Trots min första reaktion har Tanja Bergkvists insändning http://www.svd.se/opinion/brannpunkt/artikel_2224643.svd tyvärr en poäng: man ska inte göra flickor till pojkar och tvärtom. Hon, liksom de flesta andra, har missuppfattat vad själva genusdiskussionen grundar sig på. Vårt samhälle grundas på en felaktig uppfattning och tolkning av värdet man ger de olika könen. Det som är ”manligt” är mer värdefullt än det som är ”kvinnligt”. Att även pedagogerna på Bergkvist förskola delar den uppfattningen visas genom att barnen ska ha shorts på gympan. Jag förstår att Bergkvist är upprörd, men hon är upprörd på fel sak. Jag vill inte ta ifrån mina barn deras kön, jag vill lägga till de egenskaper som jag anser fattas hos pojkar och flickor. Jag vill inte att de ska gå runt som halvfärdiga personer, med helt olika möjligheter i livet på grund av deras kön. Måste vi acceptera bråkiga pojkar och duktiga flickor, eller kan vi medvetet motverka dessa mönster? Vad är det som är så hotande och upprörande med modiga prinsessor och ömma pojkar?
Dagens genusvetare har mycket gemsamt med 1800-talets naturvetare. Precis som Darwin bemöttes de av misstänksamhet och skepsis, är dagens genusvetare dessvärre ifrågasätta och dumförklarade. Detta är ojämnställt. Ingen vettig människa kan förneka att det är ojämnställt, precis som ingen vettig människa kan förneka evolutionen. Genusvetare påvisar gång på gång att samhället fortfarande är ojämnställt, kommer med information för att öka medvetande och erbjuder även vägledning till att åtgärda denna snedfördelning. Kan vi inte lägga förnekelsen bakom oss och utveckla oss till hela och jämlika personer?
Vi har inte arbetat färdig med jämställdhet. Vi har kommit längre, men framme är vi inte ännu. Det kräver ett aktiv medvetande och ett proaktivt arbete, som ständigt måste utvecklas för att vi ska åstadkomma någon förändring i vårt samhälle.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Lies, Lies and more lies!
I have formed an opinion of Palin, and that opinion is emphatically negative. Not only is she continuously lying to the public, but she wants to restrict our freedoms. She wants to eliminate a woman’s right to choose. She wants to allow the government to decide, not the people, not the individual. She thinks that women are so inept that we cannot and should not be allowed to make that decision. Somehow we have not considered what pains our bodies must endure and emotional scars we will carry if we value our life more. She is telling us that we are no longer allowed to decide our fate, even when a man has brutalized our body. She has the conviction that it is better for us to carry our father's bastard inside of us, and birth a life born out of hate and loathing. That life is worth more than we tortured women. What life will that child lead?
I am outraged. I listened to the latest lies spewing from Palin's mouth during her speech in Colorado and I am appalled! I am embarrassed that we share the same gender, and I am sorry, free speech or no, she should be ashamed of lying. She stands in front of hundreds of people and spouts off the same stump speech monologues and I wonder if she believes the things that she is saying?
Does she believe that with she can change this economic downturn by making simple "efficiencies"? What sort of efficiencies? Give me an example. Give me an idea. Stop with the hypocritical rhetoric and tell me SPECIFICALLY what the GOP plans to do to make a change.
She says that she put the governor’s jet on E-bay, but it didn't sell there, they had to sell it privately and for less than they purchased it for. She left the city of Wasilla with a substantial debt, just like Bush's inept policies have done with our national debt. Bush had never left the country before running for president and Palin just got her passport in 06, my 4 year old has traveled more internationally than she has. Do we really want another incompetent president rushing us off to war? Palin believes that it is our right to start a war preemptively (Bush doctrine...which she didn't even know what it entailed)
She has employed lobbyists; she has fought FOR earmark spending, banned books and is being investigated for abuses of power. Can we really afford another buffoon like Bush a heartbeat away from office? Can we afford to listen to her lies and the lies of the GOP anymore?
She says that Obama wants to raise taxes on the middle class, LIES. He wants to raise taxes for the richest 1%. She raised sales taxes and lowered income taxes, this HURTS the middle class more than helps us.
Are we better of 8 years after a GOP government? That would be an emphatic NO! And McCain doesn't want to alter our course, he has offered no substantial point by point on HOW to change, in fact he is quiet satisfied with the status quo. He dares to call the man who grew up in a single parent home elitist, when he himself owns 9 homes. For the love of country, please don't believe their lies anymore.
I am outraged. I listened to the latest lies spewing from Palin's mouth during her speech in Colorado and I am appalled! I am embarrassed that we share the same gender, and I am sorry, free speech or no, she should be ashamed of lying. She stands in front of hundreds of people and spouts off the same stump speech monologues and I wonder if she believes the things that she is saying?
Does she believe that with she can change this economic downturn by making simple "efficiencies"? What sort of efficiencies? Give me an example. Give me an idea. Stop with the hypocritical rhetoric and tell me SPECIFICALLY what the GOP plans to do to make a change.
She says that she put the governor’s jet on E-bay, but it didn't sell there, they had to sell it privately and for less than they purchased it for. She left the city of Wasilla with a substantial debt, just like Bush's inept policies have done with our national debt. Bush had never left the country before running for president and Palin just got her passport in 06, my 4 year old has traveled more internationally than she has. Do we really want another incompetent president rushing us off to war? Palin believes that it is our right to start a war preemptively (Bush doctrine...which she didn't even know what it entailed)
She has employed lobbyists; she has fought FOR earmark spending, banned books and is being investigated for abuses of power. Can we really afford another buffoon like Bush a heartbeat away from office? Can we afford to listen to her lies and the lies of the GOP anymore?
She says that Obama wants to raise taxes on the middle class, LIES. He wants to raise taxes for the richest 1%. She raised sales taxes and lowered income taxes, this HURTS the middle class more than helps us.
Are we better of 8 years after a GOP government? That would be an emphatic NO! And McCain doesn't want to alter our course, he has offered no substantial point by point on HOW to change, in fact he is quiet satisfied with the status quo. He dares to call the man who grew up in a single parent home elitist, when he himself owns 9 homes. For the love of country, please don't believe their lies anymore.
I would rather walk
People find it hard to believe me when I tell them that I don't like cars. I do not like sitting in cars, I do not like driving cars, and I do not like looking at cars. My brothers are horrified at the fact that I embrace my disinterest in cars. When they ask me anything about a car, I usually describe the color of the car.
"Which kind of car did you rent the last time you were here?" they ask me. I respond with, "Duh...it was white...it had 4 wheels, I could see out the windows..." I play dumb only to hide the fact that I truly hate cars. I think that cars are the scourge of the earth. I do not feel free driving in a car, I do not feel like it is a pleasure to sit behind the wheel of a nice convertible, I feel insulted that I must pollute my body with this disgusting metal thing.
The absolute scourge in the history of the car is embodied in the SUV. I loathe SUVs, and people who drive them loose any sort of respect they might otherwise have had. I liken SUVs to baby rapers. If you own them, you are on par with people who rape babies. You are barely worthy of life. It infuriates me when I see people driving them, and most of all, when I see them parked on the street. These are not status symbols, these are symbols of how irresponsible, and selfish the owner is. This is a symbol of how arrogant, short sighted and simple minded SUV owners truly are. The only people who are lower on the totem poll of social responsibility are those who drive humvees.
I understand that one must transport oneself from point A to point B, but gasoline should be expensive! For the amount of environmental damage caused to the earth, the level of dependence the western world has on not-so-friendly suppliers, and the impact on the health and economy of our children how could we be so blind? How can we be so vain? How can we demand that the government should "help us out" when it is the government who has birthed us into this dependence? It should not be cheap to pollute our air. The public should be outraged that the government has not invested in infrastructure to wean us off petrol sooner. Instead we are begging for relief from the pains of inflation.
I live on an island and pay entirely too much for an apartment in the city, so that I do not need to be dependent upon a car. I walk to work, or use public transportation. I purchase my groceries online, and when we do need a car we utilize a carpool. My husband walks to work; my daughter's childcare is less than 100 meters away. I live in the capital of a country that has invested in public transportation, but has still not done enough. There are places in Stockholm that are still dependent upon private transport, and I hope that will change in the next 10 years.
10 years is about how long it takes to make viable infrastructural changes. I was desperately disappointed to see Minnesota investing in its highways instead of the one good thing that Jesse (the body) Ventura did for the state. This makes citizens more dependent upon Big Oil, and less independent. Cars limit my options. I don't like to rush through life, and I certainly don't like to rush to a bus stop, but I would rather sit in traffic on a bus than sit in traffic in a car. Honestly, I would rather walk.
"Which kind of car did you rent the last time you were here?" they ask me. I respond with, "Duh...it was white...it had 4 wheels, I could see out the windows..." I play dumb only to hide the fact that I truly hate cars. I think that cars are the scourge of the earth. I do not feel free driving in a car, I do not feel like it is a pleasure to sit behind the wheel of a nice convertible, I feel insulted that I must pollute my body with this disgusting metal thing.
The absolute scourge in the history of the car is embodied in the SUV. I loathe SUVs, and people who drive them loose any sort of respect they might otherwise have had. I liken SUVs to baby rapers. If you own them, you are on par with people who rape babies. You are barely worthy of life. It infuriates me when I see people driving them, and most of all, when I see them parked on the street. These are not status symbols, these are symbols of how irresponsible, and selfish the owner is. This is a symbol of how arrogant, short sighted and simple minded SUV owners truly are. The only people who are lower on the totem poll of social responsibility are those who drive humvees.
I understand that one must transport oneself from point A to point B, but gasoline should be expensive! For the amount of environmental damage caused to the earth, the level of dependence the western world has on not-so-friendly suppliers, and the impact on the health and economy of our children how could we be so blind? How can we be so vain? How can we demand that the government should "help us out" when it is the government who has birthed us into this dependence? It should not be cheap to pollute our air. The public should be outraged that the government has not invested in infrastructure to wean us off petrol sooner. Instead we are begging for relief from the pains of inflation.
I live on an island and pay entirely too much for an apartment in the city, so that I do not need to be dependent upon a car. I walk to work, or use public transportation. I purchase my groceries online, and when we do need a car we utilize a carpool. My husband walks to work; my daughter's childcare is less than 100 meters away. I live in the capital of a country that has invested in public transportation, but has still not done enough. There are places in Stockholm that are still dependent upon private transport, and I hope that will change in the next 10 years.
10 years is about how long it takes to make viable infrastructural changes. I was desperately disappointed to see Minnesota investing in its highways instead of the one good thing that Jesse (the body) Ventura did for the state. This makes citizens more dependent upon Big Oil, and less independent. Cars limit my options. I don't like to rush through life, and I certainly don't like to rush to a bus stop, but I would rather sit in traffic on a bus than sit in traffic in a car. Honestly, I would rather walk.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Weather propaganda
Propaganda is the deliberate, systematic attempt to shape perceptions, manipulate cognitions, and direct behavior to achieve a response that furthers the desired intent of the propagandist.—Garth S. Jowett and Victoria O'Donnell, Propaganda and Persuasion
Propaganda can take many forms and I have come to believe that I am bombarded with propaganda daily that is truly not in my best interest. I live in Sweden, the Arctic Circle, and it is a dark country with shitty weather. I have always thought that Sweden has shitty weather, never have I once in the entire 6 years that I have called this weather forsaken country my home, have I ever thought that Sweden has good weather. And yet there is a saying in Swedish: There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate "bad" clothes. (It rhymes) For some reason, the weather guy/gal always promises a nice outlook on the weather by the time the weekend comes, and what do you know...it is never nice! What I would like to know is who this weather propaganda benefits? Does it keep suicide rates down? Because that is what the concrete sky is driving me to! Not that I would really kill myself because of the weather, but I'm a Minnesotan for crying out loud. I'm used to bad weather, but this? This is what I imagine hell is like.
Hell is not this burning inferno; it is this cold dampness that creeps under your skin. It is the cold that sits in your bones and makes your toes numb. Hell is never seeing the sun, or blue sky. It is feeling the almost rain moisten your skin and frizzing your hair. Hell is gray and impersonal; Hell is Sweden in the fall.
I loved fall. It was the time of year when you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the worst heat of the summer was over. September was my favorite month too. It was when everything smelled fresh and the leaves turned green again before they started to show their autumn hues. It was the time of year for new clothes smell and freshly cut hair and grass. Not in Sweden.
It has been cold for over a month now and hasn't reached 70 either. There is no warmth in the air and the sun has lost its summer glow. The time of tank-tops and skirts has past. My flip-flops won't see the light of day until the 3 weeks of summer next year.
That is the other lie that I refuse to swallow. I have always been told that the Swedish summers are wonderful, but I guess that is comparatively speaking. Sure the sun shines, but seldom is it really warm and you always need a jacket at night. There were two days that I did not need a jacket at night and one of those was the 4th of July, how poetic.
Never, in all the summers I have lived here, have I had more than a few odd days of nice weather. Seldom do you get to see the blue sky; I seldom feel warm or content with the weather. I am beginning to understand why Swedes feel the pressure to go and enjoy the warm and sunny days, because they truly are scarce.
I just wish I wasn't lied to about the weather. I don't like being disappointed, and who really likes being lied to? Even if it is something as trivial as the weather, I would gamble and say: nobody. I love my home, and I actually like living in Sweden (most of the time), but if there is anything that sends me running for the hills, it would be the weather.
Propaganda can take many forms and I have come to believe that I am bombarded with propaganda daily that is truly not in my best interest. I live in Sweden, the Arctic Circle, and it is a dark country with shitty weather. I have always thought that Sweden has shitty weather, never have I once in the entire 6 years that I have called this weather forsaken country my home, have I ever thought that Sweden has good weather. And yet there is a saying in Swedish: There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate "bad" clothes. (It rhymes) For some reason, the weather guy/gal always promises a nice outlook on the weather by the time the weekend comes, and what do you know...it is never nice! What I would like to know is who this weather propaganda benefits? Does it keep suicide rates down? Because that is what the concrete sky is driving me to! Not that I would really kill myself because of the weather, but I'm a Minnesotan for crying out loud. I'm used to bad weather, but this? This is what I imagine hell is like.
Hell is not this burning inferno; it is this cold dampness that creeps under your skin. It is the cold that sits in your bones and makes your toes numb. Hell is never seeing the sun, or blue sky. It is feeling the almost rain moisten your skin and frizzing your hair. Hell is gray and impersonal; Hell is Sweden in the fall.
I loved fall. It was the time of year when you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the worst heat of the summer was over. September was my favorite month too. It was when everything smelled fresh and the leaves turned green again before they started to show their autumn hues. It was the time of year for new clothes smell and freshly cut hair and grass. Not in Sweden.
It has been cold for over a month now and hasn't reached 70 either. There is no warmth in the air and the sun has lost its summer glow. The time of tank-tops and skirts has past. My flip-flops won't see the light of day until the 3 weeks of summer next year.
That is the other lie that I refuse to swallow. I have always been told that the Swedish summers are wonderful, but I guess that is comparatively speaking. Sure the sun shines, but seldom is it really warm and you always need a jacket at night. There were two days that I did not need a jacket at night and one of those was the 4th of July, how poetic.
Never, in all the summers I have lived here, have I had more than a few odd days of nice weather. Seldom do you get to see the blue sky; I seldom feel warm or content with the weather. I am beginning to understand why Swedes feel the pressure to go and enjoy the warm and sunny days, because they truly are scarce.
I just wish I wasn't lied to about the weather. I don't like being disappointed, and who really likes being lied to? Even if it is something as trivial as the weather, I would gamble and say: nobody. I love my home, and I actually like living in Sweden (most of the time), but if there is anything that sends me running for the hills, it would be the weather.
Motherly guilt
I feel as if there isn't enough of me to go round. I wake up in the morning feeling tired. I give myself a jolt of caffeine in the hope of drugging myself awake. Then I fix breakfast for my two wonderful children, then I, then I then I. I am moving constantly, fixing things, playing, picking up, getting ready, making food, wiping bottoms, grooming myself and my children, running errands, breathing, exercising, spending time with my husband, chatting with friends, talking to my family overseas, shopping, putting make up on so that I don't look as tired as I feel. The list of things I do in a day is endless and I never have time to accomplish all the things I want/should do. How do I make the voices stop? How can I meet the demands of my life and till be a sane and happy person?
Take my children for example. I only have two, and there are millions of women out there who certainly feel that I am one of the lucky ones to have only two, but I always feel like a failure as a mother. Perhaps my mother was right when she said "It's a good thing you are not the mom, otherwise where would we be?" Where am I? Even if there was more than just me (and there is someone: I have a husband who has the ambition to have equality in the home) I 'm not sure if I would be satisfied with my maternal duties even then. I can't be everywhere at once and yet I sure would like to be, perhaps then I wouldn't feel so guilty.
I feel guilty that I put my daughter in the wrong preschool to begin with. We switch schools a year ago, but I feel guilty that I couldn't give her the continuity and stability of a single preschool experience. I feel guilty that I only get 18 hours a week of "alone" time with my son when my daughter got so much more than that. I feel guilty when I leave my children with their father so that I can go and cut my hair. I feel guilty when dinner is late on the table and my kids are whiney and hungry. I feel guilty that I don't spend enough time with my husband because I am just so tired of being touched. Then I feel guilty that I don't want to be touched by my own children. This is just the tip of the iceberg of guilt and if I dwell on the guilt to long I am overwhelmed by my shortcomings as a mother, wife, and woman.
My house is cleaned by a professional, because I just don't have time to clean it myself. I don't iron, my husband does. I don't do dishes, my husband does. I do the laundry, he usually puts it away, and we never make the bed. I make most of the meals and do most of the shopping-online- because I was sick of my husband coming home with the wrong items. I do all of the home repairs such as putting up shelves, mending walls etc. I am my husband's personal shopper, but he is the errand boy. For the most part, on the surface, things seem pretty equal, but I seriously doubt he carries the burden of guilt like I do.
Before our son was born, I worked about 50 hours a week. In the mornings I had about an hour and a half with our daughter before I went to work. Sometimes I was home in time to kiss her goodnight, but on the weekends I was shattered. I tried to make the most of the moments I had with her, but they were few and far between. Since my son was born I have more time with her than I did before, but in a few months I will be going back to work.
I love my kids, and I love doing things with them, but my life doesn't center on them. I need to be creative and stimulated in ways that have nothing to do with making necklaces, piñatas, or painting stick figures.
Perhaps I am vain, but I like getting my hair done, wearing nice clothes, and having a modern looking home. I like going to work and having stimulating discussions (often about my kids) with my co-workers. But most of all I like to be seen as Coral, just Coral. I like investing time in me, but I would love to invest that time guilt free.
Take my children for example. I only have two, and there are millions of women out there who certainly feel that I am one of the lucky ones to have only two, but I always feel like a failure as a mother. Perhaps my mother was right when she said "It's a good thing you are not the mom, otherwise where would we be?" Where am I? Even if there was more than just me (and there is someone: I have a husband who has the ambition to have equality in the home) I 'm not sure if I would be satisfied with my maternal duties even then. I can't be everywhere at once and yet I sure would like to be, perhaps then I wouldn't feel so guilty.
I feel guilty that I put my daughter in the wrong preschool to begin with. We switch schools a year ago, but I feel guilty that I couldn't give her the continuity and stability of a single preschool experience. I feel guilty that I only get 18 hours a week of "alone" time with my son when my daughter got so much more than that. I feel guilty when I leave my children with their father so that I can go and cut my hair. I feel guilty when dinner is late on the table and my kids are whiney and hungry. I feel guilty that I don't spend enough time with my husband because I am just so tired of being touched. Then I feel guilty that I don't want to be touched by my own children. This is just the tip of the iceberg of guilt and if I dwell on the guilt to long I am overwhelmed by my shortcomings as a mother, wife, and woman.
My house is cleaned by a professional, because I just don't have time to clean it myself. I don't iron, my husband does. I don't do dishes, my husband does. I do the laundry, he usually puts it away, and we never make the bed. I make most of the meals and do most of the shopping-online- because I was sick of my husband coming home with the wrong items. I do all of the home repairs such as putting up shelves, mending walls etc. I am my husband's personal shopper, but he is the errand boy. For the most part, on the surface, things seem pretty equal, but I seriously doubt he carries the burden of guilt like I do.
Before our son was born, I worked about 50 hours a week. In the mornings I had about an hour and a half with our daughter before I went to work. Sometimes I was home in time to kiss her goodnight, but on the weekends I was shattered. I tried to make the most of the moments I had with her, but they were few and far between. Since my son was born I have more time with her than I did before, but in a few months I will be going back to work.
I love my kids, and I love doing things with them, but my life doesn't center on them. I need to be creative and stimulated in ways that have nothing to do with making necklaces, piñatas, or painting stick figures.
Perhaps I am vain, but I like getting my hair done, wearing nice clothes, and having a modern looking home. I like going to work and having stimulating discussions (often about my kids) with my co-workers. But most of all I like to be seen as Coral, just Coral. I like investing time in me, but I would love to invest that time guilt free.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Transending the constraints of faith
Ah, the power of perspective, it is truly a shame that the human mind cannot transcend time and observe oneself outside the constraints of time. If I could have the wisdom of age when I was 16, perhaps I would not have made the mistake of asking if Puritans were really Jewish. I was convinced, at 16, that the Puritans’' interpretations of faith were grounded in the Old Testament rather than the New. That if they understood the power of forgiveness through the sacrifice of Christ, they, in turn, could be more forgiving. When I raised my hand to answer a question on Puritan beliefs we were discussing The Scarlett Letter.
I couldn't reconcile the Christian beliefs of the 17th century to my own of the 20th century. The guilt and the shame that Hester experienced was not what I thought I witnessed as a teenager. But if I had the luxury knowing then what I know now I'm not sure I would be so ambivalent towards those beliefs. The Puritan faith, in respects to shaming and guilt, is quite similar to the Pentecostal faith I was reborn into. I was taught to be ashamed of my sexuality, and quilted into holding onto my purity.
When I lost that purity, I remained ashamed. I was ashamed to share the beauty of what I had been through with some of my closest friends. I was ashamed of my body, and most of all I was ashamed that I would no longer have the gift of virginity to offer my future husband. I was dirty and impure, but as long as the proof of that impurity never saw the light of day, I was still safe. I had seen the other women who swelled with their impurity to become outcasts. I clung onto my lies while slowly edging myself out of the safety of my faith.
The erosion of my belief system began slowly. I felt different, therefore I was different. I slowly stopped participating in the rituals of a believer all the while becoming disenchanted with the lies I had been fed. I was not dirtied with the act of sex; I was dirtied by the black and white view of how it was supposed to happen. I didn't really feel guilty for having sex; I just didn't like the feeling of how others would view me if I told them. I do not, cannot and will not believe that I am a bad person for having explored my body before getting married. My body is my temple, and therefore I treat it kindly. I used precautions with my partners so that I would not get any STDs, I eat properly, I work out, and I sleep regularly. It is the combination of this care regime that is the action of my belief NOT the fact that I was a virgin until I was 19. It is the skewed interpretation of the Bible that irks me and has deemed me a backslider, despite the fact that I still have faith in God.
The social controls inflicted upon my youth are what infuriate me now. I am infuriated with the black and white. The church was not the only source that propagated the lie of virginity. Even my own mother, who had 2 children out of wedlock, was an opponent of my sexual coming of age. She was always making comments about my weight, my cloths and my attitude towards boys. I just can't understand how parents can view their daughter's chastity as a measure of good parenting while encouraging their sons to play the field. How ironic that I, who was so very promiscuous in my youth, am now seen as the chaste daughter. Perhaps it was because I was more discrete about my so called indiscretions.
I think that if I could whisper something in my teenage ear, it would be "Don't buy the lie." I was, and still am, a proud woman. I am proud of the decisions I have made, although some have been very difficult. I am proud of my beliefs and most of all I am proud of who I have become.
I am certain that had I not been promiscuous as a teenager, I would not have gone home with my husband prepared to have a one-night stand. I was not afraid of what the "evil boy" might do to me, I knew that he liked me, I liked him and we had a mutual understanding that we would both get laid. We had the how-many-partners-have-you-had talk. We used precautions and we did the dead. When I left his apartment in the morning, I didn't know if I would ever see him again, and I didn't care. I was high with knowledge that I was fuckable. A few weeks later when he I received the booty call, I decided to recharge my ego. I wasn't looking for commitment, it was purely selfish lust. I was annoyed with my other fuck buddies since they were getting boring and interested in seeing me outside of the bedroom. I moved on.
I moved on because I could, I was free to do so. I no longer bought the lie of chastity. I no longer thought that I was losing a part of myself with every new partner. In fact I was getting more and more familiar with myself and more and more comfortable empowerment that came with the expression of my lusts. It was not empty and meaningless sex, despite the fact that there was no future with the majority of my partners. "No future" was not the equivalent of meaningless. This was my awakening, my actually rebirth, and the foundation of my revised faith.
I couldn't reconcile the Christian beliefs of the 17th century to my own of the 20th century. The guilt and the shame that Hester experienced was not what I thought I witnessed as a teenager. But if I had the luxury knowing then what I know now I'm not sure I would be so ambivalent towards those beliefs. The Puritan faith, in respects to shaming and guilt, is quite similar to the Pentecostal faith I was reborn into. I was taught to be ashamed of my sexuality, and quilted into holding onto my purity.
When I lost that purity, I remained ashamed. I was ashamed to share the beauty of what I had been through with some of my closest friends. I was ashamed of my body, and most of all I was ashamed that I would no longer have the gift of virginity to offer my future husband. I was dirty and impure, but as long as the proof of that impurity never saw the light of day, I was still safe. I had seen the other women who swelled with their impurity to become outcasts. I clung onto my lies while slowly edging myself out of the safety of my faith.
The erosion of my belief system began slowly. I felt different, therefore I was different. I slowly stopped participating in the rituals of a believer all the while becoming disenchanted with the lies I had been fed. I was not dirtied with the act of sex; I was dirtied by the black and white view of how it was supposed to happen. I didn't really feel guilty for having sex; I just didn't like the feeling of how others would view me if I told them. I do not, cannot and will not believe that I am a bad person for having explored my body before getting married. My body is my temple, and therefore I treat it kindly. I used precautions with my partners so that I would not get any STDs, I eat properly, I work out, and I sleep regularly. It is the combination of this care regime that is the action of my belief NOT the fact that I was a virgin until I was 19. It is the skewed interpretation of the Bible that irks me and has deemed me a backslider, despite the fact that I still have faith in God.
The social controls inflicted upon my youth are what infuriate me now. I am infuriated with the black and white. The church was not the only source that propagated the lie of virginity. Even my own mother, who had 2 children out of wedlock, was an opponent of my sexual coming of age. She was always making comments about my weight, my cloths and my attitude towards boys. I just can't understand how parents can view their daughter's chastity as a measure of good parenting while encouraging their sons to play the field. How ironic that I, who was so very promiscuous in my youth, am now seen as the chaste daughter. Perhaps it was because I was more discrete about my so called indiscretions.
I think that if I could whisper something in my teenage ear, it would be "Don't buy the lie." I was, and still am, a proud woman. I am proud of the decisions I have made, although some have been very difficult. I am proud of my beliefs and most of all I am proud of who I have become.
I am certain that had I not been promiscuous as a teenager, I would not have gone home with my husband prepared to have a one-night stand. I was not afraid of what the "evil boy" might do to me, I knew that he liked me, I liked him and we had a mutual understanding that we would both get laid. We had the how-many-partners-have-you-had talk. We used precautions and we did the dead. When I left his apartment in the morning, I didn't know if I would ever see him again, and I didn't care. I was high with knowledge that I was fuckable. A few weeks later when he I received the booty call, I decided to recharge my ego. I wasn't looking for commitment, it was purely selfish lust. I was annoyed with my other fuck buddies since they were getting boring and interested in seeing me outside of the bedroom. I moved on.
I moved on because I could, I was free to do so. I no longer bought the lie of chastity. I no longer thought that I was losing a part of myself with every new partner. In fact I was getting more and more familiar with myself and more and more comfortable empowerment that came with the expression of my lusts. It was not empty and meaningless sex, despite the fact that there was no future with the majority of my partners. "No future" was not the equivalent of meaningless. This was my awakening, my actually rebirth, and the foundation of my revised faith.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
How is it possible?
Although I was born in California, I grew up in rural American, Belle Plaine, beautiful prairie, population 2806. I lived in "town", about a mile away from the elementary school, in a duplex. the big yellow school bus picked me up outside my house every morning; once I was so anxious to be the first one off the bus that I go off at the high school (it looked the same as the elementary on the outside) and had to begrudgingly do the walk of shame to get back on the bus to ride the two blocks to the elementary school. I said the pledge of allegiance every morning and I said it proudly! I remember the shock and dismay that I felt the first time I saw a map of the world and realized that the Soviet Union was a larger country than my own. How was it possible that the greatest country on earth (to a 6 year old) was smaller than the reds? I remember crying to my mother and I felt the anger well up inside of me. Why did I feel angry? What did the Soviets ever do to me? How could I, at 6 years old, "know" that they were the bad guys?
I remember watching films about the lines that Russians had to stand in to get food. I had to stand in line to get food (we were on food stamps) so I could relate. They had to buy toilet paper on the black market; I had to take toilet paper from school because we seldom had any at home. (I now horde toilet paper) I remember seeing the Russian children with the little handkerchiefs on their heads followed by some picture of some fat man in a furry hat. The women's eyes always looked empty and their hands always looked callused. They did not look so very different from the hands that tucked me in at night. There were so few differences between the women of Russia and my own mother, and yet I was taught that they were the enemy.
I remember the joy I felt as I watched the events of the fall of the Berlin wall unfold before me in my school gymnasium. Now we were the same. The corruption and lie of communism were revealed for what they really were. The Olympics were coming and the world bonded behind the athletes of the once great nation. I was, as I'm sure many were, enthralled with the first "free" Olympics. I'm not sure if it was described as such, but that is what I felt. Now we really could get along. We didn't have to be afraid anymore, we didn't have to hate each other anymore. How refreshing.
NASA is another defining difference between the Soviets and Americans. I remember being taught that other people who entered space were NOT astronauts, they were cosmonauts. I was not taught as much about these "others" and did not learn much about the triumphs of their space program until I was much older. I knew about sputnik and that was about it. One of my most vivid memories is of a teacher who was to become and astronaut. I remember sitting on the floor of the gymnasium anticipating the launch of the first civilian into space. I remember watching the tears stream down my teacher's face as she witnessed her colleague explode before our very eyes.
It is funny what memory does to you. I could check the dates of the fall of the Berlin wall and I could check the dates for when the Challenger exploded, but to me it all melted into one childhood event. I watched the events on the same TV that what wheeled into the gymnasium and I went and played on the same playground afterwards. They happened in my lifetime, in my childhood and have therefore become a part of my being, my existence, my story.
Even at age 8 I didn't really think that we were the good guys and that the ruskies were the bad guys, despite the fact that this is what I was taught to believe. I saw corruption and flaws all around me. From the moment Dukakis only won my home state the moment Bush senior invaded Kuwait I felt the pains of disappointment. I was disappointed that everyone didn't get along, that people could willingly hurt others and that my country could elect a man despite the fact that he would do very little to help them.
Thankfully we saw the error of our ways and corrected this four years later. Clinton was not the get out of jail free card, but thanks to him we had more money in our pockets than we had ever had previously. He, and his vice president, valued more closely the things I value. I mourned the election of Bush junior for about a year after the 2004 election. I still mourn the loss of my freedoms and despair my down trodden nation.
Although I was happy to see Clinton go, I was unaware of what the change would lead to. As I watched the second plane crash into the world trade center I was lost. I wanted revenge, I wanted justice, and I wanted blood. I wandered the streets of Stockholm, crying. I felt the world stood behind my nation, and yet I felt so lonely. How could I repair the loss of my beliefs, who would lead?
My leader sat on his ass for 15 minutes. Yes I was shocked and couldn't peal my eyes from the TV, I watched the bodies fall, I heard the screams on the street and I saw the buildings collapse, but he just sat there. How could my fellow countrymen elect a man who just sat there?
Here we are nearly 7 years later, more afraid, more hated and more battered than ever and all I can think is: how is it possible? How is it possible to renew my faith in my nation? How is it possible to regain my trust in politics? How is it possible to believe that we will be "better off" ever again?
I remember watching films about the lines that Russians had to stand in to get food. I had to stand in line to get food (we were on food stamps) so I could relate. They had to buy toilet paper on the black market; I had to take toilet paper from school because we seldom had any at home. (I now horde toilet paper) I remember seeing the Russian children with the little handkerchiefs on their heads followed by some picture of some fat man in a furry hat. The women's eyes always looked empty and their hands always looked callused. They did not look so very different from the hands that tucked me in at night. There were so few differences between the women of Russia and my own mother, and yet I was taught that they were the enemy.
I remember the joy I felt as I watched the events of the fall of the Berlin wall unfold before me in my school gymnasium. Now we were the same. The corruption and lie of communism were revealed for what they really were. The Olympics were coming and the world bonded behind the athletes of the once great nation. I was, as I'm sure many were, enthralled with the first "free" Olympics. I'm not sure if it was described as such, but that is what I felt. Now we really could get along. We didn't have to be afraid anymore, we didn't have to hate each other anymore. How refreshing.
NASA is another defining difference between the Soviets and Americans. I remember being taught that other people who entered space were NOT astronauts, they were cosmonauts. I was not taught as much about these "others" and did not learn much about the triumphs of their space program until I was much older. I knew about sputnik and that was about it. One of my most vivid memories is of a teacher who was to become and astronaut. I remember sitting on the floor of the gymnasium anticipating the launch of the first civilian into space. I remember watching the tears stream down my teacher's face as she witnessed her colleague explode before our very eyes.
It is funny what memory does to you. I could check the dates of the fall of the Berlin wall and I could check the dates for when the Challenger exploded, but to me it all melted into one childhood event. I watched the events on the same TV that what wheeled into the gymnasium and I went and played on the same playground afterwards. They happened in my lifetime, in my childhood and have therefore become a part of my being, my existence, my story.
Even at age 8 I didn't really think that we were the good guys and that the ruskies were the bad guys, despite the fact that this is what I was taught to believe. I saw corruption and flaws all around me. From the moment Dukakis only won my home state the moment Bush senior invaded Kuwait I felt the pains of disappointment. I was disappointed that everyone didn't get along, that people could willingly hurt others and that my country could elect a man despite the fact that he would do very little to help them.
Thankfully we saw the error of our ways and corrected this four years later. Clinton was not the get out of jail free card, but thanks to him we had more money in our pockets than we had ever had previously. He, and his vice president, valued more closely the things I value. I mourned the election of Bush junior for about a year after the 2004 election. I still mourn the loss of my freedoms and despair my down trodden nation.
Although I was happy to see Clinton go, I was unaware of what the change would lead to. As I watched the second plane crash into the world trade center I was lost. I wanted revenge, I wanted justice, and I wanted blood. I wandered the streets of Stockholm, crying. I felt the world stood behind my nation, and yet I felt so lonely. How could I repair the loss of my beliefs, who would lead?
My leader sat on his ass for 15 minutes. Yes I was shocked and couldn't peal my eyes from the TV, I watched the bodies fall, I heard the screams on the street and I saw the buildings collapse, but he just sat there. How could my fellow countrymen elect a man who just sat there?
Here we are nearly 7 years later, more afraid, more hated and more battered than ever and all I can think is: how is it possible? How is it possible to renew my faith in my nation? How is it possible to regain my trust in politics? How is it possible to believe that we will be "better off" ever again?
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