A Few Thoughts On Feminism...But Certainly Not My Last

Movies like Mona Lisa Smile or Pleasantville satirize life in the 50’s when women actually cooked for their families and the men came home from work through a white picket fence with happy children on the porch to greet him. Today most of us scoff at this historical picture and criticize this seemingly oppressive, traditional way of life but others are nostalgic for the past and still start their sentences with, “Back in the good ‘ol days…” I am one of those people.

Never having lived in “the good ‘ol days” myself, you might wonder how I could be so complimentary. I mean, look at the opportunities I have now as a woman compared to the cards I would have been dealt had I been a pre-feminism American woman. The truth is, though I don’t have firsthand experience living in any generation but my own, somehow the memory of a time untainted by the current reality lingers among the social consciousness of a quickly fading generation- our grandparents.


It would take hours to outline the changes that have occurred over the past century in terms of family and social mores. But my biggest concern is the role that women play today as result of drastic changes throughout the decades and how these changes are affecting the most important facet of human culture--the family. It would be foolish to say that feminism hasn’t positively impacted our world as I personally have benefitted from the greater freedoms I possess because of the success of the Women’s Rights Movement—freedoms my Nana didn’t necessarily have when she was a young woman, a wife and a mother.


But I would like to challenge women in their 20’s and 30’s to think critically about the departure from being the women our grandmothers were. For all their faults, they didn’t raise a population of children with a 32% obesity rate. They didn’t raise children that had a 1 in 8 chance of being clinically depressed. We currently live in a world where six million American children are taking psychiatric drugs. Six million. This is just a glimpse of the grim reality we are facing and it’s only getting worse. I can personally attest to the state of today's youth as I work with children of all ages on a daily basis. And it is the rule not the exception that children rarely play outside but instead spend hours in front of the television and with video games. Many battle dark, hidden demons at home that exhaust their fragile emotional and psychological well-beings. With a 50% divorce rate, kids are the victims of their parent's faults and failures and after the storm, are left to make sense of the rubble.



Yet, ironically, the last two decades have been marked by more social “progress” than ever before. And despite the fact that we keep insisting that change and progress is what we need (we voted for it), the future looks very unpromising to say the least. Never have I understood the full magnitude of our failures as a society until I started working in education. And the sad reality is we are failing our kids miserably.

It would be intellectually negligent to overlook the role that women have played in this mess. Yes, I know how politically incorrect it is to suggest anything which contradicts the notion that men are ruining the world, but if we are honest with ourselves, we carry a great deal of the blame. And on a side note, we birthed and raised those men.

The first mistake we made was buying into the idea that being a “housewife” was some form of oppression. Becoming a stay-at-home mom became an ostensibly insufficient aspiration. So, mesmerized by the promise that by throwing off the domestics shackles and climbing the corporate ladder, we could experience true femininity and fulfillment, we set off with our suits and briefcases in the pursuit of our new fairytale.

And despite the praises feminists will sing in regards to all this newfound “liberty” and the advancements that have been made for women, we still are left utterly unsatisfied. Study after study shows that more American women are clinically depressed now than ever before. We are CEO’s for the corporate world, chefs and chauffeurs for our kids, lovers for our husbands and slaves to our bosses--all the things we wanted, our cake and to eat it too, and yet, we're miserable.

Many view this in a completely different light, marveling at the juggling women have managed to do. And, don’t get me wrong, there are many amazing women in my life who do this every day and are great at it. But in the whole scheme of things, children inevitably pay for it.

With dad and mom at work every day, the littlest members of our society are dropped off at the local day care where a stranger being paid minimum wage is entrusted with their care all day. Idle hands are the devils playground for junior high and high school kids who typically have no supervision or structure in the afternoons and resort to hours of television, violent video games or illicit activity. Family dinner is practically a relic of the past. Mom barely has time to eat herself all day much less prepare a healthy meal for her family after working 12 hours. McDonald’s and frozen pizza dominate the weekly dinner menus and after dinner, we all have far too much texting and internet surfing to do to sit down and enjoy a conversation with one another.

So while I am a feminist by default, enjoying my freedom to choose my destiny in ways that my female ancestors could not, I can't ignore that progress for women had detrimental effects on children and even ourselves.

I don’t have kids yet but I can guarantee that when I do, they will experience sitting around a dinner table as a family, enjoying a healthy meal and expressing the joys and frustrations of their day. And if I am fortunate enough to stay at home when they are young, as many women understandably are not, I would leave any glamorous job in heartbeat to make certain that I could attend every piano recital, every awards ceremony and be there with a hug in times of heartbreak.

I don’t know what the solution is to all this madness. I feel helpless as a witness to some of the greatest atrocities done to children that you can imagine. I know fully well how cruel and lonely and painful this world can be for too many kids who should be dreaming up their own fairytales, not looking for a way out.

3 Years of Wisdom

3 Years of Wisdom

I have attended the most prestigious debate institutions in the county, received an exceptional education, read all the thought provoking philosophical literature that makes your head spin, and it is because of all of these experiences that I find it so ironic that it was brushing my teeth tonight in my pajamas and reflecting on my evening with the Lewis kids, that I had the most poignant epiphany, an epiphany derived from the simple words of a three year old.

“Where’s my ‘mess’?” she lovingly asks.

Her “mess” as she calls it, is this special spot on her beloved blankie that she takes just about everywhere she can. It’s a spot along one edge, where the fabric has torn and ripped a small hole. It is worn in every sense of the word—it bears her life… chocolate milk stains, paint and glue from arts and crafts, a little stickiness from a popsicle…

And yet, this is the spot she favors above all others. The most seemingly imperfect part of the whole. Her mess.

Sometimes I think that kids have a lot more to teach us than we have to teach them, about life, about love, about challenges. When do we become disenchanted by life? When does the magic disappear and can we ever get it back? At first glance I might look at the same blanket and see something that only used to be a pristine vintage fabric that likely cost a pretty penny.

But Millie adores this tattered blanket so much. It’s worn and dirty now and this only adds to its allure; she wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s comfortable. It’s real. It’s hers. And her favorite part is the one we as adults might rush to sew and fix—the mess. Maybe we should all relish in our own messes a little more… I am reminded of a song lyric… “What a beautiful mess I’m in”…………

The Best Worst Decision Ever Made

“…One of my favorite movie lines is from the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun. After enduring a painful divorce, Frances, the lead character, escapes her chaotic, American, city lifestyle and takes a spontaneous leisure trip to Italy. Despite the fact that she is emotionally in turmoil, her life is beginning to bloom. While visiting the Tuscan countryside, much to her own surprise, she finds herself considering the purchase of an old, rustic villa with enormous charm and potential. Katherine, a lovely and vivacious Italian woman she has befriended says, tempting, “It’s a nice little villa… are you going to buy it?” to which Frances replies, “The way my life is currently going, that would be a terrible idea.”

Katherine’s response is simple yet profound: “Terrible idea…Don’t you just love those?”

…I too, had a terrible idea once: I had just started living with a man I was in love with and just when things started getting serious between us, I decided that I desperately wanted to get a puppy. As an attempt to persuade him I would stalk the online classifieds “just to look” and once I found a face that I thought would surely be irresistible, I would show him the picture as I “ooed and awwed” hoping my own sad puppy face would change his mind. Of course, it didn’t. And that’s just one reason I love the man. But I digress…

It wasn’t long before my terrible idea was shared by even Mr. Sensible himself.
Weeks later, after a ridiculous, albeit dramatic argument of some sort, Bryan randomly and suddenly decided that now, of all times, was the right time to get a puppy. A small ad in the local newspaper advertised a litter of puppies just seven weeks old, living in some house in a bad neighborhood on the other side of town. It appeared as if Mr. Sensible had gotten a little soft on me. I wasn’t sure if it was the few beers he had consumed earlier or just really bad judgment, but I didn’t care—we were finally going to get a dog!

I should probably interrupt the story for a moment to share one very important detail. You see, it wasn’t just any dog we were on our way to adopting. We had had the discussion a few times prior and Bryan made it clear that if we were to ever get a dog, it would have to be a “Pit Bull.” His ardent love for the breed was, at the time, impossible for me to understand. As many people can attest, just the name “Pit Bull” conjures up disturbing images of a snarling, vicious beast trying to break free of its silver chain and collar laden with spikes to ruthlessly attack anyone passing by, with a particular preference for small unsuspecting children. It seemed like an everyday occurrence that the news would reveal the latest death-of-child-by-dog tragedy and, of course, all of these stories would predominately involve a “Pit Bull.” Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled with his choice in breed but I knew that it was either a Pit Bull puppy or no puppy at all.

The long drive to see the puppies was a sobering one…just enough time to really think things through. Where will it even sleep? Who will take care of it when we are at work? What do we feed it tonight since all the pet stores are closed by now? Is our house even puppy proof? What if our relationship doesn’t work out? Who will have custody? Is there such a thing? Can we afford it? Where will it sleep? What about our trip to Texas next month? Where will the puppy go then?

The initial excitement began to lose its momentum when reality set in—we were totally unprepared for such a huge commitment. But by then, it was too late for any second guessing. There we were, parked on the curb of a small, ghetto, downright frightening house on a poorly lit street. “Beware of Dog” a sign read in the window. Great. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What the HELL are we doing here?”

We walked in and were immediately surrounded by wobbly-legged little puppies. The family seemed nice enough as they proudly showed off the enormously muscular parents who were less than pleased to see us enter the home. Their intimidating barks fed my suspicions about the kind of dog these puppies might grow up to be. The puppies came with papers proving their “American Pit Bull Terrier” lineage. But all of this was pretty meaningless to me when my eyes fell on a chocolate colored baby with a white chest and green eyes that made me melt. “That one,” I said. Bryan pointed out a few others he thought we should consider but I insisted. That one.

That was all cute and great until five minutes later, we are back in the car together, only this time, there was a living, breathing, hopefully not pooping puppy in my lap that now depended on us for survival. I was excited and scared all at the same time and had no idea what was in store for Bryan, me and the unnamed puppy. But that’s the way life always goes, I guess. Each moment, each experience, each decision might carry with it, life changing power.

There is no doubt about it. That little puppy was the cutest darn thing most people had ever seen. My dear friends, The Lewis family, were the first to see our new baby. We all sat on the floor of their living room and admired her while the kids squeezed her and giggled. I wouldn’t have traded that sight for the best seats at the hottest, latest show. It’s amazing how much joy the simple things in life can bring.

You know when you try to name a pet and everyone involved shouts out possibilities to try them on for size? Fluffy, Patches, Max, Cookie….until finally, one of them sounds just right. In our case, it was as if the name had already been chosen somewhere up above because without much thought or hesitation, Victor, a sweet, insightful 7-year old decided to offer the first choice of the night. “Hey….What about……… Grace??”

The name Grace means “blessing.” I loved the irony of it- a sweet and delicate, feminine name for a puppy whose breed bore much controversy. That night, Grace the Pit Bull was born.

I joked and told Bryan that after having Gracie for just a week that I now knew what it feels like to love someone who is discriminated against by society — people in biracial marriages or having a loved one who is gay. You constantly have to justify and defend your love and acceptance which was so hurtful to me because all that love and adoration just came so naturally to me. “If you only knew…” I would think to myself.
Once, at an outdoor, dog-friendly mall, an older couple approached me to admire Gracie who was excitedly wagging her tail and anxious to plant them with kisses. They complimented her for her adorable looks and inquired about her breed. I proudly told them that she was an American Pit Bull Terrier and an immediate look of disgust and judgment swept across their faces. “Why?” the cantankerous old man asked indignantly.

That comment actually made my heart hurt, not just because he had insulted a dog that means the world to me but because his attitude seemed heartless considering all the unconditional love that Gracie just wanted to give everyone. I thought about the way Gracie lays on my feet when I wash dishes and how she follows me around the house everywhere I go. I thought about the way her tail wags so fast with sheer excitement when she sees kids that it seems like it could fall off. I thought about the time when, during a quiet moment alone, I sat on the floor sobbing after an awful day and the way the usually rambunctious Gracie calmly came and curled up in my lap, licked me softly all over my face, and sighed as she rested her head on my leg and somehow, instantly made me feel better.



Gracie isn't the wrinkly little puppy anymore that used to fit in my arms. Her once soft and new pads of her paws are now calloused from all the rough housing and running around in the mud and dirt chasing birds and flies and her own tail. But everyday sheds light on a new and adoring facets of her personality and I often wonder how empty our lives would feel without her. She wakes me with a thousand kisses and can't help but rest her front paws over the tub when I am taking a bath, playfully trying to eat all my bubbles. She has brought so much joy to our home and I day never goes by that she doesn't makes us laugh or smile. Gracie adores kids and views everyone walking down the street as a potential friend. She showers everyone with kisses, loves her toys and sometimes will talk and whine back to the squeaky ones. She will fake a squat to get a treat for going pee outside. She lies on my feet when I wash dishes and follows me around the house everywhere I go. She growls and barks at the broom and tries to bite air coming from the blow drier.


Unfortunately, I don’t have a grand finale ending to this story. I would like to be able to say that Gracie defied all critics of her breed and saved seven drowning children or pulled me out of a fire or became famous. But she didn’t. Well, not yet at least. But she is famous in our family and I, of course, am her biggest fan. But she is acquiring quite a fan club from the kids she chases in our neighborhood and the other dogs she has befriended at the park.



When a poodle attacks a child, we never hear about it. It’s the same reason we never hear about the successes in Iraq or the death of a homeless person—none of those events are “newsworthy.” But if a “Pit Bull” has bitten someone, or anything that even remotely resembles an APBT you can be sure it will be a headline story. Sensationized journalism has many consequences. I simply wrote this story not because there aren't enough "good" stories about pitbulls but because she good stories are rarely told or heard. And it is a shame because I think about how passionate I am about a breed I almost never gave a chance and how many others might miss out too. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is a trite maxim that we all hear but never manage to actually live by. My ignorance could have cost me the most incredible experience. And ignorance is causing an entire breed of dog to bare a stereotype that couldn't be farther from the truth. Pitbulls have endured some of the most horrific injustices from forced dog fighting, abandonment and abuse. Shelters are full of them and an inaccurate reputation seals their fate. Many of them will never know the love that Gracie does and returns ten fold.


So this post is dedicated to my sweet, Gracie...strong, loving and fiercely loyal….just like her dad.

Magic Day

August 11th was not an ordinary Tuesday. It's ironic that a day that began horribly ended with me writing now from my cozy bed with a complete sense of fulfillment and peace. And it was because of everything that happened in between then and now that caused my dear friend Monica and I to call it "Magic Day."

And maybe I am guilty of naively embracing the "glass is half full" mentality, but I genuinely consider this morning's upset, proof that everything really does happen for a reason. If my life's story had a title, that saying would be it.

So there I was leaving the work parking lot in tears at 9:30 in the morning, headed home. And despite my hurt and distress, I kind of got the same feeling I had when my sister and I were dreading another schoool day at Salpointe only to arrive with teachers lined up around the school flagging everyone to turn around and go home--the electricity was out. You know, it's the feeling you can get playing hooky if you can overcome the guilt, when, on a Tuesday, you find yourself in your pajama's on the couch watching morning shows on T.V. you never knew exisited. Days that are filled with this enormous sense of possibility!

After working off my emotional energy by scrubbing down the bath tub and getting some other stuff done around the house, I decided to make lemonade out of lemons with my day. And lemonade was what I got.

I took the opportunity to spend some time with a girlfriend who has sadly been neglected as a result of my working all the time. I got to hold and kiss Millie Moo when I picked up Monica and delight in the way her little nose wrinkles and her eyes sparkle when she smiles. We had afternoon tea at Chantilly which I happened to have a buy one get one coupon for, I got my make-up done at MAC for free and bought amazing products all with a giftcard which was extra magical because I didn't have to spend a penny. I got a new beautiful shirt with ruffles that made me smile and a matching silk headband at the Limited for $10. Everything I wanted just happened to be on sale. That never happens! (If you're wondering how I managed to get so much stuff for so little, stay tuned! The magic of savings and coupons and shopping deals and tips will be outlined in a future post!) I got a free panty at Victoria's Secret, I put a quarter in a bubblegum machine and got TWO gumballs. I sat in a massage chair for a dollar, tried on sparkly rings, (you know, "just in case") and learned more than I could have imagined about diamonds. Oh, and to top it off, the "umbrella woman" was sipping tea by herself in the tea room in a red and black victorian gown with satin gloves! Anyone who has lived on the Northwest side of Tucson for a few years knows exactly who I am talking about. And finally, indulged in a fabulous cup of ice cream from Swenson's. Not to mention, the gut-busting laughter shared between the two of us all day.

Re-reading the last paragraph, I realize, it really doesn't seem all that magical. But trust me, you just had to be there.

The truth is, there is magic in every single day if we would just stop to take time to notice it. I found out all the stuff that we miss when we are at work. Of course, I am not proposing that we should all quit our day jobs and head for the mall. Lord knows, in this economy, we are lucky to have any job much less one we are passionate about. But, if it is any consolation, if you happen to become another unemployed statistic for Obama to worry about, have faith that there are great things that can come your way that money could never buy. So while we all wait out this economy, let's go for more walks when another beautiful Arizona morning comes our way. Visit your local library and curl up on the couch with a book that inspires you. Play with your kids, check things off your to-do list, reorganize and simplify your life. None of these things cost money. And be thankful for the people in our lives who make us laugh. Because at the end of the day, what else really matters? Afterall, I work to live, not the other way around.

My Beginning in Blogdom

It occurred to me in the shower today, of all places, that I am constantly musing to myself about various topics, arguments, ideas...my mind is always on a million things at once. As a child, I was likened to a "Chatty Kathy", certainly an appropriate title for a young girl who never ran out of things to say.

By now we are all familiar with Facebook, MySpace and of course, the new up and coming rage Twitter (which, quite frankly I STILL don't understand.) I have tried my hand at all of these outlets, namely to stay in touch, share photos, etc. But after awhile Facebook was bombarded by commercialism and I guess as a college student, it served its purpose but nowadays I find myself irritated by the "green patch requests" and "Which celebrity are you?" quizzes or "Join our 'We Hate Taco Bell' Club." And in all honesty, what am I really accomplishing by accumulating hundreds of "friends" who I really don't know on any real level and then signing on to hear on a "news feed" about all of their drunk debaucheries or latest "status" updates?

If I am speaking Chinese to you, fear not. ( I can imagine my mother wondering to herself, "What in the hell is a green patch request?") The good news is, you don't have to know all the internet lingo to participate in my latest endevor. Here you will find straight talk on a variety of topics from recipes to my latest political rant. Even if no one but my mom and dad and sister cares what I have to say, which is highly likely, I hope that this serves as an outlet for me to express whatever it is that is on my mind. And believe me, it's a circus up there--NOTHING is off limits.

You will no doubt learn more than you ever wanted to know about the truth about the American Pit Bull Terrier (my sweet puppy Grace would no doubt be the star of that article) or you might discover 10 tried and true recipes that will WOW any dinner guests. You will likely hear my opinion on anything and everything from child rearing to Walmart, from border security to tips on obtaining a better wardrobe. I am no expert but hopefully this blog will entertain you or inform you and I hope to in turn, be enlightened and inspired by your comments.

This first post is dedicated to my sweet, albeit disgruntled Bryan who, for the life of him, cannot figure out why on earth I want to start "blogging." But then again, I cannot figure out why on earth anyone would want to drive all the way to El Paso on a Harley with no shocks in 110 degree weather. Hence the saying, "To each, his own."

Bye for now.