On being political and believing women

“Stay angry, little Meg,” Mrs Whatsit whispered. “You will need all your anger now.” -- Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Things I want to write about: the way the sun hits the leaves in the afternoon right now, the way the shadows deepen and the nights are cool even as I'm still comfortable in a skirt and sandals while I'm teaching. I wear socks in the house at night now.

I want to write about going out for dinner last night with three people I am lucky to work with and luckier to call my friends, about how we treated ourselves to a restaurant with an absolutely gorgeous view of Puget Sound, the Tacoma skyline, and Mount Rainier. The sky was clear, the sunset soft and lovely over the water. We drank good wine and laughed a lot.

I want to write about the way my kids are bursting to tell me things about their day, still, and about how I know how lucky I am, and how very aware I am of time passing. The years are short. I'm grateful for my children's backseat chatter on the way to Tae Kwon Do and soccer practice, even if it's a rambling story that includes sentences like, "And then he showed me this cat picture, and it was really funny, but I can't really explain it so I guess you have to be there." Middle school stories. I want to write about the way I find my son every morning after breakfast: curled up on his bed reading under a fleece blanket, feet tucked under his bum, one arm clutching a stuffed animal.

And I could. I could just write about these things, and keep this blog pleasant and "not political." But I have a "getting political" tag, and most of those entries have been written since November 2016, even though I've been writing in this little corner of the internet for over ten years now.

A year or so ago, I posted this:

I'm tired of men silencing women. I'm tired of men who say, "Let's move on," when a woman's opinion makes them uncomfortable. I'm tired of men who think they can take up as much space as they want, especially when that space includes a woman's body. I'm tired of men mansplaining motherhood to me. I'm tired of the toxic garbage fires in our government who protect and promote sexual predators while they somehow think they get to claim "morality" and "values." I'm SUPER TIRED of Christians protecting and promoting sexual predators and white supremacists as long as they get the votes they want. I'm tired of men who spend more time nursing their feelings than speaking out and standing up against the status quo.

And I upset someone to the point where we no longer speak; he thought I was picking on men and said, "It goes both ways." (What?) We haven't really spoken since the day after I wrote this. And I am absolutely fine with that. I am perfectly okay with not having a relationship with someone who reads that, immediately centers himself in it, and focuses on his hurt feelings instead of trying to listen. This is a person who, more than once, suggested we just "move on" when I expressed an opinion he didn't want to hear. When he didn't control the narrative.

I am tired of men silencing women.

If you don't want to be political on social media, fine. Share pictures of your kids, your cats, your bathroom remodels. But be political somewhere. Call your representatives, write letters, wave signs, show up at offices, show up at protests, VOTE, help get others registered to vote, engage in dialogue. Somewhere. Read more. Do something. Because when you claim to not be political, you're frankly resting in your own privilege, and we simply do not have time for that. And if you do, if you're that safe, if your life can continue comfortably no matter what the government looks like, then use your power and your privilege and your voice to elevate those on the margins, those who aren't heard, who don't have a place at the table. (I mean, take a good look at that table. Who's not there?) Those of us in that position owe a debt, and we need to pay it. It's long past time to interrupt the narrative and disrupt the status quo. That's not going to happen if men continue to control the narrative and women are told not to speak.

Last night a friend reminded me of a quote from Eve Ensler, from this piece she wrote several years ago but is still horribly relevant:

I am over the passivity of good men. Where the hell are you?

You live with us, make love with us, father us, befriend us, brother us, get nurtured and mothered and eternally supported by us, so why aren’t you standing with us? Why aren’t you driven to the point of madness and action by the rape and humiliation of us?

I'm raising a daughter in Trump's America and I am sick over this every single day and I will not be quiet about it. I am raising a daughter who will likely have fewer rights than I have had and I will not be quiet about it. I've had my babies, and I'm seriously considering having my tubes tied, which seems ridiculous, but I don't think I'd have a lot of options should I wind up pregnant after a rape. This isn't hyperbole. Do you even know how many of my friends have expressed this exact sentiment in the last two years, much less this week? I had no idea, until I said it out loud. The America we live in does not value women and it does not care if women are harassed, assaulted, raped; it only cares if a rape results in a pregnancy a woman doesn't want to carry. Every single one of us knows someone who was raped or assaulted. And if you don't know it, there's a reason. Look at what we do to women who try to come forward. Most of us don't, because we know it won't matter.

I. Am. Tired. Of. Men. Silencing. Women. And I am tired of their complicity and complacency when we need them to be, yes, driven to the point of madness and action for us.

I'm tired of writing the same things.

November 12, 2016: When a woman is out for a jog and a man hollers out the window that he wants to grab her by the pussy, it's not that it's a frightening, invasive thing to say, although it is: it's that he's quoting our president-elect.

November 16, 2016: Last night I could not fall asleep, which is becoming my new normal, unless I take Tylenol PM. I swung between fury and terror. I've had horrible dreams about keeping my children safe. And my children will be among the "safe"; they are white, raised by two white, straight, "Christian" parents. (Is it any wonder that I put "Christian" in quotes? I'm really struggling with that one.) No one has threatened to come after them, although I absolutely worry about raising a daughter in a world in which our Commander-in-Chief objectifies women ("Not a 10!") and normalizes tearing them down and assaulting them.

November 11, 2017: I look at the predatory white supremacist rapist monster sitting in the oval office and I think about people who will vote for him again in a few years and I think about how I do not want any of those people anywhere near my life or my family or my students or my stories. What a mirror we held up to ourselves almost exactly one year ago, and what an ugly reflection. We have to do better. We have so much work to do.

I'm so tired of writing the same fucking thing here. I'm not saying anything new. I'm so sick of it, so disheartened.

Since the last time I posted, someone I once respected used the term "witch hunt" to refer to women coming forward with stories of sexual assault, sexual harassment, or predatory behavior by men. Anyone holding that opinion, by the way, is cordially invited to show themselves out. I can't stop you from reading my blog, I know that, but please go away anyhow. Unfollow. Unfriend. You don't want to read anything I have to say.

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I am married to a man I love and we are raising a boy, and we absolutely must raise a different sort of man than this America expects him to be. This doesn't happen by trusting that because we vote the right way, or because we love him enough, or because we go to church, or because he is a "good kid" raised with quality role models in his life he will somehow transcend the toxic masculinity embedded in the very fabric of our country.

I don't want anyone near my life who isn't willing to wrestle with that statement.

I'm terrified because I do not know how to do this work well enough, and I don't have the answers, but dammit, this shit needs to change.

Complacency terrifies me. It also makes me angry. I'm really angry these days.

And I'm just tired.

I'm tired. Of men. Silencing. Women.

In case I haven't been clear: I believe women. I believe Dr. Ford. And I believe that most of America believes Dr. Ford, no matter what they say about Kavanaugh's "character." I just don't believe that most of America cares. At least not the America that elected a sexual predator to the highest office in the land. In this America, Brock Turners become Brett Kavanaughs. It's hard to be hopeful.

And in case I haven't been clear: I don't really want anyone near my life who doesn't believe women. And people who are too privileged to be political do not deserve access to my stories.