It's not that I can't take a joke...

The place where I work has a Gender Equity Initiative. Putting a description on what gender equity brings to light is difficult, in a similar way to race conversations we are having right now as a nation, because the people who are affected are women and LGBT and transgender men -- really anyone who's not a gender-conforming, straight, white male. But I've found defining gender equity in those terms means straight, white men can either dismiss the subject as not applying to them or, especially in the case of racial equality, become extremely angry and defensive.

I understand this reaction: Any change in the status quo is upsetting for those who benefit from the status quo. And no one likes to think they are doing something wrong. Apologies are so charged now; admitting you were wrong and asking for forgiveness is treated as a weakness, especially in a society as litigious as ours.

But the prevailing treatment of women, the ingrained idea that women are there completely for male gratification makes me angry -- furious in a Samuel L. Jackson Pulp Fiction way -- and we can't ignore this attitude anymore.

People talk about how much progress we've made on one issue or another, but I see this "progress" more as a pendulum. Yes, we have less racism now than we did in the 60s, but we've also been about here before. Yes, women have more rights now than they did in the early 20th century, but we are now in a period of rolling back those rights.

At a recent Gender Equality meeting, our CEO talked about what it was like for her as a young woman not being able to find a mentor. She talked about being in a meeting as a young woman just starting out in a company of men, and having one of the men tell her, because of her youth and her gender, that she had no business being there.

And that is the root of much of the problems we're having: a feeling of not belonging. Not just feeling like you don't belong, but being told with every word and action that you are unwanted. When you don't feel like you should be somewhere, you are less likely to advocate for yourself, believe in yourself or succeed at a job. Two separate stories really brought this to the forefront right after the discussion at work: a New York Times article about women so trained by this horrible attitude that they can't believe when they've been sexually assaulted, and a StoryCorps episode about the magic of being told you belong.

An insidious symptom of this behavior is being defined in unflattering or demeaning ways. Having a boss tell you that you need to "be more ladylike" or say he's not investing time in you because you'll "just get pregnant" shows women on a daily basis that they are only being seen as a female body and nothing more. People with a strong sense of self might be able to stand up to this kind of harassment, but what if the woman is getting the same thing from her partner and parents and elected officials? When everyone around you tells you that you are worth nothing, you can't help but start believing it's true. What good is the right to vote when your country tells you that, as a woman, you are worthless?

Whether you are beaten down by these comments every day and have given up, or you actually believe them, or you experience sexist behavior for the first time -- being shown that you are not valued robs a person of their voice. And we need to start speaking up. Not in an angry way unfortunately, which is my reaction, but in a way that engages the sexist person calmly. Now that I am older, I don't get shocked by this behavior anymore and I don't let it go either. But it is really difficult to come up with something in the moment that won't just garner a "geez, women can't take a joke" eye roll.

StopSexistRemarks.org has a good starting point for engaging people when they make a sexist comment, and how confrontational you want to get really depends on the person. I've had to endure an inordinate number of conversations lately where "politically correct" was invoked. I hate this term. It's like "I'm not racist, but...", and whenever someone says they aren't politically correct, you know the next thing out of their mouth will be annoying at best. Considering the feelings of the people you are speaking to -- or the people who might overhear, or just people in general -- is just common consideration. Somehow decency has been lost in this "fuck your feelings" era of America (honestly, I think this shirt might have been a joke by anti-Trump people, but his supporters are wearing it. It's like Talladega Nights up in here).

Here are some of the things I've said in conversation lately (and please post any sexist-comment retorts you've used):

• Wait, nope. You can only joke about being raped (beaten/groped/etc.) if you've actually been raped. Otherwise I'm afraid you have to shut your mouth.
• Would say that to a man? Or, alternately, turn to the man next to you and ask the same question/make the same comment.
• I guess you could imagine a comment about killing your gay son is a joke, if that act was so outside the realm of possibility as to be unthinkable. Ho ho! Who would do that? But because it's happening every day, it's only horrible.
• You're right, I can't take that joke. How about you take it back?
• Would you say to your wife, "How come there's no International Man's Day?" No, because you'd sound like an idiot. The same applies for Black History Month or Latino History Month or anything else. Straight White Guy Day is EVERY DAY. White Guy (we're finding out about the lack of straight more and more) History is not our only history. Shut up and learn something instead of whining.
• We all have to live together. Make it nice.
• My favorite Tapeheads line, which I swear I will make into a GIF one of these days.
• Now that I'm older, I also have an arsenal of mom looks and noises that can be used on men to great effect. Similar to the "would you want your mom treated that way?" argument.

Not only do we have to stand up for ourselves, we have to stand up for each other. And that means anyone, regardless of gender or race, who is being demeaned or assaulted in any way. Speaking up to the person making you feel like shit also stops you from turning around and treating other people like shit (like the person taking your order at Burger King, the person driving next to you, your kids or parents -- anyone YOU think is less powerful than you). There's just no excuse to treat people like crap, and a big part of that is getting the people who do the demeaning to understand -- it's not that I can't take a joke, it's that I'm NOT a joke.

I grew up with Col. Potter (and by that I mean reruns of Col. Potter), so it wasn't until years later I realized the wonderfulness of McLean Stevens. It's like how I loved Woody Harrelson before I saw Coach. And it reminds me how I think Jon Lovitz would have been good on Newsradio if he hadn't had the misfortune of following Phil Hartman.

Oy

Since I stopped getting the NYT, I've quit blogging. I go through such phases with everything. Been reading books lately instead of writing. Before that I was knitting. But I kept forgetting to learn how to cast off, so I have two projects on which I can knit no more. Family reunion in two weeks and was going to present my mother with a scarf she would never wear but pretend to love because I made it. Maybe I'll knit on the plane. It always kills me that TSA will throw out the tiny screwdrivers in my camera bag, but let people with sharpened 10-inch sticks right through. Oy.

Dear Gov. Culver

I am writing you today to plead for your assistance with my son's hawk-i coverage. Because of a state rule, coverage can only begin on the first of the month and since my previous coverage ended on Aug. 3, my son is uninsured for most of August.

I gathered from the hawk-i website that if my application was accepted, insurance would start on the date I applied, which I did in July, as soon as I found out my new job's insurance would only cover me.

Hawk-i needed a letter from my previous insurance company saying when my coverage ended, and after a week and a half of daily phone calls, I managed to get the paperwork hawk-i needed. In doing so, I negated any opportunity to continue my old insurance for the month of August.

Had anyone at hawk-i, at any time through this process, informed me there was no way they would cover my son for the month of August anyway, I never would have taken this step.

Two days ago, I finally got the paperwork from my previous insurance and forwarded it to hawk-i.

Yesterday, my son was hit by a car.

It was a no-fault accident and he only suffered bumps and bruises, but he was transported to the hospital by ambulance, and was treated in the ER.

I am a single mother. I've been laid off four times in the last year. Through this, I managed to maintain my credit, pay my rent and support my family.

But this hospital bill will make all my hard work for nothing. I finally have a wonderful job in my field, and a chance to get back on my feet.

I believe hawk-i was created especially for the purpose of supporting families like mine, and I beg you to reconsider this arbitrary rule. I expect this sort of run around from regular insurance companies, but not from a state program.

No one's life conforms to exact dates, and it's ridiculous to have children uninsured because they lose insurance on any day that isn't the first of the month.

Thank you.

Been a long time

I feel like, at this point, it's been so long since I blogged I should just start over. A ton has happened since I last blog: got a great job, got accepted to grad school, realized I couldn't go to said "online" grad school since they actually want me to go there, dealt with insurance way more than I wanted (which is never, so it's always too much) and watched my daughter pass some really growing up milestones. It's been kind of a nutty month.

In news outside my self-absorption, some religions are become more accepting of all people (at least, in America), gay marriage is legal in parts of Africa, the economy is looking ever-so-slightly up and people are freaking the fuck out about health care. I read a particularly icky blogger today saying Americans need to take responsibility for their own health and stop expecting doctors and prescriptions to do it for them. Aside from being exactly what doctors and prescriptions are supposed to do, hasn't she been paying attention to the incredible phenomenon of people in this country diagnosing themselves wrongly because they can't afford to go to the freaking doctor?

And if by "taking responsibility" for our own health she means we should eat right and exercise, she's got the wrong country. They can have my personal responsibility when they pry it from my greasy, fat hands.

The Proposal

I feel a little bad picking on Sandra Bullock because it is really cool to finally see an older woman paired with a younger man. But she's really starting to look like Cher. I don't understand plastic surgery. I'm guessing if it looks good you don't notice it, but it sticks out like bad CGI to me. Does anyone look good with collagen lips? No really, do they? Because women keep doing it and it keeps looking really awful.

But anyway, I went to The Proposal because it's my last day without the kiddos, and I love going to the movies (but not so much romantic comedies; I'd seen everything else except Transformers, which I know The Boy will want to see and I'm pretty sure I won't want to watch it twice), and I like looking at Ryan Reynolds (he's a lantern!) almost as much as I like looking at Sitka. It's one of those places where no amount of hype can prepare you for the beauty. Apparently Rockport, Mass., is also really pretty, but I figured they'd have a few Alaska shots in there.

If I'd known Betty White was in it I probably would have watched Public Enemies again instead (the soundtrack is freaking phenomenal) since she has gone from someone I think is passibly funny to someone who will be horribly offensive and it's supposed to be ok because she's an old woman. And I was definitely offended when she showed up in a button blanket chanting along to a tape of Indian drums. Especially after she said her ancestors were Tlingit. I know, Hollywood Alaska.

But they did get some things spot on, like the zip-up, husky sweater Sandra Bullock puts on after (of course) getting dumped in the ocean. That thing says Alaska old timer like a cream-colored version says Starsky and Hutch. It's such a weird detail to get right.

Annoying games

The worst one is when someone* makes you guess their age. But only slightly less annoying is the fun game of If You Had To Lose One of Your Senses. I know part of my annoyance stems from being asked the question in third grade. I said my sight (not knowing I'd be wearing glasses in two years), and my teacher told me I was wrong (later, you can ask me about being the only person in my social studies class who voted for Mondale in our mock election. He had a female running mate and was for halting nukes. I stand by my 7th-grade self, even in the face of deeply-thought-out and penetrating arguments like 'my parents love Reagan').

This memory of unfairness past was brought up by an NYT article today, When an Ear Witness Decides the Case. I still say sight, and I was really surprised to hear most people say hearing. When I think about losing my hearing, I get the same feeling I get in bed at night when I can't remember if the door's locked. Panicky (anyone know why panicky has a K?). The overwhelming choice in my third grade class was sense of smell, and maybe it was because I knew someone who didn't have a sense of smell, but I knew that meant no taste as well.

I might feel differently if I was born blind. But that this point, I've seen a lot of amazing things and feel like, and of course this is as stupid as the question itself, at this point anything else could be described to me. But the two most important things culturally, I think, are food and music, and no way, even for the purposes of an annoying game can I deprive myself of those. And sight is probably the only one you could lose and have sex remain pretty much the same. Or sometimes, better.

*Usually someone old.

GRE

Wow, a whole week without posting anything. It's so weird how some days I'm thinking of a million things to write and others I can go, well, a whole week without feeling the need.

Right now, I'm trying to figure out when and if GRE scores expire. I went to grad school about 10 years ago, and I really hope I don't have to take the stupid test again. But I'm sure I will. If only because they want to wring as much money out of me as possible.

NYT

I really love the Sunday New York Times. There really aren't words for how much I love it. In fifteen years since I started my journalism degree, I've never subscribed to a newspaper. They're inky and pile up and what do you do when you miss a day and suddenly you're buried in them like a hoarding shut in.

But the Sunday NYT. After reading it, I feel informed (hey, apparently The Emmys are coming up. Who knew?) for the week ahead (even though it's the week behind). I wake up excited about it, make myself start on pancakes and clean up before I go out into the hall.

The news goes first, glancing at the headlines, skimming headlines and stories. Business usually has something interesting about both my old field (internet/computers) and new one (mortgage, for the moment). And the rest is spent in a delicious whirl of movie, TV and even ballet stories I really love, even if I have to wade through quite a bit of theater stuff.

I read with my computer open and ready. Although it's forbidden for help with the crossword (until I get really frustrated with the two answers I could figure out on my own), I have one browser window open to Netflix and one to my local library (a word about my library: awesome. Only when a book or CD is VERY new do they not have it. If only they had a suggestion form online).

The book review and magazine are usually saved on the coffee table (I will be drowning in the soon, I'm sure), and the perfect morning ends on the back page of the sports section: a whole page devoted to cars. Of course, today's is all about Lexus, which is why I'm doing this instead.

Lost memory

I sniggerd, as I often do at random, silly things that are only funny to me, when the ag jobs newsletter came in with a listing for Vice President. Wow, I thought dorkily to myself, he didn't last long. I expected more from... oh god. Who the hell is the vice president?

I think it took me a full minute to remember Joe Biden (an eternity of wake-up-call for someone like me who considers themselves intelligent and well read. A NYT subscriber for chrissakes. Ok, just Sunday). I really like him too, but specifically because he doesn't try to attract attention to himself. But with Obama on every single magazine, book and newspaper almost every day, he really blends into the background when they aren't together. I don't think I would have been able to forget if Hilary was VP. She hasn't given me a chance even not being P/VP.

Granted, I'm not in news anymore, so I'm not being bombarded with every single vice presidential movement and party duck. And I forgive myself since, living in Iowa, I was tired of the election and everything to do with it long, long before the actual election. Can't believe it hasn't even been a year.

Lose the rhubarb

I don't get rhubarb. It's very similar to another... thing (root? plant?), celery, which I despise greatly. I even come from a state where nothing sweet grows because the season is too short, so I've been eating rhubarb (ok, I've been eating the pie crust around rhubarb unless my grandmother caught me) since I was a kid. 

But I just don't understand trying to make something so obviously awful palatable by marinating it in five pounds of sugar. And I think people who say they like it just got tricked into eating it and are now trying to trick me into it. I'll just have the pie crust, thanks.

Steve Loves Delma

I've lost my necklace a number of times over the years when the chains broke. Every time, it's made its way back to me. The first time I flew without it, I noticed it had come off my neck while packing. I looked everywhere, and there it was, when I came back, in the trunk of the person who'd given me a ride to the airport.

But this time, I lost it in a snowstorm in a downtown Des Moines parking lot. It was promptly plowed the next day and I fear it's lost forever. Or for years anyway.

Now I haunt craft fairs and funky local jewelry stores, places I was never hot on before, hoping someone's found it and made it into a necklace I can find and buy. I visit West End Salvage, a place I love but couldn't in a million years afford, hoping someone will have found my necklace in the parking lot behind the store where I lost it more than a year ago.

I don't have many photos of me, so I don't have any good photos of my necklace, but I'll keep looking. And if you have anything you lament losing more than you think you ought, you can lament here to your heart's content.