big win for mayor elect

Houston Mayor-elect Annise Parker

celebrates her runoff election victory

with her partner of 19 years, Kathy Hubbard (in purple)

I love to see a woman beat a man make history. Especially when that woman is a lesbian.

In this case, Annise Parker was the first openly lesbian woman to be elected mayor of an American metropolis: Houston.

Every now and again the citizens of Texas get it right.

I also love to see it when history making members of the GLBT community show that they, too, cherish loving, longterm committments. Parker and her partner have been together 19 years. They have two children.

Why their two children are denied married parents doesn't make any sense to me. Kids of gay parents have it tough enough, don't they?

Take Mason, for instance, a young Austin resident who spoke before a public crowd to say he gets teased at school. You don't come from a "real family," is one taunt he's had to endure. And as research has now shown, there are psychological consequences of denying gay rights.

But in order for Parker to win the Houston election, she had to make some political and very personal concessions. During a campaign debate she stated she would not push for same-sex partner benefits for Houston's city workers. Denying health insurance for her very own wife partner.

“Personally it’s very important,” she was quoted as saying, “but, as mayor of Houston, do I want to engage resources in fighting that battle, or do I want to tackle the budget? Do I want to tackle drainage? Do I want to try to put more police officers on the street? It’s the difference between the personal and what this city needs.”

One step at a time.

who thinks this is perfect?

Motherscribe put together a thought provoking post about some of the more sexually provocative images and products marketed toward our young daughters; and by default, or by design, our sons, too. Please check it out, here.

Coincidentally, just last week I was surfing cable TV when I saw a reality show, "Little Miss Perfect" about pageants for six year olds. You know, where moms make up their girls to look like Fifth Avenue prostitutes little princesses?

Throughout the show I kept thinking, "Who thinks this is perfect?"

It's a trend that the feminist in me finds troubling: Girl as pretty little impractical princess.

Motherscribe's post highlights similar but more disturbing trends aimed at girls and teenagers. The theme there? Teen girl as sexual plaything.

I kept thinking, what do we, as moms and dads, do to protect and prevent our girls from internalizing these messages? From going, "Oh cool. Buy me one, Mom?"

I don't pretend to have the answer.

I do think a healthy and nurturing homelife helps. Being a good role model is important too. Seeing a Dad who respects Mom and doesn't degrade women. Talking about healthy values that apply to girls/boys/women/men, to all human beings, in other words, is an advantage. But more specifically? I'm not really sure.

With my kids, I'm doing what I think will help. I set limits on their clothes, steering them away from provocative attire: no short skirts, no short shorts. I emphasize clothes as comfortable coverings, not showcases for our butts and boobs. I have not yet bought them skimpy bathing suits or string bikini's, aiming instead for full piece suits or tankini's. Of course, they haven't asked yet, either. This is not to say I won't buy skimpy bikinis when they are teens. Just that now, while I still control the purse strings have influence, I talk about the value of diving without having to worry about losing their bottoms. I talk about the freedom of running around the playground without the worry of underpants showing. In other words, here is what you'll like about this choice, instead of focusing on "trashy" or "bad girl" elements, because I don't go there.

Later, I expect, we'll talk about wanting to be taken seriously by boys. Wanting boys to listen to their ideas instead of staring at their breasts. And one way to guide boys in this direction is to dress in a way that is less distracting. But I'm not there yet and know I'll have a lot to figure out.

The other "rule" is no pierced ears until they are sixteen years old. This may seem archaic, and really? It is. But, to my surprise, they haven't complained (much). I tell them that being young is a time to play rough, run fast, ride bikes, do cartwheels and climb trees. They have the rest of their lives to worry about wearing the right color earrings, finding a matching pair, losing the posts, keeping track when they spend the night away, and spending their allowance on jewelry.

With my son? I talk about respecting girls and valuing them as people with minds and ideas, with feelings and preferences, wants and needs. He has a lot of friends who are girls so I know this helps.

Is any of this working? I don't know. But...

Over the weekend our family was riding in the car when we passed a teen neighbor who had just gotten her hair dyed a bright blonde, tinged with blue. One of my daughters said, "Hey Mom, promise me something? One day when I ask to dye my hair, will you tell me no?"

I'd say, so far so good.

brush free

We have food packaging whose selling point is no MSG, no transfats, no animal products, no gluten.

Cosmetic labels which claim no animal testing and petroleum free.

Sunscreens - PABA free.

Water bottles - no BPA.

Can we now have magazines whose distinction is no air brushing?

"This magazine contains no photographs that have been air brushed or in any way digitally enhanced, changed or modified. The women portrayed in this magazine are shown in their natural, un-altered glory."

Or,

"All models depicted within this magazine have signed the 10%-or-greater bodyfat pledge. Because beautiful is a woman with a healthy body weight."

I would subscribe to THAT magazine.

when men should run things

Gotee Man posted a bit about a Georgia woman who took a stand against conventional wife-wisdom.

Reminded me of something a longtime friend said. A stonemason, he lives a continent away and visited recently. We hadn't seen him in a year or so. He's the kind of guy who always surprises. Just when you think you've got him figured out, you do a double take.

His wife didn't make the trip. Bummer. I like her a lot, liked her from the first moment we met. She's warm, intelligent and she doesn't take shit from nobody, least of all Stonemason.

Another old friend of Stonemason's, a rather conventional man, accompanied all of us to an outdoor gathering. We were making small talk, standing around waiting to leave for a boat ride.

Stonemason turned to his friend and said,

I've been married 25 years now. Can you believe that? Yeah, after 25 years, I pretty much run things.

Huh?

Stonemason continued,

Yeah, after 25 years you accumulate a lot of appliances. A dishwasher, washing machine, garbage disposal ... So... yep. I run every single one of 'em.

Ahh, that's more like it.

advances in personal feminism

A few days ago I took my kids to our fitness center's indoor pool. Without shaving my legs beforehand. After weeks of winter growth, uncontrolled forestation.

This feat took quite a bit of cognitive therapy skillage to accomplish, as in, "psychologist, heal thyself" of fear of social disapproval.

I am proud to be a feminist. To believe that gender should not determine opportunity, access, pay level, intelligence, nurturing ability, or who controls the TV remote.

I wish I put my money where my leg hair grows. You know, where I believe gender also need not determine one's routine razor blade habits.

I see women with long, dark, cactus beast ape hairy legs and I gasp. Silently. I try not to stare. I admire their bravery while wondering if they have any idea the impact their hairy legs have on members of the opposite sex. On members of the same sex. On tried and true feminists, for goddess sake. I hate myself for my hypocrisy.

I married a man who thinks women with hairy legs, hairy armpits, and hairy snatches are sexy. Aren't I the lucky one? I feel that much more confident baring all to him during the turtleneck and jeans season. I even manage to feel sexy. With my armpit hair. Underarm hair can feel daring and renegade. Not so leg hair. Nuh-uh. I feel no kind of confidence baring the snarly leg growth to him. Less so to strangers in public.

While researching my thesis in graduate school, I read Femininity, by Susan Brownmiller. It was an amazing read. One of those books that I have thought about thousands of times as I engaged in traditional feminine rituals of self care that go contrary to my feminist ideals. I talked about one of those times, here.

As I changed out of my workout clothes and into my bathing suit, as I strode in front of the hawty hawt hawt lifeguard with the long surfer boy haircut (half my age and then some, dammit) (half my body weight too, now that I think about it. Shit! Why did he have to be on duty this day?!) I thought about Brownmiller. I took comfort in her admission that despite being the author of several feminist tomes, she had a few stereotypical feminine trappings she could not give up. Wearing lipstick, no matter where she went, was one.

So, I remind myself, I'm in good company. I'm not the only fraud on the planet.

Years ago, while driving to work, I listened to several local morning radio jocks talk about a certain formerly Catholic schoolgirl, turned material girl, turned star of her own sex book, turned Kabbalah, turned twice-divorcee. There was a brief mention of material girl's infamous nude photo with hairy armpits and how "gross" and "nasty" and "dirty" they found it when women didn't shave their underarms.

So it occurred to me. My avoidance of showing unshaved leg hair had to do with a hygiene issue: my fear that others would assume I was not clean. That I didn't bathe regularly. And I really really don't want people to think I'm dirty. Dirty mind? Doesn't bother me. Dirty body? Very much.

That insight and a cup of shaving cream will get some of us nowhere, for about 15 years.

So on this day, I pulled out my cognitive toolbelt instead of my electric shaver:

1. I cannot control what others think of me. Deep breath.

2. It is unimportant what others think of me. Full exhale. It is important that I please myself. And it would please me greatly to skip the leg shave.

3. It is likely people will be far enough away that they won't see the hair on my legs.

4. If they do get close enough, refer to #1 and #2.

5. I am 40-something years old, for crissakes. I am married. I am going for a swim, not to a Mrs. America pageant, and not to attract a young and dumb man who doesn't appreciate the hawtness of lush, untamed hair on a cellulite-ridden, matronly thigh.

6. I deserve the luxury of unshaved legs.

7. The kids are in the car and I will never hear the end of it if I keep them waiting long enough to destroy this rainforest.

Ok, so score one for self preservation and maternal appeasement.

But yeah. Score one for feminism, too.

Is there a traditionally feminine, or masculine, depending on your gender, habit you struggle to let go of?

to which this mom is left speechless

.
I found a pair of girls corduroy pants in my bedroom, that look to be my daughters' size.

I go to their room and ask them, "Do these fit either of you?"

They both replied, "No."

Hmmm. What is wrong with the pants?

To which my fashion savvy daughter enlightens me: "I can't wear those because they make my butt look big."

My ten year old thinks her butt looks big?

Using my sternest, no nonsense voice, I replied, "Oh, they do not. You don't need to worry about such nonsense. Now here, take the pants"

Savvy Daughter: "Oh yes they do! They don't have back pockets. Pants without back pockets make your butt look big!"

Stern Me: "That has nothing to do with anything. Here, take the pants."

Savvy Daughter: "Yes, Mom! Pants without pockets make your butt look big! They do! Look, it says so in the book you gave me!"

In my most incredulous mom voice: "What?" (Thinking, "yeah, right!")

To which she produces the book, that yes, I gave her for Christmas last year, School Handbook for Girls* by Lisa Regan. I purchased it at the Scholastic Book Sale put on by their school each year.




And then my daughter quickly flips to the exact page, titled, Dream Jeans, where it says,



"If you're concerned that your butt is too big to wear jeans, think again. Choose a pair with large rear pockets to minimize your butt. Small pockets make it look bigger and no pockets will make it look huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge!"



Savvy Daughter: "See, Mom?!?"

I say nothing. I know when I've been beat.

And instead of taking a moment to explain that she has a beautiful little butt and doesn't need to worry about her butt looking huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge like the book I gave her says, I left the room with my mouth hanging open, determined to write a letter to the publisher, or leave an angry review on Amazon books, or both.

Or maybe just to blog about it.

*BackPackBooks. 2006. Miles Kelly Publishing Ltd.

twilight

Mental Pause Mama, of The Mental Pause Chronicles, is hosting a bloggy book club meeting today, here.

I am participating.
I will have to write this on the fly,
however.

I've only got three million
holiday/work/domestic
chores on my to-do-list today.
Bear with me.

Twilight.

Without doubt, the single most redeeming aspect of Stephanie Meyer's book was Edward. Not just Edward's cool and beautiful hawtness, but his restraint. His dangerous desire reigned in with low grunts and growls. His tender touch and sweet breath. How much he longed for Bella's sweet smell. What woman isn't turned on by a man who finds her scent captivating and damned near irresistible? Oooh yeah, baby. Suck my blood now. (It was enough to revive this reader's carnal desires of the human variety, if you know what I mean, and, I don't mind publicizing, one of the few books from which my husband has reaped personal benefit).

The second most redeeming facet of Twilight is the underlying storyline: teenage vampires in our midst, or mist. Well, both. It's a fascinating concept. The explanations, the myth borrowing and busting. I especially loved the ingenious vampire version of vegan. It's a metaphor for humanitarian motives: overcoming our baser instincts, practicing self discipline, bettering ourselves by making conscientious and healthy choices.

The most disappointing aspect of this book is our heroine, Bella. She stumbles through this book, literally and figuratively, in a romantic daze. I didn't find it cute. I didn't find it endearing. I found it annoying as hell. I found her clutziness a symbol of weakness and a lack of forthright, confident self-directedness and self-knowledge. Ok, so Bella is a teenager in love. Cut her some slack, why don't I? Of course. But the heroine is supposed to grow and undergo significant change in the course of a novel. I don't see this happening.

Frustrated and irritated, I just didn't find much to admire in Bella. Yes, she's a dutiful little student who gets high grades. So an intelligent young heroine, in the academic sense, yes. But otherwise, she does not represent a strong heroine with a purpose that I respect and want my daughters to emulate. I kept hoping to see a young woman who grows to make decisions in her own best interest, not one who repeatedly drops everything and reroutes her life in singular pursuit of a romantic interest. As one example, Bella becomes largely bored with her friends and loses them whenever Edward wiggles his perfect little finger. This is so not the modern message we want for our teenage girls, or adult women, for that matter.

Time and again we see Bella happily choosing the traditional female role of service toward others and nurturing loved ones, often at her own expense. Twilight opens with Bella leaving her home in Arizona, not because she wants to get to know her father better and explore new terrain but as a sacrificial offering to her mother, to alleviate her mother's guilt. Once she gets there, she eagerly cooks for, worries about and dotes on her father, the other man in her life, who, for reasons not explained, has lived alone for longer than a decade. What? No eligible women in Forks?

But the biggest problem I had with this novel? That tired and insidious female victimhood thing happening. Female victim romanticized. Yet another female rescued by strong, perfect, omnicient male. Made sexy.

At one point an evil foe is in hot pursuit: Bella comes up with the plan to save herself and her vampire friends. And everyone around her nods. Yes, this plan could save us.

Ah, I thought with satisfaction. Finally. Redemption. Bella's transforming on the page. She will save herself and save Edward too, rather than the other way around.

But no. Instead she walks right into harms way, into the hall of mirrors, further endangering herself and Edward. It reminded me of so many books and movies where the heroine (seldom her male counterpart) does the very thing that puts her in the most danger, leaving the audience incredulous: "Why is she doing that?!? What is she thinking?!? She's so stupid!!"

With Bella, I'm disappointed to say, we are given a weak and clumsy victim in need of repeated rescuing. Bah.

And yet, upon completing Twilight, what did I do? I quickly ran into my teenager's room and found the sequel, New Moon. Must see what happens next. Must be seduced by more Edwardy hawtness. Feminism be damned.

This is the true gift of Meyer's writing. Like her hero Edward, she keeps us wanting more, even when it isn't all that good for us.

where Biden shows he knows his corn

Sarah Palin may be an expert on babies, guns and Jesus but Joe Biden knows corn on the cob.

And if you are looking to be really ticked off with how the right wingers are hoping the Republican VP choice will play out, i.e., if you didn't get enough of the Hillary pillorizing during the primaries, check out the New Feminism Rush Limpballs is hawking. I mean, you gotta love it. Using a most blatant and hurtful form of sexism under the guise of promoting feminism.

steel thighs, bad skin and hag hand

I went to Huffington Post the other night to read my favorite author and now political contributor, Erica Jong. She was talking about her disappointment that Hillary lost, lamenting the role sexism played in bringing Hillary down:

"I want to believe that America has moved beyond violence and racism and maybe we have. But I thought we had moved beyond sexism, and this campaign proved me wrong. The petty woman-hating jibes, the ageism, and the physical mockery have not been easy to watch."

Meanwhile, as I'm reading this, out of the corner of my eye I see the right hand panel of the Huffington screen -- a picture of the face of a woman with unsightly skin. I think it must be a meth addict. I scroll over and discover it is Amy Winehouse. The article talks about Winehouse showing up at her husband's court hearing (he's been in jail) but its about her bad skin . I hadn't heard any updates on Winehouse since the news of her going into rehab (maybe it IS the skin of a meth addict) so I was curious. The article talks a little bit about the court hearing but mostly it's an excuse to show everybody how ugly her skin is and how she's trying to cover it with make up. It bothered me. The woman is coping with her husband in jail and she gets close-ups of her bad skin splattered all over cyberspace. Nice.

Then a little later that same night I was following some other link and stumbled on a blog post entitled, Hag Hand. Its a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker's hand looking old and wrinkly as she reaches to sign an autograph. What is the universe trying to say?

These last two examples are entertainers, of course. But it happens to politically powerful women often enough. Too often for coincidence according to communications researcher Erika Falk, PhD in her book, Women for President: Media Bias in Eight Campaigns.

In particular support of Jong's Hillary point, ABC News asked, Is Clinton Scrutinized About Her Looks Too Much? back in January.

And who can forget Katherine Harris? The media had a field day skewering her makeup in the 2000 Florida election debacle.

The media's double standard in focusing on Harris and other prominent women's appearance was noted by Caryl Rivers, contributer at Women's e News who notes that "men can look like unmade beds and that fact goes unmentioned, while the bodies, hair and makeup of women receive intense scrutiny."

So I certainly agree that sexism is alive and well, undeniably where physical appearance is concerned, and particularly salient in election politics, which matters.

.

The underlying message to women is "if you're not attractive, you have no worth." Or, "we'll keep you in your place one way or the other" and focusing on physical attractiveness (or the lack of) is one way to maintain the status quo of male power.