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Sunday Shame: Ebay Frilly Shirt Edition

Another Sunday has rolled around and since everyone enjoyed last weeks Sunday Shane, I have decided to once again cross post it here at Feministe.

Since becoming disabled, I have taken to making my clothing purchases on EBAY.  The unhusband has been great picking up the slack since I have been sick.  He does the majority of the cooking (much to the children’s horror) as well as most of the household chores.  I have learned that over looking a mess can be better than hurting myself to clean it up.

At any rate, along with taking low doses of prednisone came a huge weight gain.  I simply have to purchase a new wardrobe, as not even with a pound of butter could I squeeze into my old jeans.  The unhusband has no fashion sense and so he is the last person I want to buy me any kind of clothing.  For the most part everything I wear is pretty tame but every once and a while I do reach for the ridiculous.

imageI absolutely fell in love with the above shirt.  It was a mere thirty-one USD and there was no way I was not going to win this auction.   There is something about frills that make me feel soft and feminine, so straight to paypal I went.  I was completely happy with this shirt, until a certain Gus, otherwise known as Allison McCarthy, told me I would look like Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman in it.  Now is that any way to treat a friend?  I will admit that it is a wee bit frilly but isn’t it a lovely shade of blue?  Am I reaching? Come on and help a girl out.

Now I would like to know what fashion faux pas you have recently made.  That means you in back rocking the jheri curl, or the mullet fess up.  This includes wearing PJ’s out of the house or having a weak moment as I supposedly recently did with my beloved frilly shirt.

Cross posted from Womanist Musings

Happy Birthday MJ

I know some of you are like: “enough with the MJ!”  But I’m in Brooklyn.

There was a big birthday party in Prospect Park today that I did not attend as my asthma and allergies have been out of control this week; hanging out around piles of fallen leaves is not what I need.  I’m sorry I missed it.  My sources thus far have described a fun, emotional, positive Brooklyn scene wherein people across various demographics came together in celebration and appreciation of one of our greatest popular artists.   As Monica wrote today on TransGriot:

<i>it still seems surreal to talk about him in the past tense…it speaks to the fact I was spoiled. I didn’t realize the quality type of music I had growing up and the sheer volume of music legends that graced my teen and early adult years. I’m becoming aware of it as these peeps leave us and what we have currently pales in comparison to them.</i>

Agreed.

I wrote a kinda lengthy post about my relationship to Michael Jackson’s art shortly after his death, how I felt he had served as a cultural scapegoat, the racism of his demonization, etc.  Since writing that I have had a summer to process the MJ fandom of my youth and the genius of his artistry.  Here in Brooklyn I think I heard more Michael emanating from car and apartment windows than any other artist this summer.  That was awesome, my incidental summer soundtrack music was all the richer for it.  I listened to more Michael on my own than I had in years, I especially enjoyed J. Period’s “Man or the Music” mixtape tribute.  At the risk of sounding corny, I realized that when I was a kid, and Michael Jackson began his descent from hero to joke, it was a kind of loss of innocence. Way before the somewhat ill-fated album bearing the name, he seemed invincible. This strange, brilliant man was the biggest star on the planet.  Then <i>Bad</i>–despite selling enormous amounts of records–was deemed a “disappointment” for not topping <i>Thriller</i>, and tabloid bullshit started usurping the music in the public consciousness. Kids on the playground started injecting Michael into the misogynist, racist, homophobic and transphobic dogma they’d absorbed and for anyone who’d <i>related</i> to his “weirdness”, it was like a slap in the face.  Or at least it felt that way to me, and it was painful. And instructive as to how we as a culture deal with freaks.

I have said on various occasions since his passing that I wished Michael could see this or that tribute or gathering.  Depending on your beliefs on such matters, maybe you think he can. That would be nice.  The resurrection of Michael Jackson as a shared and treasured artist is some solace after his untimely passing.

Death Ed

Miss Conduct recently posted a question about mourning rituals on Facebook. In the comments, folks got very exercised over the right way and wrong way to comfort a mourner, and struggled with their lack of knowledge about mourning rituals of various cultures. They asked for Death Ed 101.

I know it helps to know the rules (assuming the mourner is going to follow the rules) but honestly, here’s the thing about comforting mourners: just do it. Just be there – wherever “there” is. “There” might be on Facebook; it might be over Email; it might be a comment on a blog post; it might be a casserole or a cake or a shiva call or an appearance at the wake or a stop at the cemetary. It doesn’t matter. Just be there. And stay there. Grief does not end in a day, or a week, or ever. It changes and evolves and eventually the mourner will emerge – not back into the world before, but into a sort of new normal.

Well, maybe one more thing: remember it’s not about you. It’s about the person who is sitting in front of you, looking numb, or the one rushing around the house looking for something insignificant, or the one trying not to cry becuase really, it’s enough already and she can’t breathe through her nose. It’s not the time to work through your own grief about your dysfunctional relationship with your father, or your anger at the cousin who took Grandma’s best china without asking, or your disdain for organized religion.

Grief is waves. At first the surf is heavy, and the mourner is pounded ceaselessly. She can lose her footing and be dragged underwater, and it helps to have someone nearby who can grab and hold on. Gradully, the waves become smaller and less frequent, but you never really leave the shore. There are waves that are predictable – holiday waves, birthday waves – and waves that take you by surprise and leave you gasping and sputtering, drenched again in sadness and loss. Be a ready hand and a steadying raft in the surf, and that is comfort.

NY Bans Most Shackling During Childbirth

A bill that bans most instances of shackling inmates during childbirth has finally been signed by NY Governor David Paterson. Shackling during childbirth — which can mean being handcuffed to the bed at the wrists, shackled to the bed at the ankles, and/or even being restrained around the stomach — is a much more routine procedure for inmates giving birth than most people would imagine. And in addition to the inhumane and degrading nature of the treatment, the emotional trauma it inflicts, and the physical discomfort, it’s a practice that can even cause physical injury.

Though there was a federal ban on shackling enacted in 2008, a) it’s impossible to know whether it’s always followed, since inmates rarely file complaints until after being released, b) it doesn’t apply to state-run incarceration facilities, and c) as very few laws seem to, it also doesn’t apply to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). In fact, ICE is one of the biggest offenders, and particularly disturbingly so as a disproportionate number of the pregnant women in ICE detention are pregnant as the result of rape (committed when they were crossing the border), inflicting a unique and especially horrific type of trauma. Indeed, as women of color are disproportionately incarcerated compared to white women, thanks to a racist prison system, this is also an issue that undoubtedly disproportionately affects women of color overall.

The reason, of course, that shackling has been able to continue for so long is the same reason that so many other prisoner abuses take place: racism, classism, mixed ignorance and apathy, and a general attitude that anyone who breaks the law (any law!) is disposable and deserves whatever abuse the government sees fit to heap upon them. It’s majorly disappointing that this new law includes exceptions that may easily be abused, but this is definitely a right step forward. In fact, the saddest thing of all is that according to Mother Jones, New York is only the sixth U.S. state to have legally prohibited the practice at all.

For more on the practice of shackling during childbirth and why it’s a hugely important reproductive justice issue, check out this article from RH Reality Check.

Remembering Hurricane Katrina

hurrican katrinaOn August 29, 2005 Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. It ravaged the Gulf Coast from central Florida to Texas. New Orleans was the most affected due to the levees breaking. Many evacuated before the storm hit landfall, however; those unable or unwilling to leave waited out the storm in their homes or in what was known as the place of last resort, the Super Dome. The water lingered for weeks because 80% of the city was flooded.

When former President George W. Bush looked back on this horrific natural disaster, at the end of his term, he spoke of how effectively the residents of New Orleans had been evacuated, however; it is certain, that the 1,836 dead would have had a different opinion, had they still been alive to tell their stories. Not only was Katrina a massive display of incompetence, it revealed the race and class divide, that has become a part of life in America to the world.

When one leads a hand to mouth existence, even though life and death may depend upon evacuation, it may simply be impossible to leave. Hurricane Katrina happened at the end of the month and those that are dependent upon governmental subsidies like welfare would have been at the end of their resources. Assuming that they had a vehicle to leave in; how were they going to pay for an extended stay in a hotel and food? Quite often, motel owners will raise their rates, when they know that a large number of people will be seeking shelter. The law of supply and demand does not take into account human lives.

The nation watched in horror, as it became evident that those swimming for their lives were largely Black. This was not the dream that Martin spoke of, where is the long awaited mountaintop? Even the reporting on Hurricane Katrina was largely tinged with racism, as Blacks were accused of looting, while Whites were merely forging for supplies. All of the major news outlets were there broadcasting in solemn tones about the human tragedy and yet no one bother to report on the murders of Blacks in Algiers Point. Anyone stumbling into that area risked being shot, as White vigilantes strove to protect what they deemed to be theirs. In a documentary on this event, two members of the community stated:

It was great!” said one vigilante. “It was like pheasant season in South Dakota, if it moved you shot it … I am not longer a Yankee.”

A woman responded, “He understands the N word now. In this neighbourhood we take care of our own.”

Even amongst the vulnerable, Whiteness continued to exist with the ability to act with impunity. No investigation was launched by the state regarding the shooting of Blacks, revealing that in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, racism continued to factor into the governments decisions on which bodies are considered valuable.

The survivors of Hurricane Katrina were housed in trailers, which were later to be revealed to be formaldehyde death boxes. The crime rate in these makeshift communities soared as residents experienced depression and desperateness. Many are just barely surviving, with no way to rebuild even the meagre homes they once had. Construction in New Orleans is well underway, with planners ensuring that not only would the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina reveal a changed landscape but a radically different population density, by failing to rebuild affordable housing. Many who initially felt sympathy for the survivors, now display a shocking lack of empathy, as they fail to grasp that the same cycle of poverty that prevented the survivors from leaving years ago, now subjects them to sub standard living conditions.

Hurricane Katrina still haunts the United States because no lessons were learned despite the size of the tragedy. After the civil rights movement ended, many were content to believe that the disparity due to racism was a thing of the past and yet the inner cities told a different tale. Blacks have loudly argued that racism is a systemic force, that continues to affect every aspect of their lives and yet silence is the response from Whiteness. Hurricane Katrina arrived to devastate the Gulf Coast and there could be no denying which bodies lived in privilege and yet years later, African Americans are still accused of playing the race card, being overly sensitive, and holding on to the past.

Since then, Obama has been elected as the first African American president and yet there have been no fundamental changes to the system. Far too many Blacks are purposefully under educated, which sets them up for a lifetime of poverty. Police violence against bodies of color has escalated, as Whiteness fights a battle to maintain its power. If a natural disaster were to happen in another large urban center, the same result would occur because the social hierarchy continues to exist. The capitalist system of exchange further ensures that those that are of color lack the means to be able to pull themselves out of poverty. We have simply resolved to continue on this path, though it has been revealed in real and startling ways, how devastating it can be to those that own the status of “other”.

Cross posted from Womanist Musings

In The Belly of the Beast

My daughter loves fashion.

She loves fashion magazines, but we don’t have any in the house, so she reads catalogs instead. She loves shopping for clothes. She loves looking at other people’s clothes. She loves “What Not To Wear” (which I do actually let her watch, heaven help me). She loves creating outfits out of her clothes and doing her hair. She loves makeup. She’d love high heels, if we let her wear them.

My daughter is gorgeous, and in an adult way, not a nine-year-old cute way. She has always had a waist and hips and a nicely shaped butt. Her face is still round but does have some cheekbone planes; she has a cute upturned nose, curly hair that is still manageable, large hazel eyes with long eyelashes and clear tanned skin. She likes fitted clothing, tight jeans, short skirts and the aforementioned high heels. She wiggles her butt at me and winks over her shoulder like a pin-up.

My daughter would love nothing more than being a cheerleader.

Daughters of feminists/love to wear pink and white short frilly dresses/and speak of successes with boys/It annoys/their mom

Read More…Read More…

What’s Accessible To You?

Different bodies, need different kinds of accommodation.  It seems to me that many believe, a one size fits all solution, will work as far as making spaces more inclusive but in my experience, as a differently abled bodied person, I can often see where even having the limited mobility that I do, offers me a form of privilege that will mean a denial of service or access  to another.

This week we had to go back to school shopping for Mayhem and Destruction (my two boys).   Because it was a beautiful day, I decided to meet my family there and travel  by scooter.  Imagine my chagrin, when suddenly I ran out of sidewalk, without warning because they were under repair.  If one is able  bodied, it would have been fairly easy to dodge around cars and cross the street but being on a scooter, I had to pull  into heavy traffic and make a right hand turn.

After having my scooter for a few months, I am well aware of the ways in which people lose their patience the moment they get behind a wheel of a car and I felt fear being in so much traffic.  As I arrived on my scooter, I had no choice but to take it home after we finished.  When I again waded into traffic and into what was obviously a precarious position, no car bothered to stop for me.  Thankfully, a construction worker stopped traffic long enough for me to make a left hand turn and get to the safety of a side street.

As uncomfortable and dangerous as this was, I knew that I was lucky to be in a scooter rather than a manual wheelchair.  Can you imagine a manual wheelchair pulling into oncoming traffic?  My ability to move means that I am not always in a chair and therefore, I can still with a degree of difficulty, negotiate areas that are inhospitable to those that spend their lives in wheelchairs.

When we went out for dinner tonight, I was able to drive my scooter right inside, only to discover that the  bathroom was down a steep flight of stairs.  When I asked at my sons dojo if they were wheel chair accessible, I was told yes, unless  you plan to use the bathroom, which is downstairs.  Each time an incident like this occurs, I realize that my limited mobility is still a privilege because though I experience pain, I still exist with the option to get up and go up or down those flight of stairs. When I visit a friend, I don’t have to think about the fact that most homes don’t have ramps in the bathroom, and are not large enough to comfortably manoeuvre a wheelchair. If I am shopping and an item is on the top shelf, I can stand and reach it, rather than searching for someone to get it for me.

When you are differently abled, the world focuses on all of the things you cannot do, versus all the things  that you can do.   In this way, if one has a closed mind, it is quite possible to ignore the ways in which one still exists with privilege relative to others.   As I negotiate the world as a differently abled person, my perspective not only allows me to see the ways in which the world was not designed for people like me but for others who need different accommodations.

I don’t know what it is to be blind, or hearing impaired, and I cannot imagine how difficult it is to be non neuro-typical, but through conversation I can empathize and understand what it is to feel “othered”.  It is not always necessary to have the same condition as another, to see the ways in which privilege operates.  If each of us were to personalize the experience by thinking of the different ways in which we are forced to “rise above”, perhaps we would be less likely to invoke privilege upon another.

Cross posted from Womanist Musings

“You don’t have to tell me about ‘the parts’… just tell me to wait”

No, that’s not Leslee Unruh or the National Abstinence Education Association.

It’s the Obama Administration.

Here’s the new tv ad from 4parents.gov, run by the US Dept. of Health and Human Services:

So, let’s see, you’ve been in office 8 months now, right Barack? And this is what we’re still peddling?

It gets worse at their website. Here’s what they have to say about marriage:

This Web site talks a lot about marriage, and that waiting until marriage is a sensible choice for your son or daughter to make when it comes to sex. But what’s so valuable about marriage? Why is marriage any different, or any better than other family situations?

First of all, let’s be clear on one important point. In general, children – and adults – do better in homes headed by a married mother and father.

****

What are the benefits married people enjoy?

  • Live longer.
  • Have better physical and emotional health.
  • Are happier.
  • Earn more.
  • Enjoy better sex lives.

That’s right, folks. Tell your kids they better get hitched to their heterosexual partner, or else you’ll never have great sex and you’ll die young, poor and unhappy. And whatever you do, don’t talk about “the parts”…

Your tax dollars (still) at work…

(crossposted from Amplify)