Rediscovering Respect

My computer sat, perched on top of my counter, alone, for an entire week. I looked at her occasionally, wondering if pressing her buttons would resolve the ache in my gut. I decided to let her hover alone.

I didn't feel like writing. I didn't feel like letting go of my short story rejection letter, or our two failed condo contract prospects, or the house we lost and can't seem to replace.

And I certainly didn't feel like tackling Rush Limbaugh's effort to label Sandra Fluke a slut simply because she advocated for women's health coverage, or Glenn Grothman's mission to label single parenthood as child abuse, or Rick Santorum's assertion that "we are seeing the fabric of our country falling apart because of single moms."

I have opinions--strong ones--but I was stunned, speechless, disoriented by my realization that the decade currently cradling me in its weak, feeble arms, is one that doesn't actually boast much progress beyond the misogynistic views women have fought so hard to dispel for the last one-hundred years.

Of course I take solace in the fact that not everyone feels this way. My husband doesn't. My family doesn't. Most of the people around me don't. But the people who do are not a small population of dissenters, like I once believed. After all, when those who have been in office, are in office now, or are currently running for office all make public statements that seem to be generally offensive, it leads me to believe they are not alone. They represent a lot of people.

This scares me--quite a bit.

I know the economy is important, but right now, I care more about the issues politicians are trying to toss aside. All of these issues are entangled, and even if they are not important to the men speaking about them, they are important to me. I cannot look beyond the acidic rhetoric and the damaging subtext. I cannot look beyond the progress women have fought to foster for so many years. I cannot wrap my arms around how any of this can be okay.

I know we are desperate and looking for people to blame, but this is absurd. The last time I checked, women do not choose to have intense menstrual cramps, they are not wholly responsible for conception, and they are not flawed, monstrous beings because they are the responsible individuals who stay to raise the children fathers leave behind.

We have problems, yes. We have trends, yes. We have strong beliefs, yes. But it is not okay to wage unsubstantiated attacks on women and tuck those attacks under the safe haven of "preserving religious freedom," or say that statistics support the notion that single moms are to blame for the "ruination" of our country.

Let's stop pointing fingers. Let's stop looking for someone to blame, and let's look for some way to fix what's wrong. Let's get serious about welfare reform. Let's change it; let's make people accountable. Let's find jobs. Let's clean up the streets. Let's stop making it more lucrative to collect welfare checks than it is to earn minimum wage. Let's stop ignoring the fact that poverty (which also includes hunger and issues of safety)--more than tests, more than teachers, more than anything--impacts a child's ability to learn and to succeed in school. Let's figure out how to make a "real" paycheck more attractive than drug trafficking. Let's reincarnate the notion of "the village" and remove the litigation that prevents that village from doing its part to "raise its kids." Let's re-instill manners, and responsibility, and self-discipline, and ethics. Let's empower people to empower themselves.

But more than anything, let's stop finding scapegoats. Let's stop pointing fingers. Let's stop puncturing one another with sharp, vicious swords. Instead, let's work together to stand on top of these rocks, gaze out into this rough, beautiful ocean of life, and find a way to rediscover respect.

War on Women

I really try to keep my blog fairly apolitical.

Try as I might to avoid politics, I realize it's inevitable that some of my beliefs will seep into my writing. It's inevitable because sometimes--like on nights like tonight--those beliefs literally set my fingers on fire.

When I sat to write today's entry, I made a valiant effort to hopscotch down a few paths. All of those attempts either resulted in a blinking cursor or a tangent related to the recent legislation President Obama supported.

And so tonight, politics it will be. Please know that I realize this is a horrendously dangerous topic to tackle, and I am sorry if I offend you. If you don't share my political beliefs, I beg you to please stop reading now. I beg you to forgive my brief indulgence. I beg you to return tomorrow when I will tackle something far less divisive. For now though, my brain is in desperate need of venting.

On Sundays, when J has to work through the morning lineup of political talk shows, we DVR them so we can watch them together. He was on all weekend, so our dinner tonight happened to be serenaded by the blatherings of David Gregory and Fareed Zakaria, complete with interviews and round table discussions with Newt Gingrich, Michael Bloomberg, Mitch Daniels, Deval Patrick, Xavier Becerra, Rachel Maddow, David Brooks, Alex Castellanos and David Remnik.

As you can imagine, the discussions were red hot.

Before I dive into my venting, I'd like to preface my entry by saying that I appreciate hearing arguments even if I disagree with them. I love how they make me think and I love the bickering and debating which invariably manifests from tossing strong-willed, fairly articulate and fundamentally different people into the same conversation.

Not only do I love it, J loves it too, and we love it even more when we get to watch it together. In fact, we live for our Sunday morning vacation from chores or work, because it gives us the chance to solidify what we think, to challenge what we previously believed, or to consider issues for which we have absolutely no opinion. And I especially love when J pauses the show, when we fill our quiet condo with talk about the absurdity or the brilliance of the words we are hearing.

Tonight, when they talked about the war on religion President Obama waged when he demanded that insurance plans cover contraception, I tried to maintain an open mind, but I felt my internal thermostat continue to rise. My cheeks flushed, my stomach churned, my palms filled with puddles of sweat.

"You're scaring me," J said as he watched me curl my legs beneath my butt, and nervously swap one fingernail for another, chewing like a deranged drug addict.

"I can't believe what they're saying. I am teaching the civil rights movement right now. I'm discussing inequality in class, and I'm listening to an educated person tonight--a person whose words, if reapplied, could conceivably appear on the history pages we are reading."

"I know," he said back to me, staring with the same disbelief.

"I had to pay $80 for birth control when I was in grad school. After college, when I stopped playing competitive sports, my body waged war on me. I was in tremendous pain one week, every single month. When my doctor prescribed birth control, she changed my life. I could function; I felt human. If some of these men who see birth control as a war on religion actually felt what some women feel each month, this would not be an issue. I wasn't preventing birth when I was working 18 hours a day to become a teacher. I was spending $80 a month just so I could get out of bed and function in my job. It was absurd for me to spend that much money, but I went to a small college who took part in a graduate school insurance consortium, and no matter who I complained to, they wouldn't cover it. Viagra--yes. Birth control--no."

J nodded his head.

"They are waging a war on women!"

Breathe.

"I understand that the Catholic church does not believe in birth control. I understand that the Catholic church has firm standards and rigid rules. I understand all of this because I am Catholic. And I don't believe the actual church should have to pay for a policy that funds something they bitterly oppose.

BUT...

The actual church does not have to follow these laws. The affiliated businesses, on the other hand, should. I recognize Catholic organizations provide charity, but so do a lot of secular businesses and those businesses are not exempt from following laws for which they disagree.

Breathe again.

"And I can't believe Newt Gingrich is leading the charge on this. What about the the affairs he's pursued or the adultery he's committed or the wives he hasn't stayed with when they were sick? His decisions have been anything but Christian exemplars. And now, he asserts a pious position?! A war on religion? In a secular society?

We finally have legislation that takes women's health into consideration and it's being twisted into a war on religion. I wonder what the bishops he is quoting have to say about his lifestyle. You have got to be kidding me."

J sat nodding, listening.

"A lot of people agree with him," he said.

I strained for air. I tried to imagine how. I really did. But I couldn't.

When I heard the NPR story declaring that women would get their birth control covered by insurance, I actually squealed. I sat up higher in the driver's seat. I felt like my nation was moving forward. The economy might still be rotten, some of our minorities are still facing discrimination, and poverty is out of control, but this....this gave me a light of hope.

This made me believe I mattered. This made me believe that the fight I started fighting in grad school mattered. The letters I wrote, the "managers" I spoke to, the people who had to listen to me complain about the injustice of their prescription coverage--they were all in the past. And this was the future, a future where women--no matter where they happen to work--would have the right to the drugs they need (yes, it is hard to find jobs these days so healthcare workers in Catholic hospitals or teachers in Catholic schools might have to work there even if they aren't religious).

Yep, silly, naive ole me thought that maybe, just maybe, we finally reached the point where women no longer had to feel dirty when they picked up their prescription, or had to deal with doubts when they mailed doctors notes to complaint departments, or worse yet--had to make the horrible choice between food and pain.

Setting the Record Straight

Herman Cain said he was “going to set the record straight now that somebody’s publically detailed an alleged incident of sexual misbehavior” and last night on Jimmy Kimmel, he asserted that “he’ll fight the latest harassment allegations head on because there’s not an ounce of truth to it.”

The fact he is speaking now, rather than last week, leads me to wonder if there was “an ounce of truth” in the other allegations—or at least documentation to substantiate unacceptable behavior, documentation he was hoping ghost accusers were unwilling to share with the public in a detailed, personal manner.

Now that voters can put a face with a story—a story which carries with it absolutely zero proof—does Herman Cain now feel he has a platform to speak out? Why were the previous settlements—accusations where some fault was acknowledged—completely disregarded? If he’s so utterly innocent, why not expose the terms of the agreement? Why not make himself transparent before a society who will ascertain the details whether he gives them or not?

If he wants to win the election, he will have to eventually come clean. While in some ways I applaud his desire to “stay on message,” I think a large part of his message must demonstrate integrity—a quality that is slipping away from leaders and role models alike.

If Herman Cain is truly an upstanding, respectable man, he needs to show us. Voters need to know who they are electing because we’ve been regularly disappointed by hollow facades. Lies flood the newswire until extra-marital affairs are unmasked by the prevalence of proof. People we came to trust bribe, threaten and promise luxurious opportunities to those who keep their secrets—that is until the media promises their secret-keepers more.

The media feasts on scandal like frenzied sharks because its audience demands and devours it. The exacerbation of suspicion sells magazines and advertising space, and the public consumes it as readily it consumes candy bars and big macs.

As much as I doubt Cain’s proclamation of innocence, my suspicion of the media generates a little bit of doubt regarding the allegations. Stories can easily spin out of control and venomous rumors can obliterate good reputations in a heartbeat. And because it is so easy to steal a few moments of fame, sensationalism often crowds out the integrity of truth. People are so bent on becoming “famous” or “heard” or “visible,” they choose to violate any honorable code of conduct in an effort to steal the spotlight. Perhaps these allegations stem from a deliberate effort to destroy him rather than reveal his character; perhaps they’ve been planted; perhaps the media made more of it than it should have—but perhaps not. After all, in this situation, all but one of the victims are remaining silent; all but one are spreading their message without seeking fame.

The fact the first three women didn’t want the spotlight leads me to wonder if there is something more at stake. I suppose it could be what Cain suggests—a democratic ploy to destroy his ratings. Or it could also be that they are good, moral women who want the world to know this leader is another dirty scoundrel. Perhaps the latest subject of these attacks, Sharon Bialek, is right—perhaps Cain sees nothing wrong with what he did. Perhaps he cannot admit wrongdoing because he doesn't understand that his behavior was, in fact, inappropriate.

Regardless, I keep coming back to the same conclusion—if Herman Cain has nothing to hide, then he needs to say more than “there isn’t an ounce of truth” to the allegations. He needs to own up to what happened, what was decided and why he settled. Did it happen because it was cheaper than fighting? Or did he settle because he violated the law? It’s going to come out one way or another. He can be a big person now, or he can cower later—or worse yet, if he really is innocent, he can look back and wish he would of shared the truth.