And the list for the top 50 visionaries are out once again and I must beam that ALEXIS PAULINE GUMBS is on the list! How thrillingly appropriate to recognize this brilliant troublemaker who resides near and dear to my heart.
Congratulations to Utne for keeping their eye on the true visionaries and an even BIGGER congrats to Lex for her pioneering work, compassionate spirit, and bottomless well of activist energy!
It’s true when they say that the never unheated issue of abortion is the most visible skyscraper in the cityline of reproductive rights. Many other issues, although not as controversial or heavy hitting, are often left in the cool shadows, lingering on the minds of distressed women.
I’m inching toward my 7th month of pregnancy and the issue of the NIHI vaccine has been monopolozing my mind since flu season descended on my calendar, and straight into my big pregnant heart afflicted with tender worrying about my first child.
To vaccinate or not vaccinate that is the question.
Here’s what I want to know: how do you trust ANYONE these days to give you correct information? For most computer literate citizens, there is no shortage of informtion. Thanks to trusty libraries, there is no question left in the dark, but, the question remains in my suspicious mind: How do I trust this information?
Maybe there are a handful of organizations or groups dedicated to unbiased information distribution, but, for the H1N1 issue, I’m pressed to find hard core facts that don’t have some sort of agenda to nudge you in a certain direction.
This is my body and inside my body is my first child. The questions going back and forth neutralize my ability to make a decision. There is risk in doing something, there is risk in doing nothing, so I look at the facts.
Fact #1 – in my local community, there have been reported and confirmed H1N1 cases. To be exact, the local family care center 2 blocks from my house.
Fact #3 – The vaccine is new and although people want to remain positive, the uncertainty of its effects are not known. NOBODY truly knows what the effects might be on pregnant women.
Fact #4 – Pregnant women have a weakened immunity system and those in later pregnancy may have more complications from flu-turned-pneumonia because of lack of sleep, irregular breathing patterns (baby pushing up against diaphragm makes deep breathes more difficult), and overall fatigue
Fact #5 – There is risk either way and regardless of what I do, my choice will be unpopular with someday in my life
My father is nearly sweating himself into dehydration because he wants me first in line for the vaccine. My mother is unconvinced that vaccination is safe. My dear Adonis keeps reading whatever he can, uncertain what is best and afraid to push me into getting the vaccine which he, underneath it all, thinks is the best option for our growing family.
I remain on the sidelines, swaying to the winds of news, gut, prayers, and hope.
So, after you’ve got choice, after you’ve got the information, what do you do if you still can’t make a decision?
I’ve asked Isaiah what he thinks and he just kicks and rolls happily inside, his firing neurons building a system that utterly depends on the decisions I make with my body and our health.
Thanks to those who are asking about my impending move. Not to worry, though, this blog will automatically redirect you to my new site.
Change is afoot!
I hate when I ask for reader’s opinion. Mostly because it reads like I cannot make up my mind. I mean, never mind that that IS the truth, but I usually hide it real well. In the closet: I am indecisive.
So a new website is underway (do you HEAR the archangles singing in the sky?) and I am deliciously excited to unveil it and start FRESH, with more authentic, funny, candid, meaningful, frequent writing. Ah, I feel like I’m about to go in for a makeover. I’ll smell all glorious and everyone will turn and sniff in my direction, “What…who was THAT?” Yes, friends, that is the smell of my new website called…called…
And that’s why I need your help.
MY ECDYSIS was reformed from A WOMYN’S ECDYSIS. The word “ecdysis” basically means shedding an outer layer. It’s a biologist’s term. I’ve got history with it. It makes sense.
It’s also confusing, people misspell it like it’s their PAID JOB not to look up how to spell it correctly, and, truthfully, NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT. I think I’ve spent more time correcting spelling and annunciation ECDYSIS than I have about kyriarchy, feminism, or any other issue I’ve written about.
So, I am at a crossroads.
How do you know when to change? Has “ECDYSIS” ecdysis-ed itself? I’m a big proponent of continuity, especially on the internets, but I’m itching to find a replacement. With no success.
I cannot think of anything that is more appropriate for me than My Ecdysis, and yet, I want something new.
Oh, the cyber tug of internal war continues.
And so, my dear readers, those who are loyal enough to email or leave your thoughts in the comments section — what do you think?
Taking suggestions, feedback, criticism, thoughts. Anything but profanity.
If ignoring the controversial Columbus Day holiday is not what we should do, then what is?
If the Columbus voyage is compared to a modern day voyage to Mars, then what do we make of the European colonization that took place subsequent to Columbus’ “discovery?”
What do we make of the wiping out of the Native Americans who were here, and HAD been here for so long? How do we recoin a holiday when the basis of the “discovery” was actually theft? And brutality?
What do we do when we know that truth? What happens after truth-telling? Has anything changed? Instead of moving the holiday around to create longer 4 day weekends in November, what do we DO with the knowledge that the history textbooks document Columbus day from the victor’s side? Has that knowledge changed your perception of this federal holiday?
The least we can do is make today a day of truth-telling. If we want to tell the story of a man who went on a really brave, long trip; if we want to tell the story of the violent genocide inflicted upon the Native Americans; if we want our children to have a day off of school for these reasons and, for some, receive a paid holiday, the least we can do is press upon the truth, if only for one day.
Barbara Ehrenreich recently gave an interview about how “positive thinking” is undermining America to which I say, BRAVO.
Ehrenreich argues that, basically, a little realism and truthful admittance of our feelings when we are dogged by the inevitable harder aspects of life are not only normal, but quite healthy. She talks about her new book which explores the roots of “positive thinking” which hit close to home when in treatment for breast cancer and was advised to “embrace” her disease.
Another insightful and interesting perspective from Ehrenreich that may have me borrowing this book from the library once available.
The one point I would either disagree with or elaborate with Ehrenreich:
For the very depressed person, you’re just convinced that everything is going to be miserable, that you’re not going to enjoy anything you undertake, that you’re going to fail at everything.
There, too, you’re just projecting things. It’s extremely hard to “see things as they are.” It’s a project — we have to consult other people, we get other views, we sometimes have to question other people’s views, but that’s the only way to proceed, and that’s how our species has survived as long as it has.
The anti-deflatable population, those who are absolutely committed to seeing everything rosy, are not positive thinkers. I would argue those folks are in denial. Denial is powerful. It has the capacity to mentally save us from crushing circumstances when we need to focus on something else, like a strategy to survive. Denial is not always a bad thing. Psychologically, denial is a coping mechanism that, when appropriately used in a timely manner, can be extremely effective and helpful, provided you deal and process whatever is troublesome soon afterward.
But that’s not the kind of denial that I’m referencing with this population Ehrenreich is describing. The denial of whole perspective, the denial of seeing the source of pain and unfairness is not positive thinking. It’s intentional self-blindness.
The folks who Ehrenreich speaks of are the classically weak. Those who run from insecurities into big homes and refuse to acknowledge pain. Those who tell laid off workers to have a better attitude or say that cancer is “a gift.” I don’t believe those are positive thinkers. I think there can be redemptive strength and epiphanies that come from suffering, as many cancer patients attest, but, I tend to agree with Ehrenreich on this point: How about a little realism?
The world is a living paradox. It is filled with peace and injustice, good and bad, healers and killers, miracles and tragedies. Those who actually see this, those of us who are see BOTH sides of humanity and still see hope, those are positive thinkers. Those are the visionaries who have walked through the caves, curse at the darkness, hate the stench of oppression, identify the causes of crises, and STILL, despite all of that maintain some sort of decent, whole, and active existence in the world. Those are positive thinkers.
It’s not to the lengths that she describes in her cancer treatments, but I think of my own experiences with “positive thinkers,” or people who don’t want to hear the hard knock truth of our emotions when faced with crisis or even severely stressful situations.
Like pregnancy.
I cannot begin to count how many times I have tried to discuss certain fears I have about delivery, about becoming a parent, or even about the plain Jane pain that will take over my body in a few short months when I give birth. To which most people automatically direct me to “think about the positive parts of this! You’re having a baby!”
I KNOW.
There is no minimizing the miracle or joy I experience on a daily level because of this new life. There is no way to diminish the unparalleled brilliance of what is transpiring in my body right now.
At the same time, there is still an abiding anxiety that I neither reject or ignore. It is part of the REALITY of my life, this experience. To project PURE positive thinking is to deny a reality which can be very much part of a positive gift later on, but for now, the deep anxiety and concern I have over the H1N1 vaccine, developing gestational diabetes, traumatic birth, birth defects, and overall, what kind of parent I will be are all so very real and scary.
But everyone loves to talk about the positive parts, the hunky dory pieces of nursery talk and baby land.
To “see things as they are” is, indeed, a rare perspective these days.
It’s Friday and I can’t emphasize enough how grateful I am to the calendar for making another Friday appear so quickly. Lately, I have been fighting droopy eyes and the deep urge to crawl into anything that resembles a chair and let my head rest and fall asleep.
Nick can attest that the passenger seat in our car has seen many hours of my dozing off like I’m a baby and the Accord is my crib.
As the third trimester begins, I can hear the trumpets blaring in the sky and the archangels singing that THE END IS NEAR! The final months of bun-in-the-oven are coming to a close.
But —
not so fast.
It’s still a little over 2.5 months away. That’s still a lot of pregnancy left in my life.
So I find myself making lists of what needs to get done and, believe it or not, have no problems with Christmas and the holidays coming early this year. YES. Christmas. It’s already on my mind.
Why?
Because up the street there was a case of swine flu. And small little outbreaks of it are surfacing here in Shaker Heights, making me more nervous than Nick feels before the Michigan game. And while I’m probably going to end up getting the vaccine, I’m not completely confident that pumping a small dose of God only knows what into my body, permeating the environment of Isaiah’s little world, is 100% safe. But, going out into crowds is not 100% safe either.
As much as I love ambling around commerical stores in November and December – elbowing small children in my haste to grab the last toy for my nephews or peering for hours into holiday decorated windows at the mall – I don’t think it’s that safe for me to be around local crowds. Not when the swine flu is suspiciously active in this area. I considered buying a medical mask and drawing little holiday berries and holly on it, Nick adamantly said NO.
So, I’m looking for Christmas to come early for me this year. As in, I’m going to start shopping right after Halloween. Yes, I am that person this year.
I don’t care what people think. If you were beginning to waddle around, keep one hand on your belly, and just getting in and around the Giant Eagle was beginning to make you a wee bit tired, you’d want to be ahead of the holidays this year as well.
Plus, the percentage of clothes that fit me is dwindling. I think I’m down to 20% of my wardrobe is wearable, decent, and public safe. By November, I don’t know if I’ll have any clothes left that will fit me. I don’t want to look like a eggroll, tightly wrapped in clothes that won’t let me breathe. I seem to have forgotten what it feels like to actually zip something up, or wear anything that is not bandy, elastic, or blows like a flag with the fall wind. There are days where I feel like a cow wrapped in huge poncho.
Other news…
Nick and I met with an insurance guy yesterday. We now have life insurance. There was something about that meeting that was midly depressing. It’s not like the idea of dying brings me comfort or the thought of being a widow makes me jump for joy. I was quiet, signed at all the x’s and then shook Mr. Insurance’s hand. After he left, I looked at Nick who was as happy as a clam because L-O-V-E-S getting things done and crossing one more thing off of his TO DO list. He was humming and yelled over his shoulder, “Now we can die!”
Awesome, I replied morosely.
I hate when he says things like that. Must he always look on the bright side of everything?
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I’m presenting at a conference in a little over a week. I was given 20 minutes to talk about feminism, new media, and identity. Twenty minutes.
I remember when I was in college and thinking that writing long papers was one of the biggest challenges. “What am I supposed to write about?” I always looked for fillers to make my number pages increase, as if writing MORE signified more meaning.
Eight years after college, I learned that it’s short papers, abbreviated periods of time that holds true challenge. How do I only have 20 minutes to create this presentation when I have so much to say?
In preparing for this conference, I’ve been writing primers on feminism, my feminism. My perspective. My truth. I have been reviewing the definition of feminism and its futility in the common, everyday world in which we live in. How feminism affects the relationships we claim mean so much to us. How feminism affects our communication patterns in workplaces built on hierarchy and authority. How feminism challenges and/or enhances our expectations of the men in my life (and especially the women in my life!).
How does feminism, YOUR feminism affect you? How personal, how intimate do you allow your feminism to become?
If personal transformation is key, or a precursor to societal transformation, intimacy with feminism cannot be sidestepped. It takes a monstrous force to allow oneself to be vulnerable enough to change, vulnerable enough to change our relationships and beliefs that influence our daily behaviors. That is the function of my feminism — using it as a ladder to climb for a better view, reaching higher [deeper] levels of clarity. It is not navel gazing if we actually USE feminism for self-transformation, instead of using it as a lens to think or muse on our own experiences. Once we’re done musing, it’s time to enact change. Put our lessons into practice.
For me, action and change are found in small-sounding shifts. For example…
I stopped lying.
I stopped lying to people when they ask how I am feeling. I stopped saying that I feel great and have enough energy to be pregnant, go out, cook, take care of myself, work a full time job.
I stopped lying and began saying what is really happening: I’m tired. I’m tired by 2pm everyday and need to sleep. Saying this means I’ve asked for help. Admitting this means allowing others to see that I’m changing and I’m affected by that change. It means acknowledging that I am not as energetic as I once was. It means allowing myself to be seen in my own skin. It means not pretending and letting whatever expectations of me that others held to fall to the ground and stay there.
I stopped lying because the energy in creating a lie – however slight the alteration of the truth it is – distracts and subtracts from the energy bank I DO have.
The result is I am able to see myself as I am: a very pregnant woman, very much in love with this experience, and needing time to Be exactly as I am.
It wasn’t the hugest lie to tell. Perhaps the liberation I feel has more to do with the fact that I am being more FULLY myself, allowing more of the truth in, instead of filtering it out.
It’s meant closing my door to sleep. It’s meant reaching for more water. It’s meant coming to grips with the darker parts of pregnancy that are creeping closer and closer in my insecurity. It’s meant more doctor’s appointments and less bravado.
It means being real.
Feminism, the kind I am presenting, has to do with that kind of liberation. It begins with small lies we tell ourselves to get through the day, it begins with taking down ridiculous facades we don’t even need to begin with, and frees up our identity to pay attention to who we really are, what we are really about, and refocus that energy in what truly matters.
It is my hope, or plan, that beginning in those seeds of truth will allow us to grow into truth-filled bodies where we can recognize the people and places that truly need more energy and hope.
I serve no other person well if I begin from an unstable foundation.
The beginning of October marks the beginning of the third trimester and baby showers. This weekend was one big fiesta in Cleveland that took care of all the requests from my family, our friends and co-workers in Cleveland, and old friends who live or have easy access to NE Ohio.
Welcoming Isaiah was no small task. My sister and Mom took the reins for this event and deleted the word “simple” from the vocabulary. For days, they cooked, shopped, and brainstormed on the best way to welcome Isaiah.
The guest list knew few regrets and I was delightfully surprised at how many folks turned up — nearly 50 friends and family!
It was kinda huge.
Like Isaiah’s feet measurements.
Nick’s family, minus Kelly and Tim, all came Saturday and stayed at the house. My dear friend, Claire Mugavin, drove 6 hours from Louisville, KY Friday night. One of my best friends, Tricia, flew in from California for a Saturday wedding in Columbus and then drove up Sunday as well. And that’s just a few traveling stories. My parents came in from Virginia and many made roadtrips from Columbus and Youngstown.
Nick and I were in awe, once again, of how many people showed up to support us and celebrate this new chapter in our lives. It’s really hard to describe when I’m overwhelmed like that. I just smile a lot and don’t know what to say. Everyone is just so generous and positive. Bringing new life in the world really brings out the best in people.
So many people pulled together to make this fiesta possible and we could not even BEGIN to articulate how grateful we are to our families for being there for us and for our friends who see us through everything.
To add icing on the cake, the rain held off and cooperated so we could have seating outside! (Thank God! At one point, I almost considered opening up the bedrooms so people had a place to eat.) It was beautiful.
There are numerous pics that I’m sifting through, but the two above are some of my favorites. The one picture of me is with three of my oldest friends who I’ve known for over 20 years. I grew up with them and they somehow manage to always rally around me whenever a huge transition is taking place in life. I was so happy they were there. (L to R — Christy, me, Tricia, and Jen)
And, of course, the love of my life, opening the biggest present. Only appropriate that Big Daddy himself would open the big gift for his son.
It was an awesome weekend!
Next weekend we get to do it all over again in the ROOOOOOOSHHHHH! (aka Russia, Ohio) with Nick’s side of the family. So excited for the fiestas to continue!