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.
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