How to Really Throw Down Like an Asian

Act #41:  Throw a party.

Last week, the Kappa Sigma fraternity at Duke University threw an Asian-themed party where attendees wore Asian-style clothing and mimicked stereotypical Asian accents.  The invitation to the event, Asia Prime (later changed to International Relations after student complaints), featured North Korean leader, Kim Jong-il and stated. "We look forward to having Mi, Yu, You and Yo Friends over for some Sake. Chank You." 

After that debacle, I figured some people might need some party-planning advice, maybe a little help for folks interested in throwing their own Asian-themed party?  So I humbly offer:

7  Tips for Planning an Asian-Themed Party

1.  Preparation:  Send your e-mail invites through your Hotmail account (co-founded by Sabeer Bhatia).  Yes, he's Indian and  no, we're not all Chinese or Japanese.

2.  Song list:  Black-Eyed Peas, Ne-Yo, Norah Jones, Bruno Mars, Smashing Pumpkins, No Doubt, Pussycat Dolls, Linkin Park.  Why yes these artists do all descend from the great continent.  And you thought you'd only be able to play Gangnam Style.

3.  Appetizer Menu: Spring rolls, samosas, lumpia, rotti, shu mai, sashimi, pot stickers. cashews with cauliflower. That's just the first course.

4.  Drink list:  Well, have your pick of alcoholic beverages (first wine jars from Jiahu, China date back to 7000 BC).  And maybe some Pepsi (Indra Nooyi, CEO of PepsiCo) for the designated drivers?

5.  Attire:  Sorry, we don't do costumes, we prefer high fashion and couture:  Anna Sui, Vera Wang, Doo-Ri Chung, to name a few.  Who, might you ask, wears Chung?  Why Michelle does of course.  Michelle Obama, that is.

6.  Re-cap:  Don't forget to post your most memorable moments and highlights on YouTube (co-founded by Steven Chen and Jawed Karim).  You can also do a Yahoo (co-founder, Jerry Yang) search if you find yourself wanting to know more.

7.  Most importantly, don't miss your curfew.  Your mama will kick your butt...or guilt you to death.  Trust me, if you're Asian, you'll prefer the former.

How Johnny Depp Helped Form My Feminist Perspective

Act #40:  Stay Sassy, Stay Jane.

When I was 15, I was in love with a tall dark, soft-spoken man with eyes that pierced my soul.  He was an undercover police officer whose office was located at 21 Jump Street.  His name was Johnny Depp.  OK, so about 15 million other adolescent girls shared this love with me but I was OK with that.  Like my counterparts, I was painfully aware of my flaws and squirmed in my own skin.  I changed clothes at least 3 times every morning before I thought I had put together the perfect outfit for school.  My raging hormones powerfully dictated my new and unstoppable attraction towards boys and probably contributed greatly to my increasing awareness for fashion.  I wanted Johnny Depp…and I wanted to know which side I should pull my scrunchy-gathered pony tail up on my head.  And the American media figured out just how to give me what I wanted every week.  Teen Beat.  Tiger Beat.  And 16 Magazine.  So I saved up my allowance and bought these glossy information-filled publications, teared out pictures of Johnny and taped them to my walls so he was the last thing I saw every night before I went to bed.  And I read the articles that told me what color to paint my nails, how to attract the star football player, and how to look sexy even though I had barely even developed breasts.  And I was left utterly dissatisfied.  What many people didn’t know about the 15-year old me is that while I swooned over and wanted to look like Hollywood stars, I also wanted more.  I wanted to tap into this bubbling sense of power buried deep inside of me.  I couldn’t yet put my finger on it, but I knew that someday I would unleash it and do something.  Be something.  I wanted to get ready for the raw and gritty real world.  I wanted to know about drugs, punk music, sexuality, feminism.  Redemption.

And then I discovered Sassy Magazine.  Sassy was originally founded as an Australian magazine aimed at teenage fans of alternative and indie rock.  It was later born in the U.S. under founding editor, Jane Pratt.  In 1997, Jane founded Jane Magazine, a non-conformist teen publication that I continued to follow way into my 20’s.  I finally had it all:  A place where I could connect with Johnny Depp (unlike me, he remained perpetually youthful over a ten-year span), where I was inspired by a fresh sense of style that encouraged individual thought, and where I was exposed to a buffet of thought-provoking and sometimes radical perspectives on contemporary issues that impacted emerging women like me.  Right at a time when that bubbling, deeply buried sense of power was getting ready to erupt.  The world was changing.  The role of women was changing.  I was changing and Sassy and Jane provided just the affirmation that I needed to believe that it was OK for me to be different.  That I wasn’t a freak. 

Jane Pratt took a hiatus when Jane shut down operations in 2007 and, taking the irreverent tone of Sassy and Jane recently launched xoJane, an on-line alternative, raw, modern-day unapologetic magazine tackling real and hard issues impacting young women (and that still offers up valuable fashion advice).  One of today’s headline articles:  It Happened to Me:  My Best Friend Committed Suicide.

I can’t tell you how ecstatic and bewildered I was earlier this week when 25 years after I picked up my first copy of Sassy magazine, a deputy editor of xoJane became my 106th Twitter follower.  This happened the day I posted my blog “How to Slowly Kill Someone’s Spirit”.  Something I would have never had the courage to do if it weren’t for Jane Pratt’s early influence.

And life has certainly come full circle. 

Thank you Sassy and Jane for showing me, and countless other evolving young women that there was always so much more.  That I was always so much more.   And that baby-faced undercover police officers could grow up to become rebellious pirate lords of the Seven Seas.

20 Things a Mother Should Tell Her Son (A Feminist's Revision)

Act #39: Make your own list.

 
Yesterday as I was making my usual social media rounds, I came across a piece that recently went viral titled, "20 Things a Mother Should Tell her Son".  At first I was excited, hopeful for some nuggets of parenting wisdom, but then found myself slightly disappointed with the usual offering of traditional gender-biased language that suggested unrealistic and paternalistic expectations for both males and females.  The list just didn't quite offer up a vision of the world that I want my son to grow up in.  It certainly didn't capture the wisdom that I wanted to pass on to him.  So I decided to respectfully do a little editing of the list. The original author's list is printed in black and my revised version follows in blue.

1.  You will set the tone for the sexual relationship, so don’t take something away from her that you can’t give back.  You will both set the tone for your sexual relationship.  You can’t take something away from someone that wasn’t yours to begin with.

2. Play a sport. It will teach you how to win honorably, lose gracefully, respect authority, work with others, manage your time and stay out of trouble. And maybe even throw or catch.  Don’t feel pressured to play a sport.  You are no less of a man if you choose to hike, build Lego castles, dance, or play the violin.  There will be plenty of other life experiences that teach you to build meaningful relationships in healthy and non-competitive ways. 

3. Use careful aim when you pee. Somebody’s got to clean that up, you know.  Aim wherever you want when you pee, but just know that you’re the one that will have to clean it up.

4. Save money when you’re young because you’re going to need it someday.  Don’t let money be the guiding force for your decisions and actions, but plan wisely if you want to travel, learn, share it with others, and have more freedom to savor a diversity of experiences in your lifetime.

5. Allow me to introduce you to the dishwasher, oven, washing machine, iron, vacuum, mop and broom. Now please go use them.   Allow me to introduce you to the concepts of self-sufficiency, accountability, and responsibility.

6. Pray and be a spiritual leader.  Seek that which grounds you, and gives your life meaning and purpose; once you find it, live your life accordingly and do everything in your power to stay connected to it.

7. Don’t ever be a bully and don’t ever start a fight, but if some idiot clocks you, please defend yourself.  Respect others and remember that violence is never the solution.  Respect your body and do not permit others to violate that.

8. Your knowledge and education is something that nobody can take away from you.  Your ideas and perspectives will evolve.  Your quest for learning and growth will continually enrich your life.

9. Treat women kindly. Forever is a long time to live alone and it’s even longer to live with somebody who hates your guts.  Treat everyone kindly.  If you choose to have a life partner, offer them the same level of respect that you would expect for yourself.

10. Take pride in your appearance.  Love yourself and the world will see you glow.

11. Be strong and tender at the same time.  It's OK to be weak, to be vulnerable, and to cry.  No one can be strong all the time.

12. A woman can do everything that you can do. This includes her having a successful career and you changing diapers at 3 A.M. Mutual respect is the key to a good relationship.  A woman can't do everything you can do (like aim when she pees), but she is just as capable and as valuable of a contributor to the world, as you are.  Separate bathrooms are the key to a good relationship.

13. “Yes, ma’am” and “yes, sir” still go a long way. "I understand", "I'm sorry", and "Can I help?" go a long way.

14. The reason that they’re called “private parts” is because they’re “private”. Please do not scratch them in public.  Don't be afraid to call your penis a penis.  Because that's what it is.  Scratch discreetly when you itch.  Wash your hands afterwards.

15. Peer pressure is a scary thing. Be a good leader and others will follow. March to the sound of your own drum - you are worth it.  If you happen to inspire others along the way....awesome.

16. Bringing her flowers for no reason is always a good idea.  Finding opportunities to practice random acts of kindness is always a good idea.  Some women (and men) are allergic to flowers.

17. Be patriotic.  Be humble - the world is a big place and you are but a small piece of a much larger puzzle.

18. Potty humor isn’t the only thing that’s humorous.  Humor at the expense of others is never funny.

19. Please choose your spouse wisely. My daughter-in-law will be the gatekeeper for me spending time with you and my grandchildren.  Whether or not you choose to marry or have children, I will always love you and stay connected to your life.

20. Remember to call your mother because I might be missing you. If you remember all of the above, you will want to hear your mother's voice every once in a while.  Not because she might miss you, but because you might actually miss her.

Note:  Credit for original blog post:  Werdyab.com, "20 Things a Mother Should Tell Her Son".  To the author, thank you for your perspective, and if you happen to come across this, I hope you consider that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.

Who cares if Bill Clinton is a Vegetarian?

Act #38:  For the love of God, have an elevator speech!

Well apparently I care whether or not our nation's 42nd president enjoys a steak every once in a while.   You see, a few years ago, I had the opportunity to attend a local rally where President Clinton was campaigning for a Kentucky Senate candidate.  Because I got there early, I was on the front line and as he was leaving he worked his way through the crowd, shaking hands and kissing babies.  Then he got to me.  I was, to say the least, a tad star struck.  I had so much I wanted to say in the 0.5 seconds that I would have his attention.  I wanted to thank him for the Family Medical Leave Act, Americorps, student loan reform, the Brady Bill.  For introducing the world to Hillary (although she really didn't need his introduction).  So there I was, face to face with Bill Clinton, and quite literally these were the words that left my mouth, "Hello, sir!  Is it true that you are a vegetarian?"  He looked at me for a brief second and then proceeded to tell me that indeed he was for the most part, but that every once in a while he had some salmon.   He threw me that dazzling smile that once got him in serious hot water, and just like that, he was gone.  God only knows what would posses me to ask him about his food choices.  And that was the day that I decided, I needed my own personal activist elevator speech. 

If you're like me, you've been in elevators where the awkward silence almost kills you.  You've been at parties, where you are introduced to a stranger and you're fumbling around trying not to sound like an idiot.  You may have even found yourself in front of a potential employer, politician, decision-maker, leader of the free world - and you have no idea how to communicate with this person.  The point being, there will come a time in your life when you have one opportunity, and one opportunity alone to make an impression, to share your perspective, to attempt to persuade someone's thinking, or compel them to think critically about an issue that you care about.  You should be ready.  I developed my activist elevator speech by answering these 4 questions:

1.  What do you feel most passionately about? - Human rights, social justices, non-violence, peace.

2.  What is standing in the way of the above? - Discrimination, a culture of violence

3.  What needs to happen to change that?  - Social justice, equal rights, changing the way we socialize boys and girls about their roles, stop tolerating violence.

4.  Who the heck are you? - Someone with a seed of service and social justice planted early on in my life and who has constantly struggled to find a productive way to be useful in the world.

Alright so here's what my repeat 5 seconds with Bill Clinton might look like with an elevator speech tailored specifically for him:

President Clinton! I wanted to thank you for calling to action personal responsibility and national service as I am an alumna of the AmeriCorps program myself.  You've certainly helped the country progress with its civil rights, but how do you think we can move forward to ensure equal rights and protection for the LGBT community and for women?

Bam.  5 seconds.  And instead of finding out his favorite meal, I could have been privied to some top-notch mind-blowing wisdom from one of the most influential people in American history. Mr. Clinton, if you happen to be reading this blog, can I have a do-over?

How To Slowly Kill Someone's Spirit

Act #37:  Take notice of that girl.

I once knew this 16 year-old girl.  She was just learning to play the guitar and she used to tote one around the New York City bus system, looking like someone on the verge of being discovered.  She was so full of life that people on the streets stopped her, just to ask her if she was somebody they should know.  She was a free spirit, a wandering soul.  Packed in a full course load of anthropology and sociology classes at her inner city high school during the day, and worked her tail off at a local restaurant every night to pay her rent.  She spent her free time with friends and they went to Greek carnivals, and parks, and art galleries.  Her life was complicated, and she lived on her own, making her fiercely independent.  Unbelievably strong.  Focused and determined that one day she was going to single-handedly save the world. 

And she had a boyfriend, whom she had met halfway into her senior year of high school.  He was older, and had already graduated.  He was charming, and smart, and whisked her off her feet.   And to the rest of the world, he was the best thing that ever happened to her.  And when no one was looking, he told her that no one else would ever want her.  He convinced her that playing the guitar was a waste of her time.  She thought that maybe he was right.  So she stopped playing the guitar.  He couldn't bear the thought of her going out with her friends and not being with him all the time.  So after a while, her friends started to disappear and she no longer went to Greek carnivals.  She used to look forward to the ten-block walk home after work to feel the breeze in her hair, to shed the grease of the restaurant.  But her boyfriend began showing up every day after work to take her home.  And after school every day.   She looked forward to seeing her good friend at work - they talked about all the different places they wanted to travel in the world.  She loved him like a brother.  And one day her boyfriend came by and saw the way she laughed with him, and he punched a hole in her apartment wall later that night.  And she quit her job.  And she never saw her friend again.  After a while, people no longer stopped her on the streets.  Even if they did, she wouldn't have noticed, because she rarely looked up.  She was too embarassed.  She had come to believe that she simply wasn't worth it.

I think about her every once in a while and when I do, I can't believe how much this young woman transformed right before my very eyes from someone who couldn't wait to embrace the world around her, to someone who's spirit was so broken down that she simply stopped living. 

I can't believe that she was me.  It would take me 20 years to pick up a guitar again. 

February is teen dating violence awareness month.  For more information on how you can help change the way young people think about healthy relationships, please visit:  http://www.teendvmonth.org/.

The Day I Fired All the Supervisors

Act #36:  Challenge hierarchy, encourage innovation.

Six months ago I found myself in a peculiar predicament.  39 years old, a decade or so of management and fundraising experience under my belt, and a fierce will to do something useful in the world.  And that is when I became the executive director of a small anti-violence non-profit, organization with about 17 employees.  The Bluegrass Rape Crisis Center was founded 40 years ago when a group of volunteer women in Lexington, KY had had enough of witnessing rape and sexual assault in their community, and decided to come together to run a 24-hour crisis hotline.  The organization grew to cover 17 counties in central Kentucky and expanded to include counseling and intervention services, prevention education, and advocacy.

The organization was founded on the concept of empowerment.  The founding mothers were empowered to respond to a community need. Volunteers were empowered to act as salaried staff on the crisis line, and were involved in all aspects of decision-making.  Clients were empowered to have a choice in the manner in which they received services and talked about their assault.  This is particularly noteworthy when "choice" and "power" are two things that are taken away from victims when they experience sexual violence.  The community was empowered to own the problem of sexual violence and become a key player in eradicating it.

So there I was, the new girl, molded and brought up on traditional concepts of organizational management, but with a forward thinking and supportive board and a highly competent staff firmly dedicated to a cause.  At the driving seat of an organization whose purpose was so undeniably critical, but whose future and relevancy in today's world had not been confronted in a while.

 So what do I do? 

I fire all the supervisors.  The back story of course is a whole lot  more complex and a whole lot of research on best practices of innovative corporate cultures went into this - but in a nutshell, I took the staff and board on a 6-month journey to return to the agency's founding roots of true empowerment.  I didnt' really fire anyone.  All organizational structure was flattened.  Titles were stripped.  Everyone was there for one purpose and one purpose alone:  To eradicate sexual violence in central Kentucky through counseling, education, and advocacy.  We challenged ourselves to connect every action, every decision made, to our core mission.  If a program or purchase didn't help to eradicate sexual violence in central Kentucky, by golly, we didn't do it.  Budgets and staffing were realigned, and we organized ourselves under an "empowerment model", where decision-making was shared, transparency was essential, and innovation was rewarded.  And we lived happily ever after and completely eliminated sexual violence in central Kentucky.

Not quite.

The process, while highly rewarding, has been incredibly difficult and has taken extraordinary amounts of time and energy from all of us. True transparency requires a heck of a lot of communication.  Shared decision-making requires time, and structure, and at some point, complete trust in the process.  While staff has exploded with innovation - alternative therapy groups, reframing our prevention efforts, outreach to underserved populations, redefining our role as advocates - we have to figure out a sustainable way to fund these programs and continue to meet the most basic needs of our clients. And don't get me started about accountability.  Have you ever worked without a boss?  At first the freedom to think, to act is liberating, but when the honeymoon phase is over, we've found ourselves needing a little structure, a little guidance, a little feedback would be nice.  So we do what we always do when faced with a problem in an empowerment model.  We retreat.  And talk strategy.  And break into small groups with one question in mind:  How do we hold ourselves accountable for or work?  The result?  A comprehensive accountability program that consists of individual accountability plans, small accountability teams that meet quarterly with each staff person to review those plans, job descriptions, and agency priorities (always staying connected to the mission of course), and a structured conversation to empower each employee to stay focused and to evaluate his/her work.

Sometimes I wake myself up in the middle of the night thinking to myself, what on earth have I done?  I've had some amazing bosses in my lifetime.  Supervision can be good, right?  And then I realize that our journey has only begun, and empowerment in the truest form is something we all should strive to attain, not only in our work settings, but in our lives and in our communities.  So the 17 of us - make that 18 (in our empowerment model we were able realign our staffing and budget to hire a new therapist when we collectively addressed our most pressing issue, a therapy waiting list), are pushing forward with this crazy notion of empowerment, because we know that in the end, it is the only way that we can do more, serve more, impact more, prevent more.  We know that if we can empower each other, there is hope in empowering survivors, and there is hope in empowering everyone else around us to take a stand against sexual violence. 

For more information on the awesome work that these gals do at the Bluegrass Rape Crisis Center, please visit www.bluegrassrapecrisis.org.    We empower you to join the movement.

The Activists in Your Own Backyard

Act #35:   Be a silent activist.

In my lifetime I've probably written hundreds of letters to legislators, corporations, and newspapers,  to reaffirm my position on something, to appeal for change.  I've taken part in children's rallies, Take Back the Night rallies, civil rights rallies, and anti-war demonstrations.  This blog itself proves that I have a lot to say and I know exactly how I want to be heard.  I used to be that annoying girl. You know the one who couldn't fathom why on earth you wouldn't join me at a rally.  Why on earth you haven't written to your legislators.  What would possibly keep someone from signing a petition that promotes peace?  How could anybody in their right mind sit back and do nothing?  And then one day, it finally hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was the reason that change was not occurring. 

Much like many of the senators I contacted, corporations that I wrote, my outspoken personal convictions over the years helped to create a bubble of judgement around me that often times shut down any possibilities of furthering conversation.  There are incredible people who walk right by me every day and change the world from where they stand, through small, but extraordinary acts.

Suddenly I find myself surrounded, like I always have been, by countless silent activists, who go about their lives daily and impact change right where they are, right as they are, sometimes without even uttering a word. This weekend alone, I came across three. Look around, and you'll see them too.   Look closely, you may even see yourself.

Thank you -

To the gentleman who didn't get aggravated with the overly chatty, and socially inappropriate deli clerk, although he was clearly holding up the line.  Who actually engaged him in conversation, asked him genuine questions about himself, treated him like a human.  You never know, he may have stopped a lonely, troubled soul from finding more harmful ways to validate his worth and become noticed.

To the evangelical Christian man who, despite his own religious views towards homosexuality, spent substantial time mentoring two young gay men this weekend.  Not because he wanted to save their souls, but because he valued them as human beings.  And thanks also to the two men, who continue to respect and look up to him, and who continue to seek commanality rather than reasons to stop talking.

To the well-dressed man in the alley, who stopped during his lunch break to share a cigarette (and eventually a few dollars) with the homeless man pushing a shopping cart.  For listening to his story and for valuing his journey.

To all of you out there who will never write to your senators, who will never hold a protest sign, and who will never sign a petition - thank you, for reminding the rest of us that true change happens at the most basic level when we begin to talk to each other.  When we begin to see each other for who we really are.

Why I Won't Let My 5-Year Old Have a Girlfriend

Act #34:  Give them more to strive for.

Since I've been blogging daily for over a month, there are moments when I know that I am going to tick some of my own friends off, particularly fellow moms. That I'm going to put down on paper, words that are so unbelievably un-American, that someone is going to think I'm the coldest, most frigid woman that ever bore a child.  Disclaimer:  This, is one of those posts.  Forgiveness sought.

If you are like me - the 1% of the nation who doesn't even know who's playing in the Super Bowl, you too most likely have no idea who J.J. Watt is.  Please allow me to enlighten you.  Mr. Watt is a a football defensive end for the NFL team, the Houston Texans.  At least that's what Wikipedia tells me.  And why is he the main topic of today's blog you ask?  Well, this week Mr. Watt got down on one knee, diamond in hand, proposed to the girl of his dreams, and whisked her away to her wedding day, where they danced romantically to their first song.  A Justin Beiber song.  Odd selection for a first dance, right? 

Not if you are six years old.

You see, last week a cute little six-year old girl by the name of Breanna, became an internet sensation when her parents posted a video of her professing her love for Mr. Watt, crying because she wasn't old enough to marry him.  She apparently had to be at least 25 before she could do so.  A female adult, presumably her mother told her that she was sorry, that she thought little Breanna was beautiful nevertheless, and  added her own affection towards Mr. Watt, "He's handsome, isn't he?"  Well the dashing Mr. Watt found little Breanna and showed up with some flowers, a ring-pop, a white #99 jersey, and asked her to be his pretend wife for the day.  The nation was captivated by this overload of cuteness.  Mr. Watt was a hero and little Breanna got her dream.

Or did she?  Well, let's see what little Breanna, or all 6-year old girls for that matter, actually "got" that day. 

Affirmation from her mother that because she was "beautiful" - not smart, or curious, or even funny - she would be OK even if she was still too young to marry.

Affirmation from society that heartbreak over unrequited love of a grown-up, adult man more than 4 times her age, is perfectly normal, even cute.

Affirmation that her happiness depends solely on prince charming showing up with a ring to rescue her, and not in her own abilities to say, make a snowman, reach the last level of Angry Birds, or by golly, score a touchdown herself!

Affirmation from the rest of us who posted and re-posted this story, that her most notable accomplishment in her tender, young life, had nothing to do with who she was, but everything to do with who she wanted to marry.

Affirmation that the qualities a woman should seek in a future mate are rugged good looks, athletic prowess, and swift, sweep-you-off-your-feet romance.

Affirmation that as a little girl growing up in a world of prince charmings, pretend weddings, and happily ever afters, finding a handsome man to marry should be your highest aspiration.  And until you do so, you will not be fulfilled.

As soon as we put my son in daycare when he was just three months old, teachers, other moms, immediately began to refer to the little girls around him as "Jack's girlfriends".  As he grew, some would talk jokingly about future match-making and marriage possibilities.  Some would later ask my 3-year old toddler if he had a girlfriend in school.  Innocent as these seemingly cute remarks are, day after day, year after year, we are sending a clear message to little girls, and little boys about their expected future gender roles.  About our own personal values towards traditional marriage.  About the definition of heroism, hero worship.  About how our very self-worth, with women in particular, is often defined by our capacity to attract the attention of others.

So call me uptight, call me frigid. But this marks year number 6 of us not permitting our son to date or to be thrown into the kindergarten match-making pool.  Year 6 of us not permitting him to view his female classmates as potential marriage material, but instead, equal and capable playmates - just like the rest of the boys in his class. I don't have a daughter, but if I did, that video would never have made it for mass consumption and entertainment.  Who are we kidding - my kid would have no idea who J.J. Watt was in the first place.  But I do have a son, who interacts with girls daily.  And it is my hope to raise him in a world where girls like Breanna will be allowed to dream a little bigger, dream a little differently.  Dream for herself, rather than for J.J. Watt.

My On Again-Off Again Romance with Uncle Sam

Act #33:  Act locally, but think globally.

Earlier this week, I was at one of those retail chain party supply stores picking up a few balloons for a friend.  As I was checking out, the cashier asked me if I wanted to donate $1 to help end hunger.  Considering last week's blog, "Go On a Diet":  http://plainjaneactivism.blogspot.com/2013/01/go-on-diet.html, I of course happily said yes.  As the cashier was getting my change together, I made small talk and nonchalantly asked, "Have you had much success with donations?"  And this, my friends, is when I entered the Twilight Zone.

At first the cashier simply said yes and everything was perfectly normal.  So I continued, "Does this money go to food banks?" Nice, casual conversation, or so I thought.  I'm one of those people who gets all awkward around silence.  I must learn to practice self-restraint.  The cashier then suddenly bristled up, stopped what she was doing, and called for a manager.  My eyes darted back and forth nervously between her and the male manager marching towards us.  I just wanted to take my balloons and run.  I didn't need a manager.  I didn't really even need to know if that money was going to a food bank.  I was just trying to be nice!  When the manager finally arrived at the check-out counter, the cashier asked him, "Can you please tell this customer where the money goes?"  She looked terrified, exasperated.  The manager, with the most serious look on his face, then told me that the money was indeed going to food banks.  I smiled and nodded, praying that this awkward and overly dramatic moment would soon end.  I swear I'm never opening my mouth again.  But he proceeded, "It'll go to food banks all over the country."  Good for you.  I can't get my change back in my purse fast enough.  "Probably the east coast first, because they need it after Hurricane Sandy."  Awesome.  I smile and nod.  "But also our local food banks like God's Pantry."  Perfect.  I'll be on my way now.  I thank him and start to turn away, but he is in some sort of zone.  He's focused and intent, his eyes locked firmly on mine, "You can be SURE that it is not leaving this country.  It will be used to help Americans."

Well there you have it, folks.  Finally, it made perfect sense.  I had not entered the Twilight Zone after all.  For reasons unbeknown to me, these people were under the impression that my line of questioning was to ensure that my little $1.00 donation wouldn't leave our great nation.  That I (while clearly a descendant of immigrants myself), might have issues if "we" weren't helping "our own" first.  I then had one of those moments where my entire life flashed before me in 5 seconds.  I see the bright red, white, and blue sign at the local gas station in one of the towns I used to live in that read, "American-owned".  I think of a former co-worker who always made snide remarks about my non-American Honda Accord. I hear the catchy tune of that one God-bless-America-type country song that hit the charts shortly after 9/11.  Maybe I was in the Twilight Zone after all.

While I take every opportunity I can to support my local economy, and involve myself with local decision making and activism right here in my community, it never once crossed my mind that I'd rather see children in central Kentucky fed, rather than children in central Afghanistan.  I've lived in communities that suffered from globalization, where local economies were destroyed when factories were shipped oversees.  I get it.  I know where folks are coming from when they say we can't help others until we learn to take care of our own.  But I can't help but wonder if this sort of "us against the them" mentality has gone a little too far.  I wonder if our ethnocentric outlook, and inability to see us as fitting into a larger global community might be contributing to our isolation from the rest of the world. That we are somehow bringing up a whole new generation to believe that we are more important, more valuable than someone simply because we are American.  That children in America deserve access to food, access to life, more than children who live in other parts of the world. 

I fumble trying to keep my balloons together, and as I start to walk out, I say, "You know, I'm really OK if the money helps people outside the U.S. too.  We're all in this together, aren't we?"  I smile gently and wish him a nice day.  And I walk outside and stand there holding my balloons, basking in the bright warm sun for just a second.  Thankful to live in such a vast and extraordinary land with limitless opportunity.  Heartbroken and overcome with guilt to live in such a vast and extraordinary land with limitless opportunity. 

Be Haunted By the Voices Within

Act #32:  Trust the universe.  Trust yourself.

Today, three very different women, who have impacted me in different ways, are packing up their offices and closing a significant chapter in their vocational lives.  One was to be be President of the United States.  One worked for 25 years at a feminist, anti-violence non-profit organization where she started when she was just 18 years old.  And one has worked quietly behind the scenes of a small liberal arts college for the past 5 years.  While at the surface, these women may not have much in common, hailing from places as different as Chicago, IL, Whitesburg, KY and upstate New York, one quality that they all unequivocally share is this: 

They listened to that still, small voice inside. 

Neither has clarity on what lies ahead, how they will spend their days, where they will be (although I have a hunch that one may have a few book deals lined up), but they each know for certain that it was their time to move on, to seek that which feeds their souls.  And while their journeys have been distinctly different, at some point recently, they all chose to embrace that still, small voice inside.

Whether you call it God, or intuition, or calling, we all have the capacity to hear that voice.  Rosa Parks listened when she refused to give up her seat on that bus.  Dawn Lafferty listened when she gave up her life to stop a shooter from entering her school. 

So often we are crippled with fear of the unknown, fear of discomfort, and fear of failure. And we ignore that voice.  In honor of these women, and countless others who came before us, paved the way for us, won't you take a moment to listen to that still, small voice inside telling you what you already know?  What your greatest self is capable of.  What truly feeds your soul.  What would you do today if you knew you could not fail?