Showing posts with label social media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social media. Show all posts

Friday, June 5, 2015

What Caitlyn Does With Bruce's Penis is None of My Business

I wasn't going to write about Caitlyn Jenner.  In fact, after I read this piece of perfection, I really wasn't going to write anything; because, damn.  She nailed it.  The fact that it came from a Christian woman is what sealed it for me.  

Actually, let's back up.  I almost stopped reading that post when the author at "Motherhood...Unscripted" mentions the she is a Christian woman.  I guess that statement reveals my own prejudices fairly well, doesn't it?  I never said I was perfect.  I am working on it.  Being open to some one's words is a baby step in the right direction, I think.

My biases (that I SWEAR, I am working on!) are the subject of another post (or three) another day.

Okay, so the internet practically exploded when Caitlyn Jenner revealed her new, gorgeous self in Vanity Fair.


The haters came out almost immediately with the pictures.  I won't give them credit by posting any examples, but .5 seconds of Googling will get you many.  On one hand, I get it.  I don't condone it, but I get it.  It can be frightening when people don't follow the "norm".  It makes us question reality and our own place in the world and that is really, really scary.  It's much easier to see the world in black and white and wrong versus right, than to see the infinite shades of gray.  It takes a whole lot of thinking and who has time for that?  (Sarcasm...sorry.)

Seriously, though.  Wouldn't things be much easier (for you) if people just stayed who you thought they were?  And that is precisely my point.  What YOU think about someone else might have very little or nothing at all to do with who they really are. As parents, our kids grow out of the roles we assign them.  They get tattoos and girlfriends that you won't necessarily like.  They get to decide how to live their own lives...as scary as it seems.  We did it, with varying degrees of success, and they will too.

How we react, however, is all on us.  I think it is healthy to ask why, because only in questioning can we get to understanding, or at least, some level of acceptance.  In this case, I think the first, and only question we need to ask is:  How does Caitlyn Jenner's life affect me?  I can only answer for myself.  My answer is:  Mostly, it does not.  I say mostly because she has said that she is a Republican; and Republicans with money can and DO affect my life.  

(again, this is a post for another day)

The only other way Caitlyn affects me, is that her spread in Vanity Fair gives me one more unattainable model of beauty to reach for.  It is slightly disheartening that a sixty-something, former man, can look that freaking great in a corset.  I mean, those legs!  Those breasts!  Those collarbones!  Sigh...  Then again, if I could be made up and dressed by professionals, then photographed in soft lighting by Annie Liebovitz, I would probably look pretty hot, too.  It would definitely be better than yelling at my kids or husband to stop shooting me from under my chin while trying to hide behind my tallest child.

Caitlyn, in the end, is just a human being.  She has asked to be called "she" and I respect that.  It is her body, after all.  She still has a penis.  As confusing as that may be, in the end, who cares?  She has had that penis all her life.  I can imagine she is pretty attached to it (no pun intended...really).  That penis ran across the finish line along with the rest of (eventually to be) her and collected a gold medal in the decathlon in the 1976 Summer Olympics.  Maybe it is this that has people so bothered.  How can Caitlyn be Bruce and vice-versa?  I honestly don't have the answers to that.  Caitlyn herself said in the Vanity Fair article that she still screws up her name.  So, it's okay if we are confused, too.  

It's just not okay to be mean, or belittle those who feel as she does, or others' who don't quite fit into the neat little boxes that we wish they would.  I repeat:  It is NOT okay.  If your reaction to Caitlyn is one of anger or hatred, I suggest that you take a good look at yourself and ask why?




Sunday, August 31, 2014

Pancakes

It's a long weekend.  I love it when Sunday doesn't mean the weekend is coming to an end, it's only the middle.  Soak it up!  Do! Stuff!  I know what I will do (I think to myself), I will make delicious, cool looking pancakes that my whole family will adore so much, they will beg me to make them all the time and they will become the stuff of family legend.  They will be crying over my coffin thinking about how freaking ridiculously awesome these pancakes were.


(Don't they look great?!?  Not sure about the gummy worms, though, weird.)

I mentally pat myself on the back for being such a great mom as I stroll the market looking for the correct ingredients.  They don't carry an apple corer?  Oh well, I think...no matter.  I will just core these lovely Granny Smith apples by hand.  It should only take, what...30 minutes? (the real answer is:  infinity)

Two hours later, I have given up trying to make apple rings.  After nearly losing two fingers and ruining four apples, I have settled for making a small batch of apple rings and then, I will use the rest of the batter for apple pancakes...just dicing up the leftover apple and adding it to the batter.  

Not quite what I had in mind, but 120 minutes in, there is no way I am not making something on the griddle.

Oh crap.  The griddle is still on top of the fridge and needs to be cleaned.

After scrubbing the crap out of the non-stick (note:  foreshadowing) griddle, I finally start working on the batter.

I read the instructions on the side of the bag of gluten free pancake mix.  "How many eggs do I need?!?!? 5?!?!????!!!  What the hell, Pamela?!?!  Okay, I will use applesauce to make up the difference.  WHAT?!?!?!!!  How are we out of applesauce???!!???Okay, it's still fine, I will improvise.  Two eggs + Two tablespoons of Earth Balance + One cup of Almond Milk+ Whatever oil we have left = Five eggs, right?  Whatever."

The batter is finally prepared and the griddle is hot.  I place the apple rings on the griddle and begin to gently drizzle batter over them.

"What in the world?!?!?  There is no way to leave the middle circle open.  NO WAY.  Okay, that's fine.  They will be circles, not rings, but no less delicious or beautiful."

I am now sweating in my 100 degree kitchen and have gone partially deaf from the sound of the overhead exhaust fan as it labors fruitlessly to waft the smell of burnt batter away from the stove.

Brett comes in and asks if I can drive him to a friend's house.  I ask him very sweetly to wait until I am done making him THESE! DELICIOUS! PANCAKES! and turkey bacon and he backs slowly out of the room.  Smart child.

It as at about this moment that I try and turn the rings (now circles) over.  

If an appliance could laugh, this electric griddle would have.  Huge, loud, Teflon coated guffaws.  "Oh, you want to flip these pancakes?  These, right here?  No way in hell, lady.  Ha ha ha ha ha haaa."


Apple Ring Pancakes:  Nailed it!

I take a few belly breaths and count to five.  It is either that, or start dismantling the kitchen board by board.

I look over at the sad remains of the apple ring pancakes and decide to give in and just make pancakes with apple bits.  They are sure to be delicious, still, right?

I dollop the apple batter onto the comal (with about a half container of Earth Balance to ensure non-stickedness) and let go of the breath I have been holding in for the last two hours.

Danny comes in and takes one look at the griddle and almost starts laughing until he sees the flames shoot from my eyeballs.  Instead, he starts scraping the crap off of it, wondering out loud if the apples are still salvageable.

I start laughing...that maniacal laugh that you know is just one step below tears while wielding the spatula like a knife.

He backs away, nibbling on half burnt/half raw pancake batter and apple, swearing it is delicious.  This is an example of why we are still married.

In the end, I do manage to pull off some surprisingly good apple pancakes and turkey bacon, which only Brett and Danny wound up eating.  The other two rolled their eyes at me and reminded me why I never try and make breakfast in the first place.


Amy's Apple Pancakes

Prep Time:  Three hours

Crying Time:  Three hours (on and off)

Time Husband Spends Trying To Hold In Laughter:  Your entire marriage

Eating Time:  Three minutes

Cleaning Up Afterwards:  Ninety minutes

Yield:  12 Somewhat edible, very greasy pancakes


Saturday, February 1, 2014

Hard to Find the Words

You can probably tell by the fly by the seat of my brain writing style that I usually just plow right ahead with whatever I am thinking about.  Today, I am having trouble.

I came upon a website in a roundabout way yesterday that left me with so many sick and angry feelings, that I had a very hard time digesting what I was reading; in fact, I still haven't quite reconciled all the feelings I had.  I might never get to that point.  I am not going to post any links to it, here, but a tiny bit of searching will lead to what I am about to reference.

Someone had posted a question in one of the groups I am involved in asking what kind of support we had when we found out that our children would be born with Down syndrome.  I read through the answers, seeing much of my own experience, until I came to one that said something about being referred to a support group for women who ended their pregnancies.  

I was a little bit taken aback by the assumption of this doctor, referring a woman with a still living, moving fetus in her womb to a support group like this, but quickly recovered.  The doctor might have been jumping the gun, but women can and do end their pregnancies for all kinds of reasons.  I can understand needing a place to work through their feelings.

I am not saying that it makes me happy that a woman would feel the need to end her pregnancy based on a T-21 (Down syndrome) diagnosis.  I'm just acknowledging that it happens.  I don't wish to drag these women through the mud.  There are so many complex issues to the dilemma that factor in:  Lack of updated information, fear, outside pressure, stigma, serious heart conditions, just not feeling "strong" enough... I get it.  I really do.

That a woman might make this decision at all is not what bothered me.  At least, that's only a small part of it.  It does bother me because I take it as a reflection of how people feel about my living, breathing kid.  I take it as a slap in the face; but I know that it truthfully has nothing to do with me and my kid and everything to do with what that woman feels to be true for her.  It isn't about me and I don't wish to make it about me.  It's just hard to separate, sometimes.  Her body, her decision.  I understand and agree that this is the way it should and must be.

What really bothered me was reading how some of these "procedures" take place.  I read accounts of women who got a T-21 diagnosis at 20, 24, 26 weeks, who decided to end their wanted (until this point) pregnancies.  Many of the stories recount tiny babies born alive (after induction) only to die in their parents arms.  Babies taking a few breaths, just to die, as their parents whispered to them that it was for the best.

It was for the best, they told themselves and their babies and they took inkings of their footprints and pictures of their dead children and had them cremated and put in tiny little urns as if they just happened to die and they, as parents, had nothing to do with that process.  They talked about being sad over their "lost" babies.

This was where I began to lose it.


I began to think of all the premature babies I have known and the lengths that their parents and doctors had gone to to keep them alive.  Why does one baby born accidentally at 20+ weeks get all the medical intervention we can throw at them and another get to gasp and die?  

I thought of friends who had had miscarriage after miscarriage; who truly LOST their children.

I began to think of the friends I have whose children are battling cancer and kids who have died from childhood cancer and the Grand Canyon scale difference between these children's parents and those that I was reading about.  

I read one account where the parents justified it saying that if their child had been in an accident and was on life support, they would have had to make the same type of decision.  I completely understand this logic if a fetus' condition is incompatible with life.  There are plenty of complications that fall into this category, but Down syndrome is not one of them.  Yes, babies with Down syndrome can have major heart conditions, kidney issues, feeding issues...the list is long.  But most of these issues are correctable.  With intervention, the vast majority of babies born with T-21 will not just live, but thrive.

There is also plenty of debate about how much intervention is too much and I completely understand it.  I've often thought about babies I saw when my son was in the hospital that had never in their short lives left the ICU or been off a ventilator.  Some were three and four months old.  It is worth noting that none of them had Down syndrome.  One baby in particular caught my attention as he was learning to smile around the vent tube that had been down his throat since he was born.  It was truly the saddest baby smile I have ever witnessed.  I want to cry thinking about it now, even fourteen years later.  I pondered over his suffering, for I have no doubt that he was suffering, despite his early, baby smiles.  Entering the world too early, with unripened lungs, into bright lights and needle pokes and tubes shoved down your throat is really no great way to come into the world.

I often wonder what happened to him.  

All this begs the question:  At what point does it become worth the fight?  Understandably, it is different for everyone.  I think about Christopher Reeve and his fight after he became paralyzed and dependent on a ventilator and a wheelchair.  I think about the people I know who are dependent on various interventions to live.  I wonder at what point they would feel like their lives were not worth living.  Mostly, I see people who are at peace with their circumstances.  Whether you want these circumstances for yourself or your child is mostly irrelevant.  Most of us will never know what it feels like to be in those shoes.

So, what of these parents who decide to let their children go?  At first, I read these late term abortion (induction and delivery) accounts with disbelief, then, white hot hatred.  How DARE they write about how sad they were!!!  THEY CHOSE TO DELIVER THESE BABIES TO THEIR DEATHS AND HELD THEM WHILE THEY DIED!!!  FUCK THEIR SADNESS!!!  

Then, I calmed down and started wondering where the line between abortion and straight up killing, was, because this didn't feel like abortion to me.  It felt like killing.  I began questioning my own pro-choice views.  I came to the conclusion that I am still pro-choice, but that the area of gray had narrowed, somewhat.  I have always found late term abortions troubling, but conceded that they needed to be legal.  I don't want women to be incubators for children they don't want and adoption is not the easy alternative that some would want you to believe.  Yes, it's an option, but not one that I would want forced on anyone.  There are plenty of kids languishing in the system, already.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I had an abortion myself, in my early twenties.  I don't regret it and I don't feel guilty about it.  The way I think about it, I might not have the kids I do now if I had carried on with that pregnancy.  I might have married that other guy.  In my view, I saved the beautiful family I have now by sacrificing those cells years ago.  Maybe you will call me a hypocrite.  Who am I to judge anyone?  I also have the benefit of hindsight working for me.  Women who chose to end their late term pregnancies because of Down syndrome don't have this luxury.  All they can see is NOW and the future is a scary unknown.  I'm sure that plenty of these women will hold up their "rainbow babies" (a term used for a baby born after a miscarriage, but apparently, also after an abortion) as justification for their decisions.  It's not my place to judge or question them.  I can only speak about my own feelings.

I don't know where to draw the line for anyone else.  It's not my right to draw that line.  All I know is that I am troubled by this discovery.  I am saddened and shaken that someone could think so little of a kid like mine, with his messed up heart and his humor and love of WWE, that they would let him die rather than fight, but again, I am making it about me and my feelings.  Hindsight might give us blinders.

I read an interesting blog post the other day; written by a woman whose son died from serious congenital defects after battling and suffering for the better part of his short three year life.  She wrote that if she had known what was in store for her son before he was born, that she would have had an abortion rather than put him through what he eventually did.  Again, hindsight in action.  Her story made my heart ache for her and I take her at her word, that she loved and wanted the best for her son; even if that meant not letting him live at all.

So, what is the difference?  You might be wondering.  The difference is that my kid and kids like him don't suffer from Down syndrome.  They are living and thriving into their 50's, 60's and 70's.  And I look at my son and wonder what about him is so horrible that you can't imagine being in my shoes.  And I am trying, mightily, to put myself in yours.  I was there, fifteen years ago and I chose my son. I realize that fact colors my every thought on the subject.

I don't wish to judge or condemn or ridicule or belittle anyone else's choices and I certainly don't want to become a spokesperson for the anti-choice movement.  I believe in choice.  I just know that I am troubled and that I wish to get to a point in our history that sees Down syndrome in a better, more realistic and hopeful light than it does now.



Monday, January 20, 2014

I USED to be Hot, Damnit!

My husband is really good looking.  He's got this very potent Apache Indian/Mexican/tiny bit European thing happening and apparently, he got all the best traits of each.

When we first got together, a million years and three children ago, we were fairly compatible on the looks scale.  Because we lived in L.A. at the time, neither one of us was up for any modeling jobs (see my explanation of L.A. hotness math right here), but we were doing okay, even though I felt kind of chunky at the time.
Just kids, ages 28 and 23.

***note*** 
Chunky is a relative term.  At this point, I would probably, willingly give up an appendage to be 1993 chunky.  My DH would not need to do this since he is the exact same weight he was in 1993.  So, so unfair.

Twenty years later

Okay, well, he's doing a kind of squinty thing in this, more recent picture, but otherwise, he looks basically the same.

He's still got the same jawline and adorable dimples and clear skin and...he's just still super handsome.

I, on the other hand, am not feeling quite so adorable.  Twice in the last two weeks, I have seen young women check my husband out, look at me, then back at him.  I know what they are thinking.  They are doing the math and according to their version of hotness math, we don't add up. I've seen plenty of younger girls check my husband out over the years, but it's only recently that I have noticed this phenomenon.  

It makes me happy that he still turns heads.  

It makes me wish that I still did.

It makes me feel pretty terrible about myself.

It's typical in these instances that I want to pull out an old picture of myself and scream "I USED TO BE HOT!!!" at the offenders.

Actual abs

But, I don't and they wouldn't care, anyway.  They would just shake their young, pH balanced hair in pity at the crazy, chunky, middle aged mom and her obviously vision impaired mate.

They don't get us.

They don't realize what we have have been through or what drew us together or what still keeps us going.  They don't wonder what makes him ageless (is it his genes or is he a vampire?), they just see that he looks good.

His tiny facial crinkles add character.  

My wrinkles add years.

His bald head looks intentional.

My short hair looks like I gave up.

It is disconcerting when these looks occur after I have actually given thought to my appearance.  It hurts my feelings to have chosen an outfit specifically because it made me feel pretty good, only to have someone look me over and wonder what I was thinking.

And it probably shouldn't matter to me.  After all, I HAVE the hot guy and unless I am terribly mistaken, he isn't going anywhere.  Those young things barely register to him and if he even notices, it's for a second.  He has never made me feel less than beautiful and young and desirable.  

It's not these young girls that are the problem.  It's the fact that I care at all.

The treadmill is calling my name.




Thursday, December 19, 2013

What the duck?

I have never watched Duck Dynasty, apart from catching the commercials for a few seconds as I changed channels.  I thought it was amusing that guys like "that" were so popular, but I kind of chalked it up to the train wreck mentality that seems to have taken over popular television.  I thought it was a little weird when I saw Duck Dynasty pj's in the kids' department, but again, whatever.  I didn't pay much attention.

I figured they were harmless.

After the brouhaha that has erupted over the remarks that Phil Robertson (yeah, I had no idea who that was, either) made in an interview, A&E suspended him.  Read or watch his remarks here.

While his musings are hateful and repugnant, I am less offended by them then by the cries from his supporters saying that his First Amendment rights were violated.  Um, what?  I am no Constitutional expert, but I am pretty sure there is nothing in the First Amendment that says you can say whatever you want in an interview without being fired by the television station you work for.  I could be wrong.

A&E is perfectly within their rights to suspend him over things he says if they feel that they reflect poorly on their station.  Maybe they should have given more thought to their programming ahead of time, but that is neither here nor there.  You can get fired from ANY job if you publicly say something potentially damaging to your employer.

And guess what, America?  Being a homophobe DOES reflect poorly and it DOES damage A&E's reputation with a majority of their audience.  Most people don't tolerate hate speech very well.

Even more offensive are the supporters saying how Godly he is for his views; how sad that he is being persecuted for following the teachings of the Bible.  

Again, what!?!?

How, pray tell, is it "Godly" to spew hate?  As with the Constitution, I am no expert in translating the Bible, but I do know that there is enough conflicting jibberish wisdom in there to contradict any notion that "God hates fags" (to use a catchy phrase from one of the Westboro Baptist Churches favorite signs).



I logged into Twitter just before starting this post and typed in Phil Robertson, which was trending.  Since then, about thirty minutes ago, there have been 352 tweets (and counting) with his name in them.  Shockingly, and to my point of view, scarily, many of these SUPPORT him.  Some are just in support of his right to say whatever he wants, which I would also agree with, but many are just to the right of seriously coo coo crazy.

Unsurprisingly, Sarah Palin has come out here to defend him, blasting A&E for their "attack on his First Amendment rights".  Bobby Jindal and Ted Cruz also tweeted about it.  Yawn.
I mean, these guys need to pander to the scary to get votes, so I take what they say with a grain of salt.

It's the tweets by the "regular" people that really scare me;  the ones that think this is all a conspiracy to distract from Obamacare.  The ones that are trying to make a martyr out of this grizzled duck hunter for his racist and homophobic views are terrifying.  "He's being persecuted for being godly" shouts one.  "Thank you for standing up for your beliefs" says another.

Yikes.

I will support anyone's right to say whatever it is they want, but (and this is a BIG BUT) if you are spreading hate, you'd better be ready to take the heat.  I don't tolerate speech that could potentially cause harm to anyone and I will let you know it.  If a company like A&E feels your words could damage them in any way, of course it is in their rights to stop giving you a platform.  In taking away the ignorant soapbox that this guy found for himself, A&E is sticking up for tolerance, that is all.  

I can only hope that the immediate and loud voice that the LGBT community used to shut him down will join those that come to the aid of individuals with intellectual disabilities.  People with developmental delays seem to be the last stand for hate speech.  I have your backs, now please have mine and my kid's.  If you won't tolerate it for yourself, or your community, PLEASE don't tolerate it for others. 

798 tweets (and counting)  https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Phil%20Robertson%22&src=tren

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Negative

Recently, a friend of mine made an offhand comment about some of the negative things that I had posted on Facebook.  I was a bit taken aback, mostly because over the last several (probably six or so) months, I have been really striving to only post positive things.  The only exception to this rule is that if I post something ugly, or horrible or sad, I won't just post it with a sad face :( ; it will be something that I am actively working on changing.

For example, when I post about the plight of Russian orphans with Down syndrome, it's not to boo hoo about it (though, it does make me cry), it's to call attention to something that I am actively working on changing.  Change takes time.  Change takes outreach and noise.  Change takes reaching out to people who speak different languages.  Change means shining a light on perceived "norms" and asking questions and challenging individuals to look at things differently.

Facebook has it's issues, and being a huge time waster is one of the biggest; so in between posting memes of funny cats and hilarious "Fifty Shades of Grey" reviews, I want to spend some time doing something good, even if it doesn't appeal to everyone.

I mean, I get it.  The world is effed up.  There is a ton of stuff to bring us down; crazy world leaders, environmental degradation, extinction of beautiful animals, children in danger...the list is endless.  If you let yourself get sucked into all the horror, it's hard to feel positive about anything.  I mean, why bother?  It's so easy to be consumed by it all and to feel like whatever good you can do will be swallowed up by the rest of the crap.  Maybe it's best to just focus on the good things and ignore the rest.

Except, I can't.

I mean sure, I love cute pictures of babies (here) and animals (here).  I love videos that help restore my faith in humanity (like this) and (this) and (this).  I KNOW that there are more good people than bad and I KNOW that there are so many individuals hard at work, changing things for the better, in small ways and large.  

But, the bad stuff is there and it needs facing to keep it in check.  

Every day, every minute, I have a choice.  I can ignore the bad, stick my fingers in my ears and say "la la la, I can't hear you" and continue playing Scrabble, or I can take a deep breath, see what issues feel pressing at the moment and dive in.  It's constant battle between the two.  Sometimes, the issues are so absolutely soul crushing that I need to walk away for an hour or a day or a week before picking up the thread again.

Sometimes, I am so struck by the hatred (this guy), that I feel paralyzed and it takes me a few days to formulate a plan of defense.  I was ready to begin writing about the Michael Laws' of the world, when my friend posted this.

My first reaction was "god damn it.  I can't deal with every slight, every single infraction, every joke made at the expense of kids like mine" and I played some Scrabble and scrolled and tried to formulate the blog post that was percolating along with the coffee and watched the snow fall fast outside my window.  

My second reaction was "god damn it!  I have to email the guy!" and I did.  This is what I wrote: 


Steve, 

I get that the onion is satirical and my sarcasm muscle is usually sore from overuse. But, kids should be off limits.  

Babies with Down syndrome are still, in 2013, routinely sent to filthy orphanages to rot in Russia.  Children with Down syndrome in this country still have to fight to be included in school, in sports and in a society that too often does not want to "deal" with them.

My kid and children like him are not broken gifts.  They are cherished members of their families and their communities because I and many parents like me have fought for years against prejudice.  

Please don't make this job harder.

It took me all of five minutes and it felt good hitting "send".  I supported the friend who posted it first and supported my kid in NOT ignoring it.

I'm not saying that I will jump on every bandwagon.  There are only so many hours in the day that I can tweet celebrities who think calling people "retards" is still honky dory.  There are only so many items that I can focus my attention on before I become pulled in too many directions.  

The only things that keep my going are the fact that I am trying, in spite of the overwhelming-ness of it all, to make the world a more welcoming place for my children and that I am not alone in my quest.  

Alone, I would hardly make a ripple in the vast ocean of insulting, unfunny and downright dangerous debris that I wade through.  Together, we make waves.  From the tiniest splash made the first time a parent kept their kid home instead of placing them in an institution, to the parent whose kids are going to college and driving and getting married, we are making our presence known.  

You feel that wave?  That's us pushing back.



Friday, November 8, 2013

Why the R-Word Sucks with guest blogger, Nidhip Mehta

This post is a culmination of spending years trying to convey my feelings.  You can read this year's r-word campaign posts here and here.  I have written at least 427 other posts on the subject over the last 14+ years, but I will spare you those.  This latest post came from hearing about Kat Von D and her lipstick line at Sephora.  Long story short, they collectively decided that naming a lipstick "Celebutard" was a hilarious idea.  

Celebutard - from the Urban Dictionary:  


A famous stupid person. Typically refers to the current crop of vapid celebrities.


Similar, but not exactly the same as Celebutante: 


A person of high society and wealth whose famous just for the fact of being rich and fabulous. A socialite who is "famous for being famous."


It seems that no one spotted the irony of a tattoo artist who is famous for having a reality show and for sleeping with Sandra Bullock's ex calling anyone out for being vapid, or famous for being famous.  But, whatever. You can read more about that here.  


Once the disability community got wind of it, it took about 24 hours of tweeting, sharing and public shaming to get Sephora to stop selling the offensively named shade.  It was a victory, but a hollow one.  I am glad that as a community we were able to mobilize and have our voices heard.  I am troubled by the fact that it's a battle we have to keep waging.  


Here's another great post from a friend, here.


In the midst of the fracas, a good friend of mine, Nidhip, decided to play Devil's advocate.  He posed a few, well thought out questions asking why the r-word is so offensive.  He got quite an eye/ear full from me on the subject. We had a little back and forth with no real resolution, just a lot of anger, hurt and frustration on my side.  Again, I was getting nowhere and with someone who liked me and actually cared about my feelings!  How was I ever going to get the point across to anyone else?  


I went to bed fuming and in the morning I realized that getting upset was getting me exactly nowhere.  To top it all off, I was going to quite possibly lose an old friend in the process.  I did a little soul searching and then I wrote a note to Nidhip that said:  


Hey. good morning! First of all, thanks for getting me so riled up last night, it made me really think about things. Second, sorry about telling you to get off your high horse. I have an equally tall one and don't like to have it pointed out to me. Anyway, I was thinking that this conversation is a good one. I want people to understand where I am coming from, but it is very hard if you are not in the same situation. It's frustrating, to say the least. From the outside, you might see it as a debate over a word (which, in the scheme of things, seems inconsequential) but for me and many others, it's a fight for inclusion, for dignity, for justice and for civil and human rights. The word merely is a reminder of how far we still need to go in these areas.
I'd really like to write some more about it. I know I won't convince everyone, or maybe even you, but I would like to try and engage in healthy debate. As you can tell, debate is not easy for me. Arguing is fine if I don't truly care about the answer, but when I do...oh boy. I am all emotion. I know logically that a word should not hold so much weight, but emotionally, it does, it really does.
I'd like to try and work through this some more. Would you be okay with me putting your questions in a blog post and answering them? Or would you want to write something different? Or go back and forth? I think it could be a really good thing. If you don't want to add anymore, I understand, but if you would allow me to use your questions, I'd be grateful. Think about it.
And being the good guy that he is, he said this:
Hey, first of all, I just want to say I'm sorry again. I know with hindsight, you're thanking me, but I really should've gauged the situation better before opening up something which clearly has an emotional resonance. You're right, I tried to intellectualize something which, at its heart, is emotional. But I honestly think that it helps to do that when you're trying to create awareness or change minds. Which is why I was getting at you for simply saying that it shouldn't happen because it makes people angry. As you know, progressive thinkers like us do a lot of things that make other people angry, but that shouldn't stop us from doing it. Like wanting that anybody can marry anybody else, regardless of what the Bible says. That sure makes a ton of people angry, but I'm gonna go on wanting it.
Anyway, like I said last night, my questions came from a point of inquiry, not argument. I genuinely wanted to hear your point of view and well... I got it, I guess.
Sure, I'd be okay with my questions in your blog... after all, that was my point in bringing it up... to initiate discussion. But I really don't want to get anyone upset, let alone you. You are a great person and I admire you a great deal, but I want to respect your limits and tolerance as well.
And thanks for reaching out to me this morning. I really felt bad about upsetting you and regretted bringing it up. I admire that you're willing to put that aside and engage me again. That says a lot about you.
So, here is Nidhip's query. I will break it into parts in order to address different pieces of the issue; but first, here it is in it's entirety:

Ok, so my question is essentially this:
I sympathize with the feeling of being offended by a word or phrase. Ever since I learned that the R-word is offensive to some (particularly to those who have family members that are intellectually disabled), I stopped using it. I don't even use it when those people are not around, and I try to remind others when they use it. Also, I understand the negative connotation when the word is used to describe someone with Downs Syndrome or autism spectrum. It's really not appropriate, and it's not such a big thing to simply use another word.
What I don't completely understand is when the word is used outside of that context; when the intent has been changed from the original meaning. This happens in language. It happened with the words "moron" or "idiot" or "stupid", which were all used at one point as clinical descriptions of people with intellectual disabilities. These days, no one bats an eye or hesitates to use these words. Heck, even people who have family or friends with intellectual disabilities use these words, which a century ago had the same meaning and connotation as the R-word.
Is it not possible to divorce the word from its meaning? Can the perception of those who use the word be more nuanced? Shouldn't there be a distinction between those who use the word offensively and those who do not mean offense?
I'm not exactly saying that people should simply ignore it when people use the R-word, but that perhaps they should react in accordance with the intent in which the word was used, and not simply react from pure emotion.
I also think that in order to make people better understand why they should not use the R-word, the reason given should be more than "it makes me angry" or "you'll never understand unless it happens to you". I think these don't help the cause, primarily because unless the person involved is a friend or relative, no one really cares whether something they say makes some anonymous person angry. I believe in many things that make people angry, like feeling that gays should be able to marry or that all people should have access to affordable (or free) health care. The fact that this makes some people angry does not bother me in the least; it's a fundamental disagreement. So, I guess that in order to better understand the issue, I'd prefer to see a more intellectual rationalization for not using the word, as opposed to an emotional one.
Of course, what I prefer doesn't always matter. There may not be, after all, an intellectual rationalization. Maybe it should suffice that enough people (whatever that critical mass is) find it offensive. But the intellectual part of me wants to know where to draw the line, because it seems very fuzzy and, to be honest, hypocritical. Especially when I see the words "moron" and "stupid" being used all the time. I don't know, perhaps it simply has to do with the amount time that passes for a word to fully change its meaning. It's difficult to parse, unfortunately.
Again, I want to reiterate that if the word offends people who I like and admire and want to stay friends with, that's good enough for me. But it may not be good enough for everyone.


My response: 

I think there are essentially three parts to this:


  1. Is it not possible to divorce the word from its meaning, in the way idiot and moron have lost their original clinical meanings?
  2. Shouldn't there be a distinction between those who use the word offensively and those who do not mean offense?
  3. Is there a way to intellectually rationalize why it is wrong?

Is it not possible to divorce the word from its meaning, in the way idiot and moron have lost their original clinical meanings?

First, some people are bothered by the words idiot and moron and imbecile because of their historical significance to people with intellectual disabilities. For myself, I feel that those words have evolved to a point that when someone says any one of them, a picture of a kid like mine does not pop into their heads. I haven't seen any offensive memes using a picture of a kid with Down syndrome and the word "idiot"; but I have seen plenty with the word "retard". That makes them different, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe it's the role of social media that makes this word different (for me) from the rest. It certainly plays a part.
Secondly, I don't wish to drag up every old word used in reference to people with i/d. I feel they have run their course, history has moved on and so should we. The difference with "retard" is that it IS in common use these days and because of that, it keeps anyone who could be called "retarded" by a doctor (even though it is going away in the medical field) apart from everyone else. It makes them the "other", not like us, not worth worrying about offending, maybe, not even quite human.
Thirdly, though I could wait for this word to become innocuous, I don't want to. I want to stand up now and say that it matters to me and it matters to my family and many, many families like mine.  Why should my kid, who has been called a retard more times than I can count, have to hear that word in any form (including added "tard" to the end of other words)?  

Shouldn't there be a distinction between those who use the word offensively and those who do not mean offense?
Why should the offender (even if it was not meant to offend) get away with impunity?  I see it as a matter of simple humanity.  Most people don't want to hurt people's feelings, even people they don't know.  I think educating those who truly don't realize that their words are hurtful is important.  It's not about getting angry (Nidhip:  you seem to only see my anger and not my hurt.  I'm wondering why?), though I do get angry about it.  When someone uses the word "retard" and I am in earshot, more often than not, I use it as a teachable moment.  I avoid calling people out in public unless they are being blatantly disrespectful, but I typically pull them aside later on and say something to the effect of "this is a hurtful word, I know you didn't mean it to be, but it is" and nine times out of ten, they are apologetic.  Some (many) still use the word, but at least I have planted the seed.  If they hear my voice in their heads the next time they say it, it might not feel as satisfying and hopefully, they will re-think it.

The reason I brought up being hurt versus being angry is that it is much easier (I think) to dismiss anger than it is to dismiss hurt.  People get angry for all sorts of reasons (as Nidhip brought up) that I don't agree with.  Frankly, I think much of their anger is misplaced.  But hurt?  I don't want to hurt people or be hurt.  Knowing that the r-word can be hurtful should be enough.

While there is a difference between being deliberately hurtful (Hey, Retard!) and being unintentionally hurtful (That's so retarded!), the word still hurts.  It is associated with being bad, stupid, ugly and foolish AND it may be a part of a doctor's report; therefore making it a part of a person with a diagnosis.  Would you want any part of what makes you YOU be a slur? 

Is there a way to intellectually rationalize why it is wrong?

I've said that to disability advocates, this is the N-word. Do we use the N-word in any form?  No.  Because most reasonable people get that any form of it is degrading and wrong.  They wouldn't dream of saying "oh my god, you are such a nigger" to a friend who's acting silly.  But, "you're such a retard"  is fine.  Why?  What is the difference?  

The only difference I see is that blacks have had (and in many cases, still need) their civil rights movement, while the civil rights movement for the disabled is still in it's infancy.  You would be horrified if a school refused to accept a child because they were black today; but every day, schools refuse to accept children who learn differently, many without even giving them the chance to show that they can adapt in a mainstream classroom.

This happens today.  

Yes, kids with i/d learn differently than other kids.  And typical kids learn differently from each other.  With creativity, love and support, everyone wins and everyone learns more.  There is no excuse to leave some kids behind for any reason, whether it is sex (in some parts of the world, girls are still under-educated), race (hello?  American south in the 1960's?), or ability (today, all over the world).

My intellectual rationalization would be that the r-word keeps people with intellectual disabilities separate from the rest of society the same way the n-word kept black people separated from society.  Both words say "you are different, you are not worthy, you are not accepted".  If you look at the history of the civil rights movement, you will see that many of the things that were done to black people are still being done to those with developmental disabilities.  The only real difference is that not many have yet noticed that the disabled, as a group, are calling for their rights as human beings to be recognized.  Like African American, women and gay people before them, people with disabilities are calling for equal treatment.  Eliminating slurs against them must be a part of that movement.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

I Love Teenagers

Teenagers get a bad rap.


Yes, they are moody and smelly and occasionally inconsiderate. They cause a disproportionate amount of car accidents for a variety of reasons, not limited to the fact that they don't get that death is a real thing that could happen to them.

I have recently noticed a lot of vitriol on Facebook surrounding the 13-19 year old set, to the point where it actually hurts my heart. Comments from a (hopefully) non-parent after a post about a father and son having issues at a restaurant:
an ambulance would need to be called when I finished whupping him into a pretzel....
Um, really? For talking back to his dad? Seriously? With no knowledge of what happened leading up to the incident, this poster has decided that serious bodily harm is the way to go. I find that really disturbing.  And she wasn't the only one.  There was a lot of horribly misplaced anger throughout.  I hope they were all perfect growing up, or they probably got the shit kicked out of them for rolling their eyes.  


In another post, a mother screams about the "fucking teenagers" that speed down her street.  I mean, I get it.  She was upset about her young daughter running out of the house and into the street.  But, saying it that way makes it sound like a negative epithet.  It sounds really hateful.  


If I yelled about the speeding Jesus Freaks that live down the street from us, would it sound hateful?  Probably.  It would definitely reflect my prejudice.  It would also be true.  They are the ones I am constantly yelling at when they fly through the neighborhood.  And they have kids.  I can't wait until they can drive.  Grrr...  


Isn't it hard enough to be a teenager without everyone hating you?  I can't help but wonder if some of the anger these kids exhibit isn't a direct result of feeling it from other people.


I'm not saying that as a group, they are all wonderful and sweet and odor free.  They absolutely are not. Having three teen-aged boys has introduced me to world of smells that I had not encountered outside a public toilet/perfume counter.  The combination of feet, unwashed sheets and Axxe is an olfactory nightmare.  They have zits and terrible eating habits and their manners are...questionable.


They are also the same babies that I nursed and rocked and sang to and clapped for.  I still clap for them.  And I still cry over their hurts.    Their Twos were not so terrible and even when they were, they were so stinkin' cute.  


Yes, they are harder to love when they roll their eyes and stomp out of the room and say hurtful things.  Isn't that a part of being a good parent?  Reaching down and finding the love?  Reminding them that they are loved no matter what?  Like the terrible twos before, they are finding their way in the world.  They are learning new things and they are frustrated with what they are still trying understand.  They really don't know their place in the world, yet.  The difference is that no one is smiling over their tantrums now.  No one really thinks they are cute; yet they are the same vulnerable kids they have always been.


If you are a parent, realize that your sweet little ones won't always be that way.  Someday, that precious baby will look you in the eye and tell you she hates you and she'll mean it.  And it will hurt.  And you will still love her.  And hopefully, she will remember that.  You will battle, you will take away privileges, you will be deemed "totally unfair" and you will all learn lessons along the way.  


If you are not a parent, please remember that you were a little jerk sometimes too and yet, you are still alive and hopefully, not as much of a jerk today.


Home should be a soft place to land and if that means bearing the brunt of teen-aged angst and frustration, then so be it.  I dished it out and I can take it.  This is where the rubber meets the road.  If we all survive mostly unscathed, we have done our jobs well.


Just some (junk food) for thought.


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

The Fight Goes On...and On

Garrett Holeve is a role model.  At five feet tall and 140 pounds he is a compact ball of muscle.  He works out hard everyday, putting up crazy push up and pull up numbers, jumping rope and sparring.  Garrett, like many other twenty-three-year-olds, wants to fight Mixed Martial Arts.  Nothing unusual about that.

What some are making an issue of is the fact that Garrett has Down syndrome.  Never mind that his dad trains with him and he's lost weight and gained confidence.  Never mind that he is in better shape than 90% of the population, when people with Down syndrome tend to be overweight.  Never mind that he is encouraging a virtually unseen and unheard minority to literally fight for their acceptance. The focus for the naysayers is his Down syndrome.  

When we should be applauding (and many are) his efforts, there are a vocal few that find it appalling that a fighter with Down syndrome is even allowed to exist.  Because, aren't they all just sweet, chunky bundles of love?  Barf.

I get not liking MMA.  It's bloody and brutal.  It leads to injuries, some serious.

But, those facts are true for everyone who enters the octagon.  

If the fighters have medical clearance, what is the issue?

We are not talking about turn of the century side show attractions, here.  We are talking about men who have worked for months and years, only to be turned away at the last minute.  Literally, the State of Florida stepped in five minutes before last weekend's bout, which Garrett and his opponent had trained hours a day for weeks for.
http://www.winknews.com/Local-Florida/2013-08-05/State-stops-controversial-MMA-fight#.UgGDv5KThVJ

That is just cruel.

http://www.bloodyelbow.com/2013/8/6/4594176/mma-downs-syndrome-garrett-holeve-florida-stops-fight-david-steffin-cerebral-palsy

And Bryant Gumbel is right.  He doesn't get it.  He doesn't get that it's not about having a disability, it's about doing what you love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXZMxEFRbmE

Gumbel says that these fighters might not understand the long term risks.  As if their loved ones didn't talk to them about what those might be.

And from another angle, do high school or college football players fully appreciate what the long term effect might be from years of cracking helmets with their opponents?  Maybe, but most likely not.

And Gumbel and the other naysayers don't get that this is not meant to be a freak show.  If he sees it that way, that is his problem and he needs to do some soul searching about it.  It is merely about a man who has a dream and that dream is being squashed out of prejudice masquerading as concern.

Garrett is not a pitbull at the mercy of cruel handlers.  Garrett is a full participant in his own life.  And he wants to be a fighter.  Who are we to say no?

If Gumbel is truly concerned about the welfare of people with disabilities, maybe he should help to expose the horrific conditions that people with Down syndrome and cerebral palsy live in today, right now, around the world.

Don't pick on Garrett Holeve and David Steffin in the name of outrage.  Pick on those that don't see these men as capable of making their own choices.

Check out Garrett's ESPN feature here:  http://www.garrettsfight.org/ and judge for yourself.


Tuesday, May 28, 2013

MyFace

See what I did there?  

I think way too much.  I know it doesn't sound like a bad thing, but trust me, it is.  

I also, occasionally, think too little.  I am spontaneous and short tempered and passionate.  Sometimes, I forget to think before I act.  Sometimes this works out alright and sometimes, well, it doesn't.  That's okay.  Some of the greatest gifts in my life came out of acting as though rational thought was not even a consideration (my husband, a couple of my kids...ok, all of my kids, moving to California...).  The list is practically endless.

Then, there are the things that I perseverate on: 

Injustice

My weight

The environment

The meaning of life

I drive myself kind of crazy.

This tendency was bad enough before the invention of the Internet, but now, it has gotten much, much worse.

Now, whatever scary thought I get in my head ( " I am having a heart attack " / "my kid has Leukemia" /  "The World Trade Center Attack was an inside job"), I can find "proof" of it on the WWW.  Usually, I can find six million reasons why I should panic in the matter of half a second.

And I do panic...at least a little.

And then, the tiny, rational part of my brain says:  "Uh, hello?  Crazy?  Yeah, you need to take it down about seven thousand notches".  

And that also works...until the next time.

I was thinking about all of this when I heard back from the hematologist concerning my middle son, Charles, who had recently had a potentially scary blood test result (see Leukemia, above).  

After hearing that things were okay and hanging up, I had about two minutes of happy before I started to get sad for the kids who did not hear good news.  

I started to think about a little boy in England with months to live, thanks to effing Leukemia.  I thought about how, before the Internet, I probably wouldn't even know he existed, even though he is now pretty famous since he met the "Queen".  

http://www.newsday.com/entertainment/celebrities/helen-mirren-as-queen-elizabeth-ii-meets-with-sick-boy-1.5327321

Before the days of Facebook at least, and for sure before the Internet and email, if and when I heard this story, it would be gone from my head soon after.  Sweet and sad, yes; but I don't know them.  I can't get wrapped up in every tragedy.

Today, however, I feel like I know little Ollie, the boy in the story.  I am a fan of his page on Facebook.

https://www.facebook.com/OneLittleLifeInspiresEveryone?fref=ts

I have read his mom's personal account of his daily journey.  I have seen the many pictures of what going through chemo means.  I have cried for him and his family.  I am hoping for a miracle, as I know they are.

This is where it gets terrible and wonderful at the same time.  

Facebook has made me hate some people that I thought I loved and love some people that I have never even met.

It has made me realize the kind of person that I want to hang out with, call my family or friend and what kind of person I should aspire to be.

On this wonderful/terrible web I have met Buddy, 

http://reecesrainbow.org/?s=buddy

who lives halfway around the world, but I think of him every day and I am doing my best to make a small difference in his life. 

I have all this endless information in front of me.  Can I use it to fill my days with conspiracy theories and nonsense?  Sure.

Can I get angry at the injustice in the world?  Yes, and I should.

Do I perseverate on it?  Yes.  

But, I think that as much as I get aggravated and sad and sometimes, completely heartbroken, it is worth it, if I can do some good with it.  

Even if I just send some more love into the world, isn't that good?  I won't stop there, though.  I am doing...a little bit every day, but I am doing something.  

I hope my ripples meet Buddy and Ollie and Ethan Saylor and all those that I think about and work to help everyday.  

The same ripples have already washed over me and made me stronger and more determined to fight, to be heard, to stand up, to love, really love those that mean so much to me.

Facebook, with all it's flaws, has made the world closer.  If we can weed out the negative and cultivate the good, what kind of wonderful place will we live in?  

That, my friends, is something to think about.