When my son was just over 2 weeks old, I woke up to feed him at 3 in the morning. At this point I was used to these middle of the night feedings, and I used the time to watch Netflix or look things up online. On this particular night, I'd gone to bed early, as I was in the habit of doing, and had missed the election results. So I went to look them up and do a little cheer for our first female president.
Except that my phone said Trump won. My blood literally ran cold when I saw the results, and I spent the next hour convinced I was having a nightmare, hoping that at any moment the baby would start crying and wake me up. Except that the baby was already awake and eating contentedly. I didn't sleep much for the rest of the night, and I spent a good chunk of it wondering if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life, bringing a child into a world that was apparently a lot worse than I'd ever imagined.
For the next several days, I focused entirely on my kid. It felt like the world was tumbling down around me, but I could feed him and change diapers. I could sort of comfort him. We took turns crying. He'd get upset and I'd bounce him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Then I'd burst into tears because it felt like I was lying to my son, and the first lie was supposed to be Santa Claus, not Trump.
Up until this point, I'd been doing really well with the whole postpartum recovery thing. I was taking walks every day and getting stuff done around the house. My mom had come and gone, and I felt like I had a handle on this new mom thing. I was eager to get back to reading and writing and start getting the house cleaned up. But Trump getting elected was a mental and emotional setback that I hadn't seen coming. It didn't help anything that I also contracted shingles (thanks to a combination of my depressed immune system from being pregnant and stress), which meant that for the next week I could barely walk. Instead I sat on the couch, cared for my son as best as I could, and watched silently while the world around me slowly came to terms with the results of the election.
To be honest, I'm still a little bit in shock. I'm still focused pretty heavily on taking care of my son, one day at a time. But I'm ready to start interacting with the world again. And part of that is finally recording the first few weeks of his life. The blog is likely to be jumbled and out of order for the near future, while I get things down as I remember them and feel able to write about them.
I wish my son had been born into a world where the US elected the first female president. But he wasn't. Which means I'll have to work that much harder to make the world a worthy place for him to inherit. I'm most scared about climate change, and whether there will even be a world for him to inherit. But having children at all is an act of hope, and raising them forces you to act on that hope to turn it into a reality. Now I just have to figure out the most effective way to help get our country back on the track it was on under Obama, to raise my kid into a kind, thoughtful person, and believe once again in a tomorrow that's better than yesterday.
Showing posts with label the status is not quo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the status is not quo. Show all posts
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Friday, May 30, 2014
The 17%
Google recently released data on the demographics of their staff in an effort to be more transparent and to be held accountable for their diversity. They certainly have a long way to go to achieve equality, but it's good that they're trying. One of the numbers caught my attention immediately. When I saw it, I was struck with that weird mixture of disappointment and lack of surprise that is becoming all too familiar.
Google's tech force is made up of 17% women. Why did that number catch my eye? It was brought up in an NPR program that got a lot of attention about a year ago. The transcript can be found here. The take away is that that number - 17% - is an unsettlingly common number. It is, by and large, the number of professional women currently working in traditionally male-dominated fields.
17% of Hollywood film directors are women. 17% of US Senators are women. 17% of engineers, surgeons, professors, etc are women. Do a bit of digging, and you'll see this number everywhere.
More interestingly, 17% of people in crowd scenes in movies or television shows are women.
Recent psychological studies have found that most men perceive this as equality. When a group's ratio is 83 men to 17 women, the men are likely to say that there are as many women present as men. When women speak 17% of the time, men are likely to say that the women talked just as much as the men. And a worrying fact: when women speak 30% of the time, men start to complain that they were dominating the conversation. We have been conditioned to view 17% as good enough, to view anything approaching true equality as greed.
I should acknowledge that this is better than it was a generation ago. We have made great strides since my mom and my aunt were the only women in their respective offices. But I'm one of only five women in my office. We each get our own private stall in the bathroom, a perk I would gladly trade in to have some more female faces around me.
It actually feels like it's gotten worse the farther I've gone in my career. My college class was 25% female. Not great, but a good sight better than the 17% (or less) I deal with now. In fact, six years after I graduated, my alma mater achieved a 50-50 student body, and even graduated three more female engineers than male engineers. But they aren't making it into the workplace. At least not yet.
There are a number of reasons for this. Partly it's that they aren't being hired. Not through overt sexism, but because of a more insidious variant. A resume with a male name is likely to be seen as representing a more qualified individual than a resume with a female name, even if the two resumes are identical. A man being interviewed seems like a better fit for a company than his female counterpart, for some undefinable reason. Let's call it "culture".
There's also evidence that women aren't applying for as many jobs as men because of one of the sneakier aspects of sexism that I've only recently become aware of. Apparently women are likely to apply to a job only if they feel that they meet 100% of the requirements in the job description, whereas men will take a chance if they meet 60% of the requirements. This speaks to issues with self-esteem, confidence, and even arrogance. Of course, many companies are satisfied with that 60%, and they hire one of the men who applied as opposed to one of the women who didn't.
Then there are the cultural elements, something President Klawe identified and worked really hard to overcome at Harvey Mudd. Even if you're qualified to go to a school or take a job, many women will be put off by a student body or staff that is overwhelmingly male. Even if there's a lot of support for women, and a genuine effort to provide opportunities. My company is great about this, and I feel wholly supported there. It doesn't change the fact that when I interviewed I met with four men, and the only woman I saw the entire day was the head of HR. That leaves a distinct impression, and if there's an option to go somewhere more egalitarian, even if it's less prestigious or offers less money, the environment might make that trade off worth it.
Finally, there's the drop off effect. Women dropping out of college or PhD programs because the constant sexism becomes too grating. Women leaving careers in technical fields because they're sick of all the extra work that goes into being one of only a few women. Being constantly surrounded by men is exhausting. You're always on guard for them to make a sexist joke, wondering how to respond to one when it happens. Is it better to be a meek pushover or a feminist killjoy? Better to network and be on good terms with your coworkers or focus on your work and seek promotion based solely on your own merit? And what happens when you see man after unqualified man promoted ahead of you for a slew of reasons that are difficult to untangle and articulate?
Half of the things that happen to me in office barely even register as strange or uncalled-for. Until I share a story with my female friends and see the look of horror on their faces.
What's to be done? In college, we made a concerted effort to unite the women living in our dorm. And in our time there we saw a huge shift in the culture of our dorm, one that resulted in more women willingly moving into our dorm. But these were people I lived with, people I saw every day. An effort like that at my day job, where I really am supposed to be working instead of socializing, feels daunting. As does specifically recruiting more women, which by the way is not in my job description.
At the same time doing nothing feels cowardly. Like I'm betraying my gender, my future children. Watching that number stagnate is disheartening, though I can always hope that things will get better. But how long will that take? Will my (hypothetical) daughter be struggling with these same issues thirty years from now? Will we have merely jumped from 17% to 30%? Or will we be able, in that time, to actually create a diverse corporate world that reflects the realities of the world we spend the rest of our lives in?
There aren't any easy answers. It's hard to know where to start. At the moment I'm so exhausted (by this, by the recent Isla Vista shooting, by the prospect of another summer dominated by male action heroes) that I hardly want to do anything. But the pendulum will swing, I'll befriend the new woman on my team at work, and things will get easier again. They say it's best to attack these things from a place of strength. Until I get there I'll just rant on my blog.
Google's tech force is made up of 17% women. Why did that number catch my eye? It was brought up in an NPR program that got a lot of attention about a year ago. The transcript can be found here. The take away is that that number - 17% - is an unsettlingly common number. It is, by and large, the number of professional women currently working in traditionally male-dominated fields.
17% of Hollywood film directors are women. 17% of US Senators are women. 17% of engineers, surgeons, professors, etc are women. Do a bit of digging, and you'll see this number everywhere.
More interestingly, 17% of people in crowd scenes in movies or television shows are women.
Recent psychological studies have found that most men perceive this as equality. When a group's ratio is 83 men to 17 women, the men are likely to say that there are as many women present as men. When women speak 17% of the time, men are likely to say that the women talked just as much as the men. And a worrying fact: when women speak 30% of the time, men start to complain that they were dominating the conversation. We have been conditioned to view 17% as good enough, to view anything approaching true equality as greed.
I should acknowledge that this is better than it was a generation ago. We have made great strides since my mom and my aunt were the only women in their respective offices. But I'm one of only five women in my office. We each get our own private stall in the bathroom, a perk I would gladly trade in to have some more female faces around me.
It actually feels like it's gotten worse the farther I've gone in my career. My college class was 25% female. Not great, but a good sight better than the 17% (or less) I deal with now. In fact, six years after I graduated, my alma mater achieved a 50-50 student body, and even graduated three more female engineers than male engineers. But they aren't making it into the workplace. At least not yet.
There are a number of reasons for this. Partly it's that they aren't being hired. Not through overt sexism, but because of a more insidious variant. A resume with a male name is likely to be seen as representing a more qualified individual than a resume with a female name, even if the two resumes are identical. A man being interviewed seems like a better fit for a company than his female counterpart, for some undefinable reason. Let's call it "culture".
There's also evidence that women aren't applying for as many jobs as men because of one of the sneakier aspects of sexism that I've only recently become aware of. Apparently women are likely to apply to a job only if they feel that they meet 100% of the requirements in the job description, whereas men will take a chance if they meet 60% of the requirements. This speaks to issues with self-esteem, confidence, and even arrogance. Of course, many companies are satisfied with that 60%, and they hire one of the men who applied as opposed to one of the women who didn't.
Then there are the cultural elements, something President Klawe identified and worked really hard to overcome at Harvey Mudd. Even if you're qualified to go to a school or take a job, many women will be put off by a student body or staff that is overwhelmingly male. Even if there's a lot of support for women, and a genuine effort to provide opportunities. My company is great about this, and I feel wholly supported there. It doesn't change the fact that when I interviewed I met with four men, and the only woman I saw the entire day was the head of HR. That leaves a distinct impression, and if there's an option to go somewhere more egalitarian, even if it's less prestigious or offers less money, the environment might make that trade off worth it.
Finally, there's the drop off effect. Women dropping out of college or PhD programs because the constant sexism becomes too grating. Women leaving careers in technical fields because they're sick of all the extra work that goes into being one of only a few women. Being constantly surrounded by men is exhausting. You're always on guard for them to make a sexist joke, wondering how to respond to one when it happens. Is it better to be a meek pushover or a feminist killjoy? Better to network and be on good terms with your coworkers or focus on your work and seek promotion based solely on your own merit? And what happens when you see man after unqualified man promoted ahead of you for a slew of reasons that are difficult to untangle and articulate?
Half of the things that happen to me in office barely even register as strange or uncalled-for. Until I share a story with my female friends and see the look of horror on their faces.
What's to be done? In college, we made a concerted effort to unite the women living in our dorm. And in our time there we saw a huge shift in the culture of our dorm, one that resulted in more women willingly moving into our dorm. But these were people I lived with, people I saw every day. An effort like that at my day job, where I really am supposed to be working instead of socializing, feels daunting. As does specifically recruiting more women, which by the way is not in my job description.
At the same time doing nothing feels cowardly. Like I'm betraying my gender, my future children. Watching that number stagnate is disheartening, though I can always hope that things will get better. But how long will that take? Will my (hypothetical) daughter be struggling with these same issues thirty years from now? Will we have merely jumped from 17% to 30%? Or will we be able, in that time, to actually create a diverse corporate world that reflects the realities of the world we spend the rest of our lives in?
There aren't any easy answers. It's hard to know where to start. At the moment I'm so exhausted (by this, by the recent Isla Vista shooting, by the prospect of another summer dominated by male action heroes) that I hardly want to do anything. But the pendulum will swing, I'll befriend the new woman on my team at work, and things will get easier again. They say it's best to attack these things from a place of strength. Until I get there I'll just rant on my blog.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Let's Talk About Orphan Black
In preparation for the second season premiere next week, Kevin and I went back and re-watched the first season of Orphan Black. This may be my favorite show currently on the air, and I have high hopes that the second season maintains everything that was incredible about the first season. If you've never seen it, you should definitely remedy that (and you should not read the rest of this entry). There are only ten episodes, so there's plenty of time to catch up before the second season begins on Saturday.
The first and most obvious thing to praise about this show is the lead actress, Tatiana Maslaney. Maslaney does incredible work playing not one, but four main characters and three side characters. She's on the screen in almost every scene, interacts with the entire cast in various guises, and even interacts with herself in some incredible scenes that will make you wonder if she's actually a twin and not just a single actress.
The most amazing bits come when she plays one character pretending to be another. Whether it's uptight Allison pretending to be wild-child Sarah in front of Sarah's daughter, Kira, or damaged Helena barely putting up a front as Beth to cop to gain access to her computer, Maslaney knows these characters so well that it all seem effortless. She can even slip into different accents when a character feels pressure and make it seem like an accident.
What really made me fall in love with this show, though, is its unique examination of patriarchy and all the little ways the system has to keep women down and all the ways that can affect the women trying to live in this society. It's not the most intersectional examination of feminism - we're still focused on pretty, white women who have some privilege of their own. But it still does a good job of teasing out all sorts of aggresions, both micro and macro, and showing the importance of working together to achieve common goals and help with personal goals.
The clones in this story are all ultimately struggling for the same thing - agency. The two main antagonistic groups (both populated almost exclusively by men) are trying to take that from them. The church wants to simply kill all of the clones and be done with it, rid the world of what they view as an abomination. The neolutionists, who created the clones in the first place, monitor the clones closely. They claim it's for the clones own good, but their true intentions are almost certainly more nefarious. It's revealed in the finale that any freedom or privacy they offer is just a lie, a way to throw the clones off the scent so they can continue their work without interference.
This state of constant surveillance and fear affects all of our clones (women) if different ways. Helena was recruited by the church as a child where she was taught that she was special. She was told that she was the original and has internalized the message that she's not like the other clones (women). This allows the church to manipulate and use her for their own ends. It's only through her bond to Sarah that she begins to shake their influence, although she's ultimately too far gone to save. Going forward, I have to assume that Rachel is a variation on this same model. She's working with the neolutionists, and I can only assume that she has also internalized a sense of being different and, more importantly, better than the other clones.
The other three main clones are only just becoming aware of these structures that seek to control their lives. They all react to the news differently, and they all fight against the system in different ways. But it's important to note that they find strength in working together. That the Neolutionists ultimately achieve their victory at the end of the season by driving wedges in between these women and feeding on their more selfish motivations.
Cosima is arguably the most well-adjusted of the trio. She's a scientist, and she reacts to the knowledge that she's a clone by seeking more knowledge. She learns about Dr Leekie and the Neolutionists and looks for opportunities to learn more about them. Cosima is sure that if she can just arm herself with enough knowledge, she can find her way out of the maze. If she asks enough questions, she'll find the answer that sets her free. But that's not how it works. All she ultimately discovers is how thoroughly trapped she is, and how hopeless the entire situation is.
Allison, my personal favorite, reacts in almost the opposite way. When Allison's world gets turned upside down, she starts falling to pieces. She's all about control, and the sense that she's losing control, or worse, that she was never in control to begin with, she does not handle it well. Allison lashes out at everyone as she tries to figure out how to regain her sense of normalcy. She ultimately decides that privacy is more important than freedom and signs a deal with Dr Leekie to get her life back the way it was. Unbeknownst to her, her life is exactly as it was before, complete with monitored activities and secret, invasive medical exams. I almost can't wait for her to discover that she was duped. Her rage is already a force to be reckoned with, and when she finally figures out who to focus it on there should be some serious fireworks.
Finally we have Sarah, arguably the protagonist of the show. Sarah has trust issues, and learning that she was a science experiment does nothing to help this. She's just as angry as Allison, just as curious as Cosima, but she's got years of experience to help her stay a step ahead of the neolutionists. Unfortunately, she can't do it alone. While she still has her brother Felix, standing ever faithfully by her side, the loss of her daughter could very well send her into a self-destructive spiral she can't pull out of.
What I love is that none of these women can take down the bad guys by themselves. Their strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Cosima's level headed rationalism helps Sarah and Allison stay grounded while their rage reminds her to get angry. Sarah's trust issues make Cosima properly wary of Delphine, and Allison's motherly instincts help Sarah see that she needs to do the best thing for her daughter, not just for herself. The three of them are going to need to figure out a way to work together again if they have any hope of breaking free from the shackles of the neolutionists. It'll be great to see them go head to head with Rachel and learn how she was recruited (or raised).
I'm really looking forward to the second season, which should build on these themes of teamwork, individual agency, and the oppression of patriarchal systems. And also more of Maslaney being jaw-droppingly amazing. Here's hoping for a second season that's even better than the first.
The first and most obvious thing to praise about this show is the lead actress, Tatiana Maslaney. Maslaney does incredible work playing not one, but four main characters and three side characters. She's on the screen in almost every scene, interacts with the entire cast in various guises, and even interacts with herself in some incredible scenes that will make you wonder if she's actually a twin and not just a single actress.
The most amazing bits come when she plays one character pretending to be another. Whether it's uptight Allison pretending to be wild-child Sarah in front of Sarah's daughter, Kira, or damaged Helena barely putting up a front as Beth to cop to gain access to her computer, Maslaney knows these characters so well that it all seem effortless. She can even slip into different accents when a character feels pressure and make it seem like an accident.
What really made me fall in love with this show, though, is its unique examination of patriarchy and all the little ways the system has to keep women down and all the ways that can affect the women trying to live in this society. It's not the most intersectional examination of feminism - we're still focused on pretty, white women who have some privilege of their own. But it still does a good job of teasing out all sorts of aggresions, both micro and macro, and showing the importance of working together to achieve common goals and help with personal goals.
The clones in this story are all ultimately struggling for the same thing - agency. The two main antagonistic groups (both populated almost exclusively by men) are trying to take that from them. The church wants to simply kill all of the clones and be done with it, rid the world of what they view as an abomination. The neolutionists, who created the clones in the first place, monitor the clones closely. They claim it's for the clones own good, but their true intentions are almost certainly more nefarious. It's revealed in the finale that any freedom or privacy they offer is just a lie, a way to throw the clones off the scent so they can continue their work without interference.
This state of constant surveillance and fear affects all of our clones (women) if different ways. Helena was recruited by the church as a child where she was taught that she was special. She was told that she was the original and has internalized the message that she's not like the other clones (women). This allows the church to manipulate and use her for their own ends. It's only through her bond to Sarah that she begins to shake their influence, although she's ultimately too far gone to save. Going forward, I have to assume that Rachel is a variation on this same model. She's working with the neolutionists, and I can only assume that she has also internalized a sense of being different and, more importantly, better than the other clones.
The other three main clones are only just becoming aware of these structures that seek to control their lives. They all react to the news differently, and they all fight against the system in different ways. But it's important to note that they find strength in working together. That the Neolutionists ultimately achieve their victory at the end of the season by driving wedges in between these women and feeding on their more selfish motivations.
Cosima is arguably the most well-adjusted of the trio. She's a scientist, and she reacts to the knowledge that she's a clone by seeking more knowledge. She learns about Dr Leekie and the Neolutionists and looks for opportunities to learn more about them. Cosima is sure that if she can just arm herself with enough knowledge, she can find her way out of the maze. If she asks enough questions, she'll find the answer that sets her free. But that's not how it works. All she ultimately discovers is how thoroughly trapped she is, and how hopeless the entire situation is.
Allison, my personal favorite, reacts in almost the opposite way. When Allison's world gets turned upside down, she starts falling to pieces. She's all about control, and the sense that she's losing control, or worse, that she was never in control to begin with, she does not handle it well. Allison lashes out at everyone as she tries to figure out how to regain her sense of normalcy. She ultimately decides that privacy is more important than freedom and signs a deal with Dr Leekie to get her life back the way it was. Unbeknownst to her, her life is exactly as it was before, complete with monitored activities and secret, invasive medical exams. I almost can't wait for her to discover that she was duped. Her rage is already a force to be reckoned with, and when she finally figures out who to focus it on there should be some serious fireworks.
Finally we have Sarah, arguably the protagonist of the show. Sarah has trust issues, and learning that she was a science experiment does nothing to help this. She's just as angry as Allison, just as curious as Cosima, but she's got years of experience to help her stay a step ahead of the neolutionists. Unfortunately, she can't do it alone. While she still has her brother Felix, standing ever faithfully by her side, the loss of her daughter could very well send her into a self-destructive spiral she can't pull out of.
What I love is that none of these women can take down the bad guys by themselves. Their strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Cosima's level headed rationalism helps Sarah and Allison stay grounded while their rage reminds her to get angry. Sarah's trust issues make Cosima properly wary of Delphine, and Allison's motherly instincts help Sarah see that she needs to do the best thing for her daughter, not just for herself. The three of them are going to need to figure out a way to work together again if they have any hope of breaking free from the shackles of the neolutionists. It'll be great to see them go head to head with Rachel and learn how she was recruited (or raised).
I'm really looking forward to the second season, which should build on these themes of teamwork, individual agency, and the oppression of patriarchal systems. And also more of Maslaney being jaw-droppingly amazing. Here's hoping for a second season that's even better than the first.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Hooray Insurance
The summer I turned 21, I sprained my ankle pretty badly. Due to a horrific combination of alcohol, stilettos, and old ballerina instincts, I attempted to leap over a group of people who were between me and the bathroom. I did not properly land the grand jete and was subsequently carried to my room. Having grown up dancing, I was no stranger to sprained ankles, so I wrapped it, iced it, kept it elevated, and mostly got on with my life.
But a week later it wasn't even beginning to feel better. I knew I had to get it looked at by a doctor. This presented a problem. It's not that I wasn't insured, but I was insured by through dad who lived in Colorado while I was spending my summer in California. I couldn't find a single doctor in network; even the urgent care wouldn't see me. I finally spent a long and boring afternoon in the ER only to learn that my ankle wasn't broken. All I could do at that point was wait for it to heal on its own.
It's probably no surprise that I continue to re-injure this ankle on a fairly regular basis.
Flash forward to this past week, when I hurt my knee thanks to a poorly executed squat at the gym.
Like past injuries, I wrapped it, iced it, and assumed that it would eventually get better. But Kevin insisted I go see a doctor because knee injuries can be really bad. I'd neglected to actually find a primary care physician since moving to Virginia, so I also had to set up a new patient appointment somewhere. It turns out that this was all super easy, and I was able to schedule everything for Thursday afternoon.
My knee oscillated between feeling better and worse, mostly being fine in the morning and getting worse as the day progressed. In the days leading up to my appointment I became convinced that I had seriously hurt myself and was doing my best to not move my knee at all. By the time I got to the doctor's office, I was fretting over the possibility of surgery.
My doctor determined that I had likely torn a ligament and relayed this information like it was no big deal. She referred my to a physical therapist and told me that I needed to start using my knee instead of just keeping it wrapped and still. I'm now on an Advil regimen to deal with the pain instead of trying to prevent the pain from happening at all.
I start physical therapy next week, and I'm hoping it doesn't take too long to go through it all. The best part is that I don't think I'll need to pay out of pocket for any of this. There was no copay at the doctor's office, and I don't think there will be one for the physical therapy either, which is nice. Even if I do need to pay, I doubt it will be much. I'm really glad that I have health insurance and will be able to have this injury treated properly. Maybe now my knees won't give out completely when I'm 50.
But a week later it wasn't even beginning to feel better. I knew I had to get it looked at by a doctor. This presented a problem. It's not that I wasn't insured, but I was insured by through dad who lived in Colorado while I was spending my summer in California. I couldn't find a single doctor in network; even the urgent care wouldn't see me. I finally spent a long and boring afternoon in the ER only to learn that my ankle wasn't broken. All I could do at that point was wait for it to heal on its own.
It's probably no surprise that I continue to re-injure this ankle on a fairly regular basis.
Flash forward to this past week, when I hurt my knee thanks to a poorly executed squat at the gym.
Like past injuries, I wrapped it, iced it, and assumed that it would eventually get better. But Kevin insisted I go see a doctor because knee injuries can be really bad. I'd neglected to actually find a primary care physician since moving to Virginia, so I also had to set up a new patient appointment somewhere. It turns out that this was all super easy, and I was able to schedule everything for Thursday afternoon.
My knee oscillated between feeling better and worse, mostly being fine in the morning and getting worse as the day progressed. In the days leading up to my appointment I became convinced that I had seriously hurt myself and was doing my best to not move my knee at all. By the time I got to the doctor's office, I was fretting over the possibility of surgery.
My doctor determined that I had likely torn a ligament and relayed this information like it was no big deal. She referred my to a physical therapist and told me that I needed to start using my knee instead of just keeping it wrapped and still. I'm now on an Advil regimen to deal with the pain instead of trying to prevent the pain from happening at all.
I start physical therapy next week, and I'm hoping it doesn't take too long to go through it all. The best part is that I don't think I'll need to pay out of pocket for any of this. There was no copay at the doctor's office, and I don't think there will be one for the physical therapy either, which is nice. Even if I do need to pay, I doubt it will be much. I'm really glad that I have health insurance and will be able to have this injury treated properly. Maybe now my knees won't give out completely when I'm 50.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
That Dove Video
Dove recently released a video called "Real Beauty Sketches" that a lot of people are talking about. It's been all over my Facebook feed. So many of my friends are inspired and believe that every woman needs to see this video. It's great if you feel like that, but this video has really been getting under my skin. I'm going to try and gather my thoughts in a coherent way. Just in case you haven't seen it, here's the video in question:
I have a lot of issues with this video. I think the best place to start is my problem with Dove as a company. Over the past few years, they've been striking me as a bit hypocritical. They release videos like this every so often to remind girls that they're more beautiful than they think they are. This one came out in college, and it made a real impression on me.
I knew models were heavily made-up before this. I suspected they were airbrushed. I hadn't realized just how extreme the photoshopping is. Now one of my hobbies is to spot this on magazine covers in the checkout lane at the grocery store. Sometimes the photoshopper didn't do a great job and you can see where the background doesn't quite match up. Other times it's a bit more subtle. Women appear skinnier than they do on TV. Their limbs don't look quite right. They're always a little whiter, especially if they aren't Caucasian.
Dove followed up that video with this one.
Again, I like the message. The beauty industry (and society in general) is trying to sell us on the idea that we need their help to be more attractive. It's great that Dove is pointing a finger at this.
The problem is that Dove is in the same business. They want you to feel bad about yourself so that you'll spend more money on their products. That hasn't changed in the past seven years, and I'd be really surprised if it changed now. As much as Dove wants me to understand that I'm prettier than I think, they also want me to buy an antiperspirant that gives me softer skin when all I actually need is something that will prevent me from sweating.
Maybe I'm jaded, but the entire thing feels like one more marketing scheme. Dove cares more about your self-esteem than all those other beauty companies, so you should give them your money. They actually have you best interests at heart when they're making your skin smoother, your hair bouncier, your armpits prettier (I have serious issues with that campaign).
But the other, deeper, issue I have with all of this is that it continues to play into the idea that the most important thing a woman can be is beautiful. This is everywhere in our society and it's reinforced by these videos. The women in the latest video are reassured when they learn that strangers find them more attractive than they find themselves - though I actually thought that some of the initial sketches showed the more attractive women. The second video reassures us that even models aren't that pretty, so it's okay for us to be slightly less than perfect, too. But only slightly. Notice that the "ugly" pictures are still considered less worthy.
Now there's nothing wrong with wanting to be attractive. Especially since our society makes that such a huge priority. I consider myself a fairly confident person, but I still have issues with how I look. I wish I weighed about thirty pounds less. Strapless tops always make me feel fat because I inevitably spill out of them. I despise my chin. I have a hard time looking at photos of myself. No matter how many times I tell myself that other people don't see what I see I can never seem to see anything else.
All this and I'm actually a pretty conventionally attractive person. I mean, I'm not a super-model, but nor am I a hag.
And for all that my female friends are intelligent, passionate, kind, creative, and all around wonderful human beings, for all the time they spend cooking delicious food, traveling to new places, reading interesting books, and engaging in thought-provoking conversations, I have no doubt many of them suffer from the same insecurities.
The problem, of course, is how much time society spends obsessing about how women look. Never mind that I have a degree in physics, that I have a difficult and interesting job that I'm really good at, that I'm well-read, or that I'm actually pretty good at taking care of my home, my pets, and my finances. I still occasionally feel like a complete failure because I can't seem to lose even five pounds.
Hell. For the past two years I've just been happy if I can get through a month without gaining weight. But I'd be a whole lot happier if I could lose some, too.
Except that, of course, I wouldn't be. It wouldn't fundamentally change who I am or anything about my life if I managed to get back down to a size 6. Society would still be there to tell me that I should lose more weight, dress more stylishly, put on some makeup, and take preemptive action against crow's feet and grey hairs. I'd still know, at least intellectually, that I'm a fairly successful person with a pretty excellent life.
Ninety-five percent of the time I'm happy in my own skin. I remember that other things are more important than my appearance and that the opinions of strangers have no real effect on my life. I focus on my career, I paint my nails bright pink, I get lost in a good book, and I don't think about my chin, or my belly or my thighs. Then something like this comes along and, even though it's telling me that I'm prettier than I think I am, it also reminds me how important it is to be pretty.
I have a lot of issues with this video. I think the best place to start is my problem with Dove as a company. Over the past few years, they've been striking me as a bit hypocritical. They release videos like this every so often to remind girls that they're more beautiful than they think they are. This one came out in college, and it made a real impression on me.
I knew models were heavily made-up before this. I suspected they were airbrushed. I hadn't realized just how extreme the photoshopping is. Now one of my hobbies is to spot this on magazine covers in the checkout lane at the grocery store. Sometimes the photoshopper didn't do a great job and you can see where the background doesn't quite match up. Other times it's a bit more subtle. Women appear skinnier than they do on TV. Their limbs don't look quite right. They're always a little whiter, especially if they aren't Caucasian.
Dove followed up that video with this one.
Again, I like the message. The beauty industry (and society in general) is trying to sell us on the idea that we need their help to be more attractive. It's great that Dove is pointing a finger at this.
The problem is that Dove is in the same business. They want you to feel bad about yourself so that you'll spend more money on their products. That hasn't changed in the past seven years, and I'd be really surprised if it changed now. As much as Dove wants me to understand that I'm prettier than I think, they also want me to buy an antiperspirant that gives me softer skin when all I actually need is something that will prevent me from sweating.
Maybe I'm jaded, but the entire thing feels like one more marketing scheme. Dove cares more about your self-esteem than all those other beauty companies, so you should give them your money. They actually have you best interests at heart when they're making your skin smoother, your hair bouncier, your armpits prettier (I have serious issues with that campaign).
But the other, deeper, issue I have with all of this is that it continues to play into the idea that the most important thing a woman can be is beautiful. This is everywhere in our society and it's reinforced by these videos. The women in the latest video are reassured when they learn that strangers find them more attractive than they find themselves - though I actually thought that some of the initial sketches showed the more attractive women. The second video reassures us that even models aren't that pretty, so it's okay for us to be slightly less than perfect, too. But only slightly. Notice that the "ugly" pictures are still considered less worthy.
Now there's nothing wrong with wanting to be attractive. Especially since our society makes that such a huge priority. I consider myself a fairly confident person, but I still have issues with how I look. I wish I weighed about thirty pounds less. Strapless tops always make me feel fat because I inevitably spill out of them. I despise my chin. I have a hard time looking at photos of myself. No matter how many times I tell myself that other people don't see what I see I can never seem to see anything else.
All this and I'm actually a pretty conventionally attractive person. I mean, I'm not a super-model, but nor am I a hag.
And for all that my female friends are intelligent, passionate, kind, creative, and all around wonderful human beings, for all the time they spend cooking delicious food, traveling to new places, reading interesting books, and engaging in thought-provoking conversations, I have no doubt many of them suffer from the same insecurities.
The problem, of course, is how much time society spends obsessing about how women look. Never mind that I have a degree in physics, that I have a difficult and interesting job that I'm really good at, that I'm well-read, or that I'm actually pretty good at taking care of my home, my pets, and my finances. I still occasionally feel like a complete failure because I can't seem to lose even five pounds.
Hell. For the past two years I've just been happy if I can get through a month without gaining weight. But I'd be a whole lot happier if I could lose some, too.
Except that, of course, I wouldn't be. It wouldn't fundamentally change who I am or anything about my life if I managed to get back down to a size 6. Society would still be there to tell me that I should lose more weight, dress more stylishly, put on some makeup, and take preemptive action against crow's feet and grey hairs. I'd still know, at least intellectually, that I'm a fairly successful person with a pretty excellent life.
Ninety-five percent of the time I'm happy in my own skin. I remember that other things are more important than my appearance and that the opinions of strangers have no real effect on my life. I focus on my career, I paint my nails bright pink, I get lost in a good book, and I don't think about my chin, or my belly or my thighs. Then something like this comes along and, even though it's telling me that I'm prettier than I think I am, it also reminds me how important it is to be pretty.
Friday, October 5, 2012
A Tale of Two Compliments
Yeah I'm talking about street harassment again. I don't know if it's happening more or if I'm just noticing it more, but it's been on my mind a lot.
Today I had interactions with two different men and was struck by the contrast between them. The first made me feel dirty. The second left me with a spring in my step. The difference? Well, see for yourself.
Situation 1:
The man approached me on a crowded street corner while I was waiting for the light to change. He got close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek while he whispered in my ear "Damn, nice legs. You're looking real good, baby girl." He disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving me shaken.
Situation 2:
While I was walking down the street, a man called out, "Excuse me, ma'am."
Assuming that he needed directions somewhere, I stopped and turned to him. "Yes?"
He looked me in the eye and said, "I wanted to let you know that you look very nice today."
"Thanks," I responded with a big grin.
It is clearly not that difficult to give a stranger a compliment in a way that makes her day better rather than worse. It all comes down to respect. Why is this such a difficult concept for so many people?
Today I had interactions with two different men and was struck by the contrast between them. The first made me feel dirty. The second left me with a spring in my step. The difference? Well, see for yourself.
Situation 1:
The man approached me on a crowded street corner while I was waiting for the light to change. He got close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek while he whispered in my ear "Damn, nice legs. You're looking real good, baby girl." He disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving me shaken.
Situation 2:
While I was walking down the street, a man called out, "Excuse me, ma'am."
Assuming that he needed directions somewhere, I stopped and turned to him. "Yes?"
He looked me in the eye and said, "I wanted to let you know that you look very nice today."
"Thanks," I responded with a big grin.
It is clearly not that difficult to give a stranger a compliment in a way that makes her day better rather than worse. It all comes down to respect. Why is this such a difficult concept for so many people?
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Microaggressions
They're the little annoyances we deal with every day. The things we mostly just shrug off because they happen so damn often that we've basically come to expect them. Over time they add up, drain us of our energy. And every now and then you get a day like today when they all happen at once and it feels like the universe (or half of it) is out to get you personally.
The man who walks directly at me on a wide-open sidewalk and snickers each time I change course to avoid crashing into him.
The man who sits next to me on the metro and spreads his legs as wide as possible so I'm crammed up against the wall.
The man who brushes up against me and "accidentally" touches my ass in the crowd to leave the metro station.
The homeless guy, calling me "pretty girl" in an effort to get my attention so he can sell me a copy of Street Sense.
The guy on the park bench who whistles when I walk past.
The man who leers at me as if I can't see him, or maybe just doesn't care that I can.
And then the asshole at the end of it all. Yelling at me to smile; life isn't that bad. Getting angry when I walk past him without acknowledgement. Offering me a dollar if I'll just smile for him. Continuing to shout at me as I do my best to ignore him. But it is my face, damn it, and I will look tired or angry if that's how I feel, and I will smile if I feel like smiling but not because some stranger wants me to.
Taken individually, each of these is a minor incident. Something I'm able to brush off as I go about my day. At least one of these things happens every day, and every one of them has happened before today. If I got angry every time I'd never be anything but angry. This is the world we live in, where men feel like their mere existence gives them some right to a piece of the women around them.
So we learn to ignore the unwanted attention, the trespasses on personal space, the judgement based on looks alone, the infantalizing comments. Because saying something would likely result in escalation, increase our risk. It's easier, safer, to just pretend it didn't happen.
But then a day like this happens, and I'm exhausted before I even get to work. It's days like this that I wish I never had to leave my house. Or that I was actually invisible. Or that I could just make all the men disappear.
It days like this that I actually have to say something. Because these so-called microaggressions are a big deal. They add up to so much more than the sum of the parts, reinforcing the idea that women exist for men to look at, comment on, toy with, touch, possess. That we should be grateful for the attention. That our feelings don't matter. That we are worth less. And that attitude needs to stop.
The man who walks directly at me on a wide-open sidewalk and snickers each time I change course to avoid crashing into him.
The man who sits next to me on the metro and spreads his legs as wide as possible so I'm crammed up against the wall.
The man who brushes up against me and "accidentally" touches my ass in the crowd to leave the metro station.
The homeless guy, calling me "pretty girl" in an effort to get my attention so he can sell me a copy of Street Sense.
The guy on the park bench who whistles when I walk past.
The man who leers at me as if I can't see him, or maybe just doesn't care that I can.
And then the asshole at the end of it all. Yelling at me to smile; life isn't that bad. Getting angry when I walk past him without acknowledgement. Offering me a dollar if I'll just smile for him. Continuing to shout at me as I do my best to ignore him. But it is my face, damn it, and I will look tired or angry if that's how I feel, and I will smile if I feel like smiling but not because some stranger wants me to.
Taken individually, each of these is a minor incident. Something I'm able to brush off as I go about my day. At least one of these things happens every day, and every one of them has happened before today. If I got angry every time I'd never be anything but angry. This is the world we live in, where men feel like their mere existence gives them some right to a piece of the women around them.
So we learn to ignore the unwanted attention, the trespasses on personal space, the judgement based on looks alone, the infantalizing comments. Because saying something would likely result in escalation, increase our risk. It's easier, safer, to just pretend it didn't happen.
But then a day like this happens, and I'm exhausted before I even get to work. It's days like this that I wish I never had to leave my house. Or that I was actually invisible. Or that I could just make all the men disappear.
It days like this that I actually have to say something. Because these so-called microaggressions are a big deal. They add up to so much more than the sum of the parts, reinforcing the idea that women exist for men to look at, comment on, toy with, touch, possess. That we should be grateful for the attention. That our feelings don't matter. That we are worth less. And that attitude needs to stop.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
I'm Aware Already!
Note: It's a rant-y day. I'm sorry
There's another girl's only breast cancer awareness meme going around Facebook. This time instead of the color of your bra (which I did participate in last year), you're supposed to put a fruit in your status, indicating your relationship status. Here's the secret code if you care:
The main problem is that it excludes men. The girl's only attitude implies that breast cancer is a female disease, which isn't true. Men have breasts, and, like women they can get cancer there. Yes, women are more likely to get it, but excluding men from the awareness campaign is awful. It makes it look like an us vs them issue (shhh, don't tell the boys!), when in fact we're all in it together.
I'm also a little mad because March isn't even Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October is. I mean, the whole "let's be aware of something for a month" is a little ridiculous anyway. There are more than twelve things we should be aware of, and we should probably be aware of them all the time, not just for a fraction of the year. In fact, I found this compilation of all the different causes each month is dedicated to. It's getting a bit out of hand.
Back to the point. As far as I'm aware March is Women's History Month. Now I know my breasts are an important part of who I am as a woman, and I would probably suffer a crisis of identity if I lost one or both of them. Our concept of self is very much tied to our physical bodies, and there's certainly enough societal pressure telling us that women have boobs and men have balls. I can only imagine how tough it would be to have a body that doesn't match society's expectations of your gender It's something that I've been lucky enough not to experience. I hope I never have to experience it.
As fabulous as my boobs are, they are not my sole defining feature as a woman. So I'm a little upset that Breast Cancer Awareness is trying to steal the spotlight from Women's History Awareness. Breast cancer and women's history are both important topics, and both should get a spotlight. So back off, Breast Cancer. You'll have your turn again in six short months, when even the NFL wears pink for you.
Finally, I feel compelled to point out that all this awareness isn't doing anything other than generating awareness. This isn't exactly a bad thing. But as aware as I am of breast cancer, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of progress being made. It remains the second most fatal form of cancer for women. It is, of course, equally fatal for men who contract, but they aren't as likely to get it, so they don't die from it quite as often. The death rate and diagnosis rate aren't really decreasing at all.
Awareness is leading to a lot of fear and paranoia. And all those monthly self exams are leading to more false positives than anything else. False positives are expensive and time-consuming to deal with, not to mention the fear and anxiety they cause.
My OB/GYN (who is incredibly smart and up-to-date on research) told me to just skip the monthly self-exam altogether. As a young, healthy woman with no family history of breast cancer, I'm better off just letting him check for lumps during my annual exam. Women over 40 should be getting annual mammograms. And clearly if you're high risk, you should talk to your doctor about all of this. But if you aren't, then you probably don't have much to worry about.
All the propaganda is probably just making you needlessly fearful about your own risk. Take a deep breath, talk to your doctor, do some research (as in, peer-reviewed medical articles) and calm down. Know what you're actually at risk for. Personally, I'm far more likely to get skin cancer. Where's the meme for that?
There's another girl's only breast cancer awareness meme going around Facebook. This time instead of the color of your bra (which I did participate in last year), you're supposed to put a fruit in your status, indicating your relationship status. Here's the secret code if you care:
Blueberry: I'm singleLet's skip right past "Lemon" and on to the other problems with this. As I said, I did participate in this last year. It was simple and silly, so why not? But I've since done some research and now, armed with a bit more knowledge and perspective, I'm becoming more and more bothered by this meme.
Pineapple: it's complicated
Raspberry: I'm a touch and go woman
Apple: Engaged
Cherry: In a relationship
Banana: I'm married
Avocado: I'm the "other one"
Strawberry: Can't find the right one
Lemon: Wish I was single
Grape: Wants to get married.
Passion fruit: Widowed
Peach: Same sex partnership/Domestic Partners
The main problem is that it excludes men. The girl's only attitude implies that breast cancer is a female disease, which isn't true. Men have breasts, and, like women they can get cancer there. Yes, women are more likely to get it, but excluding men from the awareness campaign is awful. It makes it look like an us vs them issue (shhh, don't tell the boys!), when in fact we're all in it together.
I'm also a little mad because March isn't even Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October is. I mean, the whole "let's be aware of something for a month" is a little ridiculous anyway. There are more than twelve things we should be aware of, and we should probably be aware of them all the time, not just for a fraction of the year. In fact, I found this compilation of all the different causes each month is dedicated to. It's getting a bit out of hand.
Back to the point. As far as I'm aware March is Women's History Month. Now I know my breasts are an important part of who I am as a woman, and I would probably suffer a crisis of identity if I lost one or both of them. Our concept of self is very much tied to our physical bodies, and there's certainly enough societal pressure telling us that women have boobs and men have balls. I can only imagine how tough it would be to have a body that doesn't match society's expectations of your gender It's something that I've been lucky enough not to experience. I hope I never have to experience it.
As fabulous as my boobs are, they are not my sole defining feature as a woman. So I'm a little upset that Breast Cancer Awareness is trying to steal the spotlight from Women's History Awareness. Breast cancer and women's history are both important topics, and both should get a spotlight. So back off, Breast Cancer. You'll have your turn again in six short months, when even the NFL wears pink for you.
Finally, I feel compelled to point out that all this awareness isn't doing anything other than generating awareness. This isn't exactly a bad thing. But as aware as I am of breast cancer, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of progress being made. It remains the second most fatal form of cancer for women. It is, of course, equally fatal for men who contract, but they aren't as likely to get it, so they don't die from it quite as often. The death rate and diagnosis rate aren't really decreasing at all.
Awareness is leading to a lot of fear and paranoia. And all those monthly self exams are leading to more false positives than anything else. False positives are expensive and time-consuming to deal with, not to mention the fear and anxiety they cause.
My OB/GYN (who is incredibly smart and up-to-date on research) told me to just skip the monthly self-exam altogether. As a young, healthy woman with no family history of breast cancer, I'm better off just letting him check for lumps during my annual exam. Women over 40 should be getting annual mammograms. And clearly if you're high risk, you should talk to your doctor about all of this. But if you aren't, then you probably don't have much to worry about.
All the propaganda is probably just making you needlessly fearful about your own risk. Take a deep breath, talk to your doctor, do some research (as in, peer-reviewed medical articles) and calm down. Know what you're actually at risk for. Personally, I'm far more likely to get skin cancer. Where's the meme for that?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Cecilia Payne
When you study physics, every great discovery comes attached to a name. The lessons are almost as much about the history of the field as they are about physics itself. You learn about Schrodinger's Equation (and cat), Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, Einstein's theory of relativity, Feynman's diagrams, Kepler's laws, Galileo's equations, the Copernican model of the universe, Bohr's model of the atom, Newton's laws, Maxwell's equations, etc.
But you've probably never heard of Cecilia Payne.
I hadn't, until I stumbled across this article about her. Cecilia was born in Britain in 1900 and came to America to study astronomy at Harvard in 1923. At the time, it was thought that the sun had roughly the same composition as the Earth, but no one knew the exact proportions of the elements. Ms. Payne was tasked with determining this and used the latest advances in ionization theory and spectral analysis to do so. She concluded that the sun is, in fact, mostly hydrogen.
Her conclusion was controversial at the time. It flew in the face of the accepted wisdom that the sun was mostly made of heavy metals, just like the Earth. She was shunted into a different field and it was a few years before the work she had done was verified and finally accepted. She continued to contribute to astronomy in the field of variable stars (stars whose brightness, as seen from the Earth, appears to vary over time) and wrote several books.
As a side note, Cecilia was the first person to earn a PhD in astronomy from Harvard. Not just the first woman, the first person.
So why don't we learn about her? Why was she never mentioned in any of my physics classes? We did an experiment similar to her's in a lab course. Her name should have been included in that experiment description, but it wasn't. I thought she might have been discussed in the actual astrophysics course, which I never took. A scan of my boyfriend's astrophysics text book debunked this theory. It contains a 20-page section on Cecilia Payne's work. Her name isn't mentioned once.
I wanted to write about her here, get the word out. She deserves some recognition. She should be as famous as Newton, Galileo, or Einstein for discovering such a crucial and fundamental fact about our universe. But she's not.
Note: Apparently it is International Women's Day. I didn't know that when I wrote this post, but it seems fitting. If you can think of any other women who don't get enough love, let me know and I'll write about them. This was fun.
But you've probably never heard of Cecilia Payne.
I hadn't, until I stumbled across this article about her. Cecilia was born in Britain in 1900 and came to America to study astronomy at Harvard in 1923. At the time, it was thought that the sun had roughly the same composition as the Earth, but no one knew the exact proportions of the elements. Ms. Payne was tasked with determining this and used the latest advances in ionization theory and spectral analysis to do so. She concluded that the sun is, in fact, mostly hydrogen.
Her conclusion was controversial at the time. It flew in the face of the accepted wisdom that the sun was mostly made of heavy metals, just like the Earth. She was shunted into a different field and it was a few years before the work she had done was verified and finally accepted. She continued to contribute to astronomy in the field of variable stars (stars whose brightness, as seen from the Earth, appears to vary over time) and wrote several books.
As a side note, Cecilia was the first person to earn a PhD in astronomy from Harvard. Not just the first woman, the first person.
So why don't we learn about her? Why was she never mentioned in any of my physics classes? We did an experiment similar to her's in a lab course. Her name should have been included in that experiment description, but it wasn't. I thought she might have been discussed in the actual astrophysics course, which I never took. A scan of my boyfriend's astrophysics text book debunked this theory. It contains a 20-page section on Cecilia Payne's work. Her name isn't mentioned once.
I wanted to write about her here, get the word out. She deserves some recognition. She should be as famous as Newton, Galileo, or Einstein for discovering such a crucial and fundamental fact about our universe. But she's not.
Note: Apparently it is International Women's Day. I didn't know that when I wrote this post, but it seems fitting. If you can think of any other women who don't get enough love, let me know and I'll write about them. This was fun.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Don't Say Anything You'll Regret
In my senior year of high school I took a statistics class. Every class started with a poll of some sort. We'd analyze the results to learn about things like mean, distribution, statistical significance, and so on. The questions were usually silly. What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Would you rather win an Oscar, a Grammy, or the Nobel Prize? How many siblings do you have?
One day, for whatever reason, our teacher asked us a slightly more incendiary question.
Are women too emotional to be involved in politics?
This class had 27 students: 25 girls and 2 boys.
Five people raised their hands for the "no" answer. Both of the male students were counted among them.
So. In a sampling of 25 fairly intelligent females (they were electing to take an extra math class; that implies some intelligence) 22 of them believed that women are too emotional for politics.
WHAT?
I hadn't expected anyone to agree with that statement. Certainly not the overwhelming majority of the girls in the class. Surely this kind of backwards thinking had been stomped out back in the 20s when wewere given won the right to vote. Or in the 60s with the invention and distribution of the birth control pill. Or in the 80s, before I was born. Surely no one attending high school in the new millennium could cling to such archaic beliefs.
I made a comment to this effect. A girl responded, "Well it's a fact that women are more emotional than men. And when it comes to making rational choices about policies, they may not be able to reign those emotions in."
"So you don't think women should be allowed to vote?" I retorted, nearly rising out of my seat. I was so angry at this girl and so very ready to show her all the ways she was wrong.
The teacher silenced me. "Let's not say anything we'll regret."
"But-" I started to say before a look from her shut me up. Instead, I wrote "Vote for Hillary in 2008!" across the top of my homework.
Why is this belief still so prevalent? Why are there people out there, women among them, who believe that we are somehow inferior to men? That we don't have the rationality, strength, wisdom, foresight, patience, or authority to help run this country? Why is equality so hard?
There's a lot going on in this country right now concerning women's rights. The House of Representatives voted to defund Planned Parenthood. If this passes in the Senate, it would be difficult or impossible for low-income women to get access to STD/STI screening and care, annual exams, and contraception. The same politicians are trying to redefine rape so that it only counts if the victim was physically forced. They want to use this new definition to limit funds for abortions. In Georgia, politicians have introduced a bill that could make miscarriage a felony punishable by the death penalty. Tell me how that's pro-life. I dare you. It's like the kings of old executing their wives for birthing daughters instead of sons. What century is this?
That last one probably won't pass, but I'm sickened that it is even being considered.
It's time to stop being silent out of fear that I'll live to regret something I say or write. It's time to start fighting for rights I've been taking for granted my entire life. It's time to stand up and make them see that women are people, too.
Now the question is, aside from ranting on the internet, how do I join the fight? Living close to DC should make this easier to figure out, but I'm not entirely sure how to get started. In the meantime, I'll post my thoughts and rants here and share any information I do find about making a stand.
And please share any information you have with me!
One day, for whatever reason, our teacher asked us a slightly more incendiary question.
Are women too emotional to be involved in politics?
This class had 27 students: 25 girls and 2 boys.
Five people raised their hands for the "no" answer. Both of the male students were counted among them.
So. In a sampling of 25 fairly intelligent females (they were electing to take an extra math class; that implies some intelligence) 22 of them believed that women are too emotional for politics.
WHAT?
I hadn't expected anyone to agree with that statement. Certainly not the overwhelming majority of the girls in the class. Surely this kind of backwards thinking had been stomped out back in the 20s when we
I made a comment to this effect. A girl responded, "Well it's a fact that women are more emotional than men. And when it comes to making rational choices about policies, they may not be able to reign those emotions in."
"So you don't think women should be allowed to vote?" I retorted, nearly rising out of my seat. I was so angry at this girl and so very ready to show her all the ways she was wrong.
The teacher silenced me. "Let's not say anything we'll regret."
"But-" I started to say before a look from her shut me up. Instead, I wrote "Vote for Hillary in 2008!" across the top of my homework.
Why is this belief still so prevalent? Why are there people out there, women among them, who believe that we are somehow inferior to men? That we don't have the rationality, strength, wisdom, foresight, patience, or authority to help run this country? Why is equality so hard?
There's a lot going on in this country right now concerning women's rights. The House of Representatives voted to defund Planned Parenthood. If this passes in the Senate, it would be difficult or impossible for low-income women to get access to STD/STI screening and care, annual exams, and contraception. The same politicians are trying to redefine rape so that it only counts if the victim was physically forced. They want to use this new definition to limit funds for abortions. In Georgia, politicians have introduced a bill that could make miscarriage a felony punishable by the death penalty. Tell me how that's pro-life. I dare you. It's like the kings of old executing their wives for birthing daughters instead of sons. What century is this?
That last one probably won't pass, but I'm sickened that it is even being considered.
It's time to stop being silent out of fear that I'll live to regret something I say or write. It's time to start fighting for rights I've been taking for granted my entire life. It's time to stand up and make them see that women are people, too.
Now the question is, aside from ranting on the internet, how do I join the fight? Living close to DC should make this easier to figure out, but I'm not entirely sure how to get started. In the meantime, I'll post my thoughts and rants here and share any information I do find about making a stand.
And please share any information you have with me!
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