She is AllergicTo Patriarchal BullshitYes It's Everywhere!The PredicamentOf How a Woman Can LiveIs PenultimateWhen CorporationsOwned by Hetero White MenDick Take the Man DateFor This Precious LifeWe Must Ask Ourselves QuestionsLike Why Be a Wife?Do I Rule My Life?What the Hell Am I DoingDrowning In Strife?!Yes She Fucking KnowsThe Rhythms of True NatureIn Spaces That FlowSensate Kindred FriendWatch This Body PoliticWith Eyes Wide OpenShe Will Lead The Way!Dance Like There's No Tomorrow!Believe In Today!
2020 is shaping up to be quite an incredible year and auspicious decade. I firmly believe that this is the year of safety - where feminine voices can be heard clearly by all - whether expressed by women or men. I am proclaiming this The Year of Emergence and will be writing a blog each month on topics that I find provocative and important. Here is the current plan: January - Political Re-balancingFebruary - Relationship CommunicationsMarch - Energetic ExcessApril - Inside Out BiologyMay - Peri-MenopauseJune - Privileged ParentingJuly - DNAAugust - AI and TechnologySeptember - Nature and BiomimicryOctober - VolitionNovember - Grace and GenerosityDecember - Making Love January's topic is political re-balancing. What does that mean? To me, it means taking inventory of our views on politics and choosing to act in a way that is aligned with your values. Take a lot of time to reflect on this as it is becoming absolutely critical that we learn and flex our political muscles. The Body Politic is all of us. When we choose to engage, the collective body (aka Democracy) is strengthened. What are your values and how can you actions demonstrate these values? In what ways are your actions flaccid and weak? What kind of
I went to lunch with my son. He is now 21 and after a year of listening to his stories about his big move, his quiet hoping and big dreaming about moving down south -- to get away from the cold -- he's finally doing it. I'm reminded of the year he begged me daily to take Driver's Ed so he could hasten his license. It took me that long to relent as his distractability behind the wheel gave me existential panic. And I'm trying to trust and let go again. Here we are four years and four cars later sitting in a restaurant that meets our tastes 1/2 way. We drove separately and he arrived a 1/2 hour later, after getting stuck in back to school traffic on move in day. 1/2 way into that gap I call and suggest we talk which we do for most of the interim. It was lovely. He decided to do a 3-point turn and now has some wind in his windows. I learn of his concern about making new friends - as he tells me a story of Olivier giving him this advice: "you've got your whole life falling into place, don't worry about missing one party." We
I’m really grateful that I watched both Democratic debates this week (July 30-31). We are in an unprecedented moment in history with six powerful women candidates. My goal here is to emphasize this fact and the pivotal turn we are taking in politics, where men are actually listening to women with an open heart and an open mind not just open eyes. The pundits are being a bit more objective than in the past, but still not quite enough for the American public to get a fair report on the content and caliber of each candidate’s strength (which is why we would all be well served by reading about each person’s platform). I loved how Andrew Yang said, "We're up here with makeup on our faces and our rehearsed attack lines, playing roles in this reality TV show." I didn’t have the stomach to count how many times Mr. T‘s name was used. But it did make me nauseous enough to come up with a creative idea – one that is bold enough to potentially meet the description of “bold“ that some of the candidates could appreciate. Here it is: Have all of the 20 candidates meet together and decide among themselves who will be in which of the 20 cabinet posts
So the old white privileged heterosexual Christian male “alleged” sexual assaulter, Kavanaugh, has been granted lifelong authority at the highest federal judicial post, the Supreme Court of the United States. What next? To all of the women, who were inspired to tell their story [read mine here] after Christine Blasey Ford’s courageous testimony about being sexually assaulted by this new Supreme Court judge, I want to say, emphatically, IT IS STILL SAFE.
It is time to heal the effects of misogyny. I, like so many survivors of sexual assault and rape, have been emotionally ripped apart by the Kavanaugh inquiry this week. And, like Senator Blumenthal so eloquently said (below), I am inspired and so grateful for Christine Blasey Ford’s bravery to bear the virulent assaults she predicted in sharing her story of his sexual assault and attempted rape. Here is my first story about being a rape survivor.
I wrote an article about the sexual abuse crisis exposed on a grand scale in the Roman Catholic Church and pointed to the gender divide, along with other obvious-to-everyone observations, that helped set the stage for this crisis. I grew up Catholic and now reflect on the constant frustration and cognitive dissonance I felt in my immediate family, in my CCD classes, and during mass — about the depth of content and feeling evoked in me with the religious teachings and the absence or shallowness of conversation and lack of connection.
Wake the Folk Up! This phrase was worn on a ratty old t-shirt by a man who has been struck by lightning twice (and now walks barefoot!). I told him years ago that someday I'm going to make shirts with this phrase on it - or at least one for myself - and wear it proudly. Happy to see this pic online: This post is a letter of awakening. A coming out of the dark, isolated closet of self-censorship. I have done all the damn learning I can do. I'm ready. I've been ready all along but I didn't believe it strongly enough. Now I just don't care who gets what I get. I don't need anyone's validation or resonance with my ideas. And yet I know there are so many resonant beautiful people rising up, strangers next to me. No doubt. Self-censorship is death. And when we don't trust ourselves to speak our truth without hurting another -- and putting ourselves in the constant dilemma of hurting them with our words or hurting us with yet another bite to the tongue, we choose self-censorship. So, write down the pain. Get it out and look at it. Then promise to learn from that the next time
Way back when, on May 17, 2004 the state of Massachusetts gave same sex couples the right to marry each other. While this was a monumental victory for the LGBTQ community, unleashing an intense freedom and sense of possibility in the minds, the spirits, and the physical bodies of each person in a same sex relationship in Massachusetts and beyond, one has to wonder about the power that a governing body like the State has over the lives of those who chose to live or work under its authority. Articles like this from Wikipedia remind us that such governing bodies [shall?] only have authority over that which they are granted by the collective, while this VT Digger article highlights how a state can artfully question the impositions of international authority on behalf of its citizens, and this Slate article delves deeper into the complications of a "higher" Federal authority to refute state sovereignty in the matter of same sex couples. The will of the people underlies the sovereignty of both the U.S. federal government and the states, but neither sovereignty is absolute and each operates within a system of dual sovereignty. According to the reservation clause of the Tenth Amendment, the federal state possesses only those powers delegated to it by
Imagine a room of round tables, each of which seats eight people from a diverse spectrum of cultural, economic, political, religious and physical circumstances and beliefs. Their task? To fairly divide one big slice of the best chocolate cake ever baked. (for argument’s sake it is gluten- dairy- and all allergen-free so that it can be enjoyed by everyone). What scenarios could we expect? The Best Chocolate Cake Ever Created Someone might propose using a scale to weigh their slice of cake and divide the number by eight, then somehow dividing it into eight equal parts. But some would have more or less icing than others. The ones with more icing might say they don’t even like icing and feel uncomfortable with others’ stares of jealousy. Maybe they’ve had these stares their whole life and have simply gotten used to saying they don’t like icing just to mitigate or stave off the stares. Maybe they don’t even know if they like icing?! Or maybe this is the first time in their life that someone else has been jealous of something they had, so they are inclined to completely revel or bask in the glow of others’ envy… Some at the table might say they don’t want