Feelings, Facts, and Faith

Last night, as I listened to the testimony of Texans who showed up to speak both for and against HB2, the abortion legislation of which by now I’m sure you’ve heard, I noticed a pattern. Those who argued against the restrictions brought up scientific and medical facts and information. Meanwhile, those in favor of the legislation mostly shared very personal stories and overwhelming emotions about their own choices.

The fact that they were talking about their own choices seemed to be lost on them.

One theme that continuously surfaced was that of the woman who regrets her abortion. When a woman shares that she regrets her abortion, I feel genuine compassion for her. Who among us doesn’t know the sting of regret? I know what it is to regret a decision, and that pain can be intense. I don’t want to mock her testimony or her feelings. However, her regrets over her own life choices have nothing to do with whether or not a piece of legislation should pass. If the government exists to protect me from regret, then we need laws against my saying certain kinds of things because it’s my mouth that most often leaves me feeling regret. I’m sure we can all see the problem with the logic behind such laws, and that same logic applies to the regret standard that some try to apply to abortion legislation. Your regrets are not the governments business.

This argument in particular stuck out to me because I used to kind of believe it. I’ve never been opposed to abortion because of strong religious conviction. While I’m a Christian, I don’t feel that my spiritual beliefs have much to do with this type of legislation. No. I used to say that “abortion isn’t even necessarily good for women” because “most women don’t feel good about having abortions.” We all have things we said in our youth that cause us to shake our own heads in shame years later, and I can’t believe I ever thought that women needed to be protected from their own choices by their government. Put that way, it makes me shudder.

Luckily, I’ve learned from my own experiences.

I’ve learned that a woman can have an abortion and experience no regrets – and that this doesn’t make her a “bad person.” I’ve learned that a woman can have an abortion, feel regrets, but still believe she ultimately made the right choice. I’ve learned that people’s lessons are myriad and complicated and we’re here to learn, not to experience pain-free lives. In fact, I’ve learned that “pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth,” and I’ve learned to be grateful for my own pain because it’s my greatest teacher. And I’ve learned that I don’t get to rob others of the chance to make their own choices because it is those choices that lead them to their own ultimate destinies.

There’s a lot of God in all of that for me.

If a woman who regrets her abortion wants me to sit and weep with her, I will gladly do so. I’m not blind or deaf to her pain. But I also cannot support the idea that her pain is proof that women need to be “protected” from their own choices.  

In the end, I have enough faith in both women and my God to know believe that they don't need me or anyone else to be in charge. 

Under the Issue

Earlier on Facebook, I saw a comment posted by a young woman on a picture of Leticia Van de Putte, Wendy Davis, Senfronia Thompson, and Jessica Farrar. The comment said, "I have sex willingly and I don't need abortions. It's called responsibility." I sighed. You see a lot of this kind of commentary in these kinds of conversations, and while part of me just wants to write it off as trolling, I have no doubt that she really believes that to be a logical argument against the need for safe, legal abortions.

I kinda wanted to comment simply, "...yet," but I find it's best not to get into it with people who post glib comments about complex political issues. That's an instance in which someone could justifiably accuse me of asking for it.

When you're talking about politics -- when you're considering your political stance -- you're talking about the governance of a group of people, not just yourself. I have sex willingly, too. My husband and I are really, really diligent in our condom use. I'm hopeful that I won't ever again need an abortion. But even if I never do, other women might, and that's why I oppose the abortion legislation that's about to be reconsidered in a second special session in Texas. Because it's not all about me.

It's very easy to take a position of looking down on people you do not feel are like yourself. A friend was recently telling me about someone she knows who posted some disparaging remarks about LGBT people in the wake of the DOMA and Prop 8 decisions -- a person who lives in a different kind of glass house and should probably not be throwing stones. But she's not gay, and so it simply feels good to look down on "those people." It's always easier to do what feels good than it is to do what's right -- and it's very easy to convince oneself that looking down on others is right. It's so sneaky, and sometimes, even when we're doing what's right, we're only doing in wherein it might directly effect us.

I just read another quote from a white gay man who said, "Now that we have gay marriage there is nothing else to fight for." At an event for gay undocumented immigrants. There's a little bit of this stuff inside all of us, not just the Rick Perrys of the world. 

I have very strong views on the abortion issue and what's happening in Texas. I'm speaking up and out and showing up and calling my Senator. I'm not here to say, "OMG GUYS CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!" Mostly I'm just thinking about the instinct to base beliefs only on one's own experiences and how dangerous this kind of thing can be. Throughout the course of the special session, I'm likely to run into more comments like the one at the beginning of this post -- comments that don't bring any compassion, factual information, or consideration to an issue that is extremely complex and even emotional.

I just hope I can refrain from driving myself crazy arguing with them.

Come and Take It

Tonight, the Texas state Senate is quiet. At 10 a.m. tomorrow, they'll reconvene to hear a smattering of bills on the last day of the special session -- one of which is SB5. There is a ton of information out there from people who know better than I what is going on. I can say this about the last few days: I've learned much more than I ever thought possible about parliamentary procedure. In fact, I'm kind of getting really into it. I'm thinking about running for office so I can raise points of order and shizz. You probably think I'm kidding, but I listened to TWO HOURS of blank noise on the Texas House live stream this morning before the body was called to order. 

Like I kind of felt like a person who just purchased a pair of dirty underwear out of a vending machine and was smelling them -- if one were into that thing. 

I've said too much.

That said, if you've come here for up-to-the-minute info on what's happening now, the current state of affairs is that nothing is happening now. Things will get going tomorrow. And God willing, the Texas state Senate Democrats will be able to hold the line and run out the clock on SB5. This is a conversation that's been going on for a long time, and I really just want to add my voice to the din of others who are rumbling that these aggressive measures attacking women's rights will not stand. On Thursday night, 700+ people showed up, most of whom where there to testify against the anti-choice bills that were at that point making their way through the House. And then 1,000+ pro-choice activists showed up at the Capitol in Austin on Sunday to show opposition as the bill hit the House floor. And they stayed through the night as Texas Representatives kept the debate going for as long as possible. Eventually the bill passed the House. But that was never in question. 

What was in question was how many people were going to show up to fight the good fight, and the answer we got was, "DROVES!" 

People say, "What difference does it make?" I still have hope that a filibuster will kill this thing, but even if it doesn't, I'm still heartened by what I've seen over the last five days. Rep. Jessica Farrar of Houston pointed out that we can't get this level of involvement during regular session on anything. People who thought the Texas Democratic party was down for the count are feeling inspired, and inspired people actually get out and vote. When you stand up and say something, you empower all the other people who think like you do to stand up, too. 

So if you ever wonder whether or not you should stand up, I hope you err on the side of YES. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I'm so very proud of my pro-choice Texans who've stood up and said something. No matter the outcome tomorrow, we've won the power of knowing that we didn't just let them have our rights 

They had to come and take them. 

That's What SHE Said

Apparently Paula Deen said some racist things. And so we all tweet and status update about it, pointing and laughing and patting ourselves on the back for not being so racist. Am I the only one who feels like this is kind of missing the point? It's not exactly shocking that she said what she said -- and I don't say that because she's a southerner or because she says, "Y'ALL!" or because she likes to cook with a lot of butter or whatever. I say that because it's just not that shocking that people say racist things. A lot of us like to pretend that we live in a post-racial time, but we do not. And most of the people pointing, laughing, and calling Paula Deen a P.O.S. harbor hate in their hearts. This kind of, "Yay us! We're not that racist!" rubbernecking doesn't actually accomplish anything.

I'm not saying that we all say really ridiculous things like, "OMG I wish I could have slaves for real at my next big event!" That kind of overt racism is -- well, obvious racism is obvious, as the internet kids might say. But what about that racism where you get nervous when you see a black man on the street (which is partially about race, partially about gender, and partially about class -- but let's face it, black men make you more nervous than white men). What about the little jokes you tell in the office that are a little bit racist but you don't think it's a problem because "we're all friends!" and "people shouldn't be so sensitive and P.C.!?" What about the systemic racism you're not even seeing? Look around your office and take note of the racial diversity. Go for a walk in your neighborhood and do a little math on the percentages of people who look like you vs. people who don't.

The real important conversation we need to be having isn't, "How could someone say those things in 2013?" We need to each individually consider what we think, how we act, what we say. We need to look around and assess the real situation on the ground where we work and where we live. I live in Dallas, Texas, a place where liberal-minded white people live in neighborhoods surrounded by other white people -- myself included. We go out to clubs and bars where the people around us are mostly white. And we never think about this and we never talk about it and it's not national news. It's the daily reality. We're not horrible, awful people saying horrible, awful racist things. But what can we do to continue to encourage change? Spending a lot of time calling out Paula Deen and getting her show cancelled isn't the answer to that question.

Look, it's great when we DON'T talk like Paula Deen. Good for us. But these are no laurels to rest upon.

What was the question again?

We got a new TV this weekend! I'm not actually that excited about it. I still can't believe I spent THAT MUCH on a TELEVISION SET -- and we got one on sale for a really great price. But along with the new TV we picked up an antenna so we can at least watch PBS on occasion. I think cable is a total rip off, since I can buy episodes of my favorite shows through Amazon. BUT I'll totally spend $20 on a set of rabbit ears to watch a little public television...and maybe sneak some crappy network TV reality when the husband isn't around to judge me.

While watching KERA World, the secondary PBS channel, I saw a documentary made by a woman who was struggling with the hold that relationships had on her life. She was in her 40s, and she went to India, exploring with women there different views on sexuality and love. After the documentary was over, she and an interviewer began having a conversation about work and kids and blah blah blah. At this point, I'm sorry, I am tired of the way that most of these conversations go. Why? Because inevitably the question of, "Can women have it all?!" comes up, and I have to go stab my mattress 100 times.

CAN WOMEN HAVE IT ALL, Y'ALL?! I actually think this is an amazing stupid question, and if anyone takes it seriously, shame on them. Does anyone see this question as anything other than fodder for Yahoo content creators on a deadline who need something with click value? It's a media-generated conversation. For one thing, there's the obvious issue of the fact that no one ever asks men if they can "have it all." They can have kids and hand them off to someone else and go to work, the end. Also, in this day and age, I can't believe we're having this conversation because it's still framed as if anyone has a choice. I assure you, most women are working and having kids at the same time because LOL WUT? You can afford your kids any other way? And then, beneath these issues is this: WHO THE FUCK HAS ALL OF WHAT? I know no one, man or woman, who "has it all." I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS.

Seriously, it's insulting to all of our intelligence that we're having this conversation when we could be having real conversations about reshaping the world and making it work better for us ALL. We need to stop getting distracted with questions served to us repeatedly by lazy, hungover "content creators" at MSN, Yahoo, and HuffPo, and start asking actual, meaningful questions.

You first.

Writer's Block

I used to write all the time. Throughout college, I carried a notebook with me at all times, and I journaled incessantly. I wrote poems; obviously I wrote essays for classes and research papers. And when blogging became a thing people do (beyond the early days of LiveJournal, which always seemed to me to be artless barfing of personal information onto the internet...which is not really different from modern blogging at all), I jumped in. I had a lot of things to say, and for a time I was an insanely prolific blogger, albeit not very well known.

These days, I write very little. I write copy for work, but this isn't writing. It's more like word math, adding words together in strings that add up to something that pleases both client and search engine alike. But it is not writing writing.

I wonder why. I was sitting here at my desk moments ago, wondering why. I've been feeling the creeping sensation for years now that it is the internet itself that is squashing my desire to say anything. After spending several hours a day engaged in the constant online conversations over gender, sexuality, race, politics, class, et. al., I've come across virtually every viewpoint and found myself mentally exhausted. I swim through everyone's thoughts on Facebook and come up feeling drained. I want to stay informed, but I don't feel informed; I feel beaten up. And after reading what every single other person on the planet has to say about this, that, and the other, I feel like there's nothing left to say at all. There very well may be, but my mind is too full of them for there to be any room for me.

I need an effing break. I miss the energy of having an idea and feeling it flow from my fingers and onto the screen. I do not miss the me who was always so hopelessly a little behind the times, which was the impetus for the name of this blog to begin with.

A few years ago, I went through the Artist's Way. Part of the process involves going on a media diet. You cut out all media for a certain period of time. Because I work on the net, I had to make special perimeters for myself, restricting myself to work-related media and nothing more. And it was fantastic. Maybe I should do that again.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

I wonder if the lack of writing has simply been a change. It's not as if I've forsaken all creative endeavor. I'm in a band. I help write songs, and I still paint fairly regularly. Maybe it's less that I'm failing at writing and more that writing is now failing me in this time of my life. We'll see. 

The other day I came across a thing on the web wherein a man said he met lots of writers, but none of them ever wrote anything. Whatever I want to be, I don't want to be that guy. 

Stalin probably had a huge penis.

Apparently Heineken is changing their bottle design. Instead of being short and squatty, the neck will be longer. This is, according to their marketing folk, supposed to convey “masculinity” and “pride.” Did no one ever tell Heineken it ain’t the size of the bottle but the motion of the ocean…or something?

When I heard this, I just rolled my eyes. This has been going on for a while now, this perplexed response I have to the use of the word “masculinity.” It is almost always used in terms of defense or encouragement, as in, “That thing ladies do threatens our masculinity,” or, “We’re doing this so those dudes can feel more masculine.” I don’t believe I’ve ever heard femininity discussed in these terms. No one can threaten my femininity. There’s a word – emasculate. It’s used to describe the seemingly forcible reduction of one’s masculinity by outside forces. I once had a short dude tell me it “emasculated” him when I wore really high heels while we were together. He said he liked that, but it’s no matter. My point here is that there is no feminine equivalent. No outside force is going to forcibly reduce my femininity by simply doing their thing in my presence.

I think this is so funny. Is who you are “as a man” so flimsy that it’s dependent on your relation to everything around you? Actually, that makes total sense when you consider that masculinity is equated with power, and power always kind of turns people into paranoid, overly sensitive messes. Look at Stalin. Dude killed EVERYONE EVER because he was afraid they threatened his power, whether they actually did or not. This paradox makes me laugh – your supposed power and powerful “masculinity” actually makes you weaker and nuts. It’s one of the things I like about being a lady. Oh, there are definitions of femininity most certainly. But if I choose to shirk them, I have never found that it completely threatens my entire existence.

Masculinity comes up all the time, and the male anxiety about masculinity is simply ridiculous. Who cares? And can a Heineken bottle really improve your feelings of masculinity? How so? Do you equate your dick with all that you survey? And what does dick size have to do with masculinity in the first place? Females express their gender in a wider range of ways, and this is something that I believe gives us strength. It leads to far less insecurity. We don’t need anyone constantly shoring up our sense of femininity, and we don’t have to waste time fighting to get our sense of femininity back if someone seems to threaten it. When my husband does the dishes, I don’t FREAK OUT about whether or not I’m still feminine enough. I feel happy because, shit, I don’t have to do the dishes! 

Perhaps that's not anyone else's experience of being a woman. I was never good at it, so I took myself out of the gender norms Olympics very early on. I've always been a big wearer of dresses, but I've never equated that with personal attempts at being a woman. They're just so much more comfortable, and a dress makes getting dressed so much easier. I'm lazy, not feminine. I've never felt as though I suffered any great loss by shirking my femininity, either. But my main point here isn't what people suffer for lack of conforming to gender norms. It's the fact that I chose that. Any lack of femininity on my part is purely self-inflicted. Meanwhile, men are consistently talking about their masculinity in terms of it's being threatened. A man cannot simply put on gender appropriate clothing and call it a day. His masculinity is largely dependent on his ability to gain and keep some semblance of power over something. From what I've seen, this has turned most men trying to hang on to masculinity in this current era into a bunch of whiners. "But maaaaaaaawm! Why won't that person/place/thing let me feel more maaaaaaanly?"

From a cultural and historical perspective, it all makes sense. It’s the power thing. It’s the idea that the most masculine gets the most power, and men are in this power struggle. The struggle to maintain power. The struggle to get more. But think about that.

Do you really want to be Joseph Stalin?