Sotomayor v. Lopez?

I had been ignoring the media frenzy over Sonia Sotomayor, mostly because I didn't want to hear the sexist and racist commentary that would be made of her.



And then, I saw George Lopez on The View this morning.

Sitting with all four regular hosts (Barbara Walters wasn't there), George offered his 'strong views' on Sonia Sotomayor. He proceeded to make jokes that could easily be construed as sexist and racist: he said that all women are judges, and that we might as well make one official; he said that with her elbow injury, she was getting workman's comp before even starting the job; and he said that he didn't believe a Latina was going to wear something that was black and zipped up all the way to the neck every day to work. And that's just what I can remember at this particular moment.

I found myself grumbling to myself that this is why I never, ever watch The View, but I also wondered about George Lopez and his intent. I usually enjoy Lopez, he makes a lot of Latino jokes that Caucasian comedians can't make. When he makes fun of himself, or his friends, or his family, he gives other Spanish speakers in the US who are living on the hyphen a way to laugh at the more difficult and absurd aspects of their experience. Is that what he's doing when he makes fun of Sotomayor? Is he saying what other Latinos are thinking of her? Or is he cutting her down and treating her like just another woman, the way men have historically done?

I'm not sure. Either way, any attack on Sotomayor feels especially personal for me not just as a woman, but as a Puerto Rican girl from New York City. In addition to that, Sotomayor has a lot in common with my mother. Both Bronx-born Puerto Rican girls who were raised in housing projects, educated at parochial schools, and raised by solo, Puerto Rican-born mothers, Sotomayor is even the same age my mother would have been if she hadn't died in March of 2005. They bear a little bit of resemblance to each other; Sotomayor has the same deep golden-tan skin and wavy, almost black hair my mother had. Sometimes, it's hard for me to even look at Sonia Sotomayor.

And I happen to be rooting for Sotomayor, not just because she reminds me of my mother, but that's sort of part of it. Though I grew up in different circumstances, and in a completely different borough, I know a little bit about life in the Bronx Projects, having been raised by my mother and grandmother. I never lived there, but I know from my family the sense of fairness and compassion that it can instill in children, because that's what it did to my mother. My mom didn't go to Princeton or Yale, but she was both generous and wise. She had a sharp, quick tongue, and she could be cruel, but she was caring, and, well, judicious. If this is how Sonia Sotomayor is, well, what objection can we have to her confirmation? There have been complaints about her being an activist judge, and about her being 'too emotional'. But from what I can tell, she merely seems to be a judge who struggles to interpret the law accurately and at the same time show consideration for people's actual lives.

Again, I ask, what objection can we have to confirming a judge who is -- gasp considerate? Who might possibly put human life (and I don't mean that in the way pro-life groups mean 'human life') before her own partisan politics, before political or financial gain? Tema Kaplan argues that women have been culturally conditioned to protect life, and that this colors all of their political work. If this is true, why wouldn't we want another woman on the Supreme Court, one who would also bring a Latino perspective?

I bet, or hope, that even George Lopez can get down with that. I can even deal with him poking fun at that, at Sotomayor. But I kind of hope from now on that he'll do it in places that appreciate his comedy and his place in the Latino community, or maybe just anywhere besides The View.

I can't take anymore discrimination from California, so I'm going to clean instead.

Everywhere around the blogosphere today people are talking about the California decision to uphold Prop 8, the ban on same-sex marriage. Here, here and here for more info. While my intellectual, legal-tilted mind understands the process to not undo "law from the people" from the bench, I am saddened, depressed and frustrated that fairness and equality are still not the primary course of action.

But I just can't take anymore. So I'm going to clean something instead.

"Nesting" is, according to Parenting Weekly,

Females of the animal kingdom are all equipped with this same need. It is a primal instinct. Just as you see birds making their nests, mothers-to-be do exactly the same thing. The act of nesting puts you in control and gives a sense of accomplishment toward birth. You may become a homebody and want to retreat into the comfort of home and familiar company, like a brooding hen. The nesting urge can also be seen as a sign of the onset of labor when it occurs close to 40 weeks of pregnancy.

Yep. That pretty much sums up what I'm going through. And for so long, as a woman, as a feminist and as an activist, I have thought and allied with people who thought that distancing our womanly selves from our "biology" or our "animal-ness" was to our benefit. After all, it is this "woman as natural" argument that sends us packing from the boardrooms, courtrooms and back to the realm of the thank-less home where our emotional selves can be at peace, right? Our ovaries and uterus (uteri?) have long been blamed for our supposed inability to think "rationally" "logically" and still these arguments find their subtle way into our lives through comments like, "Oh, you must be PMSing" or "You must be hormonal..." after explaining our own rational ideas for why we don't like something. So I'm risking something here, going out on a limb and saying that right now, I feel a lot more in touch with my fellow mammals in the animal kingdom than I do with my office staff. I want to hang out with my dog Lucy, who at least has had puppies, and relates to me on some level. (And I believe she hears my baby's heartbeat when she lays her head on my belly.)

I DO want to retreat to my home, and as I sit here at my desk, in my little cubicle, all I can think about is more tidying, cleaning and sorting that needs to happen at home. Does this make me less rational, less logical, less intellectual? No. I am starting to believe, more so than ever before that women need to rule the world BECAUSE we can do all this at once. I can politically analyze Supreme Court decisions while scrubbing out my kitchen cabinets. And then write about the experience. While I love the men in my life, great multi-taskers they are not.

So I'm off, to think some more about justice, fairness and pursuing my PhD, while I'm ironing something with wrinkles.

Because schoolgirls are a huge threat.

Years ago, in my graduate feminist theory course, my professor, the inimitable Janelle Hobson, asked, "Why should we care some woman in Africa getting raped and infected with HIV, or circumcised against her will?" Everyone's hands went up, and everyone responded that we should care because it's wrong to treat anyone, anywhere that way. We were surprised when she answered her own question. Professor Hobson told us that we should care because "She could be us." She could be us, and we could be her.

I don't think I've ever been more keenly aware of how close I am to women on the other side of the world than I am at this moment. You see, right now I'm looking for information on the most recent attack on Afghan schoolgirls. Since a suspected gas attack happened at a school in Mahmud Raqi, I've been looking for more information. There's been some speculation that some girls fainted from fear, and that a panic ensued, and that it wasn't an actual attack. I read an article that said that an investigation was underway. I haven't been able to find any follow up articles on this.

Not so long ago, I was a schoolgirl. A Catholic school girl, in fact, with a jumper and a little tie, and a penmanship book and a homework planner and a Chip'n'Dale Rescue Rangers lunchbox. I can't help but feel like this string of vicious assaults -- on schoolgirls -- is a direct assault against me, an attack on my schoolgirl friends. When I read about these young girls getting doused with acid and dosed with poisonous gases, I imagined my own gradeschool friends, I kind of pictured us in our jumpers and button down shirts but topped off with veils. And that mental image is probably very un-p.c. on top of being inaccurate, but I don't think that's the point. The point is that any deliberate violence against schoolchildren, anywhere, is horrifying and unacceptable, and of course, infuriating.

The Taliban opposes education for women, and according to these reports on these attacks, the Taliban is more than comfortable with making these feelings known. This article claims that the Taliban burns down girls' school buildings, and puts up posters warning parents not to send their daughters to school. Let's turn the knife counterclockwise: now I'm looking at this from the perspective of an adult, a teacher, a volunteer, and perhaps even one day, a parent. Can you imagine having to decide whether or not you will send your daughters to school under these conditions? Who are these parents who are bravely insisting that their daughters go to school, with no assurance that their girls will be safe there? I admire them, and I can only hope that no one will judge them for making this decision. I hope that no one will judge the mothers and fathers who keep their daughters at home, either. I can't even start to imagine having to choose between keeping your child safe, or giving your child a chance at enlightment and opportunities and the basic wonderment and satisfaction that ideally come with the simple act of learning stuff.

What about the staff at these schools? The article linked above describes how the school's teachers had to carry unconscious students out of the building, while evacuating the building and rushing the students out of the poisoned hallways of their school. When I read this I didn't think of my students this semester, instead my mind went back to this summer, to the two weeks when I volunteered at the Willie Mae Rock Camp for Girls in Brooklyn. I couldn't really tell you the names of any of our campers, except for the six budding musicians I worked with, but still: the idea of anything happening to the campers and the volunteers, the idea of an attack ruining their camp experience, the idea of having to rush them out of building, or carry them out because of some sort of attack -- I can't even really think about it. The vague notion of such a thing happening overwhelms me with feelings I can hardly describe. I can just begin to describe the feeling as one of fear, of panic, of being terrified.

And that's it, right there: whether it's intentional or not, the perpetrators of these crimes against these schoolgirls haven't just terrorized Afghan schoolgirls and their families; now they've begun to terrorize me. And I'm sure I'm not the only teacher, volunteer, potential mother, or woman outside Afghanistan who has reacted this way to this news. It certainly isn't the same as the terror experienced by these girls, or by people living in other warzones. But that doesn't mean it doesn't count.

The victims of these attacks: we could be them, and they could be us. And to make matters worse, it seems like there isn't very much we can do about it.

But we do what we can. We keep reading, whether we're reading fiction or feminist theory. We keep teaching and volunteering, whether we're teaching Latin American Studies or guitar or how to knit or cook. We keep passing our knowledge on to others, and we keep telling other people about how girls in Afghanistan are being targeted and seriously injured just for going to school, can you believe that?! We talk with our friends and colleagues about the implications of not educating any one sector of your population, and the politics of knowledge, and who makes it, and who gets it and who doesn't. We keep learning from the people around us, and we keep working together. And with any luck, that dry heave feeling that tastes like iron and panic is replaced with gratitude, and a desire to change the world, one lesson at a time.

Trusting Birth, but not Hospitals

I just need to vent for a few minutes about the hospital-based prenatal care system. It is fucking ridiculous. They try and order me to take tests that I don't want, nor do I need (they are for high-risk pregnancies; I am not). Appointments are less than 5 minutes each. My questions are answered in the most condescending, simplistic, "don't-you-worry-about-that" way. When I ask about preventing a complication or an issue, I'm given an answer on how they will "treat" with X, Y or Z drug should I test positive for blah, blah. Fuck. That is not what I asked!!! I asked how to PREVENT something, not what drug you want to give me after. And trying to get in touch with someone between appointments- near impossible. I call the number, before I even get two words out of my mouth they transfer me to the "advice nurse" who can never answer my specific questions, but instead defaults to the answer, "wait till your appointment and ask then." But if I need something NOW before my next appointment, too bad. It is so frustrating, and when I make a fuss, it only gets worse because then, I'm being a difficult patient.

But a bigger question for me, is why do we women put up with it? Why don't we collectively demand better, more personalized care? Why are we so accepting of being shoved into the cookie-cutter one-size fits all approach? I know that I feel extremely powerless when I leave that clinic. I have entered a machine, and the only way to deal with it is to just go with the flow, or opt out all together. I chose the latter.

I wouldn't have felt like I needed to plan a home birth if there was some communication, consistency, personalized care or anything other than a cookie-cutter approach in the medical model. Each appointment with my midwife is at least an hour. She EDUCATES and EMPOWERS me. She treats me with respect, and assumes that I'm smart, can read and refers me to sources of information that are thorough and in-depth for my various questions. When I asked about circumcision, she says, "Here's what I think...But here are some sources for you to find out for yourself." She has shown me pictures of women in dozens of different birthing positions, emphasizing that each woman is different, and she can't tell me what it's going to be like for me.

I have a deep fear of going to the hospital. It seems as soon as you walk in the door, you are no longer a unique, educated, empowered and healthy woman. You are a thing. A crisis. A case. A patient. And the machine takes control, and only the very vocal with additional advocates make it out of there without 3 or more interventions. (Think: epidural, inducing, fluid IV, constant fetal monitoring, catheter, IV antibiotics, c-section...)

And yet this is what we seem to be accepting. Most women I talk to have no problem with the way they are treated at the doctor. They don't even seem to notice how little they are paid attention to or how much power they have given away. When did our power as women get stripped from child birthing? When did the "system" suddenly know more than us, our mothers, our grandmothers, our auntie, sisters and friends? What will it take to get that power back?

I'm glad there are doctors, for those rare cases that are truly emergencies. But they are just that- rare. More often than not, the medical system is what CREATES the emergency with all those interventions, inducing, stopping labor, not allowing women to move in labor, and ordering c-sections for convenience. I trust my body. I trust my instincts. And I'm strong enough to do this the way my body was designed to do it. It's gonna be messy, and hurt, and be a long process. But if birth goes the way birth does for millions of women around the world everyday, I will be up, awake, holding and feeding my baby before hospital birthing women are even able to get out of their beds and move because of an immobilizing epidural or painful catheter. I will be home, in my own shower, with food to eat from my own fridge and the comfort and love of my partner, my dogs and a caring midwife. When I think about birth this way, I'm not scared, as I am when I think about a hospital. I'm actually excited to go on this journey, to feel the high, and to feel the incredible sensation of birthing a child and knowing that if my body can do that, it can do anything.

Women Veteran Activists Getting Organized

Crossposted from Courtney at Feministing

I had the total honor of attending a Congressional meeting yesterday called "The Growing Needs of Women Veterans: Is the VA Ready?" It was hosted by the House Committee on Veterans Affairs and widely attended by a variety of women veterans' groups who each had a chance to testify about what they see as the growing and unique needs for women veterans (who are currently about 15% of our military).

I plan on writing extensively about some of the issues that were brought up (including childcare, VA climate, cultural shifts, and of course, sexual assault), but what I really wanted to emphasize here at feministing was how inspired I was by the presence of young, fearless women activists yesterday. The stand outs were Anuradha K. Bhagwati, Executive Director of the Service Women's Action Network (which I've written about before), Kayla Williams, author of Love My Rifle More Than You, and Dawn Halfaker (pictured here), of Wounded Warriors.

They each spoke with such passion, clarity, and authenticity at the hearing. As the various leaders and ED's of organizations made their remarks, I was thrilled to hear these young women's voices, which truly stood out as professional, but also unequivocally real. They didn't let the official nature of the meeting or the onslaught of statistics overshadow the fact that women are suffering unimaginable pain because of sexual harassment and assault experiences, inadequate access to reproductive and mental health care at the VA centers through out the nation, and a sense of invisibility in a country that still assumes women don't see combat or get PTSD. Though the day was overwhelming, and the sense of glacial movement in our legislative branch palpable, I left with this rock solid confidence that this generation of women vet activists are going to make things right. They're too strong and bold and eloquent and convicted not to.

P.S. SWAN's site went live today, so be sure to go over and check it out.

Circumcision: Is it a feminist issue?

crossposted on Feministing here with over 100 comments, if you are interested.

I've heard it called Male Genital Mutilation. I've heard religious commentary on its necessity. I've read about the "hygiene" issues. I've read about so-called social stigmas for being "intact" in the boys locker room. But I still don't know, if I give birth to a baby boy in a few weeks, should we circumcise him?

This is an issue that has long-lasting, religious, social and cultural effects. A botched circumcision can inhibit a normal sex life. Some hetero women say intact males feel better. I met a man who chose to be circumcised at the age of 25, and 10 years later, says his penis still hurts from time to time. Does it matter if you're a baby and have no memory of the event?

Feminists argue against female genital mutilation as a cultural practice, citing that there is no medical reason to ever cut off a woman's clitoris. the practice is seen mostly as brutal and torture-like. Can the same be said of male circumcision? As sisters, mothers, and friends of men/boys, should we care about this?

Lots of info here and here . But a quick google search will yield thousands more.

A few complicated lessons the Navy has taught me.

1. I've learned that it is hard to express pride, love, patriotism and critique at the same time. Most people don't get it.
2. I've learned to laugh more. Crying takes too much energy.
   
3. I've learned that generally, I hate the term, "Navy Wife." I'm much more than that. But as I feel, and have heard other military wives express, our own identities are often lost or subsumed. Keeping my name was important because of this.
   
4. I've learned how to be really good at waiting. Waiting for a call. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting on orders. Waiting on our crap to get moved.
   
5. I've learned that my dogs are truly my best friends. I depend on them to keep me company when he's not around, which is pretty often.
   
6. I've learned to make friends quickly. Three years to a duty station is not very long, so I try filling up the social calendar as quickly as possible to find friends who meet various needs such as Shopping Buddy, Spiritual Advisor, Political Debater, Feminist Ally or Commiserating Navy Wife. One friend is never enough. ;-)
7. I have learned to not sensor myself so as to eliminate the need for ongoing "fake me" sessions. Time is really of the essence while frequently moving, I don't have time to waste on people that don't bring anything to the table. If you are uber-conservative and close-minded, we are not going to spend any time together. And if you make racist, sexist or otherwise bigoted remarks, I will not invite you back to my house just to be polite.
   
8. I have learned that just because our husbands work together, does not mean we have anything in common.
   
9. I have learned that I have a fundamental issue with calling it my "Navy Family." You are not my family. However, I still need you. It is one of the many ironies.
   
10. I have learned that all the patriotic, wife-loving poems in the world are bullshit compared to the reality that my needs, my career, and my life are of little importance to anyone but me (and my partner). Strangely, I find such sentiments almost condescending.
    
11. I have learned that that my husband, my best friend, my partner is good at what he does, he feels proud when a job is well done, and that makes me proud of him.
12. I have learned that he is worth it, and our relationship is worth it. And for other significant others of military-attached people- your partner better be too. This life isn't for the faint of heart.
13. I have learned that there is a big difference between support for him and support for the system.
    
14. I have learned to appreciate and to be grateful for all the things we have because of our military life. This is not easy to do when there are so many things about the life I don't like; but I appreciate getting to travel, see new places, and feel part of something bigger than me.
15. I have learned more about nuclear powered submarines than I ever wanted to know. :-)
    
16. But perhaps most recently, what I've learned is that most planning is futile. Plan for dinner out on Thursday? Nope, he's gotta work late. Plan to buy a house and move somewhere at a certain time? Nope. Foiled again. The Navy has other plans for him, and therefore for us.