Why We're Fighting

Some days, days like today, all I want to do is curl up on my couch and cry and hide and hug my wife.  Apparently in Missouri, a gay man was arrested for trying to see his partner in the hospital.  The sick man's family didn't want him there, and the nurse refused to look at the power of attorney papers they had.  He was handcuffed and removed from the hospital.  Now he can't return at all because the hospital has placed him under a restraining order.  You can read the full story here.

I am constantly told by straight people, both ally and enemy to the gay community, that full marriage is not required.  That we have the capability of being just as protected as any hetero couple out there if we just have the correct legal papers in order.  Well, here's a newsflash for those who agree with that idea:

THEY HAD THE LEGAL PAPERS IN ORDER.

One more time in case you didn't quite understand:

THEY HAD THE FUCKING PAPERS IN ORDER AND STILL WERE NOT PROTECTED.

Regardless of the fact that Obama signed something "guaranteeing" that we would not have to deal with situations like this, apparently we still do.  Full legal marriage would prevent things like this.  A stack of papers "simulating" marital status does not.  This poor man just wanted to see his partner, who was lying sick in the hospital, probably just wondering where his partner was.  There is no telling what the stupid family told him about the absence.  They were obviously not the most supportive of the relationship from what I can tell.

THIS is why we keep fighting for marriage. Not civil unions or domestic partnerships, but full, protected marriage.  Yes, we take these lesser items when offered because any protection is better than none at all.  I will sure as hell be in line May 1 when Leon County, Florida starts letting us register as domestic partners.  We need the protection.  Just last year my partner had to have a surgical procedure, and I damn near gave myself an ulcer being terrified and worried that if (Goddess forbid) something happened I would be denied access and decision making ability.  That her family, which is 6 hours away and Jehovah's Witness affiliated, would be the only ones allowed to choose what happened.  I live my life this terrified.  What if I get hurt at work or somewhere, and they don't let her in to see me or make decisions for me?  What if...what if...what if... 

I'm tired as hell of living life terrified.  I decided long ago that my orientation and relationship were not secrets to be hidden.  I have not once changed a pronoun or deferred a conversation because I was worried about the consequences.  I am proud to be who I am, and I am certainly proud to be with my awesome wife of 15 years.  She's amazing and beautiful and brilliant and wonderfully geeky, but my pride will not protect us.  It will not grant either of us the power to control decisions if the worst happens.  And apparently neither will those papers of approximation. Think about that the next time you want to tell me a union or partnership or talk with a lawyer will be enough.    

She has such pretty face...

A good friend of ours is expecting a daughter, and I was picking up a few more things for her baby shower gift in Wal-Mart today.  I came around the corner and found this:

This is a onesie starting in size 0-3 months.  ZERO TO THREE MONTHS!  On the other side of the rack was one intended for boys in gray that said "Don't call me chubby. This is all muscle."  

So what?  A lot of people (including the woman working the infants section) think this is cute.  It is not cute, and let me tell you why.  I've pretty much always been a big girl.  I started gaining weight in fourth grade, and it has fluctuated up and down my whole life.  As a kid, I dieted all the time.  I tried all the ones in the women's magazines laying around the house, and I even checked weight loss books out of the library aimed at kids.  People took it upon themselves to tell me "You have such a pretty face." and "You'd be so much prettier if you just lost a few pounds."  Bullies at school called me a variety of uninspired and cruel names.  I learned to hate my body, hate what it looked like, and it has only been in the last couple of years that I have finally come to a cease fire.  I'm 33.  So for 20+ years, I put tons of energy into hating and hating and hating the one and only body I have.  Yes, I am heavier than I would like.  I would  not be averse to dropping a few pounds in order to be able to buy some of the clothes I like that do not come in my current size.  However, no matter how big or small I am, it has nothing to do with who I actually am, but I was brought up in a society in which one's worth is believed to be tied to one's weight.  Is this really a tradition we want to continue?

No child, girl or boy, needs to grow up in an environment of shame and self-hatred.  There is nothing wrong with promoting healthy living, but there's a fine line between that and the area in which fat-shaming and the offensive onesie live.  The baby I was buying gifts for is not my own, and I do not plan on having any.  I do, however, have very fertile friends, and I want more than anything to promote a world in which our friends' daughters and sons are brought up to value their intelligence, kindness, and courage rather than the size of their jeans.  A world in which onesies like this are not a reality.  A world in which no one hears "But you have such a pretty face" anymore.  

Adventures in Women's Studies: Purity-Mongers Strike Again

Earlier this week, I guest lectured in a Gender and Pop Culture class using the research I did for my honors thesis--the Duggars, Quiverfull, purity movements, and the like. It went quite well as usual, and we ended the class by watching the new 45 minute documentary of Jessica Valenti's The Purity Myth. She analyzes the obsession with a woman's purity and how this in fact sexualizes women and girls even more by placing their entire worth between their legs. Excellent watching. Find a way to view it.

In any case, it just so happens that Valenti was also just on Anderson Cooper debating with Randy Wilson, who is the male half of the couple that created the infamous Purity Balls, ample footage of which can be found on you tube. The usual arguments were made (brilliantly on Valenti's part, weak and insane on Wilson's in my humble opinion), and much merriment was had by all the feminists. Then they discussed a you tube vlog that went viral at the end of last year, posted by a 13-year-old Canadian girl about slut shaming.

Slut Shaming: the act of shaming a woman as a slut for her actual or perceived sexual activity based on rumor, attire, or knowledge of her personal life; most important to note is that it is solely aimed at women

She should be explaining this to a majority of the grown women I know. She breaks down how it contributes to sexism and rape culture and basically does the universe a service by putting this out there for her audience. The after-show "continued discussion" featured several audience members quietly losing their shit over how this 13-year-old was discussing sex and sluts. "She's so young." "She's advocating sex at 13." "She's too young to know anything about this." Okay, I usually have some issues with the current youth movement's insistence on supporting youth rights as extensively as they do. Don't get me wrong. I do think that young adults should be taken seriously, but they are still young adults, which means they do still need guidance and not all of them are as capable and mature as the movement would have you think. However, this girl is obviously quite knowledgeable, and the fact of the matter is that she never advocated sex for 13-year-olds. Not once. She never said she was having sex. Not once. She never even said that all her friends were having sex. Again, not once. What she advocated was well-informed, consensual, safe sex for those who are mentally and physically prepared to deal with the act and its possible consequences--an excellent thing to stump for as far as I can see. These women (and notice that it was only women) who basically attacked her mentally blocked everything she said except "have sex," instantaneously morphing a mature, well-thought-out, brilliant message that should be standard fare in any household into a blanket endorsement of child sex. In the process, they absolutely lost the message, one that they would have done well to absorb. There are kids having sex at 13 (and younger in some cases), and they have internalized the larger culture's ideals that a woman having sex at any age is a slut but a man is a stud. This is not new, but it is still a problem and needs to be addressed as such by women of all ages.

Valenti's main argument is that by focusing our attention completely on whether or not a girl or woman has had sex or not is painting her as nothing more than a sexual creature, which is exactly what the purity movements claim that larger society does and what they claim to be fighting by shoving the purity ideal down the throats of people at every turn. What they need to understand is that no one is attacking the idea of not having sex. That's fine. But they also need to understand that they need to stop attacking the idea of having it, which is also fine. A woman is not only the area between her legs, not just the number of times she's been intimate, and not solely the length of time she remains celibate; she is a complex creature with wants and needs every bit as important as her sexual activity or lack thereof. In short, can we please start telling our daughters and sons that the body is an amazing thing that houses the wonders of the mind and soul, which are truly the markers of a person's worth, and that there are better things to worry about than how many times the kid in the next row has or has not done the deed.

Book Life 22: Never Drink Your Rich Roommate's Champagne, or Rural Boy Goes Ivy League, A Semi-Tragedy (Plus One Awesome Chunk of News)

As a book geek of massive proportions, I have been suffering a deep blue funk over the closing of Borders. While I try to shop my local used bookstores for the most part, sometimes you gotta hit up the big shiny bookstore, you know? And Borders was the best of the ones I'm familiar with. I found the book I'm blogging on there in the bargain section slashed another 50% because my beloved Borders is going under. I'm glad to be able to afford a few books I've been wanting because they are so cheap, but I hate the reasons for it. But I digress...

Lost in the Meritocracy: The Undereducation of an Overacheiver by Walter Kirn

If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I am from a low SES rural background (and continue to be) and have had some difficulties adjusting to life in a town seemingly stuffed with entitled, pretentious people. (My previous rantings on the subject can be found listed under the "poverty" tag in the cloud to your right.) So when I saw this book, I snatched it up immediately, thinking I'd found some wonderful if distant authorial soul mate. Eh, not really.

Though I enjoyed the read, I found myself constantly searching for the thing the title and blurb promised. I understand why he included early memories, because after all, it is a memoir. However, most of it didn't seem to click with the expectations an initial glance gives you. Once he arrived at Princeton, it appears with his first roommates, a snobby group of over-privileged people I wanted to smack and other classmates wandering about in the background of the narrative. It falls away again shortly thereafter only to resurface here and there in the second half of the book, in between drug addled hazes and what looks to be an exhaustion-based disconnection with reality. As I've said about many a memoir I have read, I was not there and can make no claims about what did and did not happen and how it affected the author. But in many places, it seemed less to be the overwhelming nature of being thrown into the company of a class he was unfamiliar with than his own preexisting issues.

Knowledge is a reckoning...a way to assess your location, your true position, not a strategy for improving your position. (p.23)

Having said that, I did find a few places in which I was nodding in agreement. It isn't that it was a bad or poorly conceived book. (I think more people from rural, low income areas/backgrounds need to express these things, hence the reason I am always ranting on about them and reading this book.) I simply think that if he wanted to write a memoir about his discombobulation and how he dealt with the upper class twilight zone he ended up in, he could have done a much better job. I wanted more of the actual conflict and how he proposed to combat it. I don't mean to give anything away, but at the end when he finds himself deeper in an upper class arena than before, he makes no mention of it. It's presented as a moment of "whoo hoo! I got this!" rather than what could prove to be a shove into an even more pretentious pit of vipers. I know he couldn't conceivably go on forever; a book must end somewhere, after all. I just wish he could have acknowledged the depth of the issue and the effects it would have on him in the future or even how it has affected him now that he's all grown up and distanced from the actual events.

In the end, if you're looking for a more eloquent and extensive discussion of the problems I ramble on about on occasion, this isn't exactly it, but read it anyway. It does have its moments.

And now for something you'll really like...

In other book related news, it pays to follow authors you like on Facebook. Why is that, you ask? Because sometimes they post interesting and awesome things. Take yesterday for example. Chuck Palahniuk posted an opportunity for bloggers: all you had to do was email Double Day with your blog and physical address for a chance to read and review his new book Damned before it hits shelves in October. As you may have surmised, I will be one of the lucky ones. It isn't as if I've become entitled to an exclusive audience with the book, but it is pretty darn cool nonetheless. I have no idea when it may arrive, but rest assured you will know when it does. Stay tuned.

Book Life 18: These are Not the Pagans I Was Looking For

I should be asleep right now. Except for a two hour nap yesterday and around the same this evening, I've been up since 9 am Sunday. Stayed up, played D&D, came home, watched the season finale of Game of Thrones, and should have crashed. My body, however, had different plans. So I picked up the next book on my to-read list (at least the next one I have), which is the book you see to the left, Pagan Visions for a Sustainable Future edited by Ly de Angeles, Emma Restall Orr, and Thom van Dooren. I was very excited when I bought this book a while back, because as my fellow PSA (Pagan Student Association) members at FSU can tell you, Pagan Ethics is one of those things we can discuss for weeks. Those were some of the most involved and popular discussions at our meetings, in fact. The popular thought is you can ask 10 Pagans a question on anything and get at least 15-20 responses, and it's true. We do love to discuss and pick apart and analyze and debate, which is a good thing. It means we are open minded and civilized enough to realize that we are not going to agree completely and that's okay. Anyway, all of the above is to say I was quite enamored of the idea of this book when I bought it. There aren't very many Pagan Ethics books floating around, after all. However, of the many many books I have read over the years, Pagan literature has been the genre that has most disappointed me, and unfortunately, this book falls into that category.

The introduction rekindled the excitement I had when I found it:

"We make jokes about..."superstar Pagans" and "cash-register Druids," and all the while these people are becoming more and more common...What is so significant about these people is that they are coming to define what Paganism is...to a public that is greedy for anything even slightly sensational."--Thom van Dooren, "Introduction"

I loved this statement and a few other similar to it, because it's just true. Non-Pagans who have delved even shallowly into our literature for their own edification will likely recognize a handful of names like Scott Cunningham, Silver Ravenwolf, and Starhawk; they tend to serve as our emissaries into the wider world whether we wish them to or not, based entirely on their wide availability and copious publications. This is not to say that I have not read them. On the contrary, as a young solitary Wiccan 12 years ago, Cunningham was one of my go-to reads, and Starhawk pops up in Women's Studies and Religion texts all the time. This is also not to say that I like them. Cunningham had excellent information, and I think he's awesome. Silver Ravenwolf I believe is a blight on the Pagan world, and as my friend A'ishah and I have discussed many times, I am tired of Starhawk. From all appearances, she is the only feminist Pagan woman writing anything ever, and not all of it is worth the paper upon which it is printed. Certainly I am not saying that just because these are popular authors they have no worth, but as van Dooren pointed out, this problem is that they are coming more and more to completely represent Paganism. Ravenwolf and even Cunningham represent only one particular portion of the Pagan community, and yet, they are constantly put forth as representatives of our entire community. My Paganism is absolutely not that of Ravenwolf, and it has not been that of Cunningham for years. However, due to their place as spokespeople, we are all specifically Wiccan and solitary and etc. to outsiders.

Wow, I kind of veered off topic there...My point is that this book's intro set it up to be the response to that erroneous appearance with all the talk of superstar Pagans, but then it went down in flames. My excitement over the book made me forget the cardinal rule of buying Pagan books: always read the contributor list. There's Starhawk rearing her over-published head. I realize that many consider her not a superstar Pagan but a classic Pagan author, much like others in various other religious sects. But I can guarantee you, given the experiences I've had in Religion and Women's Studies courses over the past few years, she falls more into the former category than the latter. And maybe these editors see her as that classic Pagan author, but I think to do that, one has to ignore the place she is given in academic circles beyond the Pagan community. By placing her in this collection, they lost all credibility to me. Of course, many of the articles were well-written and maybe thought provoking for those in the particular groups addressed, but for me it was all overshadowed by that contradiction between ideal and published reality.

My kingdom for a good, solid Pagan Ethics book, one that does not privilege Starhawk and/or the Wiccan community. There are other Pagans out here, I assure you.

Freaking Right on Out: OCD Deluxe Pays a Visit

Today has been the first really bad day since I stopped my meds. I mean, yeah, my usual twitches and tics have been poking me repeatedly, but I haven't had one of those "my brain is being shaken" days up till now. For some reason, when I woke up this morning, my insanity decided today was an excellent time to come out and play.

So, I put away all the clean clothes from yesterday and washed dishes (normal), and then I refolded everything in the dresser (not normal). All of it, underwear drawer and all. Yes, it meant I got to use my flip-n-fold, which as we all know is one of the Goddess' greatest gifts, but seriously? I made myself sit down for a bit so I could eat some lunch and play Zombie Lane (I had pumpkins to harvest after all.), and of course, I'm writing this. However, the entire time I have been quietly losing my shit and trying to figure out what else I can do. Too much more of this and there may be drastic things done to hair out of sheer insane need to do SOMETHING. On another meds-related note, I am still having DT's. Joy.

Book Life 15: Deep South Musings

I can always tell when I am the most homesick. The radio stays tuned to country, and my reading list tends to be filled with books somehow attached to Alabama or the South in general. Case in point: Confederates in the Attic and The Devil Amongst the Lawyers.

Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War by Tony Horwitz

Despite my upbringing in the Heart of Dixie, I have never been a Civil War buff. In fact, I tend to ignore it as much as possible for sheer annoyance factor. Once you've listened to your paranoid, racist stepfather discuss the technicalities of Pickett's Charge or why the CSA should never have lost this or that battle ad nauseam, you start to hate the topic. That being said, I've always been fascinated by the obsession with the War Between the States, or "War of Northern Aggression" depending on who it is you're talking with, and the people who are basically knee-deep in it 24-7. Horwitz was as well, and wrote this fabulous book. My first concern when I pick up any book about the South is how the author is treating it, especially if they themselves are not from the South. I shouldn't have worried about this one. Horwitz does the near impossible in that he manages to give a fair view of some of our, shall we say, less-enlightened citizens while describing the rest of us and our home as it is. I don't mean that he's whitewashed over our failings; no, he includes those. However, he also does not sweep in as the city intellectual and talk about the areas he's visiting as Deliverance II. Even if you hate the Civil War, this is worth the read.

The Devil Amongst the Lawyers by Sharyn McCrumb

"There is no more vicious bigot than a city intellectual contemplating someone to whom he feels intellectually or morally superior."

This is the latest of McCrumb's amazing Ballad Novels, set in the Appalachians of Tennesee and the surrounding areas of Virginia and the Carolinas. If you've never read anything of hers, stop reading this right now and go order everything in the Ballad series first, then everything else. Not only are they excellent mysteries, they are addictive as hell. This is the first book I've read in a long while that I could not make myself put down. I read the entire thing (minus the first 50 pages whoch I read before falling asleep sitting up last night) this morning...admittedly not an unusual occurrence for me, but still. McCrumb, like my favorite sci-fi author Octavia E. Butler with feminist problems, manages to work complex issues of poverty and rural life into the narrative without getting preachy or heavy handed. I honestly cannot say enough wonderful things about these novels.

Anyone who knows me (or hell, anyone who's paid attention to this blog) knows that the misrepresentation of the South, particularly the mountain and rural South, is one of my pet projects. Women's Studies failed me on these points, and I abandoned it as a graduate pursuit partially because I could not stand the thought of ramming the topic into conversation for the next 30 or 40 years. More importantly, I had conflicts over this very issue on at least a weekly basis in classes across my particular academic spectrum. (See this blog for the last one of the spring semester.) I honestly don't know what this means for my future in academia. Maybe it's just particularly bad down here in Florida, who knows...All I do know is that I am relieved and overjoyed to find books that don't paint all of us as slack-jawed morons.

Status Updates: A (Very) Short Discussion of Bullying

A 15-year-old girl holds her one-year-old son. People call her a slut. No one knows she was raped at 13. People call a girl fat. No one knows she has a serious disease which causes her to be overweight. People call an old man ugly. No one knows he had a serious injury to his face while fighting for our country during the war. Repost this if you are against bullying and stereotyping.

I've seen the above posted all over Facebook at various times, and I must say I am 100% behind the sentiment. But can we talk about the silent implications of this? The way it is written makes it seem as though it would be perfectly fine to insult these people if the 15-year-old had actually been sleeping around, the girl had an unfortunate attachment to McDonald's fries, or the old man was simply not attractive by current social standards. While I do not mean that solutions to rising teen pregnancy, obesity, etc should not be addressed, it needs to be understood that bullying does not need to be tolerated in any circumstance, whether the social norm deems it "deserved" or not. I don't care why the teenager is pregnant, the girl is larger than people think is okay, or the old man is less attractive than some think he should be--No One Should Be Bullied. Period.

Dispatches from a Refugee in the Land of Privilege, Episode 3: Note to Self, Must Buy Hat

There is something about poverty that smells like death.

--Zora Neale Hurston

For those who know me, it will come as no surprise for me to say that I am broke(n) in many ways , financially being the most salient one of them here. While I do blame certain outside factors on this situation, I want to make it clear (before some irate person jumps all over me) that I do understand that my poor economic skills contribute to the problem. However bad they may be, though, they are not the only cause. Anyway, this blog is being brought to you by a bougey woman at my landlord's office and an article on yahoo...

"My wallet's too small for my fifties, and my diamond shoes are too tight!"

--Chandler Bing

I went in today to pay the rent, which yes, was late, but I called them 2 weeks ago and arranged this. While I was waiting, I wrote out the money order and overheard the receptionist's conversation with another tenant. She was digging in her expensive purse going on and on about her upcoming expensive vacation and the new car they just bought and etc etc etc. Normally, this would be nothing important...everyone here seems to be more affluent than we are, and I am quite used to hearing these sorts of conversations. The problem started when I got to the counter and was talking to her myself. I apologized for being late again and commented that next month's ought to be on time for once (*insert embarrassed laugh*). She decided that was an excellent segway to complaining about how damn hard it is to work where you have to call (poor) people all day to get them to pay their rent. "It really takes it out of you," she said. Now, I'm sure that calling around to ensure payment of rent is one of the least pleasurable portions of her job. I dont' dispute this; it sucks. BUT the fact of the matter is that it is no easier being the person who has to call every other month and beg a few extra days on the rent. Lately, I've begun to feel like I should carry an old fedora in my purse to twist in my hands at appropriate moments. I can assure you, ma'am, as one of those people you have to call sometimes, that our part sucks worse than yours ever will. Here's why: while your job is uncomfortable, it is simply what you are paid to do. Our lot, on the other hand, is to be the perpetually impoverished, begging for understanding from those with more money and power than ourselves. Also, given your tone and demeanor when discussing the topic, you are obviously not among our number, making your little whine-fest the ridiculous ramblings of the privileged. (I do realize that as a receptionist in a real estate office, she is not exactly pulling in six figures here, but can we agree that she is comfortable and no where near the level of most of the people she is complaining about?) I wanted to reach across the counter, grab her by her lapels, and explain loudly and clearly that HELLO, we do not enjoy being poor and late with the rent (or anything else). I'm sure there is some ass out there who has to get an extension on bills because they spend too much partying or some such nonsense...but most of us are simply trying to make it on what we have and do not need your bullshit to make us feel worse about it.

Poverty must not be a bar to learning and learning must offer an escape from poverty.

--Lyndon Johnson

On to the Yahoo article: Apparently a significant portion of college presidents are of the opinion that higher education is so affordable that most students could pay for it themselves (sans loans and grants). Excuse me, but WHAT? Just as an example, let us look at my recent foray into academia. For the first couple of years back, I was paying out of state tuition (because someone in an office was misinformed...) which means I was charged approximately $2000 per class, bringing my total to over $8000 before textbooks and supplies. After the mistake with my residency was cleared up, classes dropped to a little less than $500 each, plus books, etc. I understand that there are people who were raised in families which apparently have this sort of money lying about for just such an occasion, but I am not one of them. The term "college fund" was one of those phrases I associated only with sitcom families (literally), and it was understood that if I was to earn a degree, it would be on scholarships, grants, and federal loans. Otherwise, no college. And while I rant about the privilege that constantly smacks me in the face here, it is not lost on me that I am not alone in my loan-dependence. If the federal loan/grant program was suddenly to be taken away, no one below a certain tax bracket would ever be able to attend college. It's already rare enough for people who grew up similar to myself and others like me to earn a degree without boot stomping our last chances into the pavement.

Poverty is no disgrace to a man, but it is confoundedly inconvenient.

--Sydney Smith

This blog is unusually scattered for me, but I simply have no idea right now what to do with this information. Does this mean that people of my particular socioeconomic class and lower should simply forget college all together? What then? There aren't enough jobs that don't require degrees to go around if you hadn't noticed. And what about the attitudes of those more privileged than us? Are we really, in the 21st century, still in this feudal mindset of the poor being ridiculously inferior and distasteful to deal with?

I'm Pissed, Y'all: A Short Exposition on Ignorance

While waiting on my 19th British novel class today, a few classmates and I were discussing people with poor grammar--the ones with no idea what the difference is between it's and its, your and you're, etc. Another classmate decided to put her two cents in but in an entirely different vein. She began a short rant on her "hickey" boyfriend and his y'all's and yonder's. I proceeded to explain to her that those words and many others are actually descended from Old English, Irish, and Scottish dialects, the literature of which is taught in our department as classic. I also told her that "y'all" is basically the only elegant and efficient way to denote a plural you in English and that she was offensive. She looked shocked, and I walked off. After class, she came up to me and said, "I didn't mean to offend you." I responded, "Then you shouldn't have said it."

First, that isn't an apology. An apology would have been: "I'm sorry I offended you." "I didn't mean to offend" means you actually did mean what you said, but you're incredibly sorry you were overheard. So, just no...Second, when are people going to learn that country and ignorant are two entirely separate things. I am quite country most of the time, but I simply know how to write and speak in a more academic manner. My accent never really disappears, and I wouldn't want it to. But I am sick and tired of my extended i's and odd word choice calling my intelligence into question. For the record, there are just as many ignorant people from northern cities as from the rural south.

Gone Up Home: A Displaced Hillbilly Girl Ruminates on St. Patrick's Day

Unfortunately, I attend the former number one party school in the nation. I think we've slipped a few places since then, but the point is alcohol is a primary concern for the majority of the population here. So, as you can guess, St. Patrick's Day is insane in this town. Bars open at 6 am and sell green beer for very little. Half the student population is wandering around with bar wristbands, half-sloshed. I, on the other hand, could care less. If I do have Irish blood, it's so little and so diluted that I don't think it even counts anymore. Half the time, I don't even think about wearing green. So why am I blogging?

The first people to settle the Appalachian mountains from Virginia all the way down into Alabama were from Ireland, England, and Scotland. They were drawn there because it reminded them of the mountains back home. My grandmother's family is from the rural hills of north central Alabama, and I know from experience that certain tales, songs, traditions, and linguistic elements survived from their homelands in modern speech and traditions. Case in point, my great aunt Lainie used to sing me a song called "Fair and Tender Ladies," which as it turns out is a traditional Irish and English ballad as well as a traditional Appalachian tune. So I made my very first video with a version of this song and pictures taken back home in honor of Aunt Lainie...and St. Patrick's Day. The song is taken from a locally made CD named Off the Porch Strong with several Alabama musicians; "Fair and Tender Ladies" on this album is sung by Amanda Smothers. Enjoy!

Dispatches from a Refugee in the Land of Privilege, Episode 1: Homelessness Isn''t My Problem

For article/essay technique class yesterday we read Barabara Kingsolver's "Household Words" (found in her essay collection Small Wonders), and I spent most of the class shocked and horrified. If you haven't read it, Kingsolver uses an incident she witnessed while in traffic (an apparently homeless man beating on an apparently homeless woman) and which she did nothing about to discuss homelessness in the United States and Americans' complicity in it. It's an excellent essay, of course; everything Kingsolver writes is amazing. She goes through all the American "fuzzy-blanket myths" related to homelessness, such as "anyone who works hard can make it in the US" and "most homeless people want to be that way." Statements like these seem obviously ridiculous to me, but the people in my class apparently disagree. They proceeded to give every one of the reasons she was arguing against as valid and reasonable.

Can we talk about apathy for just a minute? They pasted the "poverty is more complicated than just handing a dollar to a guy. it's way too big for me to fix it." argument over their lack of give-a-damn and expect that to cover it. I call shenanigans. No one ever said that one person can or should be able to fix poverty and homelessness single-handedly. I wish that was possible, but it's just not. However, it is possible to help one person at a time, thereby making the world just a little bit brighter in the process.

But this post isn't about my belief in positive energy and its ability to change the world. It's about privilege. When I spoke up and said, "Well, I've been so close to their position that regardless of what they eventually use the money for, I will always give them money if I have it. If for no other reason than I would hope that if it was me with the cardboard sign on the side of the road, someone would help me." They not only basically said that there was no way I had ever been close to homeless (because they themselves had never been) but also then spent the next ten minutes recounting tales of homeless people who refused to be helped, etc. I'm not sure where this line of thought is going except that I didn't think people actually thought this way. Where I was raised, people generally didn't think this way, and I don't know how to take this.

Speaking De-Motivationally: Poverty and Random Disorders Take Their Toll

I tell people I'm medicated--for my safety and theirs: 100 mg of sertraline (which is just the generic form of Zoloft). While I absolutely hate medications and have my issues with the traditional medical and psychological professions, it actually helps. On my meds, my brain no longer feels as though it's being shaken all the time, and I can usually find the wherewithal to do things that need to be done. However, when other disorders are added into the equation....

I have some odd thing, related to narcolepsy though not the same, that means while my body is awake, my brain has not yet gotten the total message. Therefore, I am always tired. Always. No matter what I do or how much sleep I manage to get, I feel as though I just got off a 12 hour shift unloading trucks or something (which I have done before, so I know whereof I speak). Luckily, there is a medicinal fix to this problem. It's called Provigil and is in the same family as but is not actually a methamphetamine--non-addcitive, even. And it works. However, even with decent prescription coverage (decent meaning my other meds--all generic--are less than five dollars), my co-pay for it is forty dollars a month. Compared to many other people's prescription costs, this is insanely cheap, and in that sense, I am thankful for the coverage I have. But we simply can't afford it right now. What this means is that though my brain in one way says, "Hey! That needs straightening/cleaning/whatever! Let's do it!" The rest then says, "*Yawn* Nap first, clean later." I have no motivation to do anything whatsoever. Therefore things are not as clean as I would normally have them, and that in turn makes my brain feel all shakey, regardless of the 100 mg of Zoloft.

In fact, we have friends coming over tomorrow afternoon, so I have to straighten and clean. I know this, but what have I done? I took a two and a half hour nap, after which I was supposed to go ahead and finish Latin homework and find an article for a paper I have to write this weekend. Didn't happen. Nap, sandwich, and now this blog. And I am still tired. I will still be tired in the morning after 7 or 8 hours of sleep. I will be tired the next morning no matter how much sleep I get.

Ode to Roseanne

Let's be honest here: I am a Netflix addict. I love being able to pull up random movies and tv shows whenever I want. I've seen awesome documentaries and a ton of movies from my childhood that I had completely forgotten about. Tonight I was super excited to discover that they have all the seasons of Roseanne on instant watch. So of course, I started with episode 1, procrastinating my ass off in the worst way. I had forgotten just how much I love this show!

When I was younger, I loved all the family sitcoms, but I particularly loved Roseanne. While I was jealous as hell of the Huxtables and all those other families, I turned on Roseanne because it was the one family in which I could see myself reflected. Even though some of the other sitcom families weren't exactly perfect; Danny Tanner was a widower whose friends had to step in and help raise the kids, for instance. But all of the rest of them never seemed to have any financial issues. I don't remember one single episode where the Tanners or the Owens were worried about groceries or the bills. For me, that was certainly far from reality. Even when I lived with Mema, who owned her house and car, we were living on a Social Security budget, and she ruled the bank with an iron fist forged in Great Depression. (Too bad I never picked that lesson up, right?) From my perspective, the Connors were the only normal family on tv.

I don't think there's really a point to this except to say that I'm thankful for Roseanne. She made me feel like less of an oddball among the DJ Tanners and Vanessa Huxtables of prime time.

Book Life 12: Geeky Revisited, Awe, and We Was Po': Another Voice

Once again, it's that magical time of year--those few weeks when, even though one semester has ended and another has yet to begin, there is wonder in the air. What? No, not the holiday season. I mean that small span of time in which there is no homework and I can read whatever I want! I've already gone through 7 books with way too many more waiting in line. Hence, time for another book life blog!

"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so." -Douglas Adams

Even though I've read them before (many times before, as a matter of fact), the five books comprising the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy trilogy never fail to amaze me. (And yes, for those of you unfortunate enough not to have read these novels, I did say five books and trilogy.) Funny as hell and just plain well-written. If you've never read them, please do. You will thank me later, and remember "Deep in the fundamental heart of mind and Universe, "said Slartibartfast, "there is a reason."

Just plain beautiful.

I have never met a Sherman Alexie book I did not love and whose children I did not want to bear. War Dances is no different. Gorgeous poetry and awesome stories. That is all.

Down Home Economics

The last book in this post is Deer Hunting with Jesus: Dispatches from America's Class War. Essentially the author, Joe Bageant, moves back home to his small Virginia hometown after about 20 or so years and explores the lower working class culture in which he grew up. While I wasn't thrilled with the underlying tone he took when talking about his brethren at a few points, it was overall a really good discussion of issues not usually covered. The rural poor are generally ignored in favor of highlighting the urban poor. This is not to say that either is more important or poor than the other; both situations have their own peculiar obstacles to overcome. It's just that in academic and political discussions of poverty, the plight of the rural poor is generally overlooked or assumed to be covered under the umbrella of "poverty" which is really just urban. I'm not entirely sure that I agree with some of his views about gun control and a few minor details, but as a whole, this is an excellent book--particularly for those of us from this sort of background lost on planets not of our making. For my fellow religion geeks, he does a fairly good job of incorporating fundamentalism into his observations. And the chapter on the Social Security system, healthcare, and the poor elderly is amazing.

"He would say that my soul is troubling me and that I need to be washed in the blood and redeemed by the grace of him who bled for our sins. I'd say that I am troubled by the distinct impression of approaching trihorned fascism--part Christian, part military, part corporate."--J. Bageant

We Was Po', Part III: Choices and Possibilities

I've written about privilege and dealing with it in academia before, so I will try not to repeat myself. This past week I've had a sort of panicky time of uncertainty about my future in the academic world. While discussing Annie Dillard in religion class Thursday, we had a short conversation about her background and how this affects her writing. She was raised in a wealthy family, and my argument was that given this, her choice of a life of pure introspection and writing was possible. People who are raised in low income environments are less likely to assume that such a life is a career choice. Now, this isn't to say that it isn't possible, just that it is not necessarily seen as a choice. The rest of the class did not agree. It was at this moment that I had my crisis point.

How can I reconcile my background and beliefs with a life among people who truly believe that a low SES background doesn't generally cause exclusions from the beginning or that a privileged background doesn't mean more possibilities than low SES? This is the very reason I decided against a graduate career in women's studies. I was constantly interjecting a low SES rural perspective into conversations mostly to no avail. I couldn't stomach the thought of spending the rest of my life beating my head against that wall. Now, true to my fears, I am facing the same issue in religion.

The major problem is what to do about it. I love, I mean absolutely love, the idea of making a living studying religion, writing about it, and teaching people about it. That, to me, sounds like a good time. However, if I continue along this path, will it mean an eventual nervous breakdown when my brain has to repeatedly bash against these issues of privilege? If so, what else can I do? I don't want to do social work, because I fear ending up in some tangentially governmental office being forced to perpetuate a cycle I would rather destroy. Yes, I know there are plenty of other job possibilities within social work, but still...I thought about library science. I do so love books, and I could maybe work in a public library helping kids love to read. I could be a public school teacher, but it's a bit late in my undergraduate career to start that.

We was po', part ii: in which a low SES girl discusses salary...

A friend and fellow religion major posted this chart on his facebook feed today...As Religious Studies people we come in at 12th worst paid, and one of my other loves, Women's Studies (listed as Interdisciplinary Studies), comes in at 15th. His comment was that we don't do it for the money, and that's true. No one becomes a religion scholar hoping to make the big bucks. It just doesn't happen, and if you are someone who thought this, you've been lied to, my friend. So, I agree with him, BUT (you knew that was coming, right?) I have a serious issue with the entire thing...

The starting pay for Religious Studies was listed as $34,700. For someone raised in an upper middle to upper class home, this may seem a paltry amount. However, as someone raised in a lower SES home and an economically depressed area and who spent seven years in an even more economically depressed rural area, I'm here to tell you, $34,700 sounds like a fortune. That is, in fact, almost exactly three times what I made at my retail and hospitality jobs in the aforementioned rural area. As my lovely wife pointed out, I am aware that once you spend all this time and money (that you will be paying back until the end of time) getting a degree, maybe some people expect a lot more. I will also grant you that people from my background do attend college to make a better life than that of family who possibly did not get a degree and spent their lives struggling financially. All of this is true, but when I remind myself of this, there is a little nagging at the back of my mind that still protests...

When I returned to college after my little hiatus, I realized quickly that I had stepped into a world where a large portion of the people were speaking an entirely different language. (For more on this, see my post HERE.) This has not changed over the couple of years since then; it has actually become even more apparent. Now, let me say that the people I go to school with are not all bad; i like many of them, even the ones from this other planet called "well-off." It's just that the further I progress, the more like I feel I'm bashing my head against a brick wall. I dropped Women's Studies as a career path for this very reason. Every single WST class I took it seemed I spent half my time attempting to interject a low SES rural point of view into the discussion. I just could not see spending my entire career doing that. Now I'm afraid that Religion will be the same...

I suppose that given a certain kind of upbringing, 35 grand a year might not cut it, but as for me, where do i sign?

One down, too many to go...

Today Chief U.S. District Judge Vaughn Walker overturned California's Prop 8, declaring that it

"the gay marriage ban violates the Constitution's due process and equal protection clauses while failing "to advance any rational basis in singling out gay men and lesbians for denial of a marriage license...Indeed, the evidence shows Proposition 8 does nothing more than enshrine in the California Constitution the notion that opposite-sex couples are superior to same-sex couples," the judge wrote in his 136-page ruling." (from the Yahoo News article, from which the picture is also taken).

My first reaction is a crazy dance around my living room, all-caps responses to the texts alerting me, and a facebook status filled with many, many exclamation points. This is amazing news!! After all, if the California ban can be shot down by the Constitution, all the others can too, right? I hope so. But I have learned in this fight that it is never a good idea to assume anything...I assumed Florida voters would have enough sense not to pass Amendment 2. I assumed that humans would have more sense and sympathy for their fellow creatures not to protest and say nasty things at funerals. On both counts, I was sadly mistaken.

However, as incredibly sad and beaten-down as I feel everyday about these things, I am given hope today by Judge Walker. SOMEONE sees that we are not trying to destroy anything; all we're doing is trying to build lives and protect those we love, to make those shiny rings on our left hands a true symbol of solidity. Thank you Judge Walker.

Now, please excuse me while I dance!

Pretty

Awesome Spoken Word

Katie Makkai doing her poem "Pretty"...this ought to be required watching for kids...i know i could have used it as a kid...

Rest in Peace E. Lynn Harris

We were in Harry Potter all morning (it's a long movie!), so I just found out about E. Lynn Harris' death a couple of hours ago. For those who don't know, Harris was a fabulous openly gay African-American author known for tackling difficult topics like homophobia, religion, bisexuality, and men on the down low in the Black community. He was hugely popular, and his books were often found in the African American section as opposed to just the LGBT section, which I always thought was awesome because it probably meant more people read his books than might have otherwise. It also meant that stores like Wal-Mart (yeah, I know, evil, but...)carried them, which made them available to people in small towns that may not have had access to a bookstore or a library that stocked them (like Thomasville, AL, where I got one of his late books). His eleventh book, Basketball Jones, was published earlier this year, and he was on tour promoting it when he had a heart attack. The last time a writer's passing affected me this much was Kurt Vonnegut...so, you may be asking, why would a non-Black girl from Alabama love E. Lynn Harris so much?

I will admit that I haven't kept up with his books over the last couple of years. They make my to-read list, but lack of time has made that list very long. His first novel, Invisible Life, was the first gay book I ever read. I was fourteen years old, crazy religious, and just realizing I was gay when I stumbled on Invisible Life in my little small town library. At the time, I was still convinced that I was going to hell because I liked girls. You cannot imagine how comforting it was to live in Harris' characters' lives for a while. They were gay and bisexual and struggling with what the world and their families would think. They were so real to me. It took a few more years after reading it before I finally accepted myself, but I always carried the memory of that book with me. To this day, I can still remember what the cover looked like and exactly where it was on the shelf. Almost every stamp on the library card was mine. What's crazy is I don't think I reread it that many times. Sometimes, I would check it out just to have it. I guess it was comforting in some way to have proof that I wasn't alone in my struggle.

I wish that I had written or emailed him to let him know how much I loved his books years ago. Well, thanks E. Lynn, wherever you are...

E. Lynn Harris.com