Posts by Ashley:
Goodbye, GAB
May 1st, 2012
By now, most of you in the feminist blogging community have probably heard that Gender Across Borders is closing its doors. From the site:
While we haven’t finished our global gender justice fight, due to several reasons, we can no longer function as the blog you are familiar with today. As fellow activist and friend Mandy Van Deven once told me, “Nothing lasts forever…that’s why we have so many beautiful ruins to visit.”
Gender Across Borders will be our beautiful ruin… For all of you who want to make a difference, I am inspired by the advice that Anne Frank gave in her diary, “How wonderful it is nobody need wait a single moment before beginning to improve the world.” If you have a dream or a passion to change something, whether big or small, just do it. I have met so many activists in the gender justice world who see activism as a struggle and time-consuming, and I’m not going to disagree with that. But if you want to make a difference, don’t wait a single moment because we need you and we believe in you.
As staff members, we’ve known about this for some time, but wanted to keep it quiet for a number of reasons. However, I can now officially say that I am deeply saddened by the absence that Gender Across Borders will inevitably leave in the blogosphere. While I have only been on staff for about a year, I started following GAB when it started in 2009 – about when I started this blog. We have a plethora of sources where we can access information about domestic feminist issues, but the places where we can find information about global gender issues is very small. Now, unfortunately, it is even smaller.
I am grateful to GAB for filling that void for so long, and I am grateful to have been part of such an amazing team. I have been able to connect with such wonderful people, and I have made some great friends. I’m also extremely happy to have been able to hone my writing, researching, and editing skills, which has led me to a position at Care2.
So, in short, thank you GAB and the GAB team for the wonderful year and for showing me what fighting for gender justice around the world truly means.
The Space Between
April 28th, 2012
I’ve been thinking a lot about space, probably because I am getting ready to own some. I’ve also been listening to a lot of music, which only helps to foster my thinking. In particular, I’ve been listening to the band Explosions in the Sky, who, incidentally, appears on a Friday Night Lights soundtrack. They are a Texas-based band, which made them the perfect candidates for the show, which was also filmed primarily on location in Texas, and which supported the local Texan economy in many other ways. More importantly, though, Explosions in the Sky’s entirely instrumental music perfectly captures the feeling of the wide expanses of Texas skyline and the country roads and farm land that prompted Tim Riggins’ infamous plea: “Texas forever.” When you listen to Explosions in the Sky, you can see Tim Riggins clinking beers with a buddy, looking quietly and pensively out over a gorgeous expanse of land he hopes to call his home.
Rural Texas was the perfect setting for Friday Night Lights. Not because it is the football capital of the world, but because the show is about the quiet moments, the space between the games, the excitement, the big stuff. Rural living gives you that emotional space to collect yourself. Space, in general, gives you the ability to collect your feelings and internalize them. In my senior seminar paper for undergrad, I wrote about the hauntingly beautiful book, AVA by Carole Maso. The book itself is written in short, poetic lines that have lots of white space in between, and in my paper, I argue that the beauty of the book is in the ability of the reader to collect a personal, emotional response between the lines.
I’m no stranger to space. After living and teaching in a small town for a few years, I truly understood the emotional depths and self-awareness you could reach while driving along country roads. I knew it wasn’t for me, but I got it. I understood why you would want to settle down there, make a life there. Having the space to collect yourself, to fully experience your quietest emotions, is a privilege.
It was the rural living that prompted me, originally, to decide I wanted to move to the city. Experiencing my quietest emotions scared me, and I wasn’t ready to face the questions that raised – especially after I met Tim. Was I ready to be a wife? Did I want children? Had I done everything I wanted to do with my life? The hustle and bustle of the city seemed an oasis from that kind of thinking. There would be so much going on there, I thought, that I would no longer have to think about these questions. I would have so many things to do there that I wouldn’t have to make any of those big decisions.
The realization that we wanted to live in the suburbs was not an easy one. And, though I wasn’t thinking this way when the decision was made, as I was listening to my music and driving the other day, I pictured myself in our (huge) backyard at dusk, sitting and enjoying a glass of wine, watching the fireflies and listening to the crickets, and I was glad that I would have the space to quiet my mind, to explore my emotions, to just breathe.
Photo courtesy of No Name Farm/Ranch
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I’m a Causes Blogger at Care2!
April 25th, 2012
Image via CrunchBase
Hey all! Exciting news! I am officially a Causes Blogger at Care2.com! That’s right, yours truly will be blogging several times a week about women’s rights and education!
My first post – about standardized testing and fostering a love of literature – is up right now, so go check it out. You can also view and subscribe to all of my posts here, or by clicking on the “Care2 Posts” link on the top of my page.
Never fear, though! I’ll still be here, blogging away about marriage and all that other stuff that makes me super happy. But, seriously, check out my posts at Care2! You won’t be sorry you did!
Being a Pro Writer is Like Being a Pro Athlete
April 23rd, 2012
LeBron sporting the Jordan tongue (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’ll never forget sitting in our hotel room in San Diego in July 2010. We had just moved in together, and we were taking a pre-wedding, post-move-in honeymoon for me to present at a conference and to visit my cousin who had just moved out there with her new husband. I got out of the shower, and Tim had the television on. There was Lebron James, on a press conference, telling the world that he was moving teams.
“Does he really think everyone cares this much about him to watch this press conference?” I asked.
“He does,” Tim said, “and he’s probably right.”
Sports players have always struck me as self-centered egomaniacs who care more about themselves than anyone else. They think they are God’s gift to the Earth, and they don’t hide it at all. And all of their fans and their huge paychecks feed into the problem.
Last summer, the summer of 2011, I started writing more seriously. I wanted to get my name out there and maybe even make some extra money with it, though that wasn’t the main goal. I started feeling like I was a decent writer, and I wanted to see if I could get some pieces in legitimate outlets. I certainly think I succeeded in many ways. I’m happy with that list, anyway. But the hardest thing was, and still is, putting myself out there. Even when my writing isn’t personal, it’s still a part of me. It’s something I put time and effort into. It’s something I’m proud of. Asking someone else to read it and validate that feeling in the form of publication is nerve-wracking to say the least. It’s also somewhat humiliating to ask someone to publish your work. It sort of feels a lot like begging, in a way. Please, sir, read my work and like it. I think you will like it. What do you think? Did you get it? Did you read it? Did you like it?…
If I treated my pro writing career like pro athletes treat their careers, I wonder if it would be any different. If I walked around with my articles like they were the best articles known to humankind, maybe I would have even more success. Is that what the big names have that us little guys don’t: A sense of confidence that allows them to say, Hey, you can take this or leave it, but if you don’t take it, someone else will? When you have that kind of attitude, like you’ve got nothing to lose, I can only imagine that your writing would soar to new heights.
My goal last year was to get published in legitimate venues. Done. My goal this year is to be more confident in my writing. I have interesting things to say, and I have fascinating projects taking shape. People aren’t going to want to miss out on what I have in store.
Now, if only I can keep that attitude up…
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I’m not paying attention to the Mommy Wars
April 20th, 2012I have to admit, I haven’t really been following the new Mommy Wars all that much. Franky, it just seems like a way to get women mad at each other and shift their focus off of more important issues like, say, policies and laws politicians are trying to pass to take away our rights.
Like this one, for example. New Fed restrictions say that people now need to use their individual income, rather than their household income, to apply for a credit card. Which means stay-at-home parents who are not bringing in an income cannot get a credit card. Like the article says, this has far greater-reaching repercussions than just not allowing people with no income to get credit:
“A homemaker may make most of the household’s financial decisions, from paying the bills to buying groceries. But she — and by a 30 to 1 margin, it’s a she — is barred from taking out a line of credit based on income that, it cannot be doubted, she had a hand in earning,” Sekar said.
Approximately 98 percent of abusive relationships involve financial abuse, or withholding money or keeping a partner from earning it, Sekar said. The Fed’s rules on credit cards could magnify that problem.
This plays into the Mommy Wars directly, I should think. Now, not only do stay-at-home moms not make an income (which they should), but they cannot apply for lines of credit (which they should be able to).
Doesn’t this say something about how we, as an entire society – not as a few politicians or politicians’ wives or political commentators – view motherhood, caregiving, and homemaking? It’s no secret that the typically female-dominated “caregiving” jobs (think teacher, nurse, daycare worker, etc.) are already some of the lowest paid professions because they are seen as second income jobs. Even with one of those jobs, though, I can get a line of credit. Being a stay-at-home mom, though, is the lowest paying (monetarily so – this is not to say anything about being paid in the reward of raising a child) job in the world. And now, they can’t even get credit cards. Seems ridiculously unfair to me, and something we should definitely be focusing on.
But, what do I know? I’m not a mom.
Hyper Focused
April 16th, 2012
Writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I applied for a bunch of freelance copywriting jobs last night because I started getting a little jittery about the house buying expenses (not that a couple hundred extra bucks per month is really going to make a dent in that horrifying fear, but I suppose it’ll support my clothes-buying habit…) and some exciting things are panning out, I think. I spent most of my free time today working on other projects that seem to be hitting a dead end, which is really frustrating. I was going to spend the evening working on a blog post and another exciting project that isn’t dead-ending (yet), but I got into Ashley-is-obsessed mode and couldn’t stop poking around and obsessing over the first project.
Tim is at some school event tonight, and I was so excited to have him gone so I would have ample time to work and write. I even had a to do list set up for my evening. But no. I had to obsess and poke and prod. Typical Ashley.
Of course, all of this is happening after I took Penny for a nice, long walk right when I got home. We walked past a huge expanse of lawns that smelled of fertilizer. It truly smelled awful. And I almost instantly got a headache. Not to mention that I didn’t sleep very well all weekend for various reasons, and I certainly didn’t sleep very well last night, either, because we were up all through the storms with our scaredy cat… I mean dog.
But, I got back from the walk, changed into my PJs, poured a glass of wine, and tried to push through. I think the combination of my type A personality, the wine, and the headache have made me hyperfocused on absolutely nothing at all. And now I don’t even want to be thinking about this blog post, let alone looking at my bright computer screen.
So. I had made a goal of posting here at least 5 times a week after spring break. This post makes number 2, even if it totally sucks.
I hope you all are having a better Monday than me! Tell me about it, even if you aren’t.
No really. I am happy.
April 15th, 2012
No, this is not the house we bought. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We bought a house.
Exciting, right? Yes, yes it is. Though it is also terrifying. Even though I had some reservations (And some more. And some more. And even more than that.) about buying a house in the suburbs, it is more exciting than terrifying. I’ve come to realize a lot of things about myself that I never would have thought to be true. I always liked the idea of living in the city, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I want to carve out a tiny space for myself here, near where I grew up, near my family and friends, near my work. It is what I truly, truly want.
So I am truly, truly happy.
Today, I had the good fortune to meet up with a former student and two very good friends from undergrad. When I met my former student for coffee, she was bursting with exciting news from her semester abroad in Moscow. When she asked me how my life was going, I was less enthusiastic. When she asked me about the house, I had few things to say.
The same thing happened when I met up with my undergrad friends later. I started talking about how difficult the decision to buy a house was, and how I felt that the situation in which I find myself is very strange. I feel caught between one set of friends who have houses and who are starting to have babies and who have decided to focus on their growing families. My other set of friends are the type who are moving across the country and getting PhDs and writing novels and doing a host of other things. I’m sort of doing both; our family is not growing any time soon, but we are buying the house and sticking with our jobs and starting to settle down even while I have my fingers in about a million different and exciting projects.
The weird thing, though, is that I have thought about this. A lot. And I really like where we are right now, and I really like where we are headed. I am so, so excited to be closing on this house on June 5. I already have color palettes picked out for the downstairs areas and my upstairs office. I already know where all of our furniture is going to go. I am already planning our housewarming party for July. When Tim was in the office earlier, rooting through his desk and the filing cabinet as I was trying to write this blog post, I could not wait to have an office of my own. And the YARD! Seriously, it’s almost 1/2 an acre. Penny can run free!
So why did I restrain my happiness? Why did I feel the need to talk about all of the reasons I wasn’t so sure about this decision, even though I am 100% sure about this decision?
I think it probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t want to seem like I’m bragging or gushing and, when I’m catching up with friends, I don’t want to steal the spotlight too much.
I’m sure, also, that there is some latent uncertainty about the house purchase that rears its ugly head whenever it starts to feel too real – like when I’m telling my friends all about the features of our new abode.
Here’s the bottom line. I know we made the right decision for us for right now. Who knows where life may take us in even a few short years. Who knows if we might be living in this house for the next fifty years. For now, though, this is the best choice for us. And I am EXCITED.
So. Now who wants to see my color palette selections?
For the downstairs (color #2 or #6 for the walls, accents of the others throughout with color #5 for our library):
Source: Uploaded by user via Ashley on Pinterest
For my office:(color #4 for the walls)
Source: Uploaded by user via Ashley on Pinterest
My desk will go under (or to the side of) this vinyl sticker:
This chair will go in my office, too.
Source: howaboutorange.blogspot.com via Ashley on Pinterest
Seriously. I am in full nesting mode.
Clear Eyes, Full Hearts
April 5th, 2012
Friday Night Lights (TV series) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Every once in a while, a television show comes along that captures life so perfectly and beautifully that you savor every minute and can’t wait to get home and watch more. And when that show is over, you cry. And then you go out and buy the book, the movie, and the various soundtracks they release each season.
For me, that show has been Friday Night Lights. We finished watching it last night, and I have to say, it was the best series I could have chosen to watch at this point in my life. It wasn’t just because it had a compelling storyline – between the prison sentences and the falling in love and the racial tension and the class issues and the gender issues, it was hard to turn away. But that wasn’t it. It’s because the series was so brutally true.
It wasn’t true in the sense that these things could have ever happened. High school coaches and counselors aren’t called up and offered jobs at college campuses. People don’t murder stalkers and dump their bodies in the river. Sure, these things happen, I assume, but they aren’t the truth. The show wasn’t factually true. It was emotionally true.
Young members of the Friday Night Lights cast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I especially watched Tami Taylor as she went through the show. From coach’s wife to career woman, new mom to community activist she handled each situation with patience and grace and very rarely lost her cool. Her and Eric worked together to face the problems that their family – and their team “family” – encountered. They were, in fact, a team in and of each other. And they made it work. They chose to keep making it work. Every time.
I started watching the series in mid-September, at a time that was deeply tumultuous in my life. I had almost made it through my first year of marriage, which was a rough one. I had been terrified that I was going to lose myself and my individuality and my activism in this marriage. I was afraid that once we started buying the house and having the kids that I would not have time for other pursuits. Before that, I was even afraid that I would lose myself to cleaning and cooking. I was also questioning whether or not I wanted to continue to be a teacher, after feeling completely beaten down the year before. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue to live in the suburbs for the rest of my life. I was thinking that I wanted to move to the city and continue my writing and activism full time. And I wasn’t terribly sure Tim and I could make it work on such divergent paths.
I watched Tami and Eric closely. I had been told that their relationship was one of the best examples pop culture had to offer. At first, I wasn’t impressed. She was a stay-at-home mom who cooked and cleaned and hosted all of the football BBQs. Sure, she quipped and complained, but she did it. However, as the series progressed, she changed. She took high-powered jobs and still managed to be there for her family. She, like her husband, helped students individually find their places in the world past football, past high school. She fought for what was right, losing her job in the process. And when it was her turn to take on a job that meant a lot to her, after 18 years of being the coach’s wife, she wasn’t afraid to say so.
I learned so much from Tami Taylor, and so much from this year. I am an activist, but I much prefer small-scale activism to larger protests, marches, and other things. Like Tami, there is no greater joy for me than talking to a student and seeing that light bulb moment. Not when they get the material, but when they realize they have the power to change the course of their lives. While I have had a wonderful time with larger-scale activism and writing, it doesn’t compare to that light bulb. And when you’re passionate about what you do, that moment comes more and more often. And opportunities open up. And life opens up.
I also learned that it is possible to be consumed by your family and by supporting your husband and still make a real and tangible difference in your community. And it is possible to have your turn later on. You don’t have to do everything all at once. And you certainly don’t have to be a writer-activist living in the city to do good and important things.
For the first time in a long time, I feel comfortable with what I’m doing. Comfortable with the marriage, with the house in the suburbs, with the children, with being a teacher. I want all of that in my life. I don’t necessarily want all the rest of it – the writing, the activism, the city life – which was what I thought I wanted for the entire past year.
This isn’t saying that I want to give it all up or that I’ll never write another article again. I’ll continue to write here because I love it, and I’ll publish things elsewhere when I feel I need to. But I’m not driven by that kind of life any more. I’m driven to make a difference in my community, with my students, with my family.
In short, Friday Night Lights took a fear that if I don’t do it now it’ll never get done away. And it gave me permission to genuinely appreciate where my life is headed, knowing I have time to do everything I want to down the road.
In short, the show helped me realize that I am, without a doubt, happy.
Clear eyes, full hearts. Can’t lose.
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#Chifems Book Club – As Always, Julia Discussion Questions
March 29th, 2012Hey Chifems! Remember, we are meeting on 4/1 to talk about As Always, Julia! Hope to see you there!
1. These women are both pioneers in a feminist sense. Are they considered feminist icons? Why/not?
2. In the introduction, we find out that these letters are somewhat edited and some are omitted completely. How do you feel about this?
3. In her second letter to Avis, Julia bashes McCarthy outright. Is she bold to discuss such controversial topics so early in her correspondence?
4. Can a good cookbook really make you a better cook? Why/not?
5. Avis and Julia struck up such a strong female friendship solely through letters. In many ways, this is much the same way we strike up close relationships with other women online – through blogs, books, emails, twitter, etc. How are we similar/different to Avis and Julia?
6. This cookbook could not have happened without Avis. Have you ever helped or been helped by a female friend in this way?
7. There is a point in the book when Julia and Avis discuss how exhausting it is to continually compliment a hostess as she downplays her food. Is there something we can learn from this?
8. Let’s discuss the importance of female friendships no matter your place in life (housewife, professional, etc.), shall we?
9. Let us not forget the female friendship founded between Julia, Simca, and Louisette! How is their relationship similar/different to that of Julia and Avis?
10. How do we use letters (or “letters” – email, twitter, facebook, etc.) to keep our female friendships alive? Share a personal story!
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Perfectly Equal Partners
March 28th, 2012Many people tell me that it is absolutely impossible to have a perfectly equal partnership with someone you marry. And this is most often the criticism I get when I say I write about gender equality in marriage. To which I say…
You’re right.
I write here about equality in partnerships all the time, but let’s be realistic. It is impossible to have an equal partnership with someone. There will always be one person doing more housework or making more money or working longer hours or caring for the children more than the other. Sometimes, responsibilities shift between partners throughout life, but there will almost always be someone doing more at home or more at work than the other person.
But isn’t that sort of the point?
Think about it. You not only get married for love, but also so you can have someone to help you out through your life. It’s kind of nice to be able to say, “Hey, I have to stay late at the office tonight. Can you make dinner instead?” It doesn’t make you less of a feminist if you’re the one making that dinner and he’s the one staying late at the office. It just makes you a partner.
But that’s just my opinion. Maybe I’m using it to justify my adaptation of traditional gender roles in my relationship.
What do you think?
One Tube of Toothpaste
March 25th, 2012
It has come to my attention today that, for some time now, Tim and I have been using the same toothpaste.
This may not seem shocking to most of you, as it would seem relatively normal for two people, married to each other and living together, to use the same toothpaste. However, in a desperate attempt to retain my individuality – and pearly white teeth – when we moved in together, I insisted on continuing to use my super awesome (and super expensive) whitening toothpaste while Tim would only use his healthy and responsible tarter control toothpaste. So, for a while there, I would buy my own toothpaste when mine ran out, and he would buy his.
This morning, however, as I groggily smeared a blue blob on the edge of my toothbrush, I was suddenly forced into full wakefulness with the realization that there was only one tube of toothpaste in the drawer, and I have been using Tim’s toothpaste for at least the past six months.
In all likelihood, this is just a reflection of the fact that I have been ridiculously busy – and broke – lately and, therefore, have not had the time or money to go buy my own toothpaste at the store when there is always a perfectly good tube of toothpaste in the bathroom. It’s also just an added bonus that my tarter is, in fact, controlled.
However, I do take this as a sign of security and maturity on my part. Think of it: I was so worried about losing my identity that I refused to switch toothpastes. This is the height of ridiculousness. Seriously, what does toothpaste have to do with identity? NOTHING. Upon meeting you, people don’t ask, “So are you a Colgate or a Crest kind of girl?” No, they ask about your life and your job and your family. No one actually cares what kind of toothpaste you use. But losing myself in marriage scared me so much I felt I had to hang on to every little thing that was once mine. And, in a classic example of treating the symptoms and not the disease itself, that meant keeping my toothpaste.
But, no more. I have officially converted to Tim’s responsible toothpaste. In fact, you could now call it our toothpaste.
It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?
Homemaking and Writing, a Quick Hit
March 25th, 2012You absolutely must read this awesome post on Offbeat Home about how making your home is similar to writing.
Making a home is writing. It combines what is already available, like a blank sheet of paper, with human creativity and work, work, work. The longer you work at a home — like writing a long story — the harder it feels to start over. Even if I hate how my work is turning out, the moment spent evaluating the loss of time and effort makes me cling to the work stronger.
Kill your darlings is a cliché, but one which forces me to recognize that I’m hardly the first person to paint most of a room before realizing I hate the color. It guides me to acknowledge failures and mistakes and move on. I won’t be the last person to stop wasting water on a garden that isn’t panning out. Let it dry and die. Sorry, darlings.
Yet like writing, taking care of a home is a practice in which you never truly start over; you are always building on the work you have done. When you wipe the surface clean, the work remains in what you know, the way you carry yourself forward; it is in your fingers and flows through the next project.
So, so true.
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Things to Worry About
March 24th, 2012
Someone recently tweeted F. Scott Fitzgerald’s heartwarming list of things he wanted his daughter, Scottie, to worry about and things he wanted her not to worry about. As I have just finished reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain (a beautiful book, and also April’s GAB Book Club pick!), and having read all about Fitzgerald’s interactions with Hemingway and the rest of their clan, I read the list. It is no secret that these male writers of the early 1900’s were not the most upstanding men, but it is amazing how they can write so sincerely, isn’t it? I’ve had my share of interactions with young writers who believe in nothing but the craft. While I found that type of passionate existence attractive for a while, it wore on me to know that the brightest flames always burned the fastest, and, while watching the rising of potentially great artists was a wonderful thing to be a part of, watching them inevitably burn out and fall fast and without control was heartbreaking. While I have, in ways, also chosen the life of an artist with my writing both here and elsewhere, I will always choose stability and love over all else. For, if you don’t have love, what do you have?
Anyway, reading Fitzgerald’s list for his daughter has inspired me to create a list of my own, for my students. I will probably never share this with them, but it’s a nice sentiment, isn’t it? Here goes…
Things to worry about:
Worry about passion
Worry about honesty
Worry about the greater good
Worry about happiness
Worry about…Things not to worry about:
Don’t worry about clothes (or hair, or makeup)
Don’t worry about the grade
Don’t worry about what your parents want you to do with your life
Don’t worry about tomorrow
Don’t worry about things you cannot control
Don’t worry about fault
Don’t worry about fame and fortune
Don’t worry about who may or may not be texting you at this very moment
Don’t worry about winning
Don’t worry about losing
Don’t worry about being the best (or the worst)
Don’t worry about the destination
Don’t worry about loss
Don’t worry about what people think
Don’t worry about material things
Don’t worry about being perfectThings to think about:
What is good about this and every moment?
What do I want out of life?
How do I get to where I want to go?
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A Tiny Space
March 21st, 2012Well, folks, the contest play is over. It’s bittersweet in that we didn’t do as well as I had hoped we would, but I am glad to have more time on my hands, especially now that the weather is getting really nice here in Chicagoland.
I really loved the play we did, though, and I chose it because I related to it so deeply. Well, initially, I chose it because we needed a good, one-act play for one male and two female actors. But I also chose it because I could relate to it, so I want to say a few words about it here.
The play is called Crossings by Barbara Schneider. It’s about a man whose family survived World War II in Germany. Well, all but his wife survived. The play starts 15 years after the war has ended. The man, called only Papa in the play, has married a woman named Annemarie. His daughter, Katja, has grown up and emigrated to America. The play has several scenes, each denoting the passage of a decade until the last scene, which is only a few days after the scene before it. It uses very little set – we used a desk for Katja and a kitchen table for Annemarie and Papa. Katja never crosses over her side of the stage to meet her father and stepmother, and they never cross to her side, either, which denotes not only loneliness, but their two separate countries.
In the first scene (Well, the second. We cut out the first in order to meet our time constraints.), it is the 60’s, and Katja is angry with her father for not doing more to protest against the Nazis. He wasn’t a Nazi, but he didn’t resist or try to help the Jews or anything, either. As Katja is yelling at him, he tells her that the terror was hard to see, because “it was living.” He says, “You either joined with body and soul or else cut out a space, tiny space, and called it living.” His tiny space was his music (he was a conductor) and his family. He ends the scene by saying, “The idea of resistance never occurred to me.”
In the next scene, Papa sends her a tape of his voice, talking about the family and a man one of Katja’s brothers met who had worked to save Jews during the war. Through the scene, Katja is listening to the tape he’s produced and is stuffing anti-Vietnam flyers into envelopes. At the end, Papa tells her he’s proud of her work against the Vietnam War.
In the third scene, Reagan is President. She is worried about America, but she isn’t doing much about it. She is no longer an activist, but she still feels the country is headed in a wrong direction. Her father is composing music again, but she doesn’t know that. She insists that he not only ask what she’s doing, “ask what I’m not doing.” She, at this point, mentions that she wants to carve out a tiny space for herself.
In the final scene, Papa has died. Katja has flown home for the funeral, and her and Annemarie talk (separately) to him as if he could hear them. Katja says she found copies of letters he had written to the editor of the local paper against nuclear weapons and nuclear war. She seems proud of this activism in him, as it is what she wanted in the first place. However, later, she finds the originals in their envelopes, stamped and addressed, but unsent.
The play is heartbreaking in that Katja starts out as the young, passionate activist, not understanding her father’s need to try to ignore the war going on around them and work to provide for his family and keep his family alive. Papa, likewise, does not understand her heated accusations and her desire for him to have been an activist in a time of terror. Through the play, though, Katja begins to understand why Papa may have wanted to turn off the radio and the television, and not read the papers. She begins to do the same, herself.
I relate to this for obvious reasons. I, the young and passionate activist, have, at times, felt the need to tune out the news and focus on my family. Recently, I’ve thought about what it would mean to carve out a space for myself and focus on my family rather than my activism, indefinitely. We want to buy a house in the suburbs, and, frankly, I want to stay out of the city (even though I so desperately wanted to move there a month or so ago) because I want to be able to separate myself from the activism and the activity at times. Maybe I’m growing older, but I remember a time, not so long ago, that I couldn’t imagine wanting to carve out a tiny space for myself, and now I can see the appeal.
I think the key is to strike a fine line. I know my limits. When I feel the need to ignore all of the blogs and listen to music rather than NPR on my ride home, I’m not a bad activist. I just need a break. Eventually, I can come back to it all, refreshed and ready to make a real and tangible difference.
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Blog for International Women’s Day: Fearless Females
March 8th, 2012
As many of you know, I started a group for girls at my high school. The girls come in and we talk about all sorts of things that pertain just to them. This is completely volunteer on my part – I’m not paid to host this group – and the girls give up an hour of their time every week to come to my classroom after school and talk about issues they care about. So far, it’s been therapeutic and enlightening to say the least. We started with a little mini-lecture on feminism and what it entails. Then we started talking about body image and, specifically, their need to wear makeup every day. The girls took it upon themselves to plan a no makeup day, which went really well. They actually found that they didn’t need makeup to feel beautiful. We’ve had visitors talk to them about everything from college to friendships to getting the most out of their lives. We’ve discussed why boys feel the need to make fun of their membership in this group – this is the first time these boys have ever been oppressed (in this case, told they cannot come to these meetings) based on their gender and they don’t like it. We’ve talked about “girl toys” versus “boy toys” and why girls are underrepresented in science and math classes. Next week, we’re going to start talking about dating violence among teenagers. We’ve done all this in once-a-week meetings since December 13, 2011.
They call themselves Fearless Females. And they are just that.
Frankly, these meetings are the highlight of my week. I feel like I’m making a difference with these girls, and I feel like they are becoming stronger and, if it’s even possible, more fearless because of the things we talk about. Best of all, they’re thinking differently about who they are and what they want to be. They’re asking the right questions, and finding words for the gender-based injustices they see in the world.
Most importantly, these girls are becoming part of an international community of women. They are starting to realize that their hopes, dreams, fears, insecurities, and injustices are universal. They are starting to realize that it’s not cool to say, “I prefer being friends with boys because girls are crazy.” They are starting to understand what it means to band together. Strength is in numbers.
I hope my girls will go on to do well… and to do good for the international community of women, even if it is in some small way like what I am doing with them – talking, listening, creating awareness. I believe they will.
This post is part of the Blog for International Women’s Day event at Gender Across Borders and CARE. Find out more here.
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Judging the Midwest
March 6th, 2012When I get started on the name change thing, I really cannot be stopped.
There was an article on Jezebel a few weeks ago titled “Keeping Your Name? Midwesterners are Judging You.” Here, take a peek:
LiveScience reports that researchers noticed a lot of previous work on name-changing attitudes focused on East-Coasters — like, say, people whose marriages were announced in the New York Times. To see what other folks thought, they looked at surveys of about 250 students from a small Midwestern university, taken in 1990 and again in 2006. The 1990 students were pretty forgiving of crazy bluestockings who wanted to keep their own names: just 2.7% of them thought it meant the ladies were less committed to their marriages. But among students surveyed in 2006, that number jumped to 10.1%. The study authors noted that theirs was not a nationally representative sample, but it does show students at one particular college becoming more conservative over time: “This might just be reflecting this increased polarization we’re seeing in American society, and it’s coming across in terms of family and gender values.”
That’s right. According to a study that focused solely on students from a small, Midwestern university, all Midwesterners are judgy and conservative. Anyone else see anything wrong with that generalization?
I complain about people judging me for not changing my name. A lot. I also happen to live in the Midwest. But let’s be realistic. The people judging me aren’t only from the Midwest. They’re from all over. I know this might sound like a totally radical notion, but conservative people live everywhere, not just in the Midwest. I also have another interesting perspective to bring to this study. I actually went to a small, private, Midwestern university, and, aside from my little pocket of liberal, English majors, the campus was overwhelmingly conservative. In fact, I frequented larger, state schools where my friends attended to experience the liberal hotbed of college campus life.
Studying attitudes of college students at a small, Midwestern university does not represent the entirety of the Midwest any more than studying the attitudes of young, urban professionals in Chicago would. And, frankly, I’m getting a little sick of the tired, old trope that the Midwest hosts all sorts of conservative people. That there couldn’t possibly be a feminist movement in the farmlands. That anyone who is anyone lives in the city, and if you don’t, you’re not a true activist.
It’s these dangerous attitudes that keep liberals out of the Midwest. (It’s also these dangerous attitudes that make me stay awake at night trying to decide if a house in the suburbs is right for me.) And it also gives us Midwesterners a bad name. So let’s get it straight, Jezebel. Midwesterners aren’t judging women who keep their names, students at a small, Midwestern college are.
Offbeat Bride: The best decision I made in my marriage? Keeping my name.
March 1st, 2012Women keep their name for a variety of reasons. For some, it is a feminist decision that defies patriarchal norms that often come along with becoming a wife. For others, a name can reflect one’s culture; when you have a culturally specific name and your partner does not, giving up that name can feel like giving up your culture, too. For still more women, it’s about working hard to build a career in a culture that uses social media to associate people with their names. This is not a conclusive list, but the decision to keep one’s name — no matter the reason — is an important choice for many women, and one that should not be taken away.
Check out the whole article here!
Identity and Home
February 24th, 2012
Suburban Dallas, TX, courtesy of wikipedia.org
Since we’ve decided to buy a house in the suburbs…
Wait. Did I mention that we actually decided this? If not, well, we did. We’ve been back and forth over the issue a lot, and since the economy seems to be picking up in our area, and since we do have the money to do it as long as it’s a relatively inexpensive house, we’ve decided just to take the plunge because it seems like the financially right thing to do at this point in our lives.
So, since we’ve made this decision, I’ve been thinking a lot about identity and how it interacts with the home you choose for yourself and your family. From where I see it, our lives could take two paths right now. 1) We could continue the apartment/condo living and move toward a more urban environment, which would be fun and good for our souls, but would mean spending more on rent because prices go up as you move toward the city, and would mean hellish commutes for both of us. 2) We could buy a house in the suburbs and stay there forever, which would be great to not have to think about moving again for a while, would be closer to our jobs and families, and would provide us more space, but would also feel a little… well… normal for my tastes.
Obviously, both scenarios have their pros and cons, and we’ve thought a lot about each of them together and come to the conclusion that, if we buy the house in the ‘burbs, the pros outweigh the cons. We’d be closer to our jobs and our families, own our own property (which means not having to deal with crappy landlords), have a lot more space, not have to walk the dog three times a day because we’d have a yard, I’d have my own office, we’d build equity in the house… the list goes on and on.
When I think about these positives, I can clearly and logically see that it is the right choice, and I am excited to start looking at houses seriously this weekend. (We’ve looked before, but not really with the intent to buy.) I’ve been following tons of interior design blogs, too, and have so many awesome ideas for what I want the inside of our home to look like. Still, though, there’s this nagging concern that I just can’t seem to shake. To me, your home is your identity. If you live in the city, you’re a cool cat, willing to explore and have fun. If you live in the suburbs, you’re on the fast track to family life.
I know that’s not true for everyone, but, to me, it seems wasteful to buy a house with all this space if we’re not going to use it for anything – namely children. Now, we haven’t decided about kids yet, but we know we’re not getting there in the next few years. My fear is that, with all of these empty rooms, I’ll start to feel pressured to get there a little faster. I also feel like, in a house that isn’t as “offbeat” as I’d like, I’ll just start feeling like a different person. No amount of funky furniture or paint colors can make a house different, I think.
What I need to do, really, is come to terms with the fact that buying a house doesn’t have to make us fundamentally different than we are already. It shouldn’t stop my writing or my activism. We can still go into the city as much as we want, or, at least, as much as we do now. It won’t stop us from having a wonderful marriage. In short, buying a house in the ‘burbs won’t turn me into June Cleaver. But I think I might have to fight it a little bit.
What I’m really interested in is hearing your opinions on this. I know you all have faced decisions about where to live and why. How do you feel about home and identity? Are they as intertwined as I think they are?
Equal Partnership: Unclean Kitchen
February 17th, 2012Tim and I laugh a lot, so I figured I’d start sharing some of our funnier moments on here (instead of tumblr) for your enjoyment:
Me: I’m reading about meal planning and wondering when you’re gonna clean the kitchen.
Tim: Interesting. I was just wondering that myself.
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Questioning Gender and Past in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town
February 16th, 2012
Image from http://thebroadstage.com/Our-Town
The first show I ever directed was Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. I was living in a small community, much different than the suburban sprawl where I grew up and the urban pulse of the city I frequented, so I found it a fitting representation of the community in which I was teaching and directing. Even growing up, though, Our Town resonated with me in many different ways. It was the favorite play of one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, and I found the themes totally pertinent to life in general, regardless of the time period or area in which you lived. Also, I had the best students ever on my cast that year, so, needless to say, I loved directing that play.
I decided to go with a typical cast and typical, period costuming because it was my first show, and I wasn’t ready to get all artsy and creative yet, but I do believe the show could be transplanted in any time period, in any place, and with any combination of characters and still retain its core theme – that life is special and exciting and important, even when lived simply.
So when I saw this article on the Ms. Magazine blog about Helen Hunt playing the Stage Manager – a character that more or less narrates the show and is usually portrayed by an older, grey-haired man – I was really excited. From the article:
Whereas in most productions the narrating Stage Manager, speaking from a position of privilege, takes for granted that the values of Grover’s Corners are the ultimate American values, Hunt, without judgment, gives it to us the way it was. She does not pontificate or eulogize, she presents the town and its inhabitants and allows the audience to form their own opinions about this particular version of Amerca’s past. Her straightforward delivery, combined with the fact she is a woman telling the story, transforms the narrative from a given to a question.
Let’s get a checklist of the awesomeness that is this show, shall we?: Bringing a classic play to life with a new twist? Check. Subverting gender norms by using a female stage manager? Check. Giving that stage manager power over the events of the town we see unfold before us on stage? Check. Turning the narrative of the show into a question rather than a statement about the past? Check.
In short, I love the idea. And I just wanted to share it with you all.
Subverting gender norms and questioning the way in which classic literature is portrayed and studied is always a good idea. Always.
To close, check out a short video of Helen Hunt playing the stage manager from http://thebroadstage.com/Our-Town:
Our Town from The Broad Stage on Vimeo.