Not My Answer

Our new executive office has proposed budget cuts that will limit or remove various social and educational programs. Don’t worry, though, it’s just the unimportant stuff like feeding people, providing safe learning environments, and supporting scientific research. I could write a long post about why that is a step backward and an inappropriate distribution of our funds, but other people have done that more thoughtfully, in a more carefully researched manner, than I can do right now. I’m going to just talk about one little part of this conversation.

When asked by the press how the administration came to these decisions, the White House budget director said each change was rooted in the answer to the question, “Can we ask the taxpayer to pay for this?”

The question is reasonable. I can respect a reflection on whether government spending answers the needs of the populous. The problem is the answer. This office decided no. No to food assistance programs. No to public television. No to arts education. No to scientific research programs. No to public transportation support. No to early-childhood education.

I wish they would have asked this taxpayer whether I would pay for these programs, because my answer is a resounding yes. Yes, I am happy to pay to feed people who are hungry. Yes, I’d be glad to fund an after-school arts program for kids. Yes, I want to my money to support the education of low-income and special needs toddlers. Yes, I am very ok with paying to heat homes for people who would otherwise be cold.

I don’t need a stranger to speak for me, to claim to know what I think is best—distorting my thoughts to match their agenda. I have a perfectly functional voice, and I plan to use it.

Found Girls

In 1979, China instituted a one-child policy, meaning that every family was allowed to have just one kid. Because of deeply-rooted stereotypes and traditions, a lot of families wanted a boy instead of a girl. This was terrible for a bunch of reasons, like gender-based abortions and infanticide, and it also created a crazy gender imbalance in society.

Social scientists have long asserted that tens of millions of girls had gone “missing”—as in, disappeared from the population—between 1980 and 2010. They compared the expected number of girls and women against those currently registered. And, it’s true, millions of girls that would naturally have existed do not.

However, some other scientists from Cambridge started studying this phenomenon, and they discovered that huge numbers of these “missing girls,” especially those in rural regions, actually just went unreported. They suspect that between 1990 and 2010 around 11 million girls were hidden from the government. Now, I’m not particularly well-versed in Chinese politics, but I’m pretty sure these Cambridge scientists didn’t really discover this situation. I’d guess there were communities around the country who supported families hiding these girls. I can’t image that 11 million girls were hiding in plain sight without anyone knowing about it. But let’s set that false notion of discovery aside for a moment.

The best part of this story is that there are millions of girls who have hidden under the government’s radar but are now out and about, doing things. Probably awesome things. Maybe also just regular things like reading books or riding bicycles, but those are great too.

Now imagine that these girls, these young women, have taken note of the system that claimed they were lesser than their brothers. With a quiet rebellion in their blood, they might become leaders and teachers and mothers and scientists, set to prove the world wrong. Maybe they’ll start a tiny movement of “found girls” just to spread the truth—the truth that they are worth just as much as anyone else.

Really, though, they could do none of that and still be amazing. For these girls, just living is an act of defiance and revolt. The rest of us have some catching up to do.

 

 

Red Rover, Red Rover

Today is International Women’s Day. What’s not to love about that? Global mindset: check. Women-focused: check. Only a one day commitment: check.

Some of you are taking the day off to demonstrate that women are important to the world. We are. It’s good to show people. But let’s recognize that this single-day protest is one of privilege. It’s ok for the privileged to stand up; in fact, it’s necessary. The route for all of us is smoother when someone has already laid out the safety lines. But it’s also necessary to recognize that privilege, whatever it is for you. Many of feminism’s failings have been rooted in exclusion—a refusal to include those who live even slightly outside the bounds of the leaders of whatever particular wave was crashing at the moment. And it has long been a tool of oppressor to separate the oppressed, shouting our differences so loudly and so frequently that we begin to believe they take precedent over what joins us.

Well, joke’s on them, because our power is in our breadth. If exclusion is our poison, then inclusion is the antidote. The wider we spread, the more we open our doors, the stronger we become. Feminism is for everyone.

So, good for those of you who are taking time off today. It’s useful to take a stand when you can. But good for those of you who are working too, whether it’s because you have no other option or because you think you contribute best by showing off your hustle. We need each and every one of you.

This whole feminism thing is basically like Red Rover in the school yard. You need to link arms with the person next to you. It doesn’t matter who she is. Pull her in tight. If you refuse to grab her arm, you leave a hole in the wall and we will all pay the price. We are the barrier between those obnoxious fourth grade bullies and everything we’re meant to protect.

Red rover, red rover, send the patriarchy right over.

The Terrible Twos

I have always been strong-willed. Or stubborn. Or unyielding. It depends on who you ask.

My earliest memory of this sometimes-frustrating, sometimes-useful quality is from when I was two years old. We lived in western Michigan in a big* white house with an above-ground pool in the backyard. I had a bedroom on the first floor, and it had a enough floor space to hold all my toys. I know because I tested the theory out once** and determined it was indeed spacious enough for everything I had to my name.

One day, during this experiment, my mom came into my room and told me to put all my toys away. I said no, obviously. She repeated herself, and I said no again. She finally said that if I didn’t put my toys away, she would pack them all up and take them away. I stared at her. She affirmed the threat. I stared back. Like I said, I can be unyielding. I thought maybe I could call her bluff. Even if she was telling the truth, I didn’t like being forced into anything. I stood my ground. My mom left the room.

I knew better than to take her leaving as a guaranteed win, so I waited. She came back with garbage bags. I watched as she put everything I’d left on the floor inside them. She threw all these tiny little toys into these huge black plastic bags, then she carried the bags out of my room—which now had a very clean floor but was definitely less fun. Still though, I looked her straight in the face and didn’t say a word.

At least, this is how I remember it. I could have been crying, but I doubt it. I don’t even remember if I got those toys back. All I remember is standing silently, stoically, stubbornly—watching them disappear into the abyss.

I’m sure this behavior didn’t make me an easy child. It doesn’t always make me an easy adult. But it has it’s benefits. I don’t give in easily to peer pressure, and I’m not often swayed by something’s popularity. That could be because I don’t have peers that want to pressure me into anything and I don’t know what’s cool. Whatev, I’m putting it in the win category anyway.

The biggest benefit though is that I’m so stubborn, I can’t even convince myself of something I’m not 100% behind. When I’ve tried—and believe me, I’ve tried—my unshakeable, rigid self pushes it’s way through, rocking the paper boat I’d built. It’s not pleasant to be shaken back to reality, but I always feel better when that stubborn two-year-old rears her adorable head and does it for me.

*adjective subject to interpretation since I was the size of a large porcupine
**maybe way more often than once

Twitter Can Be Sad

I’m going to post a picture here, which I have never done before. This one is worth it though because it basically sums up the heartbreaking reality of what it’s like to live in this modern world. Here it is:

Yeah, I get it. No one liked it. I’m not perfect. Not everything I write down can be excellent and clever. Most of it is nonsense. Do we really need to resort to public shaming just to call out my inadequacies? Apparently, yes. Twitter really wants me to know when I fail.

Well, joke’s on you, Twitter, because now I’m liberated. I have nothing to lose. I’m going to say so many ridiculous things and they’re going to live on your face forever.

Thanks to no one.