The White Girl In the Mirror

Act #130: Tell that little girl she too, is beautiful.  She may not know it.  While you're at it, tell her she's smart too.

I must have looked at myself in the mirror hundreds of times up to this point, but today was different.  My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest and I had no control over the pace of my own breathing.  I turned the corner into my bedroom and quietly closed the door around me.  I made the last few strides to position myself in front of the antique white dresser that I loved so dearly because for some reason, it made me feel like a princess.  Like I was someone worthy of fancy opulence, even though it was probably an inexpensive reproduction.  I had stood in this exact position every morning of my life as I brushed my hair and each time I did, the same imaged stared back at me.  I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.  Her features were a combination of all the Barbie dolls I ever wished for, Cindy Brady, Laura Ingalls, Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, precious little girls in Spagettios and Oscar Mayer commercials, my best friend, Nicole, and the faces in the toy section of my mom's Sears catalog.

But today that girl was gone.  In her place stood someone who bared no resemblance to her at all.  Instead, this girl had smooth dark brown skin that was the same color as the Hershey's chocolate milk I drank each afternoon.  It was rich and flawless.  And I hated it.  Her hair so black and lifeless that even if it could pick up the rays of the sun, I would never want to call any extra attention to it.  Her eyes were so tiny - the color of dirty, black mud, her faint eyebrows were barely existing.  It was painful to look at her yet she wouldn't let me look away, gripping me steadily with her powerful gaze.  It would take me 12 years to think she was beautiful.

I was 6 years old the first time I realized that I wasn't white.  There was a new student in my first grade suburban Chicago elementary school class.  He was Japanese-American.  As he was being introduced, one of the girls sitting next to me whispered in my ear, he looks just like you.  I turned around and glared at her like she was from outer space.  I couldn't wait to get home to a mirror to prove her wrong.

 

How to Redefine Cool

Act #129:  Redefine cool.

CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch Mike Jeffries doesn’t want larger people shopping in his store, he  only wants thin and beautiful people.  He doesn’t want his core customers to see people who aren’t as hot as them wearing his clothing. He believes that people who wear his clothing should feel like they’re one of the cool kids.  That’s why he hires good-looking people in his stores. Because good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and he wants to market to cool, good-looking people. He isn't bothered by excluding fat people (and not carrying larger sizes for women) because not limiting his ideal demographic would make his clothing less desirable.

Since when did our entire civilization succumb to the beauty standards of a 61-year old millionaire with a fake tan, spiked hair, unsettling plastic surgery, and flip flops (you must Google him, really).  When did it become acceptable for someone else to tell us who to value and why we should value them?  I say we take back cool, my friends.  Yes we can.  Here's how.

1.  Boycott.  Just don't buy from Abercrombie, people.  Also, have a conversation with your teenagers about the power of retail advertising, the harm of giving into an appearance-obsessed culture, and encourage them not to buy into this thinking.

2.  Speak up.  Verbalize (in front of your friends and family) your diverse perspective on definitions of beauty, personality types, and success.  Comment on the beauty you see in different skin tones, body shapes, styles, professions, life choices.  Last week I met with a CEO of a large organization and was greeted by her 25-year old, spiked hair, uber hip male personal assistant.  Over dinner with my family later that night, I mentioned that I had met a male "secretary' and how effective and dynamic he appeared to be in his role supporting a powerful female CEO.   

3.  Speak differently.  When talking about someone, try not to describe them by their physical attributes (like I just did in #2).   When other people do so in your presence - "Check out how fat that girl is!" if you don't respond, you are actually condoning that behavior and ensuring that it will likely continue.  Try saying something like, "You know, I think there is beauty in people of all shapes and sizes.  Why are we checking her out anyway?"

4.  Look beyond the commercials.  Watch independent films, listen to independent music, see a play that is off-Broadway.  Expose yourself to that which is not heavily marketed to you.  You'll be surprised at what you might be missing.  Tell your friends and family about the films, songs, plays, etc. and encourage them to also experience these things.

5.  Celebrate quirky.  Open your mind to celebrate, and then highlight, eccentric, innovative, unorthodox, non-traditional ways of thinking and working.  I used to work with a pretty conservative public relations company.  Everyone wore khakis and skirts, and the manager wore dapper bow ties.  Then one day he hired a funky editor who wore vintage dresses over colorful tights, who talked dramatically with her hands and was intense and introverted.  By pushing everyone's communication comfort zones and bringing a fresh perspective and style, she challenged not only the look of the agency's publications, but also the entire make-up of the staff.

Jeffries said that in every school there are cool and popular kids - you know the ones with the good looks and a lot of friends.  Those kids are only "cool" because we as a society continue to define attractiveness in such exclusionary and narrow terms, based solely on physical appearance and one's capacity to be social.  How long are we going to let Abercrombie define cool for us?  It's time to take cool back.  Join me?

 

 

Why I Will Teach My Kid That Sex is OK

Act #128:  Consider the messages when assigning shame and negativity to sexuality.

Someday I will teach my only son that sex is OK.  Well, as long as it is consensual, and he is respectful of himself and his partner.  And obviously only when he reaches a maturity level when he is able to fully comprehend and grasp the concepts of consent and respect.

This week Elizabeth Smart spoke to an audience about issues of human trafficking and sexual violence.  She explained that some human trafficking victims don’t run away because they feel worthless after being raped, particularly if they have been raised in conservative cultures that emphasize sexual purity.  Smart recalled a teacher who compared sex to chewing gum - once you chew it up, nobody re-chews it and you throw it away.  In Smart's own words, "Why would it even be worth screaming out? Why would it even make a difference if you are rescued? Your life still has no value.”  For decades, public schools have been pushing for abstinence education - imparting a shame-based approach to genitalia and sexuality.  Instead of teaching young people the facts they need to know to safeguard their health, abstinence-only curriculums create an environment where young people are embarrassed to talk about their experiences and feelings.  Social psychologists believe that a more comprehensive sex education can prevent sex crimes by teaching children about their bodies and giving them tools to describe acts of abuse without feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable.   It also helps elevate their self-confidence and sense of bodily autonomy. 

My son is only 5, and yes, we are already having age-appropriate conversations with this innocent little creature about his sexuality.  Why?  Because one day he looked down there and discovered it!  Apparently all boys have one of these - and because he is a human who has a penis and who, chances are, will grow up to have sex one day.  He has been calling his penis a penis since he could talk - not a wee-wee, a wiener, a hot dog, or a boy part.  A PENIS.  Because that is all that it is - a body part that boys have.  It is not a symbol of strength or prowess.  It does not give him permission to exert power over anyone.  It is not a dirty little secret that he has to hide or feel embarrassed to talk about.  It is not a weapon. It is a part of his body that only he should have control over.  It is what he uses to pee.  And someday, if he is so inclined, he will use it to have sex.  My real job as a parent is not to teach my son that sex is bad, but to bring him up with realistic expectations about his sexuality, and to impart in him a genuine sense of respect for himself and for others around him.   Stay tuned for a future blog:  Why I'm going to let my 16 year-old drink a beer at the dinner table.

Five Questions I Asked the Mary Kay Lady: #1. Are You in a Cult?

Act #127:  Don't judge a woman just because she drives a pink Cadillac.

Last week a young woman who just graduated from college about a year ago asked to have lunch with me.  Via the magical world of Facebook, I recently became aware that she was deeply involved with the Mary Kay company.  I have to admit, I was a bit surprised at first.  This young lady was an incredibly driven, high achieving student who worked at her college's public relations office and landed a web marketing job even before she graduated.  Why on earth would she want to lure vulnerable women into buying overpriced make-up with pushy (but free) make-overs?  When she contacted me, I was understandably hesitant.  I didn't want to be "marketed" to.  I didn't ever want to give or receive a make-over.  And I sure as heck never wanted to own a pink Cadillac.  But I was intrigued with her journey to the "dark side", so I reluctantly agreed, bracing myself for the inevitable high-sales-pitch lunch.  Plus, this was my only chance to save her from potential post-college career decisions that she might end up regretting.  Turns out, I was the one who was saved that day - from my own wrath of judgement towards yet another group of women, that I've been secretly turning my nose up to for decades.

Are you in a cult?  
No.  This young lady was definitely a willing and conscious participant.  Because of her drive and focus, she managed to hold down a full-time job, yet dedicate an extra 10-20 hours each week building her side Mary Kay business.  She attended national conferences, became part of a  strong and supportive network of regional women who provided business mentorship and guidance, put together her own team of 15, and was on the brink of being promoted to a director-level position with a free car (not the pink Cadillac yet) a salary, and a percentage on the sales of her entire team.  She knew exactly what she was doing and like anything else she has done, she excelled at this.

Do people even like the product or do they just feel pressured to buy it to support their friends?
Turns out that Mary Kay has 17% of the skin care product industry cornered - that's more than all the make-up counters that you see at the mall combined.  After the initial demonstration (aka make-over party), people apparently choose to keep purchasing the product on their own because of its high quality and low overhead (no marketing costs).

Really, how inclusive is this company anyway?  Can brown people, lesbians, and men sell Mary Kay?
My friend currently has two African-Americans on her team and she thinks she could have a couple of lesbians, but she can't be for sure.  She doesn't ask.  She also told me that men - that's right, men - also sell the products and are proven to be highly successful at it because women are sometimes threatened by other women.  Surprise, surprise.
 
To what extent does this company give to charitable causes?
Apparently a lot.  We're talking millions.  The company created the Mary Kay Foundation which is 1.) committed to eliminating cancers affecting women by supporting top medical scientists who are searching for a cure for breast, uterine, cervical and ovarian cancers; and 2.) committed to ending domestic violence by providing grants to women's shelters and supporting community outreach programs. Since the Foundation began in 1996, it has granted $25 million dollars to organizations fighting cancer and violence against women.

Pink vehicles and an unhealthy obsession with body image and appearance - isn't this company attacking the very core of feminism?
Well, this biography on founder Mary Kay Ash explains it all:  Ash married Ben Rogers at age 17. They had three children. While her husband served in World War II, she sold books door-to-door. After her husband's return in 1945, they divorced. Ash went to work for Stanley Home Products at a time when women were barely working outside of the home.   She did so well that she was promoted to become a trainer.  Frustrated when passed over for a promotion in favor of a man that she had trained, Ash retired in 1963 and intended to write a book to assist women in business. The book turned into a business plan for her ideal company, and in the summer of 1963, Mary Kay Ash and her new husband, George planned to start Mary Kay Cosmetics. However, one month before they started Beauty by Mary Kay, George died of a heart attack.  One month later when Ash was 45, with $5,000  and the support of her two adult sons, Ash started Mary Kay Cosmetics.  The company started its original storefront operation in Dallas.  She considered the Golden Rule the founding principle of Mary Kay Cosmetics and the company's marketing plan was designed to allow women to advance by helping others to succeed.  Ash fiercely advocated that women in her company maintain a healthy work-life balance.

So next time you see a perky middle-aged woman in pearls driving down the interstate in a pink Cadillac, you may want to set aside all the preconceived notions you have about her life choices and priorities.  Because be assured, that woman has earned that Cadillac - not only through her hard work and persistence, but also through her support and mentoring of countless other women.  Women who dare to dream that they have the power to run their own businesses, support each other in the process, all while nurturing families, friendships, and personal interests. 

Women not unlike myself.

 

Do You Know Your Janitor's Name?

Act 126:  Value all people.

One day last week when I was dropping my kindergartner off for school, he pointed out one of his classmates to me.  There he is mom, right behind the janitor.  I realize that most of you are going to think I completely overreacted in this situation - I immediately pulled my son aside and asked him if he knew that the janitor's name was Michael.  I asked him if he thought Michael might also have kids.  I asked him what his favorite ice-cream might be and whether or not he too might have liked playing with Legos as a child.   My son curiously answered each and every question with some basic, "I don't know's" and eventually proceeded to join the rest of his class. 

Obviously there is nothing wrong with the term janitor at its surface, and my son really was just using this particular individual as a marker to point out someone else.  So what gives, mom?  Perhaps I reacted in the way that I did because my innocent little boy, at his tender age of 5, had already learned to label another human being by a title - one that has traditionally been looked down upon and dismissed as less important, even degrading in this particular setting.  While he probably didn't mean a thing by calling this man, the janitor, I wanted to humanize Michael and help my son recognize the value in all people and the commonalities that we share regardless of our professional roles and life circumstances.  Most importantly, each time he roams the halls of his elementary school, I wanted my son to see a fellow human being named Michael, who is probably working really hard to support his family, rather than just that guy who's always mopping the floors in the background.  

Five Things Your College Degree Didn't Prepare You For

Act #125: To thine own self, be true.

Today my college alma mater will be holding its 141st commencement.  I always get contemplative during this time of year and wanted to offer my congratulations to the graduating class - maybe even some profound words of wisdom about the importance of their role as stewards of change.  But who am I to compete with the graduation speaker, Steve Jobs video clips, and their witty professors?  So alternatively I offer the 2013 graduating class this...permission not to be perfect.  Go ahead and let that sink in.  It's really OK.  And just so you don't end up completely disappointed and disillusioned with a few inevitable failed expectations of the real world (it gets better), I also humbly offer you:
 
Five Things Your College Degree Didn't Prepare You For:

Being put in your place
When I graduated 18 years ago, I held a top student leadership position on campus. I was a 21-year old with no real-life work experience who single-handedly managed a $60,000 campus activities budget and served on every student committee available.  Naturally, when I graduated, I believed that any non-profit organization would be lucky to have someone with my skill set and passion.  I applied to be the volunteer director for the Lexington Children's Museum, I ended up working the night-shift at the front desk of a local hotel. Throughout college everyone told me how exceptional I was.  How much promise they saw in me.  Turns out when everyone else graduating in the country is also exceptional and also shows great promise, that made me pretty darn average.  It would take me 17 years to land my dream job, and I'm thankful for every single one of the seven jobs I held prior  to that. Without the skills and life experiences that I've slowly acquired over the years, I would have been grossly unprepared to manage the realities of non-profit management with any level of confidence or competency.  And I have no illusions about the fact that I'm still pretty darn average, and that there will always be room for me to grow.

Thriving in uncertainty
Four years after I graduated, I was packing a sandwich to take with me to a job interview because I was down to my last penny, and was going to absolutely starve if I didn't get that particular job.  The year after that I was riding a gondola down a canal in Venice, Italy.  In virtually every job that I've held, we've experienced budget cuts, stock market crashes, government shut-downs, sudden changes in leadership, and sequestrations.  I bounced around from non-profit, to government, to the private industry.  I couldn't wait to get as far away from "here" as possible, but once I did, I realized that I wanted nothing more than to return.  When you graduate you are expected to know exactly who you are going to be, what you are going to do, and who you are going to do it with.  And statistically speaking, none of that will likely remain constant.  The true test is how firmly you are able to plant your feet on the shifting ground beneath you, without compromising your very core ideals.  You know what they are.  Don't be afraid to let them guide you.

Courage to change your mind
I majored in Psychology, have a graduate degree in Counseling and structured the first 25 years of my life around the notion of being a therapist to underserved populations.  I would have a home office for my private practice and I would counsel people of color, immigrants, and members of the LGBT community.  The only tiny problem was this:  I was a horrible therapist.  This became increasingly clear during my practicum when I had the opportunity to practice my counseling skills, and I found myself mentally fixing everyone's "problems" in my head.  While my role was to reserve judgement and facilitate personal healing, I just wanted to take each and every client by the hand, develop a concrete plan of action, keep them focused on their personal goals, and then hold them accountable to those goals.  For years, I felt obligated to continue down this path that I had so greatly invested in, but when I finally came to terms with the fact that you don't always know exactly who you are by the time you turn 21, I felt free to figure that part out.  My commitment to social justice and activism never changed, but I had to find a way to contribute that more closely aligned with who I was.  As a director of a small non-profit I now get to do exactly what I tried to mentally do in my head years ago - develop strategies and plans of action that are mission-driven, and hold our agency accountable to them - all without damaging the psyche of any individual client!  

How to survive heartbreak (and learn to forgive yourself for breaking someone's heart)
You feel falsely invincible when you are faced with little responsibility and a world of possibility.  You fall in love hard, deep, fast, and all of a sudden you find yourself nurturing a relationship with someone else, before you've even figured out who the heck you really are.  In 1995 I graduated from college with an engagement ring on my finger.  A month after that I moved away with another man.  For years I held on to the guilt of walking away from my first college love.  He was a good, solid man who loved the person he thought I was.  The problem was, I didn't even know who I was. Ten years after I left town with the other man, that man left our marriage, and I didn't think I would ever be the same.  In many ways I'm not.  But I'm thankful for my eventual realization that love is way more complicated than your first three months of butterflies and late night two-hour phone calls.  I learned that there is some element of truth to the seven-year itch phenomenon when you have already gone through the excitement of buying your first house, having your first child, achieving your career goals, and you're left trying to find renewed excitement in the seemingly mundane routines of life.  I learned that the deepest joys I've ever experienced, have been in those very mundane routines.  I learned that love is as much of a choice as it is a feeling.  And I learned that you can actually fall in love with the same person over and over again if you stay connected, if you stay true to yourself, and if you accept that chances are neither of you will ever stop changing.

Being OK Just Being You
During the past 18 years since I graduated I, 1.) Took the LSAT and visited two law schools.  I was going to be the legal director of a human rights organization; 2.) Submitted an unsolicited video of myself to a local news station.  I was going to be an on-camera news reporter.  I wore a red suit; 3.)  Applied for a passport.  I was going to be an anti-human-trafficking worker on the streets of Bangkok, Thailand.  Every time I found myself in a certain job environment, and every time I received encouragement from someone I respected, I was convinced that I was suppose to follow some predestined career trajectory - because it was promising, had growth potential, or simply because I was good at it.  But never once did I ask myself if it was truly a personal fit, or if I would even be fulfilled in that role.  I didn't know that that choice was mine to make, and had to take the long route to learn, that it is.  It always has been.  And class of 2013, that choice is now yours.  Congratulations.

Why I'm Coming Out Now

Act #124: Don't define people by their sexual orientation.

 

I'm a 40-year old non-profit director.  I'm Asian and I'm heterosexual.  I didn't set out to be the first straight, Asian, social justice advocate, non-profit manager in Central Kentucky, but since I am, I'm happy to start this conversation.  I wish I wasn't the kid in the classroom raising her hand and saying, "I'm different." If I had my way, someone else would have already done this. Nobody has, which is why I'm raising my hand.   My journey of self-discovery and self-acknowledgement began in my hometown of  Chicago, IL and has taken me through two college degrees and two decades of activism.  I go against the straight stereotype.  I reject pink.  Kept my own last name.  A lot of my colleagues will be shocked.  That girl is straight?  But I've always been an assertive soul.  Am I so assertive to prove that being straight doesn't make you soft?  Who knows?   By its nature, my double life has kept me from getting close to any of my  gay colleagues. Early in my career I worked hard at acting gay, but as I got more comfortable in my gay mask it required less effort. In recent days, though, little has separated "mask on, mask off." Personally, I don't like to dwell in someone else's private life, and I hope colleagues show me the same respect. When I'm with my team I'm all about working hard and eradicating sexual violence. A good teammate supports you no matter what.  I've been asked how other non-profit directors will respond to my announcement. The simple answer is, I have no idea. I'm a pragmatist. I hope for the best, but plan for the worst.  As I write this, I haven't come out to anyone the  non-profit sector. I'm not privy to what others say about me. Maybe Karin, my old colleague in Raleigh, will recall those years we worked together, "I enjoyed working with her.  We loved eating toasted bagels and bacon together on Friday mornings." I hope my colleagues swap stories like that. Maybe they'll talk about my character and what kind of person I am. 

Sound ludicrous?  It should.  No one cares who a straight person like me sleeps with (except maybe my husband), and my sexuality has no bearing on my capacity to effectively work in non-profit management.  I shouldn't have to defend myself to my colleagues or hide who I really am just to gain acceptance.  But Jason Collins had to.  Because he happens to be gay in a world dominated by hyper-masculinity, aggression, and very narrow definitions of strength and acceptance.  Thank you, Jason for your courage to be true to yourself and to expect nothing less from the rest of us.  Maybe someday, a person's sexual orientation will pale in comparison to their character - so much that being gay won't be newsworthy at all.  Until then, I hope we can all learn from the courage and grace of this first openly gay NBA player.  The following is an excerpt from his interview with Sports Illustrated magazine.  I took his text and basically just replaced the words "gay" with "straight" and "NBA player" with "non-profit director".

The Gay Athlete
By Jason Collins
I'm a 34-year-old NBA center. I'm black. And I'm gay.  I didn't set out to be the first openly gay athlete playing in a major American team sport. But since I am, I'm happy to start the conversation. I wish I wasn't the kid in the classroom raising his hand and saying, "I'm different." If I had my way, someone else would have already done this. Nobody has, which is why I'm raising my hand.  My journey of self-discovery and self-acknowledgement began in my hometown of Los Angeles and has taken me through two state high school championships, the NCAA Final Four and the Elite Eight, and nine playoffs in 12 NBA seasons.  I go against the gay stereotype, which is why I think a lot of players will be shocked: That guy is gay?   But I've always been an aggressive player, even in high school. Am I so physical to prove that being gay doesn't make you soft? Who knows?   By its nature, my double life has kept me from getting close to any of my teammates. Early in my career I worked hard at acting straight, but as I got more comfortable in my straight mask it required less effort. In recent days, though, little has separated "mask on, mask off." Personally, I don't like to dwell in someone else's private life, and I hope players and coaches show me the same respect. When I'm with my team I'm all about working hard and winning games. A good teammate supports you no matter what. I've been asked how other players will respond to my announcement. The simple answer is, I have no idea. I'm a pragmatist. I hope for the best, but plan for the worst. The biggest concern seems to be that gay players will behave unprofessionally in the locker room. Believe me, I've taken plenty of showers in 12 seasons. My behavior wasn't an issue before, and it won't be one now.  As I write this, I haven't come out to anyone in the NBA. I'm not privy to what other players say about me. Maybe Mike Miller, my old teammate in Memphis, will recall the time I dropped by his house in Florida and say, "I enjoyed being his teammate, and I sold him a dog." I hope players swap stories like that. Maybe they'll talk about my character and what kind of person I am.   

For Jason's entire, remarkable story:  http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/magazine/news/20130429/jason-collins-gay-nba-player/.

An Open Letter to the Husbands of a Few of My Friends

Act #123:  Don't be a perpetrator.

Yes, I'm talking to you.  While it might appear that we have little in common, one thing we do share is the love we have for your wife, my friend.  I've been in your home, have shared meals with you, and have laughed at your jokes.  There is no question about the level of commitment that my friend has towards you and your family, which is why she has never uttered a single negative word about you or your relationship.  In fact she offers continuous praise to you for being a good husband.  For being a good dad. 

For the longest time I thought that you and I shared a dark secret.  Shared the truth.  And every time I looked at you, I could feel this unspoken truth floating all around us, always quickly covered up, distracted by one of your jokes or a story about your child.  But as I write this letter today, it occurred to me that maybe you have never faced the truth.  That your world may have been so distorted by your childhood norms, a hyper-masculine culture, patriarchal aggression. 

You may not know that you are a perpetrator of domestic violence. 

I pray to God every night that this violence is not physical, but I wouldn't know.  I doubt anyone would.  Probably for a multitude of reasons, my friend is clearly not ready to face this truth -  the fact that she waited her whole life to fall in love with the promise of you, her faith in her higher power, her notions about the commitment of marriage, the beautiful child you brought into this world together, the fact that it would crush her mother's heart, the life that you have built together dependent on the perfect combination of your resources.  A life she is not able to give up at this juncture.  And all I can do is patiently sit here, and be ready to support her when she is.

We share many friends and I am hoping that this blog finds its way to you because I am appealing to you to face this truth.  To face yourself and whatever demons and baggage you have from your past that are causing you to be the type of partner that you are to my friend.  Because I am hoping that buried deep down inside, you have the capacity to love her in the way that she truly deserves to be loved.  She is not your property and you don't own her, no matter how you choose to interpret her role through your spiritual lens.  You don't have the right to tell her how to spend your shared income, or deny her of spending her own money.  She works tirelessly to create a comfortable life for your family - she deserves recognition and affirmation.  You don't have the right to control how she spends her time, who she spends her time with.  If you learned to trust her more, you might be surprised at just how much of a priority you already are in her life.   You don't have to be insecure about her spending time with me, or with any of her other girlfriends.  Our days of bar-hopping and flirting with men have long been over and these days our conversations revolve around our quality of life, our families, our work, and how we manage our multiple roles.  And when we're together, she always talks about you and how great you are.  You don't have the right to be the sole decision-maker about the upbringing of your child.  In case you haven't noticed, my friend, your wife - is brilliant, compassionate, and is a highly competent human being, and exceptional mother.  Listen to what she has to offer - not because she's better or smarter than you - but because you are life partners who can and should support and nurture each other through these sorts of decisions.

Don't be afraid that she will leave you.  Or that she will find someone else.  Trust me, she has eyes for no other person.  Don't let your own insecurities and deficiencies box the one person you love into a helpless corner, and eventually turn the selfless love she currently has for you, into obligation, duty, even fear.  Don't talk to her like she is a child.  Don't tell her what she should do, what she should wear, who she should talk to.  Remember what attracted you to her in the first place?  Her bubbly, positive spirit that captured your attention?  Why wouldn't you want to continue experiencing that throughout your marriage?  Why would you want to suppress it.  While she wants nothing more than to please you, don't take her for granted.  Don't expect her to work full-time, care for your child, and also come home to take care of all the needs of your household.   Don't yell at her when she isn't able to keep up with it all.

I don't know how to be any more clear, but my friend whole-heartedly loves you and is whole-heartedly committed to you.  Stop controlling her, manipulating her, making her feel guilty about everything.  Because while you may not want to admit it, your actions, you - are the very definition of emotional abuse.  And it may be hard for you to hear, but this makes you a perpetrator of domestic violence.  At this point you may not have raised a hand to her, but you are abusing her, damaging her, by treating her not as a respected partner, but as someone you have the right to control.  We may not have a lot in common, but the one thing we do share is the love we have for my friend.  Before it's too late, please face this truth, seek the help you need to fix yourself, and start loving her like she deserves to be loved.  Like any human deserves to be loved.

Sincerely,
Your wife's friend who will always be there.  Even when you're not.

 

 

Why I No Longer Watch the Derby, Enjoy Movies, or Get My Nails Done

Act #122:  Consider the back story.

Ten months ago I became the executive director of a regional rape crisis center in Central Kentucky.  Ten months ago my life and outlook on the world forever changed.  It has become a daily personal struggle for me to try to navigate the harsh realities of my work, without giving up on what drew me into the field in the first place - hope for a better, safer, and kinder world.  As an administrator, I don't even work on the front-lines with victims, so my heart particularly goes out to the counselors, advocates, and therapists who sit face-to-face with victims everyday.  Maybe one day we'll be able to enjoy these things again, my friends.  Maybe one day.

Five Things I Can No Longer Enjoy Since I Started Working at a Rape Crisis Center:

The Kentucky Derby
This week while most people in my home state are celebrating Derby week, my counterparts in Louisville are advocating for awareness around the spike of human trafficking during this time.   Events like the Derby are targeted by traffickers who bring in women and girls in from all over the country for potential new customers.  As we speak, Louisville metro police and victims' rights groups monitor websites known for advertising adult escorts, which often serve as trafficking mechanisms.  They estimate postings on these sites have tripled for Louisville this week leading up to the Kentucky Derby.  Prostitution and human trafficking rings are set up in hotels and motels in every part of the Kentucky-Indiana area surrounding Louisville. Local advocates distribute bars of soap and lip gloss to high-risk motels that are wrapped with information containing the National Human Trafficking hotline number, 1-888-3737-888.

Private Kid's Lessons and Friendly Strangers
Last year I sat through a day-long workshop on perpetrator identification training for law enforcement and anti-violence advocates.  When the day was over I collapsed in my bed, unable to speak or move for the remainder of the night.  I have a five-year old son and while the educated, logical me knows that I can't begin to view the world in worst case scenarios, I am finding it increasingly difficult to trust anyone with my child.  This weekend at our local home improvement store, a very friendly man began engaging my son and our entire family in dialogue - kidding around about taking him home to help him tend his garden.  He patted my son on the back and laughed and while I'm sure he was just being friendly, I froze, went into protection mode, and physically stood between the two of them.  The chances of this friendly stranger grabbing my son and running off in the middle of a crowded public place were probably very, very small, but clearly the horror stories I've heard over the past 10 months are altering my capacity to think practically....or ever come to a place where I would feel comfortable leaving my son alone with a stranger.

Movies 
It was probably at least a decade ago that I watched the gang rape scene in "Boys Don't Cry" and the brutal rape scene of Charlize Theron's character in "Monster".  I remember having physical reactions during both times that involved me leaving the movie and going to the restroom to vomit.  While that may sound like a pretty dramatic reaction, I'm confident that I wouldn't even be able to watch a rape scene at this point in my life.  When you hear real-life stories daily, you just don't have any energy left in you to spend your "off" time voluntarily exposing yourself to reenactments of sexual violence.

Manicures and Pedicures
While this is obviously not true of all nail salons by any means, modern-day slaves are regularly trafficked into businesses like these with promises for a better life when brought to the United States.  Upon arrival they are forced into a life of servitude, often times forced to work at a business for little or no pay, and at the traffickers house after hours.   The trafficker exudes a high level of control over their victims from psychological to physical, and coaches them what to say when approached by law enforcement or the general public.  Their immigration and identity documents are confiscated, making it impossible for them to escape or seek help.  Common work environments for trafficked victims include hotels, construction, adult entertainment, domestic servitude, agriculture, manufacturing and salons.  I haven't had a pedicure in 10 months.
 
Bargains
This summer, we'll be celebrating my son's 6th birthday and we're one of those cheesy families that has a little bit too much fun with themes.  One year we had a drive-in movie theater in our backyard complete with inflatable 12-foot screen and a rented popcorn machine.  I've been known to order bulk supplies like cups, napkins, and little drink umbrellas from a party supply catalog that shall remain unnamed.  I used to pride myself at paying mere pennies for these items,  but now I can't bring myself, as a consumer, to support the unethical exploitation of labor in developing countries.  I'm cursed with knowledge and I now realize that if something (like a low price tag) is too good to be true, it probably is - most likely on the backs of trafficked men, women, and children who are forced to work in dangerous work conditions for obscene amounts of pay.

 

 

How My Kid Taught Me to Appreciate Weeds

Act #121:  Re-define beauty.

 

As spring has sprung in the bluegrass state, our yard has been overtaken by dandelions.  Thousands of little yellow flowers nestled  in every nook and corner of our modest front and back yards.  It is times like these that we are reminded that we live on a street of mostly retired folks who seem to spend every waking hour tending to their impeccable lawns, thus making our random patches of dry dead grass, our overgrown bushes, and our sea of yellow dandelions - stand out even more.  Earlier this week, I watched as one of my retired neighbors painstakingly took a spray bottle of weed killer and took out every single individual dandelion in his yard. 

 

My 5-year old loves blowing dandelion seeds .  He can spend hours running through the yard by himself doing this, which probably contributes to our problem quite a bit.  We have a chemical-free lawn so the only way to really control these stubborn little yellow flowers is by mowing them down along with our grass each week.  Yesterday as we were sitting on our back deck my son and husband had a conversation that went something like this:

 

Jack:  I think dandelions are the most beautiful flowers ever.

 

Dad:  Why do you like dandelions so much, Jack?

 

Jack:  Because you can blow on them and make even more pretty flowers.  Why don't you like dandelions, daddy?  Because you don't like having to mow them down?  Why do you mow them down anyway?  Don't you like flowers?

 

My husband and I exchanged looks as he couldn't really answer my son's unintentionally profound questions.  Why don't we like those little stubborn wild flowers that insist on being a part of our natural landscape?  Why do we fight them so much?  Why do Americans spend all kinds of time, money, and energy trying to control, kill, and limit little dainty flowers........with poison?  Upon further research (thank you Wikipedia), I discovered some surprising facts about dandelions.  Did you know that dandelion roots actually help bring up nutrition for companion plants, and add minerals and nitrogen to soil?  They are also known to attract pollinating insects and release ethylene gas, which helps fruit ripen.  Dandelions also serve as an important food source for certain birds.  Because its leaves are rich in calcium, potassium, and iron, dandelion leaves have also been a part of the native cuisines of many cultures, eaten raw or boiled, in salads.  In some parts of Europe and China, dandelions are even used as a herbal medicine to treat liver problems, and as a diuretic.   

 

So, this may just be the year that we embrace a lawn full of little, yellow flowers.  Who are we to determine the value of certain flowers over others?  How do we come to decide what constitutes beauty and what constitutes an obnoxious weed?  Especially when the rest of the world has been seeing its value and beauty for centuries apparently.   The citizens of White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia celebrate spring with an annual Dandelion Festival each year.  The dandelion serves as the official flower of the University of Rochester.    In a world where we have learned to so narrowly define beauty for ourselves and for everyone else around us, maybe it's time we learn to embrace the natural beauty that already surrounds us. 

 

I say, bring on the weeds.  And if you ever come visit, just look for the house with the beautiful yellow flowers.  Happy Spring!