When a Partner Comes Out

Originally posted on Feministing's Community section. Modified slightly for the inevitable typos and awkward sentences, as always.

Thanks,

Ed.

_____________

An earlier discussion about country music star Chely Wright’s decision to come out inspired this post. As the story goes, she was carrying on a doomed relationship with a fellow male musician, whose devotion to her, based on her sexual orientation, she knew she could never return on the terms he needed. A relationship requires mutual love and it’s an unfortunate, deeply tragic situation for both parties involved when this happens---one more common than one might think.

Periodically I glance at the daytime television talk shows to observe the topics they discuss. Frequently whole shows will be devoted to women who married closeted gay men. These discussions inevitably are centered around a strong sense of betrayal, particularly when it is revealed that a featured guest discovered that her husband or boyfriend was carrying on a secret relationship, romantic, sexual, or both, with another man. The tension in the room when the latest participant reveals the instant where she knew is perceptible and copious.

Catharsis, perhaps, but the angry tone of these programs strikes me frequently as unfortunate and unhelpful. Some of the drama is, I recognize, manufactured to keep the attention of the viewing audience, but much of it is not. It is a natural human response to feel betrayed and rejected in situations like these, but left out of the equation altogether is the man in question and his side of the story. If the former husband or boyfriend was included on the program and allowed to speak for himself, perhaps a much fuller understanding might be reached.

A few years ago I dated a woman who later came out as a lesbian. I admit that my first thought upon being told was “Wasn’t I good enough?” So in saying this, I can relate to this strong sense of feeling passed over and bitter, but to my credit I also tried as hard as I could to get beyond my own hard feelings. Though it pained me severely, I sought to rejoice in the fact that she was finally comfortable expressing and owning who she was. It was no easy process for her and I did my best to keep this in mind when I was tempted to rail about how I had been royally deceived and wronged.

Perhaps my own bisexuality helped with my comprehension. I also recall how on a trip to Boston I struck up a conversation with a woman in a coffee shop—an out lesbian who told me that I was the sort of man she would have dated before she came out. I believe she meant it as a compliment, and I took it as such, though the revelation produced decidedly mixed feelings. Had I not personally had the experience of dating a closeted lesbian, my emotions and memories would not have complicated what was actually high praise.

I recognize my situation is a bit different than the norm. As we have talked about recently, so much of a woman’s self esteem is tied up in the hopes of attracting a partner and, having done so, being validated by a partner as worthwhile. We know this also to be indicative of what needs to change about our society, but the fact of the matter is that constant reinforcement over a lifetime is tough to overcome. Our sexist culture encourages this eternal competition known as the dating game to the extent that women constantly judge themselves based on male attention and with it confirmation of them as worthwhile people.

Thus, it shouldn't be surprising that the very idea of being cheated on is often every woman’s worst fear. Not only is it insulting, but it also reflects this same notion of women building their whole stability in the person of a partner--in the process feeling utterly worthless when no longer wanted or desired. I think if this infidelity arrives in the form of a philanderer like Tiger Woods or John Edwards, that this is one thing, but if a closeted partner simply cannot maintain living a lie—--well, that’s a bit different and trickier. In that situation it would, of course, be for the best if there was no other man (or for that matter, other woman) in the picture, but every human being has desires. Rest assured, I'm not excusing this sort of conduct, but trying instead to draw a sharp distinction.

I myself was cheated on by a bisexual woman who left me for another woman. The feelings of bitterness I experienced were potent. She was very physically attractive and that fact catered to the insecure part of me. Sad to say, I felt better about myself because she was beautiful and also because our society values beautiful people above those with average looks. Other men desired her too, and I saw their envious looks and took satisfaction in knowing that she was mine and not theirs. This partially speaks to the idea of possession, which to some degree is normal, but taken to extremes is unhealthy. When suddenly she was no longer my girlfriend, I felt much like the women in the daytime talk show.

This particular situation might be more analogous to that of the typical heterosexual cheating male, and less excusable, but the fact is that it happened. My pain was real. But I was also forced to confront too that I had been foolish to try to think that I could build my own self-esteem in someone else. Every relationship tells us something new about ourselves, and the tough lesson I learned then is that one ought to be strong for oneself, because there is no guarantee that any romantic partnership will last forever. We’re often so petrified of leaving relationships, either because we will suffer or we will cause pain in our partners, but there are positive lessons to be learned along with what feels at the time like agony.

Alpha

Our first instance of
personal mythology

impulsive
mutual half-concealed
ulterior motive

a pleasure cruise

powered by the potency of
the adrenal gland

(Straight to Your Heart) Like a Cannonball

Quote of the Mid-Week

"A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn't think he'd remember. You take me. One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off.

A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn't see me at all, but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl."- Everett Sloan as Mr. Bernstein, Citizen Kane.

You'll Never Walk Alone

When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

R. Rodgers and O. Hammerstein II

The Short-Term Fix or the Long-Term Solution

I feel a bit late to the party writing about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Had I chosen to focus on this subject a few days ago, I might have been inclined to draft a personal narrative about the summers I spent on Alabama's Gulf Coast as a boy and young teenager. My post would have certainly have been in good company; it heartens me to recognize just how many people have an emotional and personal connection to the region. I myself didn't realize how much the warm salt water and white sand meant to me until I began to contemplate what both might look like covered in oil. It is very unfortunate that tragedies like these have to happen before we ever seriously consider the long term consequences. Off-shore drilling was, until very recently, touted as some kind of snake-oil panacea or fix-all curative. One hopes that we now understand the complexities and potentially catastrophic drawbacks in tapping the reserves present in our coastline.

The entire situation reminds me of a passage in Robert Penn Warren's classic novel, All the King's Men. Jack Burden is the book's narrator and trusted aide to Louisiana politician Willie Stark.

Jack Burden remembers the years during which Willie Stark rose to power. While Willie was Mason County Treasurer, he became embroiled in a controversy over the building contract for the new school. The head of the city council awarded the contract to the business partner of one of his relatives, no doubt receiving a healthy kickback for doing so. The political machine attempted to run this contract over Willie, but Willie insisted that the contract be awarded to the lowest bidder. The local big-shots responded by spreading the story that the lowest bidder would import black labor to construct the building, and, Mason County being redneck country, the people sided against Willie, who was trounced in the next election. Jack Burden covered all this in the Chronicle, which sided with Willie.

After he was beaten out of office, Willie worked on his father's farm, hit the law books at night, and eventually passed the state bar exam. He set up his own law practice. Then one day during a fire drill at the new school, a fire escape collapsed due to faulty construction and three students died. At the funeral, one of the bereaved fathers stood by Willie and cried aloud that he had been punished for voting against an honest man. After that, Willie was a local hero.

Over time, I'm sure the particulars of this tragedy will become known, and I wouldn't be surprised if a story similar to the above is at least partially responsible.

In defense of our President and his supposedly slow response to the crisis, one passage in this story particular jumped out at me.

“There is no good answer to this,” one senior administration official said. “There is no readily apparent solution besides one that could take three months. ... If it doesn’t show the impotence of the government, it shows the limits of the government.”

We are dealing with a situation that has no clear precedent. It does, however, strike me as supremely ironic that an oil platform built and maintained by a company that has taken in record profits in the past few years would would collapse and explode in such dramatic fashion. Oil companies have seemingly been immune to this Great Recession, so I know they can't possibly be hurting for money. When we uncover why this happened, whenever that shall be, one hopes that lots of questions will be answered, not least of which is the likelihood of something like this happening again. The greatest lesson of all might be that sensible strategies and safeguards must be in place henceforth. The process of extraction should never produce significant threats, nor put anyone's life in danger.

Some of these proposals may be a bit more expensive in the short term, though, it must be noted, they will eventually pay for themselves in time. Tragedies always expose our reluctance to delay gratification and opt for the long-term solution rather than the instant, short-term fix. Hurricane Katrina revealed that the levies around New Orleans had been weakening for years but that the money had never been allocated to shore them up adequately. The fatal Metro crash here in Washington, DC, that occurred last June revealed, in part, the financial and technological limitations of a public transportation system where crucial components of said system did not function properly with one another. The earthquake in Haiti revealed how centuries of abject poverty and government dysfunction shortchanged an entire nation. When another coal mine collapses, we see what happens when private companies put workers in dangerous situations out of an unwillingness to invest in proper safety protocols. To use an analogy often deployed in terms of legislation, in all these examples, many were quite content to kick the can down the road.

I am of the opinion that not all deficits are bad. Indeed, if there were a way to borrow the money or take out the needed loans to ensure that the trains always ran on time, so to speak, I would support it. That which we do not address now, or address only with a glancing blow, will end us costing us just as much, if not more, in the end. Whether that cost comes in financial expenditure or in ordinary human lives, I have no way of knowing, but I think it's better to brave the sticker shock up front than to let guilt or shame guide us in directions where compassion and intellect could have led us much earlier. I am no different than the rest of you. As I mentioned above, it is only when destructive consequences are lain before me that I ever take into account how much routine beauty speaks to my core--to the very fiber of my being.

It is unfortunate that we must be presented with the emotionally wrenching before we recognize that our lives are completely interdependent with one another. For example, the Gulf Coast's tourism industry thrives or dies on those who visit. The fishing, shrimping, and oyster harvesting industry also rely heavily on those from other parts of the country and the world who spend time there. The health of the sea life, animals, plants, and other organisms is essential to those who make their living, whether directly or indirectly, off of the ocean and the beach. Yet again, our separation from each other is deceptive and we are again mistaken in believing otherwise. We may see ourselves as supremely self-reliant, but the instant a crisis hits, we reach for our friends and our loved ones for support. This is a normal response, but if only we took the time more frequently to recognize that we do not live in isolation from others, even in good times. If we did so, we might not be so guarded with our hearts, nor as reluctant to edify the systems that each of us depend on heavily---day in and day out.

Women in the Sciences: It's More Complicated than You Think

Originally posted to Feministing's Community section. I've modified the original text a bit because it had typos.

Thanks,

Ed.

______________

We have frequently discussed the reasons why so few women are in the sciences, rightly chalking up some of it to sexism. We have also recently talked about the particulars of women-only spaces as a respite from men who do not respect boundaries. I would like to speak to both of these ideas, if I may.

My anthropologist friend and I recently spoke again at some length. She talked about the time when she was the process of visiting colleges, mulling over where she would enroll in the fall to begin her Freshman year. She had scholarship offers from both co-ed and single-sex schools, and seriously considered enrolling at a woman's-only college. After visiting, however, she decided against it because while the humanities department the women's college was of excellent quality, the science and mathematics departments were appallingly bad. She found evidence of this same issue at every single-sex school she visited. At the time, my friend intended to major in engineering, a discipline that requires one to take a large number of high-level math and high-level science classes. She chose a co-ed school instead because it provided a much more well-rounded education both in the humanities and in the sciences.

As she talked about this, she proposed an interesting means of addressing this problem, suggesting that single-sex schools and colleges for both girls and women that primarily teach math and science should be established. I believe that this is a fascinating idea that should seriously be considered on a large scale. I bet there are already a few similar schools already in existence scattered around, but I think if our objective is to encourage female participation in fields long dominated by men, strategies like this would be worthwhile. Doing so would directly address the question of why it is that few women are in the sciences, negating the way things are now, which steer women into career paths where such subjects aren't highly emphasized.

It is unfortunate that this sexist discrepancy gets reinforced in the structure of women's colleges. Those who seek equal representation between men and women in every career field might contemplate reconciling the benefit of a single-sex school provides with its current academic limitations. At this juncture, the question I pose is whether men and women are genetically predisposed to gravitate to certain majors and areas of interest, or whether this is purely a result of societal conditioning. While I believe wholeheartedly in the the latter view, I wonder if biology factors in even a little to the process, and if so, how and to what degree. Notice I haven't said that I believe one gender is better than another at a particular subject, merely that I am wondering about academic leanings and areas of interest and how gender factors in to it. Men and women are similar, but they are also different, and I seek to discern the baseline biological differences, so that everything else can be easily called into question and after having done so, changed for the better.

No two people are the same. This includes both men and women. Though I am a man, I would have found a single-sex school intolerably stifling, but I know that some would have found it much to their liking. I personally am of the opinion that co-ed schools provide a sense of necessary gender balance, but I do also concede that some people thrive in a single-sex school. Temporary isolation in an educational setting would be very helpful for some, but living in a work world surrounded by men is a learned skill that only improves with time. I have always believed that single-sex arrangements for women for any reason might be seen to be temporary, since when Feminism's goals are attained, we might all work and live together side by side.

Quote of the Week

“If you realized how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought.”- Peace Pilgrim

Embassy Days!

www.flickr.com cabaretic's Embassy Days photoset

Providing a Way to Encourage the Best in Other People

So much of my life I spend cynically griping about the bad side of human nature. The work I do every day frequently centers around a ceaseless source of constant frustration. Seeking strategies to reform destructive behaviors is the basic skill set of many professions and basic activism. Influencing people so that they might understand the correct means of conducting their lives is a substantial challenge and a constant energy drain. I'm sure many of you understand this quandary all too well. While it is true that we all possess a dark side, some more than others, recent events in my life have provided a unexpected but welcome sense of clarity and perspective. I note with joy over the past three days that I have, much to my great surprise, seen the very best in people. Once again I am humbled to have been proven incorrect in my assumptions about others.

You see, on Wednesday, I was in a traffic accident. While walking across the street on my way to the gym, I was blindsided by an oncoming shuttle bus. The vehicle either ran the light or failed to recognize that I, walking in a pedestrian crossing, had the right of way. I am okay, and fortunately not seriously injured but my right leg was hurt in the process of seeking to avoid the collision. The driver lingered long enough to determine that I had not been knocked to the pavement, then quickly continued on to wherever it was he was supposed to be going. Suffice to say, at that precise point in time, I was not exactly a believer in the idea that people are basically good at heart.

As the shock of the situation eventually gave way yet again to clear-headed analysis, I tried to make sense of what had just transpired. Increasingly these days, I have applied the same query to whichever intense, sometimes painful situation in which I have found myself: What is God trying to teach me? As far as this instance is concerned, I think I have been granted a partial answer, one that blindsided me just as surely as did the shuttle bus.

To wit, my eyes have truly been opened. Since the accident happened, I have seen the very best in completely strangers. People have offered me their seat on the bus or the rail, have opened doors for me, or have shown me a thousands acts of simple kindness. Their behavior is very touching, though I admit I am not used to it at all. I have been independent and self-reliant for a long time. It embarrasses me a bit to see this outpouring of assistance, mainly because I dislike calling undo attention onto myself. However, I do admit that everything that others have offered unselfishly has been a huge help. A person limping down a busy city street, or boarding a bus, or waiting in a Metro rail station sticks out dramatically and quite unintentionally calls attention to his or her limitations. Based on what had happened before, I believed people would be just as callous towards me as was the driver of the offending vehicle, but the reverse has proven to be true.

It is written,

Live within my love. When you obey me you are living in my love, just as I obey my Father and live in his love. I have told you this to so that you will be filled with joy. Yes, your cup of joy will overflow! I demand that you love each other as much as I love you. And here is how to measure it--there is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.

I suppose I could now complain about how we need to act this way towards each other every day, especially to those who do not have obvious limitations. Yet, if I adopt this attitude, I step right back into the same mindset that I mentioned earlier, one which I usually present to the world like a uniform. Though I would be correct in putting it in that fashion, such an attitude can quickly turn to self-righteousness. I'd rather focus first on other ways of looking at this situation. You see, I have learned through this entire ordeal that if we provide a way for each other to let the best parts of us shine through, most people, I find, will respond with compassion and empathy. This revelation is the most powerful of all.

Here, a familiar story which needs no introduction. Many of us have committed it to memory over the years. Even those who are not people of faith, I have discovered, find little within it to disagree. Forgive me for one more retelling. I personally need to be reminded regularly and consistently of the lessons it teaches, lest I get too caught up in the hustle and bustle of my own busy life.

The man [an expert in the law] wanted to justify his actions, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. By chance a priest came along. But when he saw the man lying there, he crossed to the other side of the road and passed him by. A Temple assistant walked over and looked at him lying there, but he also passed by on the other side. Then a despised Samaritan came along, and when he saw the man, he felt compassion for him.

He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins, telling him, 'Take care of this man. If his bill runs higher than this, I'll pay you the next time I'm here.' Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

Saturday Video

You Have Yet to Win

Forgive my facial expression. I was tired and my leg was hurting.

Passing the Torch: A Challenge to Every Generation

Ed. note.

I originally wrote this on the Feministing Community page, but thought it was worth sharing with a greater audience.
__________

I myself have certainly been frustrated at the institutional resistance towards incorporating young adults into established organizations. On my own blog and on many sites I have voiced no small amount of frustration, citing the same arguments that the consistently disenfranchised always do. In my own activist work, both within my faith group and in political causes, I have found others who cite their same disgust at this problem. However, a recent discussion with someone granted me a new perspective. I hope I carry the insight she gave me throughout the course of my life and never forget it.

The woman I reference is a well-established lawyer who is herself one of those dreaded baby boomers. When I mentioned once again how disgusted I was with older adults who were covetous of their own power, she called me out for something I had said in our conversation, taking my exact words to make her own very pertinent point.

What I had said earlier was this. If you're pushing thirty like me, there's a bit of a temptation to see those in their early twenties and beyond as complete babies. And when you perceive of them in such a fashion, you question their maturity and their intellectual capability, simultaneously seeing yours as superior. This doesn't mean one is right or justified in doing so, but it is an instantaneous judgment call. The part of Washington, DC, where I live is home to lots of college students, and as a result I'm constantly aware that I am no longer in the frame of mind now that I was then. It is easy to be smugly condescending or to make blanket statement that lump all of them in together. These sorts of thoughts aren't especially fair, but they arrive so easily, and it takes a kind of willful diligence to not fall into these sorts of patterns.

My lawyer friend mentioned that this sort of generational conflict is true for everyone and every generation. It may be a supremely narcissistic exercise to think this way, but it underscores the fault lines and conflicted logic our society holds about youth. Youth is to be craved and held onto with a death grip, but possessing an immature kind of naiveté and underdeveloped sense of wisdom and perspective is strongly looked down upon. We also have a tendency to romanticize our youth in certain ways, and to deplore it in others.

Here's another means by which our conceptions of youth versus age manifest themselves in a slightly different fashion. When it came time to select a therapist, I chose a woman who was highly qualified, but I wasn't aware until our first meeting that she was my age. I have to admit that instantly I thought that someone my age couldn't possibly have the life experience necessary to help me in the way I needed, but that is yet another snap judgment of mine that has been proven completely false. I am pleased and humbled to report that she has proven to be the most helpful therapist I could have possibly chosen and this is in large part due to the fact that she and I share a basic frame of reference that someone older simply wouldn't have.

While it certainly isn't fair that institutions and organizations push young adults aside, placate us, or fail to take what we have to say seriously, I think part of the solution is to understand how easy it could be for us to be the very same way in a few decades or so. If we vow to always see the future not as threatening, nor challenging, nor somehow beneath us, then we won't repeat the past. The future isn't always best, but neither is the past. Seeking a balance between our experience and the newest tools designed to advance our causes and the issues we hold dear might be the precise combination of old and new that takes our cause to greater and greater heights.

Distracted Drivers: A Personal Anecdote

Until yesterday, the subject of distracted drivers and their role in pedestrian accidents was merely an abstract annoyance. When I moved to DC, I quite willingly gave up my car and resorted largely to my own two legs to get me where I needed to be. Periodically one hears a horror story here regarding when a jogger, walker, cyclist, or all around fellow human gets mowed down by an inattentive driver. Recently, there have been a handful of similar incidents where people were seriously hurt. I suppose I may have been remiss to not use that information and apply it to my life, but I always justified my inaction by feeling certain that such a thing would never happened to me. Well, never happened yesterday.

Life has a way of throwing you a curveball from time to time. Yesterday I was on my way to the gym, whereupon I was blindsided by a shuttle bus. Traffic accidents are rarely acts of rationality, but what I found so bewildering is how the situation had happened in the first place. The crossing signal light flashed white, clearly indicating that I was safe to proceed, and with plenty of time to spare, no less. Halfway across the road, something made me look over my left shoulder, where I discovered to my horror that the front bumper of a white bus bearing down, mere inches from me. Had it not been traveling directly in my blind side, I might have had time to avoid it a little earlier.

I screamed and put my arms out reflexively to try to avoid being toppled to the ground. The force of the impact pushed me slightly backwards, and I pivoted hard to my right, like a toreador trying to avoid an angry bull. Fortunately, I was successful in my efforts to avoid the full force of the bus, but I planted awkwardly, coming down hard on my right leg. From the instant my leg hit the pavement, I knew I was going to be in trouble. In shock, I limped my way all the way to the other side of the street.

Two separate witnesses kept asking Are you okay? Are you okay?

I mumbled, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. That was all I could manage. And by that I suppose I meant, Well, I'm not bleeding to death.

After pausing all of five whole seconds, the bus driver assumed I wasn't seriously hurt and drove away. Granted, I wasn't crumbled to the pavement, but I wasn't exactly the picture of health, either. I should have immediately called the police, but I was stunned and trying desperately to make sense of what had just happened. I was also angry at the reaction of one of the witnesses, a woman who kept asking, Didn't you see it coming? At what point was it my responsibility? I would have had to be looking well over my left shoulder the whole time, when I was completely focused instead straight in front of me, making it across a roadway. I must have used that same crossing a thousand times before, and it seemed incomprehensible that something so familiar 99.9% percent of the time could have created something like this.

As best I can fathom, the driver was making a left-hand turn from a side road onto the larger avenue upon which I was crossing. Either he ran the light altogether or, the light having changed green, neglected to recognize even with permission to drive, pedestrians have the right of way. After the morning rush clears out, that particular avenue is not especially busy. Perhaps he had gotten into the habit of assuming there would be few people, including pedestrians out and about then. Perhaps he had music turned up too high. Perhaps he was distracted by other people in the shuttle, but in any case, why it happened is not nearly as important as the fact that it did.

I may never know what the driver was thinking. After establishing that I was not immediately visibly hurt, he drove away. It took me a long while to come to my senses. I was in shock and didn't do what I should have done in that instance, which would have been to call the police immediately. By the time I did think to do so, I'd already left the scene of the accident, as had the witnesses. At that point, there was nothing I could do. This is another example of when laws, as they are constructed, really fail us. In a crisis situation, people need an advocate and we must stop seeing ourselves as complete strangers in every circumstance imaginable. We can be strangers to each other most of the time, if we wish, but if the system is ever to work effectively, we can't be standoffish when our engagement and involvement is badly needed.

Had someone recognized that I was clearly incapable of reporting what had happened, they could have easily called the police for me. Don't get me wrong. I recognize that Good Samaritans have never been plentiful, but do allow me the ability to take what happened to me and use it as constructive platform to push even more strongly that we really need to look out for each other. But in the meantime, please don't drive while you talk on the phone unless you're using a hands free setup. Please don't ever make assumptions about the traffic conditions on the roads you drive on a consistent basis. They are subject to change at any time. Please don't perceive of pedestrians, joggers, walkers, and foot traffic as impediments to your getting somewhere and in so doing, lose your patience behind the wheel. We've all had close calls before while driving, and I certainly have, too. It's a miracle there aren't more of them, especially now that we have so many distractions and demands upon our immediate attention.

As for me? I've sustained some ligament damage to my right leg. I hope it isn't anything more serious than a severe sprain or minor tear, but I'm having it checked out in any case. Though I find it a challenge to walk now without considerable pain, it's a chilling thought to contemplate that had any number of factors been different, I might have been seriously injured. I can say that from now on, if I'm driving somewhere, I'll be more attentive and deferent to pedestrians, and you can be damn sure I'll be looking in every direction imaginable when it comes time for me to cross the street--any street.

This Post Was Originally Written on Daily Kos (And What's Wrong with That?)

It is at least interesting to see the latest mainstream media insult circulate liberally across the country, one designed to reduce bloggers to little more than reactive agitprop sensationalists. This week it's "(insert example of ridiculously overblown commentary here) could have been found on Daily Kos". I might take more offense, except when I know the major players frequently fall far short of their own lofty journalistic standards. We've consistently recognized, called out, and sometimes outright mocked op-ed columnists, television commentators, pundits, and members of the fourth estate. We shouldn't expect a mea culpa any time soon. But when we can produce all sorts of facts to prove our point, we can certainly make a strong case on our own behalf. And we can certainly keep sharing our own voices for the benefit of all, unimpeded by what anyone might say.

I find the timing of these fresh assaults a bit suspicious. Recent reports continue to show an undeniable downturn in newspaper circulation, a trend which has been underway for years and one unlikely to cease.

Cape Cod Times posted yesterday a list of the twenty-five leading city newspapers ranked by circulation, under the ominous title "Newspaper circulation in free fall."

1. Wall Street Journal 2,092,523 +0.5%
2. USA Today 1,826,622 -13.58%
3. The New York Times 951,063 -8.47%
4. Los Angeles Times 616,606 -14.74%
5. Washington Post 578,482 -13.06%
6. NY Daily News 535,059 -11.25%
7. New York Post 525,004 -5.94%
8. San Jose Mercury News* 516,701
9. Chicago Tribune 452,145 -9.79%
10. Houston Chronicle 366,578 -13.77%
11. The Philadelphia Inquirer** 356,189
12. The Arizona Republic 351,207 -9.88%
13. Newsday 334,809 -9.07%
14. The Denver Post*** 333,675 N/A
15. Star Tribune, 295,438 -7.71%
16. St. Petersburg Times 278,888 -1.49%
17. Chicago Sun-Times 268,803 -13.88%
18. The Plain Dealer, 267,888 -8.14%
19. The Oregonian 263,600 -1.83%
20. The Seattle Times*** 263.468 N/A
21. Dallas Morning News 260,659 -21.47%
22. Detroit Free Press 252,017 -13.31%
23. San Diego Union-Trib 249,630 -4.45%
24. SF Chronicle 241,330 -22.68%
25. The Star-Ledger, 236,017 -17.79%

Spin, spin to your heart's content, but here is the truth in black and white and red all over. As the saying goes, money doesn't lie, but the people who count it do! The same could go for circulation numbers.

Make no mistake. There will always be a role and a need for citizen journalists, informal insight, and independent media. I myself hold no impressive credentials and my own formal education in the field beyond the Mass Communication classes I took in undergrad is nonexistent. I am primarily and proudly self-taught. My entire publication history is not especially impressive at its face, but that which does bear my byline is of uniformly good quality and I am deeply proud of it. In five solid, steady, persistent years of blogging, I have begun to develop something of a name for myself among a very particular group of people. While I certainly appreciate the attention, I never fool myself into believing that I am anything other a minor voice speaking to a niche audience. Humility serves me well and others who wish to partake have an open invitation to do so at any time.

To return to my classes in journalism, I recall very how many of them required me to adhere to a whole slue of standardized rules and niggling protocols. These guidelines to me were always restrictive rather than empowering or inspiring. When it came time to write a basic lead, I always followed my creative muse first and only grudgingly took style into account. One professor noted that one such sample lead I wrote for his class was so unorthodox and different from the norm that he could never teach it to anyone else. This is no different from the sort of creative expression I see as I peruse the blogosphere, where being true to self and individual leaning is much more important than regimentation.

The diaries on Kos and individual blog posts I have read over the years are rarely beholden to anyone's rules. That is what I find so compelling and liberating about them. As I mentioned above, I developed my own writing style both with the passage of time and also with trial and error. This was far more helpful than anything I ever had to do when seeking to pass a class. Those in the mainstream media might find that remark resembles their professional careers, but they have one notable advantage over you and me. They have the pedigree. They are the blue-bloods. They ascribe to a system like so many others where building connections, rubbing shoulders with the right people, attending the right school, and knowing the password to get into the clubhouse is essential. Nobodies like you and me aren't exactly privy to their world or at least find it a challenge to enter. And it isn't just nobodies who are left out in the cold. This list also includes people of color, women, people raised in working class settings, LGBTs, other minorities, and the list goes on and on.

It's not especially fair, nor especially unbiased, nor particularly objective to make an assumption that every blogger on Kos or otherwise is some strident ideologue with an axe to grind. But, it does fit well into a narrative, particularly with an industry that is secretly and not-so-secretly paranoid about its long-term health. The more flack I get for being a blogger these days, the less likely I am to pay it much mind. The criticism speaks not to us but rather to them.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us--don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

-Emily Dickinson

The World May Never Know

I was reading off of a chord sheet to my left, so forgive me for not looking the camera in the eye more than just sporadically.

Parenting While Feminist

I posted this entry to Feministing's Community section today.

I once dated a woman who had two kids from a previous marriage, both boys. My relationship with men of any age is often challenging, so it was a new experience to be in the constant company of two young men. The older of the two reacted to what had been an emotionally wrenching divorce by adopting the poise and demeanor of a leader. He acted far more maturely than his fourteen years might have lead one to believe and I often saw him as something close to an contemporary. Suffice to say that he and I got along well. His younger brother, however, was a different story altogether. He was definitely all of twelve but also wild, rambunctious, unruly, loud, a discipline problem, and a constant challenge to his mother. Yet, in my company it was clear he wished to impress me and that he craved both my attention and my approval. The ways by which he tried to achieve both of them were frequently inappropriate, of course, but I at least gathered that he desired my attention above anyone else's.

It's funny how relationships work out in reality. When we started dating, my then-partner told me in no uncertain terms that I was not going to be a step-parent. My reservations going in were not that I doubted what she said, but I had learned from past experience that children in their innocence often fail to understand the intentions and arrangements of adults. Having dated a woman with kids once before, I knew that children did not draw sharp distinctions between that which constitutes a parental figure and that which does not. Children live in the moment and when I happened to be in the midst of their moment, I was seen as an adult and thus an authority figure who happened to in a relationship with their mother.

Though I currently don't plan to be a father ever, I will say that when children are around one is forever careful to censor oneself and to be on one's best behavior at all times. This is not always a bad situation upon which to find oneself, especially since I'm often ashamed to think about the vast amount of hurtful things I say during the course of a single day.

I'd like to share one particular anecdote with you that made a lasting impression on me. It might seem prosaic at first, but it turned out to be remarkably powerful. In short, before I bought an electric toothbrush, I used a more classic design. Once I'd finished brushing my teeth, I made a habit of placing my toothbrush on the edge of the basin with the bristles pointed downward, so that they could drain into the sink. Someone told me it's more sanitary this way and so I'd done it in similar fashion for years. One evening a week or so after we'd started dating, I entered the bathroom late one night and noticed that my brush wasn't the only one in this particular position. The youngest had, you see, placed his toothbrush in the identical position to mine, and took care to place it right next to my own.

I began to cry. What I was seeing before me was love personified. This kid, who I often thought of as a hopeless case, who regularly exhausted me with his bad behavior and his crude jokes, and who reminded me regularly of everything I had hated about being a boy---he really looked up to me, even idolized me. It was at this point that I put two and two together and posited a guess about the cause of his conduct. I recognized that he had always lacked a positive male role model and this explained why he was forever acting out.

Though part of me was very touched, part of me also felt exceptionally uncomfortable. In the course of my life, when other men have found me inspiring or have thought of me as a role model, I am forced to confront the tortured contradictions about how I perceive masculinity and how it relates back to me. Conflicted, ambivalent, and confused might be the best ways to describe my feelings about being a man. In the person of a child, I had observed firsthand an embryonic incarnation of that which I had come to despise about Patriarchy. My hatred of Patriarchy was a hatred that worked on several levels: hatred of the abuse, hatred of not ever feeling suitably or acceptably masculine during my own boyhood, hatred of a system which did not understand the choices I made, and hatred of the unwritten rules that all were supposed to follow.

And yet, I had been given a gesture of unconditional love, and from another man, no less.

I felt as though somehow as though I failed this child, as though my own damage did him no favors, and yet he loved me for myself as I was. The experience took each and every one of my prior assumptions and turned them completely upside down. The relationship later ended, but the memory has never left me.

Still, I'm in no hurry to be a father and know I would always have to constantly fight these same feelings if I did. These days, I wonder about all the boys out there starved for a worthwhile male role model or at least a decent guy upon which to base and check their own decisions, and I really question my frustration at the latest awful thing some man or group of men has done.

I'm good at judging. I'm not always so good at understanding.

In Search of a Strong Progressive Response to Tea Parties

During the dark days of the Bush Administration, the collective mood on the Left could not have been more pessimistic and discouraged. Believing ourselves to be utterly ignored and summarily discounted, our anger was palpable and copious. I wonder why we on the Left didn't form a series of spontaneous demonstrations, venting our frustration at a government we saw as illegitimate and destructive. While it is true that protests were plentiful then, no self-proclaimed movement sprung up, one then dutifully covered exhaustively by the media. That we did not resort to Teabagging tactics was itself a very good thing, but I think also that many of us placed complete faith in the mechanization of the system itself. When things began to turn around at long last in 2006 and then, two years later when a compelling candidate articulated our desire for change, we believed that working tirelessly to secure his election was wholly sufficient.

But to return briefly to the dismal days of 2000-2008, it speaks well of us that we didn't resort to barbarism or the politics of rage. It speaks somewhat less well of us that our organizational strategies were scattered and far from coordinated. One can't help but imagine if a whole movement of frustrated Progressives had come together to peacefully protest a tyrannical regime. Would the media have overlooked it, given it not much in the way of airtime and ink, or would we have gotten our greater point across in dramatic fashion? Recently I have wondered if merely working the inside game is enough. Though I recognize that counter-protests have been held to push back against Tea Party demonstration, they appear to be limited in impact for the most part, or at least in how the mainstream media is covering it.

I haven't forgotten the paralyzing cynicism of the Bush days, of course, which led some to throw their hands up and others to become bloggers. There was much in the way of unity in the face of a common enemy, so it wasn't as though our own reaction was negligible or unmeasurable. We, however, decided to act in a more mannerly fashion, though if one surveyed the comments made amongst ourselves, civility and maturity were sometimes in short supply. It would have been interesting, for sure, if we ourselves had been the movement, not the then-Minority Party or candidate himself. Our priorities might have been given additional heft if politicians from a Party out of power had come to us in an effort to court our vote and harness our energy. Certainly there would have been an appalling degree of mutual parasitism involved, but this is true for politics as a whole. In 2006 and 2008 we conducted ourselves with devotion and reverence towards good government following step-by-step all the rules upon which the system is supposed to work, and one could make a strong case that this very same system has now completely failed everyone.

When government proves unable to meet our basic needs, as we believe them to be, to whom do we turn? Our conservative opponents have created Tea Parties. As for us, the establishment of groups like the Coffee Party are a step in the right direction, but they as yet have not proved to be an effective oppositional force to the Teabaggers. If we established our own highly unified and coordinated movement that prodded and nudged Democratic politicians towards the Left, that might be a start. As yet, only the Arkansas Democratic primary Senate race currently pitting Blanche Lincoln against Bill Halter neatly fits this pattern. In it, the base of a Party has attempted to steer a candidate towards the Left instead of the base steering a candidate towards the Right. Moreover, unlike Tea Partiers, Progressives have not drafted their own candidates with the intention that they would deliberately run to the left of Democrats. Thus far, we are in damage control mode, hoping to keep Congressional losses to a bare minimum. I recognize that this comparison does not have uniform application, but it does raise some interesting questions.

I hope we'll learn from the Tea Party in one especially important fashion---not in their crudely rendered signs, prominently displayed firearms, hateful rhetoric, and message of fear, but in their desire to hang together no matter what and in so doing make their voices heard. I find much about the movement loathsome and contemptible, as I'm sure you do too, but one must grant them reluctant kudos that they have staged rally after rally, protest after protest, and have no desire to disband. There a sort of spontaneity present that leads many to sacrifice their weekends or take time off from work, though I do take into account those attenders who are retired and apparently have nothing better to do with their time.

Teabagger gatherings remind me of the kind of isolated super cellular thunderstorms often present in the South, especially during the Summer. They come out of nowhere, rain violently for three or four minutes, and then having expended their energy, dissipate into nothingness. In the aftermath, everything goes back to the way it was before, making one wonder if his or her eyes were playing tricks on them all along. It definitely takes a kind of commitment to be at the ready all the time, particularly when the demands of our lives would make many far less likely to go to the trouble. I think we might consider our own rapid response team, except that instead of catching Republican distortions or policing scurrilous rumors, we might want to let the country, the world, and the Tea Parties know that we are not willing to let them slander our President, our politicians, and the ideals we hold true.

Quote of the Week

People are pretty much alike. It's only that our differences are more susceptible to definition than our similarities.- Linda Ellerbee

Good for a Giggle

Teabonics

(Just watch)