Winning Humans

A group of awesome people going against the grain.

[winninghumans]

Beauty Does Matter After All

Understanding Beauty has been a thought project of mine since sophomore year of college. The reason this seemed so important comes from the fact that I’ve been female my whole life. Female worth and female beauty can hardly be untangled in our culture, especially for teenage girls. I went through my fair share of body image issues and disordered eating habits in pursuit of acceptance, not to mention spent a shit ton of money the practice & habits of trying to be pretty. & did a pretty damn good job of it if I do say so myself. Despite my success with eyeliner and hairstyles, I went through teenagerdom feeling not quite pretty enough, and at the same time I felt as though my black belt in martial arts & my 31 on the ACT have got to count for something on the self worth scale. It was like I was picking up this message from who knows where: “It’s awesome to be a badass and a genius, buuuuut if you are a woman, it only counts if you are beautiful too.” Now I’m a grown up and I say fuck that. Pretty is overrated. It’s more fun to be awesome than pretty.

At the same time, I haven’t been able to avoid thinking about beauty and wondering if it has any meaning at all. I grew up going to church & got some nice messages there like,  “outer beauty fades but the inner beauty of good character lasts forever” and “true beauty is on the inside,” and “man looks at outward appearances, but God looks at the heart.” That sounds nice and all but a little shallow and unfulfilling. That kind of sentiment doesn’t explain what beauty is and why it’s so compelling, and if it has any meaning. That kind of message just says that beauty is an illusion. So come college & some thinkin of deep thoughts & reading of big books, the intellectual fires were stoked and I could not just leave it at that. Since I’ve dug into the meaning of Beauty I’ve written a few articles & done a few public speaking gigs & maybe even an academic paper or two on the topic, and maybe changed my mind a few times. For this blog I’ll stick to casually discussing what’s at the center of my thoughts about Beauty currently.

Here’s what I’ve got to say about Beauty and its effect on our souls. For the purpose of this discussion I’m gonna jump into a story from Plato’s Phaedrus and along with it, some assumptions about the existence of some kind of divine being or force or god that is the source and the essence of Beauty and Goodness and Truth. Along with that comes the the existence of souls who have some kind of ultimate purpose involving unity with the divine. Even if you don’t literally believe your soul is on a journey toward God, it’s still a true metaphor of how beauty compels us & inspires us to move towards goodness to create our best selves.

Beauty is divine. It’s much bigger than what you get when you google search the word beauty; that will get you a bunch of photoshopped pictures of thin white women. Beauty is much bigger than any kind of female beauty though it includes it. Beauty includes human bodies, human actions, and human creativity, and human feeling. All these things reveal the spark of the divine within us. Beauty also includes nature in all its order and chaos and sublimity and mystery that is beyond us and our ability to quantify it and tame it with science & technology.

Beauty draws our souls to the divine. Plato’s Phaedrus contains a beautiful story to show how beauty works on the soul. In the story, the soul is like a chariot pulled by two horses, one white, one black. The white horse always pursues the highest form of Beauty. It’s never fooled by an illusion or even by attractive things that are in front of it, but is focused on the destination: being united with divine Beauty itself forever. The Black horse also runs after Beauty, but it is quick to rush towards any and all expressions of beauty, not just the highest and best. The black horse is not evil, but it’s driven by impulse and appetite. In its hunger for beauty, it is sometimes fooled by things that appear attractive but are actually destructive. It’s strong enough to through the whole chariot off course and into chaos, since the two horses could be pulling in opposite directions. The task of the chariot driver, or the intellect, is to get both horses running in the same direction, to ascend upward on its journey to Beauty itself.

The lesson here is to get in tune with your white horse, that intuitive inner sight that knows the best & truest & most beautiful path. Listen to the white horse and feed it and let it grow strong. Don’t be driven by the black horse, but rather let your intellect, the chariot driver learn to rule it, train it, tell it where to charge forward with its energetic hunger for beauty. The black horse is slow to learn the lesson that “all that glitters isn’t gold”, but it can be reined in and yoked to the white horse so that they work together. In the dialogue the chariot is slowly spiralling upwards to eventual union with the divine. You will get there eventually, even if the going is slow. Even if your black horse is unruly and you go in circles for a while, it’s ok, you’ll get there. Just pick up the reins and again and guide the white horse to look for the next step.

What do humans want? What is our deepest desire? It’s really a simple answer: to possess the Good and Beautiful forever. Our desire for true goodness and beauty is the love that moves our souls. Our desire, (the greek eros), drives us onward and upward to the divine. Beauty matters. Beauty inspires love, it makes us want to be better, to become more fully who we are meant to be, to express our highest selves. But so often we get fooled and our black horse gets distracted, because every day we see photoshopped images of one single kind of beautiful female body that we forget how to see beauty in all its other expressions. So then, in true need & desire for beauty, we go after what we see in front of us and try so hard to become beautiful like those magazine covers; or others try to possess & control female bodies and their beauty. And thus our souls go in circles.

So let’s take up the reins. Let’s develop eyes to see true Beauty and learn to cultivate a beautiful life. Look outward for beauty and let it inspire you and fill you with love. Look for Beauty in daily life in people, nature, good actions, relationships, art, food.  Make a beautiful life: develop skills, talents, strengths, work hard, think hard, accomplish something, practice something, create something, serve others. Live a beautiful story. Realize that you already are living a beautiful story. You are a part of God’s beautiful story. One of my favorite poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins uses a metaphor of a theater to express how divine beauty is lived out in us: “Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the father through the features of our faces.” Christ is the player and so are we, and the universe is the theater, and who is watching but God, not judging but enjoying. There’s divine beauty in every act, around every plot twist, and in every performer if we can learn to see it. You are beautiful, because you are part of the beautiful story and are creating your own beautiful story. Things may not look that way now, but look to the end!  Your soul will be moved to union with God by love & desire for true Beauty & Goodness. That’s the love that moves the spheres. Keep your eyes on that Beauty; let your horses leap on to that end.

[winninghumans]

Disclaimers:

Trigger warnings for rape and sexual assault. I am sharing my story in this. If you show this to friends or family members who know me well, feel free, but please leave my identity out of this. This is very personal for me, and in some ways it is therapeutic. Feel free to ask me any questions on my personal blog (firagaproductions.tumblr.com), I am generally very open to discussing these things. Being a very personal piece, this may become close to graphic. Please heed the trigger warnings. Do not make this blog an unsafe place for you.

*Names changed for my privacy.

 I am not a stranger to sexual violence.

I was violated for the first time when I was 6 years old by my grandfather, for many years and in many different ways. I have been touched, looked at, photographed, and possibly even sold online for other pedophiles to see and enjoy. For 6 years, I was used. I was given a break for 5 years, and then I was violated again, by someone else and very differently. This is the story I want to share with you today.

When I was 16, I was in a very rough place. I did not have the coping mechanisms or ability to deal with some of the things I was put through as a child, and I did not have the mental capacity to understand good and bad decision making. I made a decision at age 16 that many people blame me for. They say that I should’ve known better, I should’ve been smarter, I should’ve done a lot of things. When I was 16, I entered a relationship with a 24 year old named Henry*.

I understand now that there is a problem when 20 year olds want to date teenagers. I understand now that there is a difference in maturity between these ages. I understand now that when 20-somethings want to date teenagers, it is perverted and disgusting and wrong. These are concepts I did not understand when I was 16 and 17. I have been blamed over and over again for this relationship, that I “wouldn’t have been raped” had I not been in the relationship in the first place. Then again, shouldn’t the 24 year old have known better? Should he not have responsibility in this matter? Why is it always the victim’s fault when they are raped?

But that’s a question for another time.

I was 16 when he invited me to his apartment for the first time. I was 16 and naïve, and my only boyfriend prior to this had been just as innocent and gentle as I, so I truly thought that Henry was inviting me over to watch a movie like he said. We were in his room when he kissed me. And kissed me harder. And deeper. I was a little unsure about where this was going, but I continued to go along with it. This continued for a while, until there was touching, and I became uncomfortable. I asked him to stop. He backed off. Things of this nature continued to happen over the next few weeks. I would ask him to stop when I got uncomfortable. He would back off, but to a lesser and lesser degree. I had told him before that I was not interested in having sex, could we please do something else, could we maybe not go to your apartment. So we went to his vehicle instead. I wasn’t sure how to handle it when things started to get closer and closer to where I was unwilling to go.

Very few of my memories from birth to age 18 are intact. I’ve blocked out many years at a time, I only have flashes of memories of both the good times and the bad. But I do remember being in his car, I remember it was at night, I remember what vehicle he drove, and I remember wishing he would stop, and I remember it happening anyway.

Henry never once asked for my permission before starting anything. And this is where we come to what I would like to discuss today.

In 2014, California passed bill SB967, which made California the first state in the nation to actually define when “yes means yes.” When deciding sexual assault and rape cases on college campuses, they changed the decision making from one based on when “no means no” to a more clear definition of the word “consent” – “an affirmative, conscious, and voluntary agreement to engage in sexual activity.” The introduction of this bill, 6 years after my relationship with Henry ended, was the first thing that made me think long and hard about whether or not I had been raped.

This bill, aptly nicknamed “The Yes Means Yes Law,” came with quite a bit of backlash. People who wanted to have sex with their significant others freely, people who thought actively seeking consent would “kill the mood,” people afraid that if they forgot to ask, they would be reported as rapists. Things of that nature. I’m going to speak to these concerns with a short, potentially offensive phrase.

I do not give a shit.

Consent is an extremely lacking thing in our sex culture. When you watch movies or television with sex scenes, do any of the parties ask permission? How many of you have ever been asked permission by your partner, even once? I, for one, have never experienced or seen either of these things.

Henry engaged in several things with me over our 6 months in a relationship. Several things I did not want, several things that I’ve replayed over and over in my mind wondering if it was rape because I don’t remember if I explicitly said no. I was raped, anally raped, forced to engage in sex in uncomfortable situations like when I was on my period, among other things. Every single time was based on when he wanted it. I never once started it, and I was never once fulfilled by it.

Consent means an active yes. Consent means that permission was verbally, explicitly asked for, and verbally, explicitly given.

I understand that a lot of people are in relationships with people, have been in relationships with your partner for a long time, and I understand that you may not be in the habit or may not understand the need in your relationship to ask for consent. But I would implore you, beg you, plead with you to begin to make this a part of your relationship.

Culture change is never the result of one person. A shift in culture is the result of several people who changes parts of their lifestyle in their personal lives. A shift in culture results from one person joining a group to make a change. There needs to be a culture change in regards to rape and sexual assault. Besides several other issues, like victim blaming and statutes of limitations, consent is an incredibly important thing. Changing the culture on consent results in changes in laws, like the law change in California. This law makes it easier to identify and prove rape, especially in cases like those of intoxication rape. It makes it easier to prosecute rape. But, even more importantly, it allows for people like me to fully understand what happened to us, why it was wrong, and attempt to heal from that.

You do not understand what it meant to me the very first time someone asked me if we could engage in something sexual. You don’t necessarily know everything your partner has been through. Many sexual assault victims stay silent out of fear of their abusers, inability to comprehend what happened to them, unsure of whether it was even rape or not, public backlash (look up the “carry your weight” protest for an example of public backlash), and hundreds of other possible reasons for keeping silent. You do not know what your partner has been through, and you do not know what it could mean for them if you just ask, “Is it okay if we keep going?”

You can say no. You can always say no. Even if you’ve done it a thousand times before, if you wanted to up until now, whatever the case. You can say no. Consent leaves room for this. Consent leaves room for those unsure if they want it, unsure if they can say no. Asking for consent communicates that yes, you can be free to say no at any point. Consent means that you have the freedom to say yes or say no.

Asking for consent, even between two willing partners who have been together a long time, continues to establish trust. It begins changing the culture, even in a small way, so that even if something happens and you do not remain together, you will carry it to your next relationship. And if you do stay together, it adds another level of healthiness to your relationship, it allows room for you to say no if you’re too tired, if you’re just not sure if you want to do that right now.

Consent matters because it changes the lives of assault victims. It allows victims a voice in an area where they were never given a voice. It gives victims a voice in personal relationships, when talking about their abuse, and in lawmaking and prosecution of sex offenders.

If I had understood consent as a concept, had understood what it meant to be asked at all, I would’ve known much sooner that I had been raped. I would be able to answer that question consistently. As it stands, sometimes I understand that I was raped. Sometimes I don’t, sometimes I’m not sure.

I get it. This is a new concept. This is a new idea. You’re not sure about this, you’ll forget, you’ll mess it up, and you probably won’t want to try it at all, at first. That’s okay. But please, think about it. Consider it. Consent matters. Active, yes means yes, consent matters more than you can imagine.

 http://www.npr.org/2014/09/29/352385534/calif-assault-law-requires-college-students-to-give-consent-before-sex - yes means yes law

https://rainn.org/ - resources for rape/sexual assault survivors

[winninghumans]

Prized Possessions of Homeless Women

When you check into a homeless shelter after being evicted, leaving a domestic violence situation, fall out from a family conflict, being discharged from incarceration, a long hospital stay in a town that is not your own, or any other of the unique causes of needing emergency shelter, you are often allowed to bring one piece of luggage and one personal bag, sort of like a carry on. The items ladies choose to keep, and carry around with them day to day are the most important or emotionally significant items. The following photos are taken on a smart phone inside a women's day shelter of the items women find to be most valuable for them on the street.  Below are descriptions of the items, and why the women have deemed them important.

1. Stuffed tiger- “My parents were put away for felony child abuse since I was 14. I am 18 now, and while most of my friends are going on European vacations, swimming with their family, and packing for college, I’m just trying to figure out where I can sleep safely at night, and where I can find my next meal. He helps me feel safe, and also reminds me I’m still young. What I wouldn’t give for one care free day.”

2. “laptop and pens”

“I am an online french professor, I have been homeless since my husband left me. He had always been wealthy and provided me with a comfortable lifestyle, so It is hard to come back after something like that. I use this computer to keep up with my teaching, which is the only reliable income I have right now. I also keep pens and paper with me at all times if I hear of any resource or phone number that can help get me out of this mess. Anything helps.”

3. “homemade cart” 

“I have lived outside for, oh, close to 5 years now, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a neat freak. I’ve constructed this little cart with materials I got at the hardware store with a little from each paycheck. It holds all of my things in organized compartments and shelves, which keeps my medication, food, important documents and survival tools safe and dry. I have a pad lock on it, as well as a combo lock on everything in there. I lock it up to a post by a bike lock. It’s my lifeline for now.”  (author’s note-since taking this picture in December, the client has been stably housed for 6 months in her own apartment. She still keeps the cart with her for storage.)

4. “paperback Bible”

“One thing you can always find is a paperback bible. There is some encouraging stuff in there, but most of it is confusing. It’s always something to read though, when you have nothing but loneliness and time on your schedule”

5. “soldier bear”

“I am 8 months pregnant, I suppose I could go at any time since I’ve been under a lot of stress sleeping in the car. One of the nice ladies at a shelter in town gave me that for the little girl on the way. It makes me happy, and keeps me remembering to make healthy choices for the baby. At least she will have something to her name when she is born.”

6. “white car”

“If you have a car when you are homeless, it definitely puts  you at a big advantage, and gives you the opportunity to be less desperate. You can wait on the better apartment for a reasonable price instead of having the urgency of having to jump at the first slum lord that wants to shake your hand.   Oh? the dragon sticker? I’m a big fan of Tolkien, and I write lots of fan fiction. I’m kind of a nerd, and stories are what keep me alive.”

7. “man in a pot”

“Most of the shelters don’t allow men on the same side, and you all don’t allow men in here, so, I had to bring one in with me that wouldn’t get me kicked out. I’m boy crazy. He’s not my type, but hey, at least he’s a man.  You’ve gotta have a sense of humor out here, or you’ll lose it.”

[winninghumans]

Protest Music

I was first introduced to protest music in my freshman anthropology class. It was only 4 years after the invasion of Iraq by US military forces. In high school, I was quite the patriot, one might say jingoist. I watched the coverage of "shock and awe" bombing of Iraqi cities as a teenager with disturbing sense of "finally, go get 'em." It wasn't until college that I began to intentionally open myself up to accept expressions of experiences different from my own.

In that class, we surveyed very briefly the history and culture of the Middle East, but then spent a good amount of time discussing the morality of preemptive military action (something I'd accepted easily in earlier years) and Iraqi and Arab perspectives of the conflict. I didn't really want to know these things, but they came flying at me. I knew I had to take them seriously. These were people, too, after all, right? Iraqi-American rapper TIMZ was one of the first whose perspective got in my face and forced me to look again. His music video "Iraq" disturbed me. It never let me think the same way about war. It still disturbs me. But now because I see the faces of my Iraqi friends and I am crying out for the death and destruction to come to an end.

"We say, who needs Iraq? But everyone in the world bleeds Iraq."

Two years after this class, I'd meet my first Iraqi friends who fled to the US to escape the war, not without their own physical and mental wounds. I don't know where I'd be without those friends, and I don't know if I'd have cared to meet them in the first place if protest music hadn't pierced my armor-plated ethnocentrism.

[winninghumans]

Steven Universe

So there’s this show called Steven Universe. Maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe you haven’t. It began airing on Cartoon Network in November 2013, but there was a pilot aired online in May 2013. It’s wonderful creator, Rebecca Sugar, who is only 28 years old, is the first woman to ever create a show on Cartoon Network. The show is basically about a group of three aliens called the Crystal Gems who fight to protect the Earth, especially their adopted hometown called Beach City. They raise a young half human, half gem boy named Steven Quartz Universe who is the child of their former leader, Rose Quartz, and a human man named Greg Universe. They teach Steven what it means to be a gem and how to use his powers. Rose Quartz gave up her physical form to have Steven (as far as we know, gems don’t reproduce through birthing), but his father Greg is still in town and has a close relationship with Steven even though they don’t live together. I’ll keep this as spoiler free as possible, but here are a few amazing things about this show.

Non-Nuclear Family

Steven definitely lives in a non-nuclear family. He lives in a home with three female aliens, and he occasionally visits his dad, who lives in a van at his car wash business. His dad wants the absolute best for his son, which is why he has Steven live with the Crystal Gems. This is joked about from time to time, like with people not understanding the relationship between Steven and the gems, even going so far as to have one character calling them Steven’s sisters.

LGBTQ Representation

Later in the show, it’s revealed that there are two female characters who are in a romantic relationship with each other, and that relationship makes them much stronger and even better. Some children's shows may hint at LGBTQ relationships, but this one is very clear and shown in multiple episodes. Sorry I can’t describe it more, but I really want to keep this spoiler free.

Body Positivity

All the characters have very different body shapes, and it’s never used as a joke about weight or height. In fact, Steven dreams of seeing the gems “fuse” (two or more gems fusing to become one big, super-powered being that has qualities of both original gems but also some new qualities) so that he can see a giant woman (YouTube “Giant Woman”). There’s even a song about it. One character, Sadie, who works in Beach City, may even be a little person* (this has never been addressed in the show, but it is speculated by fans). She is a teenager, but she only slightly taller than Steven.

(Photo credit)

Character Growth

Each and every character in this show experiences well-developed growth. Steven grows in his physical powers as well as his friendships with the gems, his dad, and the people in town. Each of the gems experiences personal growth as well as growing friendships with each other. They all have fights with one another, showing both healthy and destructive ways to deal with anger, and they are very clear about which is which. But they always resolve their issues, even if it takes a few episodes. Many of them also have a struggle with their pasts, but so far, have seemed to find redemption, even if it hurt to get through the hard feelings.

So have you seen Steven Universe? Have I left something out that you would like to add to the list or do you disagree with anything here? Let’s talk about it! Just try to stay away from spoilers for those who have never seen the show but would like to watch it some day.

 *I’m sorry if this isn’t the proper term. I tried to look up the best term, and this is what I found.

[corruptingtheyouthwithkindness]

The Impossible Puzzle of “Appropriate”Female Sexuality

I am someone who has always tried to do "what’s right” both to please God, and please  man. I am a perpetual people pleaser, and a perpetual chaser of truth. Naturally, there came a day when I sat down to “add up” all of the “factors” of  “appropriate female sexuality” according to the evangelical circle i grew up in. I quickly became frustrated, and angry, feeling that it was like one of those pointless, annoying wooden puzzles where impossible angles are supposed to overlap, and somehow hold this useless little box together. Maybe it’s possible. Maybe it’s not.  Either way, I’m done. I quit. I am not going to waste any more of my time messing with it when the time I spend devoted to it can never be recovered, and is holding me back from living.

Below are the different “pieces” I have  been given countless times that are supposed to fit neatly together to make up a “good christian woman” Some of them are words. Some of them are ‘proof texts’. Some of them are “cliches” Imagine what is below to be like a piece of glass with words written on it. Break it if you wish :)

“That’s not lady like” 

“Guard your heart”

“Pull your shirt up, you’re showing too much skin”

“put on some make up.”

“If the barn needs painting…”

“modest is hottest”

“do you know how many CALORIES are in that”

“you need to look good for your husband, so he doesn’t cheat on you”

“your body belongs to your husband”

“living together before marriage-you are living in sin”

“godly not gaudy”

“smokin’ hot pastor’s wife”

“don’t be vain”

“Don’t think to highly of yourself”

“Don’t adorn yourself with fancy clothes”

“always be presentable in front of your husband”

“Don’t cause your brother to stumble by what you wear”

“asking for it”

“you love yourself too much. Enough with the selfies”

“girls are not supposed to like girls. It’s perversion.”

“God’s design for sex-1 man+1 woman married, no pre cohabitation, in church”

“sex before marriage will destroy you”

“your body belongs to your future husband”

“promise yourself to your your dad, and Jesus before your husband”

“bounce your eyes”

“A divorced woman,  is off limits for a Christian man”

“men are to have headship over his wife”

“submit yourself to your husband”

“Any woman who tries to usurp her husband’s authority or even claims to be a co-leader with her man is gravely dishonoring the God who created her to be subject and obedient to her husband”

“sex outside marriage is against nature, and against god’s design”

“men are supposed to be attracted to women”

“If you are trans you are insulting God’s creation”

“If you got pregnant outside marriage it would ‘destroy your witness’

“you have god given gender roles”

“different but equal”

“choose life. it’s your responsibility to carry that child to full term”

“baby killer”

“she will be saved through child bearing’

“If you take birth control, you could be robbing god of children’

Enough is enough. I’m done with that puzzle. 

[winninghumans]

A blog I created on my personal blog about female sexuality and fundamentalist denominations

[tyciblog]

Maya Angelou: author #LADYCHAT

[winninghumans]

Things that confuse Europeans about the USA

Whether it’s cultural or political, there are a lot of differences between Europe, especially the European Union, and the United States. I just moved back to the USA after living in Spain for two years, and I have friends from other EU countries such as Germany, France, and the UK. I’ve compiled a small, but by no means complete, list of differences that I have talked about with people from the EU.

Size and Distance

This is just in reference to the sheer size of the USA. From where I lived in Spain, I could drive to the border of Portugal in about two hours. I could get to Morocco in just over three hours via car and ferry. A friend from Germany would talk about driving to The Netherlands just to have dinner or pick up some chocolate sprinkles (no really, apparently eating toast with butter and chocolate sprinkles is a thing in The Netherlands).

Imperial Units

“Why can’t you just use metric? It’s so much easier and it actually makes sense!” That’s one of the most common phrases I’ve heard in reference to miles, pounds, Fahrenheit, etc. It’s difficult for people from the EU to imagine having to memorize strange numbers like 32F is freezing rather than 0C, or there are 5,280 feet in a mile rather than 1000 meters in a kilometer.

Higher Education

If you are a Scottish student studying in Scotland (this applies for some other European countries as well), you don’t have to pay any tuition. In Spain, undergraduate tuition is around $1000 a year at a public university (and most universities are public). Also in Spain, as long as you have decent grades, it’s very possible to get a full tuition scholarship through the government. On top of that, a 50% or higher is a passing grade rather than a 60% (or 70% for major classes) in the USA.

Health Care

Virtually all of Europe has universal health care, which means that the government covers all or most of the cost of medical needs. Health is considered a basic human right rather than a money making business. Even medications are either free or greatly reduced since the governments subsidize costs.

Firearms

I’m from the South. My dad is a hunter (it’s not for sport…we always eat anything he kills). My family is a firm believer in the right to bear arms. I live in a state where both concealed and open carry are allowed under the law. In most parts of Europe, this is a foreign concept. In Spain, there is a very rigorous process to receive a gun license, and the guns must only be used for hunting, shooting sports, or military and police. Gun licenses for self-defense are only issued if a real threat is perceived. There is also a special license for gun collectors, but these licenses forbid the guns from ever being fired. In addition, all gun licenses, with the exception of those for gun collectors, have expiration dates, most of which are either three or five years from the date issued.

Police Brutality

My boyfriend is from Spain, and he is with me this summer in the USA. He is terrified of the police here. He’s heard enough stories on the news and from me to know that police tend to shoot to kill here. Even my cousin, who works for a police agency, has shot two people (one of which died) during two different circumstances while on duty, one of which happened just a few weeks ago right after my boyfriend arrived here. It’s not for me to say whether police shootings are justified or not, but it is extremely rare to hear of police shootings in Europe. Here’s an interesting page to see some numbers about police shootings in the USA for the past year http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/jun/09/the-counted-police-killings-us-vs-other-countries.

Prison System (and Death Penalty)

The prison system in the USA has been criticized by many civil and human rights groups for numerous offenses such as the high percentage of the population who is incarcerated (and half of those being for non-violent crimes), police brutality within the jails, rapes, insufficient medical care, young adolescence who are sentenced to life in prison without parole (the USA is the only country in the world that allows this), and the use of solitary confinement. The USA also has one of the highest rates in the world of prisoners who return to prison after their release. In many places in Europe, the penal system is based more on rehabilitation and reform rather than strict punishment. In addition, the USA is one of the few places in the world (especially in the developed countries) that still allows the death penalty. Most of Europe is repulsed by the idea of capital punishment, while it is commonplace in many states in the USA.

So with all this being said, what do you think? Do you agree that these are common differences? Can you add more differences to the list? I’d love to hear back from everyone!

[winninghumans]

Historical Truth

Growing up, I was taught the main reason for the Southern states’ secession and the Civil War was states’ rights. Slavery was always mentioned as well, but it was presented as merely a secondary reason for the South’s discontent, an annoyance in comparison to issues over states’ rights. So while I never thought things would have been better if the South had won, it seemed like they at least had some justification for their actions. By the information I learned in school and conversations with friends and family, that seemed to be a fairly common viewpoint. It wasn’t until I looked into the history myself that I began to see things differently.

Only four states offered explicit Declarations of Causes for their secession; here are excerpts from those documents:

South Carolina, first sentence: “The people of the State of South Carolina…declared that the frequent violations of the Constitution of the United States, by the Federal Government, and its encroachments upon the reserved rights of the States, fully justified this State in then withdrawing from the Federal Union; but in deference to the opinions and wishes of the other slaveholding States, she forbore at that time to exercise this right.”

Mississippi, second sentence: “Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery– the greatest material interest of the world.”

Georgia, second sentence: “For the last ten years we have had numerous and serious causes of complaint against our non-slave-holding confederate States with reference to the subject of African slavery.”

Texas, fifth sentence: “[Texas] was received as a commonwealth holding, maintaining and protecting the institution known as negro slavery– the servitude of the African to the white race within her limits– a relation that had existed from the first settlement of her wilderness by the white race, and which her people intended should exist in all future time.”

Slavery is mentioned almost immediately in each state’s list of reasons for seceding. It is clear that the nation’s division in this dark time was not based on states’ rights – it was based on the issue of slavery.  And while that may not be easy to accept, it’s the truth, and it deserves to be known.

There will always be terrible parts of history which are uncomfortable and upsetting to look back on, but that doesn’t mean we should avoid or ignore our past. Trying to cover those past atrocities with altered, more palatable history only prevents us from moving forward as a society. It is important to be able to reflect on that history, learn from our mistakes, and celebrate our progress together.

More information: http://www.civilwar.org/education/history/secession/ Declaration of Causes:   http://www.ucs.louisiana.edu/~ras2777/amgov/secession.html Ordinances of Secession: http://www.constitution.org/csa/ordinances_secession.htm Other: http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/01/underground-railroad-states-rights-114536.html#.VaMgePlVhBd http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2015/06/what-this-cruel-war-was-over/396482/ http://www.politifact.com/punditfact/statements/2015/jun/25/gavin-mcinnes/tweet-civil-war-was-about-secession-not-slavery/

[winninghumans]

[winninghumans]

She Belongs, and a Lesson in Hospitality

I’ve traveled internationally enough to the point where I have come to terms with appearing out place. Of course I do my best to blend in and minimize conspicuousness. But there’s only so much I can do with my stature, complexion, nose ring, and footwear. (Sorry, world. I really love my Keens sandals, aesthetically atrocious as they are).

As soon as I boarded this particular flight out of Chicago O'Hare International Airport, I knew I was going to stand out. I was an English-speaking, uncovered woman traveling alone. There were few passengers on this flight that could match my categories. Eleven hours later, I stepped onto a different continent into a time zone eight hours different from my home. Standing in line for my visa at my destination airport in the capital city of a Middle Eastern country, I felt similarly conspicuous, even though I’d changed in the tiny airplane bathroom from my T-shirt into a long-sleeved, loose fitting blouse with a scarf wrapped decoratively around my neck.

I collected my baggage and walked out of the terminal. There was a large crowd of people watching the terminal exit. None of them looked like me. But then I was met with all smiles by my friend Noor* who, along with her brother Hussain*, blended right in with the predominantly Arab Muslim crowd. With a purple Pashmina hijab thoroughly covering her hair and neck, Noor was also draped from neck to ankle in a black abaya. She gave me a huge embrace. That’s when I felt it. I may seem out of place, but Noor made it perfectly clear that I belonged here.

In the weeks that followed, more moments like this occurred. Walking through the old Arab markets of the city, Noor frequently signified for me to take her arm as we walked across busy roads, dodging taxis, and through crowded shops and stalls. In this conservative culture, few public gestures signify belonging more than two friends (of the same sex, of course) walking arm in arm down the street. Though someone with my appearance in this context might turn heads, Noor’s assuring actions told me, and those curious - and some suspicious - onlookers around us, “You belong with us.”

Unbeknownst to me, whenever she introduced me to a new group of her friends, they’d inevitably ask Noor questions about her “exotic” American friend. Does she drink alcohol? Is she a virgin? To a Westerner, these are really odd questions (and make me thankful that I don’t yet understand that much Arabic). But basically what they want to know is, is she like us? Or is she like the Americans we see on satellite TV, e.g. Kim Kardashian? The want to know: can we trust her, or should we keep her at arm’s length? Noor tactfully addresses these inquiries and resolutely identifies me as a good friend from good family - as someone who belongs. Mercifully, she saves me from having to respond to these potentially awkward inquiries.

Though we come from vastly different cultures, though we practice different faiths, though my country’s military invaded her country, though we don’t always understand each other through the barriers of language and custom, though I can comfortably go to a co-ed gym wearing shorts and a tank top while she conceals her hair, legs, and arms whenever in the presence of an unrelated male, yet whenever I thank her or her siblings for anything they do for me, they say, “Come on, Caitlin. You’re my sister. Don’t say thank you!” Three years of friendship and shared experiences and struggles have forged a meaningful friendship, not despite our differences but rather with them, enriched by them, made colorful by them. Our mutual humanity and basic, common desire for friends, food, and the well-being of those we love have been the spring and river of our friendship.

Among the many lessons I’m learning through these weeks of jumping into a world that is not my own, one lesson comes to the forefront. I’m coming to learn that perhaps the ultimate expression of hospitality is an invitation to belong. We don’t have to share everything in common to communicate belonging to a friend or a neighbor or a stranger. We don’t have to understand them all the time. We certainly don’t need to run a political, theological, physiological, or social litmus test before extending an invitation to belong. My Muslim friends have given me a powerful image of human grace and generosity. They’ve also reminded me of a fundamental truth in my own Christian faith - the truth that while I said I didn’t want to belong, God invited me to belong. While I am over here making my own litmus tests of who is in and who is out, Jesus is welcoming people as sisters and brothers to enjoy all the overflowing freedom and love of God along with him.

There’s so much more I could reflect upon. But I want to hear your stories.

How has someone invited you to belong? Have you invited someone to belong in the midst of your life journey? How can our acceptance of one another and welcoming of those different from ourselves impact our communities? It’s your turn. Go.

*names changed for privacy

[winninghumans]

We apologize we were unable to get a post up this week. We will resume again next Sunday! In the mean time, this is an encouragement! #

[winninghumans]

I Don’t Trust Men

A couple years ago I wrote down this honest, personal reflection on gender, my father, and distrust of men. I had no intention of sharing it at the time, but I think this blog is the place for it. I started writing as if I was explaining it to someone, as if someone had asked me the question, are you afraid of men?

Yes. I am afraid. I distrust men.

Here’s a quotation about that distrust, from a blog called Shakesville. “My mistrust is not, as one might expect, primarily a result of the violent acts done on my body, nor the vicious humiliations done to my dignity. It is, instead, born of the multitude of mundane betrayals that mark my every relationship with a man—the casual rape joke, the use of a female slur, the careless demonization of the feminine in everyday conversation, the accusations of overreaction, the eyerolling and exasperated sighs in response to polite requests to please not use misogynist epithets in my presence or to please use non-gendered language (“humankind”).

There are the jokes about women, about wives, about mothers, about raising daughters, about female bosses. They are told in my presence by men who are meant to care about me, just to get a rise out of me, as though I am meant to find funny a reminder of my second-class status. I am meant to ignore that this is a bullying tactic, that the men telling these jokes derive their amusement specifically from knowing they upset me, piss me off, hurt me. They tell them and I can laugh, and they can thus feel superior, or I can not laugh, and they can thus feel superior. Heads they win, tails I lose. I am used as a prop in an ongoing game of patriarchal posturing, and then I am meant to believe it is true when some of the men who enjoy this sport, in which I am their pawn, tell me, “I love you.” I love you, my daughter. I love you, my niece. I love you, my friend. I am meant to trust these words.”

and further in the article:

“I hope those men will hear me when I say, again, I do not hate you. I mistrust you. You can tell yourselves that's a problem with me, some inherent flaw, some evidence that I am fucked up and broken and weird; you can choose to believe that the women in your lives are nothing like me. Or you can be vigilant, can make yourselves trustworthy. Every day.”

When did I begin to distrust men? As a very small child. I was shy and didn’t like talking to strange adults in general, but I was especially afraid of men. Especially the ones who thought I was cute and said terrible things about wishing they could take me with them. Worst nightmare for a 3 year old. I don’t remember anything actually dangerous. It’s not that anyone abused me, they were just big ugly men, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near them, and I didn’t want them to squat down and get their face closer to me and say patronizing things about my cuteness, and ask me how old I was when my mom just told them how old I was. It made me not want to be cute. Being cute was terrible. I went through a phase where I strongly objected to being called cute.

What about your dad? Don’t you trust your dad? Well my dad is a good man. And I am not afraid of my dad. But I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him because when he reads christian books about gender that say things like, “men should protect and provide and be super manly and take care of their precious daughters until they get married,” he gets warm fuzzies and feels very valiant. Also he says things like, “I just don’t like it when women try to be men.” What even does that mean? I don’t think he knows what he means when he says that, but what I hear is that he may disapprove of me. I don’t do “feminine” very often or very well. I intend to protect and provide for myself, and I don’t like babies and I don’t wear dresses well because I’m muscular. I am assertive and I speak my mind and I think women should be CEO’s or preachers or bodybuilders or whatever they want. So am I “trying to be a man”? No! I know that I am not truly trying to be a man; I am just trying to be myself. But that’s the only meaning I can think of for “women trying to be men.” It presupposes that women are a certain way and shouldn’t be otherwise, and it’s a terrible transgression to be different. And I’m different, so I’m a transgressor. Does my dad see me this way? I don’t know. So I distrust him. He can’t possibly mean that, I don’t want him to mean that, but what else would he mean by saying that? One time I showed him a picture of me doing some crazy yoga thing that requires a lot of strength. He laughed and said, “I wonder what it’s like to have a normal daughter.” I asked what he meant by that, and he really didn’t know.

The weird thing is, mom and dad didn’t raise me and and my brother different from each other based on our gender. We were both educated and prepared for college and encouraged to do anything God wanted us to do. Sports and science were not pushed on my brother. Dolls and cooking were not pushed on me. We both liked blocks and art projects and dinosaurs and adventure stories. So why does my dad say, “I just don’t like it when women try to be men”? Why does he like the sound of books that tell him daughters are his precious little vulnerable things that must be protected and provided for until they are married? He told me about this book and what it said and how he felt all heroic. I challenged that silliness and pointed out that he would do exactly the same for my brother as he would for me. It’s not like he cuts his son off from help because he is a boy, is it? no. of course not. He would do anything to help him, just as he would do anything to help me. It’s not a gendered thing. He is our dad and he loves us and he will help us out if we need it. My dad agreed that was indeed true. In actuality, he would not treat us different because of our gender. So I am grateful for that. But I distrust still, because his sentiments lead him to heroically imagine me as some kind of a helpless-virgin-delicate-flower-object that needs him to keep his sword drawn in her defense. A. I’m not that kind of a thing, and B. Well, I’m not a thing.

I love my dad and everything, but there is another bigger thing. When he could’ve stood up for me and my mom, he didn’t. 

That is the biggest reason that I don’t trust my dad, even though he is a good and loving man. Our church went through a phase of trying to establish “biblical leadership” which to the male leadership at the time meant, surprise, exclusive male leadership. It got pretty horrible and sexist and we women had no voice at all, he didn’t stand up for us. He went along with it and didn’t stand up for us. I remember being so disappointed in him, one day in high school. Some bit of drama was happening, I think a woman was kicked out of a teaching position or something, and my dad was a deacon, one of the leaders, he was in a position to speak up. But he was silent. He came back from a deacon meeting, not happy with the direction leadership was going, and I said “Well why didn’t you say something?” I kind of yelled it I think. I don’t know why he never stood up for us. But at least he finally left that church. He is a quieter sort who thinks and speaks slower than me, my mom, and brother. He’s not the aggressive, argumentative type, who challenges people to their face. He humbly goes about his business, which is good, except when circumstances call you to stand up and speak against injustice, and to give a voice to those who don’t have a voice. He couldn’t do that. He doesn’t change much, and doesn’t do well with change, and so I guess he is also not so good at calling for change. I love him and I know he loves me and would do anything for me, but I can’t trust him.

Does my distrust of men affect my view of God? I’ve been told that your relationship with your parents affects how you view God. I do love God and I know he loves me. But when it comes to being a woman, and reading the bible containing masculine pronouns for God, and only male writers, and so much patriarchy, I don’t know what to do. I cry. Maybe I distrust too. If God wouldn’t make the Bible more obviously affirming of women, why would he affirm me?

God, how do I get through this? I feel betrayed. Of anyone, you are in the best position to stand up for me and for women, so why? You died for me, so if you love me enough to die for me, why don’t you love me enough to make a Bible that affirms the equal value of women so clearly that no one can deny it? Why don’t you love me enough to make your scriptures such that they can’t be used to oppress women? Dying is a nice dramatic gesture and all, but what good is that if your scriptures are only for men? yeah, you talked to the Woman at the Well and yeah you let Mary sit at your feet and listen with the men, but why were women still on the outskirts? why were the 12 disciples all men? Why are they “fishers of men”? Why are you a man? You love me enough to save me but what kind of salvation is that, when I’m still a second-class human in your church? The Bible makes women less central, important, and valuable to your story than men. Why? This is where I am. This is what hurts.

Now two years after I wrote this, I live in the midwest where religious sexism is rampant, so I don’t go to church. I do a lot of badass things that “normal daughters” don’t do, like teach handstand workshops and lift heavy shit and discuss German philosophers at dinner parties. I’m a yoga teacher, and in that community I am a teacher and leader along with other women. I am a Crossfit coach, and in that community I am strong and muscular along with other women. With all the goodness in my life right now, I don’t miss church. I don’t miss being segregated into “women’s ministry.” I don’t miss feeling out of place as an unmarried woman. I don’t miss seeing only men on stage. I don’t miss lectures on modesty. I don’t miss discussions of “women’s roles.” I love Jesus and believe what he says, but I can’t be a “normal daughter.” Because those are a myth anyway. I’m gonna be where I can flourish.

[winninghumans]

Economics, Patriarchy, and Domestic Violence

I am not writing this to say I have come to an epiphany for what would end domestic violence. Each case is different, and it is a complex issue that has many factors involved. I am writing to essentially share my observations on the intersection of patriarchy, economics, and domestic violence from my perspective. My position at work involves interviewing a good amount of women on a weekly basis who are homeless, nearly homeless, or experiencing some type of instability and needing guidance with rebuilding their lives. This is the sum of their stories, and I hope their pain can open a discussion to begin dismantling this dangerous and tragic dynamic.

The story of a thousand women

Her hands tremble as she dials 9-1-1, locked in the bathroom he is trying to get in, begging for forgiveness, and for a second chance, demanding to be let in. “Um, yes, I’m hurt,” she lowers her voice, “my husband has beat me, and he’s standing outside the door. Please help me, as she whispers her address” Soon the police comes to the door, and her husband of 10 years is taken away in a police car. Unsure of where he will go, and for how long, she calls a friend, who takes her to the domestic violence shelter, with just a backpack full of toiletries, a change or two of clothes, and her iPad. In a bedroom with 6 other women, she crawls into a bed, and her mind begins to run.

Disoriented and Refocusing

She finds herself displaced from her home, her bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets, her favorite window to sit by while she drinks her morning coffee, and her favorite pair of pajamas are no longer there. The comforts she knows are so close, yet so far. She begins to question her decision, but deep down, she knows she did the right thing. 

“You’ve got 30 days, here and then you’ll have to have a plan to move out, I know that’s not a long time, but it’s our policy, and we’re short on beds.”

Her thoughts are gathered, and she realizes she can’t go back to her house. He will only be held in jail for less than a week, and will await his trial, most likely, in his home. She works to get a plan together, and because of their traditional relationship, it appears, she’s trusted him more than she should. Her options are running thin as she begins sorting through options for housing.

Disturbingly Common Complications

3 common scenarios occur frequently in these type of situations as she begins to look for new housing options.

Her boyfriend or husband is currently unemployed, for one reason or another. He is or claims to be “applying” for jobs, going to school, or some other reason for not working. She works two jobs, and is still responsible for the housework. (well known as “the double shift). Because of an imbalanced interpretationof “biblical headship” she is expected to turn every bit of the money over to him. HE said he was taking care of the bills, and expenses. Now they are separated, and she begins to plan what is next. When she begins to apply for apartments, or get back a security deposit, she discovers that the rent has not been paid for 3 months, and neither have the utilities"  This is troubling, because she actually GAVE him the money to pay those. He was actually supporting a drug, gambling, alcohol, or partying habit. Her credit is totally wrecked, she now owes a substantial amount of money.

They owned a nice house in a nice neighborhood. The car she is driving is actually in his name, so she’s not sure how long she will have that. When he went to prison, they got a divorce, and she discovers the house ownership was also entirely in his name. His attorney made sure she had no access to it. Now, although she has been earning a portion of the money, and putting it in the bill paying account, she has NO credit, and nothing in her name.

He’s been mentally and abusive to her for awhile now. He has just been cruel, and rude, and being generally nasty. BUT according to the pastor at the church they attended, the wife is supposed to be a home maker, and man is supposed to be the bread winner or "provider". He has the only income, and controls every bit of the finances. She has been staying home with their many children, and has not been allowed to earn any income of her own. This also means she has no time to herself. The relationship has deteriorated to a dangerous, and extremely emotionally abusive state, but she literally has nothing to her name, and the logistics of leaving with all these kids to take care of is a nightmare. If she does leave and has to go stay with friends, family, or a shelter, her stability is completely gone. He will most likely be the one who gets to keep the kids, because he will maintain his same income, housing, and level of stability.  She is required to start from scratch, with a lot of emotional baggage.

Unpacking the Baggage

This is the unfortunately frequent story of a family collapsing under the weight of the dark side of patriarchy. She attends a church that directs “wives, submit to your husbands” for he is the “head of the household”. This is the same congregation that recognizes the inherent “fallen"  state of human nature, and the darkness in the heart of man. These two factors in combination in a churches theology should raise  a red flag of concern. This is a dangerous power dynamic. Following in the steps of tradition, and the church theology, she has an enormous burden to take off before she is able to see a way out of the situation.

These “biblical” gender roles have created a dangerous power dynamic. “She’s supposed to work in the home and be a "helper.” He should be the “breadwinner”, or at very least keep control over the money and finances, as his biblical headship suggests. She feels no power or support for leaving a domestic violence situation based on”the bible”...the bible only makes that provision for infidelity or death.

Lots of Loose Ends

Economic control, patriarchy (particularly religiously enforced), and domestic violence go hand in hand. Encouraging egalitarian relationship dynamics, and encouraging women to take control of their own economic destiny are a great start for reducing these potentially dangerous intimate relationships.

I am not sure the answers. I have not conducted any research for how to systematically dismantle this system. I have only made observations. Draw your own conclusions. Consider these stories and scenarios, they are real, and they are quite common. Continue to unpack the implications, in your community and among your family. Let’s figure out where we go from here. Let’s keep moving forward. Its on us.

–Wildflower

[not-this-crude-matter]

[middlemarching]

“#good thing winter is coming ‘cause you’ll need ice for that burn”

DAMN

[cervinelich]

Whoomp there it is

[winninghumans]

Truth.

[winninghumans]

Tell Me a Story, Tell Me Something Real

I love fiction. 

I’ll just say that first off, just in case you don’t know me. If you do know me but didn’t know that, then shame on you. (Also, look at my author bio. Something there should have given it away).

I grew up with books. I devoured every written word I could get my hands on. I never wanted to play sports, or video games like my siblings. Instead, I would hole up in my room with my nose pressed into a book.

When I was young, I would beg my grandpa to read Donald Duck and the Magic Mailbox every night before going to sleep. I would grab the book from my room, jump on his lap in the recliner, and smile that smile he couldn’t resist.

“Please, please, please, read it again?” I would ask after he read it twice already. It was absolutely my favorite book. I’m pretty sure my grandparents had the book memorized.

In fourth grade, my teacher began to read the Harry Potter series out loud to us as a class. At the first mention of muggles and wizards, I was hooked. I’ve read the entire series multiple times, as many people have. It spawned my love for reading and fiction.

The magic in those books deal with a supernatural magic - things that you wished would happen, but were not possible. I love being transported into another world, wishing I could be there too. But honestly, it just doesn’t exist.

I let go of my hope of receiving my letter from Hogwarts. I let go of being swept away to a magical school and leaving my boring life behind. I let go of a magical mailbox sending me items and taking me into new places. Instead, I started to believe in a different kind of magic:

The magic of storytelling.

A few years ago I went to a book signing of one of my favorite authors, maureenjohnsonbooks. I asked her which is more important when writing: the characters or the plot.

I remember her saying you can’t have one without the other, but characters drive the story. If your audience can’t connect with the characters, they can’t connect to the plot. The key to writing is weaving the two together into an intricate thread, each pulling the other along.

When I think back on my life, I don’t see it in years, but rather in periods of stories and characters:

Being captivated by a magic mailbox during my parents divorce. Adventuring with The Boxcar Children and adjusting to living with my dad and step-mom. Reading and journaling right along with The Amazing Days of Abby Hayes when my grandpa passed away. Dueling Voldemort with Harry and his friends while adjusting to middle school. Time traveling to other worlds with the Guardians of Time when my best friend and I would argue. Hiding out in my closet and crying with Keeping You a Secret when denying how I felt about other girls. Praying and finding solace in my bible when my dad kicked me out of the house. Finding courage and strength with Spencer and Ashley from the show South of Nowhere when I told my best friends and grandma I liked girls. Feeling free with the characters from One Tree Hill when I went off to college. Immersing myself into the Pretty Little Liars book series when a friend of mine passed away. Being brave with Emily and Naomi from Skins when I came out to everyone. Singing along with the kids from Glee when I graduated and ended my college career.  Venturing through lands with Katniss and Tris when I moved away from my hometown. Battling beside Percy Jackson when I said yes to marrying the woman of my dreams. These are just snapshots of my life, perfectly captured in stories and characters. Stories are vital to us as humans because it reminds us that we are all connected. We all have similar snapshots when a story or character perfectly sums up our lives. 

If you want to write, write characters with depth and meaning. Create real people with real problems that mimic our world. Tie compelling characters and a detailed plot together into a neat little bow. Draw worlds that can never be traveled to except within the mind. Paint pictures with your words that are too vivid to ignore. Find the everyday people who blend into the world and make them stand out in your story.

Create snapshots that matter to someone out there. Your story matters.

- Amerika 

[salon]

Watch Robert Reich explain how to save America’s education system