Lying is a tricky thing. When we lie, it’s rarely just once or just a little “white” thing, because lies are ravenous – they require sustenance or else they threaten to blow up and expose you. Lies are greedy and once you get started, you either have to go big or go home. I’m going to say that Florida’s Lieutenant Governor, Jennifer Carroll, was lying about something when she was caught allegedly engaging in inappropriate intimate behavior with a female coworker. Carroll went big. Too big, really. In her own defense, Carroll basically told the media that she’s simply too fine and too married to be a lesbian. No really.
Pro-choice advocates all over can breathe a tepid sigh of relief. U.S. District Judge Daniel Jordan has extended a temporary order to allow Mississippi’s lone abortion clinic to stay open, despite efforts by that state’s government to close it’s doors. It’s not a total win – we won’t really be able to relax until the judge completes his review of how Mississippi plans to administer the law. Fingers are crossed that the ultimate ruling reflects the fact that this law, House Bill 1390, imposes undue burdens upon the state’s only abortion clinic and by extension, the women of Mississippi. Had things gone the other way, Mississippi would have become a shining example to anti-choice forces in similarly-situated states looking to ban abortion by targeting the sole facilities providing that service within their borders. Since that’s still a possibility, you should understand what this is all about?
Youth and innocence – two things that go together like peanut butter and jelly, peas and carrots, Cephus and Reesie. We generally seek to prolong the innocence of youth for as long as possible, shielding our children from sights, sounds and experiences that might force them to grow up too quickly, shattering their idyllic and tender worlds. After 30 years on this Earth and a childhood that was anything but innocent, I understand this and support it to an extent. However, there’s a difference between stalling the harsh realities of adulthood and sheltering kids from, oh, I don’t know, the fact that gay people exist?
An oldie, but I just realized I never posted this here. At SXSW earlier this year, Dell asked inspired thinkers what they would do if they had the power to do more. I was one such thinker and here’s my response.
You can view more Dell Conversations at: http://vimeopro.com/dellinc/conversations.
“I am, I was, and I will always be a catalyst for change,” said Professor Anita Hill, paraphrasing Shirley Chisholm last week at the Brooklyn Historical Society. Hill was honored as Woman of the Decade along with nine other “Justice Warriors” at Girls for Gender Equity’s (GGE) 10thanniversary celebration. In 1991, the world came to know Anita Hill as a catalyst for change when she stood before the Senate Judiciary Committee with allegations that (soon-to-be) Justice Clarence Thomas had sexually harassed her during his tenure as head of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Beyond the controversy of those hearings, what has withstood the test of time and touched women so deeply has been Hill’s dignity, elegance and intelligence in the face of unrelenting public scrutiny and pressure. It’s no surprise that Girls for Gender Equity, a youth-development organization committed to “remov[ing] barriers and creat[ing] opportunities for girls and women to live self-determined lives” would recognize Hill with this honor.
I’ve got to be honest, the prospect of spending a beautiful, sunny NYC day cooped up for eight hours in a media workshop didn’t sound very appealing at first, but once Jasmine Burnett of the New York City Reproductive Justice Coalition started letting the F-bomb fly as she was explaining the day’s purpose, I enthusiastically settled in for a very powerful and enlightening day at the Reproductive Justice Media Workshop. By the end of the day, I felt reenergized and supported in my personal commitment to reproductive justice but more importantly, I was challenged and forced to check myself as an ally and a voice in this movement.
Like Parlourista Hillary, I too have identified with an episode of “Girls.” I remember having a Hannah moment in college when one of my roommates came home from the campus health center with tears in her eyes. As we sat together on our cheap first apartment furniture and I asked her what was wrong. “I have HPV,” she said through tears, “and there’s no cure.” While I wish I was the one who doled out my own smart, sassy retort, it was my other roomie who jumped in. “Oh. That? Everybody has that. It’s really no big deal.” And just like that, we kept on living as real girls do.
It’s no coincidence that “My Sister’s Place” is a common name for battered women’s shelters across the United States. The feelings and imagery that such a name conjures – that of community, safety, and understanding – is essential in what’s likely to be the most traumatizing and disruptive moments of a woman’s life. Women have been seeking out the company of our “sisters” for as long as we’ve walked the Earth, both in good times and bad. In Kenya, women have taken this safety in sisterhood ideal a step further, going beyond a women’s shelter, sister-circle, collective, or book club, in the founding of Umoja Uaso, a village where they can flourish.
Former Miss America, singer, actress, and mom, Vanessa Williams, revealed that she had been molested as a child in her new memoir You Have No Idea. Williams recalls that a family friend – a woman she trusted – touched her inappropriately during a sleepover when she was just 10 years old. One might wonder why an accomplished, mature woman like Williams would reveal such a personal and painful detail from her past many years after the fact. In an interview with PeopleMagazine, Williams said, “For years I kept Susan’s visit to myself. I didn’t really understand until college. “I was with my boyfriend and it hit me and I blurted out: ‘Oh my god – I was molested.’ ”
You’d be hard pressed to find a person who didn’t associate the words “I Have a Dream” with Dr. Martin Luther King and the struggle for African-American self-determination and equality during the Civil Rights Movement. While blacks have made significant progress, there’s a new generation struggling to achieve their own version of King’s dream. Through the DREAM Act, young immigrant men and women hope to fully participate in and benefit from America, a country they know, love, and contribute to every day.