Ms. Magazine Turns 40

I am a feminist. I believe in any initiative that fights for and honors the rights for women. I first became passionate about women’s issues in college, and that is when I started reading Ms. Magazine. There were times when I might have considered myself a feminazi. For those of you that have not heard that term, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as: “an extreme or militant feminist.”

I no longer consider myself a feminazi, I no longer have a shaved head, and I do not talk about women’s issues in every other conversation, but the passion is still deep inside me. I crave equality for all women. I want a world where a woman feels safe, has the right to decide what to do with her body, receives equal pay, is not abused, is not owned, and is not discriminated against. I appreciate the work that The Girl Effect, National Organization of Women (NOW), Girls, Inc, to name a few do to help empower women and young girls to grow up and stay strong women.

Ms. Magazine was created to bring the women’s movement to print, and I think the fact that it is still in print may mean women still need the printed word to inspire and invigorate their daily life. A quote from Gloria Steinem explains a bit of why Ms. Magazine started:

“I realized as a journalist that there really was nothing for women to read that was controlled by women, and this caused me along with a number of other women to start Ms. Magazine.”

So Happy Birthday Ms. Magazine. Kudos to having Wonder Woman on your first cover. Hopefully over the years all the hard work you have put into publishing Ms. Magazine have inspired women to be powerful superheros and badass wonder women!

Motorcycles, Peanut Butter, and Laughter

This Sunday is Father’s Day. I always am a bit nostalgic around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. In some ways it is just another day that passes, but it also always reminds me of all that I miss about my mom and dad. My father and I did not always have the best relationship. In what would be his final years, he struggled a lot and I often felt like the parent in the relationship. There are, however, some good things I do remember about him.

He liked motorcycles, dogs, and peanut butter. He also liked to play.

We played board games together as a family quite often. I think what I loved about playing games most was that I had his undivided attention. Maybe that is a clue into why I tried so hard to learn the rules to the adult games (my brother and sister were older) so I could play any game in our closet and thus not ever be left out. I also remember when I would find him relaxing in his recliner in the family room. He was usually reading National Geographic, or a book or magazine about cars. Growing up his father at one point had a used car lot, and after being exposed to different kinds of cars, he fell in love. When I was in elementary school, I would come bug him, and he would pull out circle word searches, or other word mind games to play together. I would lean over his shoulder while he sat in the recliner to help with finding words. I loved having that 1:1 time with him.

While we did not go on family vacations (because we could not afford it) we did often go camping. My dad was involved in Boy Scouts because of my brother, and we many times went on family campouts with other Boy Scout families. Even though my sister and I were often the only girls, we always had fun and learned a lot. I miss those days. My dad also liked to go on motorcycle rides. Somehow my sister got to go more often. Maybe it was because she was older, or maybe because she was more relaxed on the bike. (I often would forget which way you were supposed to lean and I think that would sometimes freak him out). He loved being out on his bike.

What I miss most about my dad was when he laughed. If he thought something was funny enough, his entire body would shake and his eyes would start to water. Once he started laughing like this, he usually could not stop. I loved seeing his entire body experience the joy of what he found funny. The last movie I saw with him was the Cameron Diaz movie, “There’s Something about Mary.” I had been visiting him over Christmas and we watched it the night before I headed back to college. I remember how hard he was laughing and thus how often the tears were coming out. He died a few weeks later. I never knew that would be the last time I would see him.

Thank you, dad, for the motorcycle rides, and the reminder that I need to play more. It is not always easy, but it is important. We all need to laugh so hard we cry.

Cheerleading, Wax, and Spiders

I have a confession to make. Yes, you may laugh as some folks do when I tell them. Okay, I will just come out and say it: “I was a cheerleader.” Gulp. I said it. Have you stopped reading? No, okay, good. Ready for the rest of the blog that might mention cheerleading?

I just finished reading “It’s Not About the Pom-Poms: How a 40-Year-Old Mom Became the NFL’s Oldest Cheerleader–and Found Hope, Joy, and Inspiration Along the Way” by Laura Vikmanis. At the age of forty, Laura is the oldest NFL cheerleader. When I first heard of her book, the idea intrigued me. How did she do it? How did she make the team, and how did her body handle it? You can find the answers and so much more in her book.

Laura went through a horrible and abusive marriage, and came out stronger, more independent, and in control of her life. It is a must read for anyone that might be in a tough marriage (she gives you a picture of how she made it through her divorce), as well as a view into NFL cheerleading. NFL cheerleading is definitely not as glamorous as it may look on the outside. AND – they make no money at all! Laura was a Cincinnati Bengals (called the Ben-Gals), and the pay was $75 a game. They only cheer at home games (about 10 a season) so that equals $750 a year. They do not get paid for the hours they practice (they spend more time in practice then the football players do). They are not paid for manicures, highlights, hair cuts, waxing, etc. yet they are expected to ALWAYS look perfect on and off-season. Wow. Is it really worth it?

While I did not make note of any specific quotes from her book, I did write down this quote in her section specific to body waxing. As said by Jerry Seinfeld:

“I will never be able to understand how a woman can take boiling hot wax, pour it on her upper thighs, rip the hair by the root, and still be afraid of a spider.” Page 124

I guess I am not that kind of woman because I can handle hot wax and spiders, although I know some men that cannot handle either. From my view of Laura I think she can too.

Do You Feel Heard?

Growing up my dad would often say: “Children should be seen and not heard.” Usually it was when he was grumpy, upset, or angry, but it made a mark on me. I think for many, many years I found it hard to speak up and say what was on my mind. I think in my head, I had replaced “children” with “women.” I saw many boys and men speak their minds and they were listened to, but when I would try to speak up, I felt timid and like my ideas would not be meaningful or have value. So I kept quiet.

Jump from childhood to the middle of college. I was a Sociology major, taking classes on race, class, and gender. I was learning I had a voice. I had shaved my head, I was starting to talk, and it was as though a pipe had burst. I had found my voice. It had only taken me 10-15 years!! I have vowed (thank you Chris for going along with me on this one) that my children will be heard. I will watch that if I have a little girl, that I will hear her just as if I have a little boy. I want my children to be proud of what they have to say, to be bold, and to feel that even if others disagree, that they should still speak their mind.

Sometimes we have those days when we do not feel heard or understood by others. One of my pet peeves is when you are talking to someone and you can tell they are not listening. So when I read the Daily Om from May 24, 2012 I appreciated thinking about the relationships in my life where I feel listened to and understood (unlike as a kid). I specifically like this line:

“When we are in a relationship where we feel listened to and understood, we count ourselves lucky because we know how rare that experience is.”

As I mentioned earlier, it took me many years to be able to stand up for myself and communicate to those close to me how important their presence of active listening meant to me. In my mind, active listening and communication is a form of love. It says I care enough about you that I will be present in this moment and listen to what you have to say and hear what you might need right now.

Fast forward to 2012. I now speak my mind freely, at times possibly too freely. I know I have a voice. I know it matters. I know it should be heard. Is there someone in your life you are not listening to? Someone that needs so earnestly to be heard? Have you taken the time out to listen to them?

A good reminder for us all.

“Homesick For A Place That Never Existed?”

“Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn’t actually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in your mind?” page 103

A quote from the book: “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” by Jenny Lawson. A memoir about her life, at times hilarious, blunt, and sassy. The above quote makes me think of what I often feel. Do you ever go over old memories in your head, sometimes over and over again to see if you still remember the smallest details? I think about things from my childhood that make me nostalgic. Things that made me happy as a kid. Was it my mom’s chocolate chess pie that I LOVED and no longer have the recipe for, but have NEVER been able to recreate. Or, remembering times when we would somehow end up on my parents king size bed laughing and tickling each other. Did that really happen? I know it did, but with so much time that has passed I often wonder, was there one time when that happened, or was it many times that created my memory?

We all have a part of us that sugar coats the bad aspects of life. Often over time we forget the bad parts. The ones that made us cry, or feel horrible about ourselves, or alone. There are times when I make a nice creme brulee shell over the painful parts of my childhood, and others show the raw memories of abuse and abandonment. Which is why I related so much to what Jenny says here:

“He quietly said (as if to himself) that the memories of the places we’d been before were always more golden-tinted in retrospect than they had ever been at the time, and I nodded, surprised that he’d known more than he’d let on. He was right, but I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Was it worse to be homesick for a time that was once home, but now lived only in your own mind … or to be homesick for a place that never really existed at all?” 103-104

I think my homesickness comes as a picture of what I dreamed a family and home life could have been. When I miss my parents and my family together, it is more from telling myself what it would be like to still have parents that are alive. Parents that I can call up when I am having a hard day, or when I needs some words of advice. Honestly though, my parents were never really those kinds of parents. Maybe I feel that way because they passed on when I was so young, that I had to move on with my life without having them fill the roles of advice giver, supporter, and nurturer. In the end, my imagination of what my relationship could have been if they were alive is what makes me homesick.

Does that mean I am “homesick for a place that never really existed at all?”

ah memories: my maroon bike with banana seat!