So, here I am, and we're going to talk about it, and yes.
There's a lot here to talk about, you see. The misconceptions and what exactly is wrong with what Akin said, why he said it, the greater issues of rape, and the greater issues of abortion. Let's start with rape, in the interest of Silence is Not So Good, and rape being one of those things where silence is still again (though less than it was), the status quo.
I knew that when Todd Akin said, "legitimate rape", he was referring to violent, forcible rape. I do not know the specific image in his head, but I can guess, and I know what image this evokes in the part of my brain what is tapped into the conventional wisdom. Rape by a stranger. by a degenerate in a back-alley or a skeever in a bar after a girl's had a few too many. The kind that dominates the popular idea of rape, but is actually fairly rare.
And you know what? I know at least two people, personally, who got pregnant from exactly that kind of rape.
As for the rest of the kinds of rape out there... Here, have some statistics from RAINN.
I know a lot of people who have been sexually assaulted or raped. As do you. The number for women is 1 in 6. Fortunately, the numbers of people being raped have dropped dramatically since 1993. Awareness is a Thing. Talking about it is important. So that you who have been raped/assaulted know you're not alone, and those of you who think you don't know anyone who has know that well... you haven't been told about it.
And the same thing, frankly, about abortion.
On abortion, I'll step away from statistics a moment, because I don't actually want to talk about the facts about who, in abstract, has them, who doesn't, and why. I want to talk about me, and about belief. Specifically, things one believes about oneself. Like "I would never, ever, for any reason have an abortion."
Which is something I believed about myself, up until the moment I didn't any more.
To spoil the ending, I didn't get pregnant the time in question, so I didn't have to make the choice. But you see, the sex that made me worry about this was not sex I had wanted to have. The only thing that stopped the sex in question from being rape was a final, last minute "Okay" that came out of my mouth because I didn't want my friend, who was doing this to me, who was not hearing that I didn't want to do this, to be a rapist, and I didn't have the wherewithal to fight him or get angry. So I put up with it, and when it was over, he left, not realising why I was upset.
(Something to remember, folks: Trust is very, very delicate. If someone betrays what they want to give into you, you may have won your way this once, but there's a very good chance you've lost something much more important. I will never trust this particular person again, even if we still, on the surface, remain friends.)
The circumstances surrounding what happened, however, were insignificant next to the circumstances of his life and mine at the time. So when I missed the first period after this, I about panicked. If I were pregnant, this would be devastating to way, way too many people, and I would not be in any condition to raise it, besides. And at that point, I knew that if I _were_ pregnant, in this circumstance, I would have the abortion. I couldn't ever give up a child for adoption... carrying a child to term would be a commitment to raise it, for me. But I couldn't have it, not like this. And the realization made me incredibly sick. But.
The lesson here, as I learned it during the couple of weeks before my period finally came, is that you don't know what deeply held beliefs and values you will sacrifice when and until you are faced with the decision. Yes, there's always the, "I hope you never will be!" and that's important, and I am not saying that you can't speak to things you haven't experienced. But please be careful, when passing judgement on something like abortion, or what you'd do if someone tried to rape you, or whether you'd leave an abusive relationship/family situation, that you don't make speculations that diminish the experiences of those who actually have gone through these things, and did not make the choice that you- let's face it- hope you would make. And frankly, the people I know who did make the choice to keep a child, who fought off the rapist and stopped them, who called the police, who left their abuser- those aren't the people I've seen judging their opposite numbers.
And this is the thing that I would like Todd Akin to understand, when he talks about punishing the rapists instead of the unintended children of rape. It isn't that easy (I am not here getting into the difficulties of rape prosecution, though they're manifold), nor that cut and dried. Even when it is rape, there's no talking here about the punishment of the women who have abortions: that they inflict on themselves, for making the decision, that they get from abortion advocates who are terrified that a woman who regrets it (or doesn't regret it, but is still broken up and upset) will look bad politically, from anti-abortion activists who now believe that the woman in question is an evil murderer, whatever her circumstances. And that's a silence that isn't cool. People need support, and to know that there are resources there for them, and my personal feeling on it is that a woman who has chosen to have an abortion has done the right thing, because actually going through with it, as I know from many women who have, is not easy. If you do it, it is because having it- or in some cases, anyone knowing that you were pregnant at the time- needed to not happen. Right then. In that instance. With no judgement on what happens in the future.
There are a lot of stories like mine, a number of which end in making the hard choice one way or another, and a number of which I know, but they're not mine to tell here. And there's a lot of documentation of women, even, who are violently opposed to abortion, even as they're on the table, even after the fact. Doublethink is a real thing, as is, "my situation is different" syndrome.
As we have these conversations, especially lawmakers who seem to have, for various reasons, to make legal decisions about medical and personal things, I sincerely hope we can keep these things in mind.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Speak Up, Speak Often.
Who knows if I'll stick to this, but I think it's time to dust the cobwebs off this place, square up, and start talking again.
Why? Because there's a few awesome people talking about anything: religion, politics, feminism, thinking, action, etc- and a whole hell of a lot of bullshit.
So, I think I am doing no one any favors by staying silent. In fact, staying silent is the worst thing I could do. Well, next worst. I'll get to that in a second. Like right now, actually.
There's gonna be some new rules for this blog. Specifically, I am making a pledge, right now, to avoid vitriol, fulmination, and other forms of outright nastiness. This is not going to be easy for me. But the only way to have the kind of conversation I want to have is to avoid the pitfalls of the kind I don't. And adding to the bullshit kind of discourse is, indeed, worse than silence, though not much.
Second, I am going to stop hiding this thing, and will post publicly when I update. You, the reader, can feel free to ignore it, and not be a Reader. I don't anticipate needing to have rules about moderation and the like, we'll build that bridge as we come to it.
Third, I don't want you to think that I won't get angry. I will, and I'll let you know when I am. Because one of the important things about discourse is that Having Anger is Okay. It's what you do with it before, during, and after that's important.
Fourth, some rules about the discourse here. For those inclined to reply to comments with, "Entitled to Opinions" and "Hate anyone who disagrees with you" a lot, if I hear anything at all. To these points:
-On the subject of Opinion, please be sure to verify if a statement is, in fact, Opinion or Judgement. Everyone has opinions, but you have to earn the right to make a Judgement. That's why there's a whole profession (hint: called Judges), that do that shit. I will make judgements from time to time. So will you. We should remember that no, we're not entitled to them, and expressing them _might_, in fact, be wrong.
-This is not gonna be a forum for, "well, it's just my opinion." If you want to discuss things here, it'd best be because you're okay with having opinions, or other positions, questioned, argued with, poked at, and scrutinized. What I care about isn't what you think or believe, but why. And if you don't have at least _an_ answer for why, and if you're not prepared to discuss it, then this is probably not the place for you.
Anyway. That's the gist. Like I said, we'll see what happens.
Why? Because there's a few awesome people talking about anything: religion, politics, feminism, thinking, action, etc- and a whole hell of a lot of bullshit.
So, I think I am doing no one any favors by staying silent. In fact, staying silent is the worst thing I could do. Well, next worst. I'll get to that in a second. Like right now, actually.
There's gonna be some new rules for this blog. Specifically, I am making a pledge, right now, to avoid vitriol, fulmination, and other forms of outright nastiness. This is not going to be easy for me. But the only way to have the kind of conversation I want to have is to avoid the pitfalls of the kind I don't. And adding to the bullshit kind of discourse is, indeed, worse than silence, though not much.
Second, I am going to stop hiding this thing, and will post publicly when I update. You, the reader, can feel free to ignore it, and not be a Reader. I don't anticipate needing to have rules about moderation and the like, we'll build that bridge as we come to it.
Third, I don't want you to think that I won't get angry. I will, and I'll let you know when I am. Because one of the important things about discourse is that Having Anger is Okay. It's what you do with it before, during, and after that's important.
Fourth, some rules about the discourse here. For those inclined to reply to comments with, "Entitled to Opinions" and "Hate anyone who disagrees with you" a lot, if I hear anything at all. To these points:
-On the subject of Opinion, please be sure to verify if a statement is, in fact, Opinion or Judgement. Everyone has opinions, but you have to earn the right to make a Judgement. That's why there's a whole profession (hint: called Judges), that do that shit. I will make judgements from time to time. So will you. We should remember that no, we're not entitled to them, and expressing them _might_, in fact, be wrong.
-This is not gonna be a forum for, "well, it's just my opinion." If you want to discuss things here, it'd best be because you're okay with having opinions, or other positions, questioned, argued with, poked at, and scrutinized. What I care about isn't what you think or believe, but why. And if you don't have at least _an_ answer for why, and if you're not prepared to discuss it, then this is probably not the place for you.
Anyway. That's the gist. Like I said, we'll see what happens.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Occupy Occupy Occupy.
Here's a roundup of Occupy Links I might want at some point later:
The Revolution, live.
On the subject of The Books.
The Feed, updating.
You don't really have to ask whether or not I am in support of this whole thing, do you? When I have kids, I want them to know that this happened, and that I was for it. I'll probably be ashamed, on some levels, that I wasn't there, in zucotti park, with everyone else.
Trinity Church's article.
Now I go to do some thinking.
The Revolution, live.
On the subject of The Books.
The Feed, updating.
You don't really have to ask whether or not I am in support of this whole thing, do you? When I have kids, I want them to know that this happened, and that I was for it. I'll probably be ashamed, on some levels, that I wasn't there, in zucotti park, with everyone else.
Trinity Church's article.
Now I go to do some thinking.
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