Archive for feminism

Renunciation

February 23, 2010 · Filed under feminism, parenting, society, spirituality, voluntary simplicity

I recently had the privilege of reviewing an academic paper.  The main premise was that the healthy authentic self is an ethical self.  I won’t repeat the whole argument here, but one sideline discussion was the idea that “decluttering” (physical and mental) is a core mechanism for revealing truth… as evidenced by many modalities – voluntary simplicity, meditation, renunciation.

There was a nice irony as I workshopped a paper on this particular topic, and (of course) starting thinking….. why I am I doing this for someone else?….. I could be writing my *own* academic papers!  And proceeded to waste a lot of time researching post graduate programmes… being concurrently aware that I almost certainly *can’t* squeeze this commitment into family life.   My time may come.  It’s just not now.

It made me think about renunciation.

I was incredibly fortunate, that early in my mothering journey I came across the wisdom of “mothering as surrender”.  And this has sustained me through labor pains, years of breastfeeding and comforting children through the night, years of choosing not to go out at night… or even during the day, in order to “be there”.  The shock of my love for them revealed my parenting truth.  My needs were secondary to their needs.  

 The other part of surrender is relinquishing external measures of success.  No more job title, no more company car, no more letters after your name, no more “achievements”.   (I think this is why I bloom like a flower when anyone says my kids are lovely/well behaved/cute….. whatever….. even though I know it is ephemeral and chances are in the next moment they will be feral monsters and I am also, apparantly, responsible for that too.)

All of this I have done willingly, and I have gained more that I could ever have imagined.  Really, exactly as the reading of any scriptures would suggest.   But.  But.  Sometimes I flail like a fish on the end of a hook.  I am not enlightened yet.

I want to bow down before the many amazing mothers that I know.  Especially some of the single mothers, who have given up far more than I have – putting up with stigma, living on pensions, doing it alone, with not even a partner to witness and appreciate their struggles.

A recently reported case in the family court.  Mr & Mrs Rose lived in Sydney with their daughter.  Mr Rose found well paid employment in a distant mining town and they relocated.  Within 12 months their marriage broke down and Mrs Rose wanted to return to Sydney with their daughter.  Mr Rose applied to the family court to prevent this.  During the trial:

Judge to Mrs Rose:  “If I order that you can’t take your daughter to Sydney with you, will you stay in this town?”

Mrs Rose:  (baffled by this odd rhetorical question)  “Of course”

Judge to Mr Rose:  “If I order that Mrs Rose can take her daughter to Sydney – will you go to Sydney to be close to your daughter?”

Mr Rose:  “No”

The judge ordered that the mother couldn’t relocate with her daughter and she  now lives in the caravan park with her daughter - all she can afford – waiting for the appeal.

Pause now for a PRIMAL ROAR OF ANGER as we witness yet again how patriarchy takes the precious jewel of motherlove and strings it up to suit itself.  This woman  is prepared to sacrifice almost everything to be with her daughter.  She’s surprised by the very question.  (And apologies to the many men I know who would scorn this man’s idea of being a father.)

So…… renunciation.  Buddha did it.  Jesus did it.  Parents do it.  I am hardly doing it at all, and yet the rewards are boundless.

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The story of our name

December 24, 2009 · Filed under feminism, relationships, society

When we got married I didn’t change my name.  I mean, no self-respecting feminist subsumes their identity by taking on their husband’s name, right?  On the day of the wedding my mother-in-law welcomed me to the family saying how lovely it was that there was now another Mrs X!  P advised her that, actually, I was keeping my own name….. to which she responded “You should be proud to take his name!”  To which I responded  “I’m proud to be his wife.”  (Um, does that count?)

As it happens, P comes from a family of men who can’t wait to ditch their surname.  Both his brother and his male cousin changed their surname.  For some reason, P isn’t interested in my surname, so the conversation began, as to whether we should forge a new surname for our own family.  This has been an on-going conversation, with many options canvassed.   I remember many years ago in a coffee shop.  The waiter did look vaguely familiar, but I was startled when he approached me and asked:  “Aren’t you Jane Explosion?  To which I had to respond “…um….yes, actually.”

The reasons to have a common name are uncertain.  Easier for others?  So people don’t think our children are “bastards”?  So we present ourselves as an amazing united ”family”?   The only problem we’ve ever had with different surnames was travelling in the middle east, where every time we checked in anywhere we had to put up with the waggly eyebrow phenomena due to my “loose woman” status.

Of course, when I was pregnant with T, it became a hot topic again.  How could we decided on a first name, when we didn’t even know what the surname was going to be?  In the end we concluded that any girl’s name had to go with my surname, and any boy’s name had to go with P’s surname.  We subsequently had two boys, so of course we now seem hopelessly traditional.  (My favourite story on this angle is some friends, who agreed that the daughter would take the mother’s name, and the husband would get to go snowboarding in Japan every year….. now why didn’t I think to strike a grand bargain??)

When I was pregnant with J, it came up again.  This time we came up with a reasonable alternative that we could all live with.  We would all take Paul’s middle name as a surname.  I dutifully contacted the relevant government department and was startled as to how easy it was all going to be.  I filled in the forms, wrote up a cheque, put it all in a stamped addressed envelope……  and then told P I couldn’t do it….. I wasn’t ready….. actually, I was quite wedded to my own name…..

So imagine my surprise when driving along yesterday, P said  “I’ve been thinking about our surname…..” 

Me:  “what did you have in mind?”

P:  “the same one we agreed on last time….. or maybe my mother’s maiden name?”

Me:  “I guess so….  if I get into this yoga thing I might change my first name too.”

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Kids Food (and other stuff)

November 5, 2009 · Filed under cooking, feminism, health, homeschooling, parenting, politics

My kids don’t eat enough veges.  Of more accurately – they hardly eat any.  This is my most on-going area of parental anxiety (well, equal to my fear that the joys and freedoms of homeschooling will at some point be outweighed by my kids lack of academic achievement).   Even knowing I am riddling them with food issues doesn’t stop me from constantly fretting about it in front of them.  T ate everything until he was 2.5, and then gradually retreated into a bland carbohydrate diet.  J is somewhat better, but his need to “have what T is having” doesn’t help.

My dad used to tell the story of how in his family he had to eat everything on his plate.  One night he sat there, not eating his (disgusting) veges.  When everyone else left the table , he got up and (secretly, he thought) threw his food out into the yard.  His mum scraped it back onto his plate, and he had to eat it, dirt and all.

I remember my childhood meals of meat and three veg.  I literally gagged at the prospect of eating boiled peas and I pushed them around the plate trying to make the pile look smaller.

Given that P and I (now) eat a lot of veges, and they are always available, I just hope that eventually the kids will gravitate to a healthful diet.  T “knows” what a healthful diet is, and will often say he would like veges for dinner (to watch my face glow with happiness) but when they are served, his face crumples in despair.  “If only they tasted nice mum!”   He happily eats avocadoes, carrots, the peas shelled from fresh snow peas, and will nibble on a leaf.  Sigh.

Recent reading on kids’ health threw up the finding that parents are poor judges of how healthy their kids are, as they confuse happiness and healthiness.  So even though we might *know* our kids’ diet is inadequate, or they have too little exercise or too much screen time, we *think* we are getting away with it:  “Look, they’re healthy!” when in actual fact they’re ‘just’ happy.

Another snippet from the same book.  In the UK, school canteens are shifting to ‘healthy’ menus (thank you Jamie).  At one school, an entrepreneurial 13yo opened a rival canteen, selling the stuff that the school canteen used to sell.  He was doing very well, and his customers included the teaching staff, when the school closed him down as he was ‘undermining their healthy eating message’.   He was pissed off – he wasn’t doing anything illegal.

I like this story as I can’t decide what I think.  Obviously I am committed to the “healthy eating message”, but I *really* feel for this kid!  The injustice!  I take it they didn’t close down the local Maccas as it was ‘undermining the healthy eating message’.  The most amazing learning experience he probably ever had on those premises, and just shut down.  What’s he learnt now? – the little guy can’t win.

Sorry to bore those of you who have heard my experience of being arbitrarily “shut down” by school authorities because my activities didn’t suit them, but I can *still* seethe with the injustice of it!  In primary school, when I was in Year 6, the school decided that girls were not allowed on the school oval to play during lunch and recess (yes, the 1980′s – not quite the dark ages).  A friend and I started “Girls Lib”, a movement to allow girls back on to the oval.  Our initiatives included large posters advertising all the games girls used to enjoy on the oval, and a petition.  When you signed the petition, you receive an handmade badge – “Girls Lib!”  Unfortunately, the boys took this as some sort of gender war, and started ripping them off girls’ shirts – meaning my friend and I were in full scale production of the badges, to replace those lost to the neanderthal boys.

The librarian asked us to move the petition out of the library, so we relocated to near the canteen.  Then after a week or so, my classroom teacher advised that the principal had advised him that we had to stop Girls Lib, because it was too disruptive.  No boy was advised that they should stop grabbing at girls tops and ripping off their badge.  We still weren’t allowed on the oval.  CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT????????  Not a single teacher –  or parent – including my own – was prepared to step up and support our cause.  Just shut down for causing a disturbance.   That was the high & low point of my career as an activist.  A  just cause, and no one in authority cared about anything, except the quiet life.   Maybe it was at this point that I decided that school was a series of lessons in compliance and control.  He’s probably dead now, but the principal’s name was Mr Colvin, and unfortunately I have never bumped into him as an adult to give him the serve that ALL THE OTHER ADULTS SHOULD HAVE AT THE TIME.  GGGRRRRRRR.

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Teeth-whitening and tanning package: $269

October 24, 2009 · Filed under ethics, feminism, society, Uncategorized

So said the sign outside a “spa” in Port Douglas.  And that gives you a good idea of the type of place it is.  Very beautiful, but teflon.

This got me thinking (again) about the ways in which the culture tries to clone us all into one definition of beauty (tanned, with white teeth!)  Surely something not confined to our own time and place, but now that all the photos are photo-shopped, and you can literally cut and paste and colour your own body, it seems  more extreme.  Plastic surgery actually exists in my own social world (baffling but true.) I particularly remember a child who had her ears “pinned back” as soon as it was legal – aged 7.    It was ‘to save her from being teased at school’.   I wonder what other lessons and values she draws from that experience?  Looks are important.  It’s important to be like everyone else.  Don’t stand out.  You can’t cope with being teased. 

Does she feel sorry for the other kids with sticky-out ears who haven’t  had their ears “done” yet?  Will she ever feel that her body and choices were violated?

Am I just sensitive to this because I have sticky-out ears?

But as it happens I am here to confess that “teeth” is one area where I have been thoroughly socialised into believing that they have to look a certain way.  Blessed with a higgley-piggley mouth of teeth, I had braces when I was 13, and I never questioned the necessity of this, and even now can feel happy that they were “fixed”.   Due to the (painful) rapid movement of my teeth into their “correct” positions, I now have a dead tooth in the front of my mouth that is getting more and more yellow as I get older.  (A dental plot?)

I hope you’re getting a good visual of me, witch-like, with sticky-out ears and yellowing teeth.  It’s amazing I can function in this world at all.

Anyway, I have been advised that the only way to “fix” my yellow tooth, is to have a crown.  Which will involve vast expense, and the removal of a perfectly functioning tooth.  So far I have baulked.  All my principles are at stake:  How can I spend money in this way when other people don’t have *any* teeth and can’t afford them?  The money should be given to a dental clinic somewhere.  If I do this, I will be buying into the whole beauty myth.  The more happy yellow-toothed women out there, the better, as we demonstrate that white teeth are not pre-requisites for a fulfilled life.

BUT (and this is a big but) I *really* don’t like my yellow tooth.  And no intellectual reasoning seems to be able to overcome my flinch of disgust/concern when I see photos of my smiling yellow tooth.  I can intellectually realise that “it doesn’t matter”, but my socialisation doesn’t seem to allow me to emotionally realise the same.  Of course, other people probably have yellow teeth too - I just don’t notice them.

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Dispatches from a Gascoyne Cattle Station

July 1, 2009 · Filed under feminism, gardening, relationships, The Big Lap

Lyndon Homestead 20,06,09 001I was a bit uncertain about the wwoofing thing.  I mean, I liked the concept, but being an introvert I was out of my comfort zone.  When we first arrived I felt like a fish out of water (I wanted to run), and I was *astonished* to find that there were already 3 wwoofers here!  I thought they’d never get anyone!   This is probably the best thing we’ve done so far.  Mainly due to the fantastic people here, who were incredibly welcoming – and interesting.  It’s sort of a spiritual relief to hang out with people whose life is very different to your own.   The Aboriginal overseer and his French girlfriend.  The unhappily retired diesel fitter who found solace travelling around outback stations working on vehicles for board and fuel.   The guy who traps feral dogs for a living. (FYI, there are 20 dogger zones in WA and there are vacancies.   Wage:  $325 a day, aiming to get one dog a day.  Contact the WA Department of Agriculture).  It was kind of fun to hang around with a group of young people – I can report from the frontline that not much has changed on the backpacker scene.  Still drinking tequila and hooking up with each other.
 
P was in his element painting dongas, digging trenches and generally handymanning around.  We stayed longer than planned, and P would have been keen to stay even longer (indefinitely….  I started to wonder whether P might like a late-blooming career as a jackaroo), but I felt a bit of a spare part as I wasn’t able to do as much work  as I would like - somedays nothing apart from some minor babysitting - to feel comfortable that I was earning my keep, so to speak.  Luckily the station owners had two young kids themselves, so were very understanding of our kids’ needs, and I think just happy to have some kids visit.  The lady of the house was a kindred spirit, into kids, gardening, social issues.  How lucky can you get?  And even more so, they took T for a ride in their plane!  And on motorbikes and trucks!  T, being reserved like me, was a bit overwhelmed by joining a new community, but it was amazing watching the kids slip into the new routine.  J in particular wanted to get to the “big kitchen” for breakfast and T was always concerned that we would be late for dinner. 
 
The lifestyle here is very appealing.  It’s a little community of people working, eating and socialising together.  The mail arrives once a week – and the shopping is delivered by the postie.  They eat a *lot* of beef and have a great vege & herb garden with chooks.  They have a cook – bliss!  The station owner flits about in his plane – into town for a meeting – around the station checking things out – divebombing the homestead when no-one answers the two-way.  It was a wonderful introduction to wwoofing – but also off-putting in the sense that I realised (why didn’t I realise before?) that I can’t really do 4 – 6 hours of work around the place (I can’t achieve this around my *own* place!)  The only way I could do this would be for P to stop work after lunch and look after the kids, which would free me up….  but what’s the point when it’s obvious to that he is *so* much more useful around the place than me?  He may as well keep going…. which leaves me with the responsibility for the kids and unable to participate in the spirit of wwoof.  
 
While here I have been reading Germaine Greer’s “Shakespeare’s Wife”, which I suspected might be a bit dry, but is actually great, and is inspiring me to get back into Shakespeare, which I haven’t explored since high school.  She quotes a scholar of Elizabethan times, saying that the role of the man was very clear – let’s call that “A”, and the role of the woman was everything else…  let’s call that “non-A”.  And when the man’s availability or capability changed, than the woman’s role would expand to take up those duties as well.  For example, if the husband became ill, then the wife would take over the running of the business and develop/utilise those skills, but otherwise wouldn’t be involved.    I was thinking that maybe not much has changed.  Does the equation work in the opposite direction?  Maybe.
 
Anyway, our small stay here has definitely got me more seriously contemplating moving to a country-type property of our own.  It’s alleviated *some* of my fear of social isolation.  I would need to be closer to a town I think….. a three hour drive is just too far.
Lyndon Homestead 20,06,09 006
 
 

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Dispatches from ‘Rest Area’

June 8, 2009 · Filed under feminism, relationships, The Big Lap

4 June 2009
NW Coastal Hwy, about 60km south of Billabong roadhouse.  This camp was selected when J advised that he wanted  ”TO GET OUT OF THIS CHAIR”, accompanied by full body flails.  Amenities included an old mattress that the kids adapted as a trampoline.  Good, I thought, until P found a penis pump complete with packaging.  (Discarded in frustration?) We’d already set up camp, so it was too late to leave this seedy locale.
 
Late in the night a truck pulled in and seemed to leave it’s motor running for an inordinate amount of time.  I suddenly remembered the Peter Falconio story and managed to completely freak myself out.  Luckily I never saw Wolf Creek.  I think P must have beeen slightly freaked too, as the next day he ruminated as to whether he should keep a wheel brace in the trailer.  Poor darling.  Who’d be a man? I’m so glad that “family security” is not on my list of responsibilities. 
 
Before kids I think we were achieving a measure of egalitarism in our relationship.  But of course kids changed that completely, and we now operate strictly on gender lines.  Breastfeeding and home duties sort of go together.  So P became breadwinner and I became homemaker.  This had not been our original plan - we had thought that we would both work part time, and share the care of the kids.  This could still be an option down the track, but while the kids were young my separation anxiety was acute, and luckily for me P was very supportive of this.  Having said that, I think my career (such as it was) is pretty much dead now, and I don’t think I could stomach the “mummy track”.  Under current corporate structures you can have a part time job, but not a part time career.  So work options I would be prepared to consider are:
 
*barista in a cafe with a view
*sales assistant in an organic shop
*yoga teacher (dream job for the far future when I can actually get stuck into my yoga – not just sneak in a few salute to the suns in between parenting)
 
Anyway, the most recent incarnation of our cliched lives manifests on this holiday when P has to back the trailer in to a space, or back the car so that the trailer can be re-hitched.  My job is to stand behind and provide guidance to P’s manly reversing.  Dear reader, you may find this hard to believe, but I am “no good at it”!  Apparantly, I stand in the wrong spot, and also my hand signals are impossible to read!  And when P jumps out to snarl at my poor attempts, I descend into hysterical laughter and have to clench my legs together.  I’ve suggested a role reversal, such that *I* would be the reverser, but P took that as just more frivolity.

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Questions of Faith

February 8, 2009 · Filed under being present, feminism, society, spirituality

The other night I prematurely outed myself, in general company, as a ‘believer’.  To move from a fence-sitter to someone who believes in God, is, I guess, the definition of a leap of faith. 

Before proceeding further, I should say that formerly I was someone who described their experiences with ’unseen forces’ as “The Universe”, as in, “The Universe smiled on me today.”  I find the traditional language of faith incredibly awkward.  “God”.  “He”.  I’m not comfortable using those words.  In the past when others have used them I have found them non-inclusive.  But that is the language I have inherited, so I move forward with trepidation.

I would (while feeling like a bit of a wanker) loosely describe myself as a spiritual seeker.  I’m intrigued by the ‘meaning of life’.  I’m virtually obsessed by questions on the ethical life.  How am I to live?  What does a ‘good’ life look like?  I value the structure and community that organised religion can offer, while concurrently railing against the flipside of same:  the rigidity; the exclusivity.

Like many in the west, for many years I have been drawn to Eastern spiritual traditions – particularly Buddhism.  My on-going complaints about the barrenness of Western culture I have seen as drawn from a Judeo-Christian tradition.  The focus on the individual; the Calvinist links between ‘hard work’ (economic activity) and godliness; the heirachical structures and obedience to authority figures; systems of external rewards and punishments to motivate the populace; the proselytising (conform!  be like me!).

In contrast, I found Buddhism valuing the interconnectness of all things; valuing stillness and quiet (meditation);  flat structures – anyone can ‘become Buddha’;  a focus on intrinsic, not extrinic rewards; *not* proselytising, and respect and accommodation of alternative world views. 

Ok, I’ve just written that – I’ve convinced myself!

So anyway, here’s the punchline.  Through a variety of mediums, ‘The Universe’ kept sending me the message that I should consider a thankfulness practise.   Specifically, that when something ‘went right’ in my life, I should say  “Thank you God.”  I didn’t have to believe, I just had to do it.  After hearing the message about four times in a fortnight, I finally listened.  Nothing to lose really, so feeling somewhat peculiar, I did it.  And in a very peaceful way, God was there.   Have I freaked you out now? 

So now I dither around wondering what to do with this piece of information.  I remain extremely wary of “the church” as a force of social control, and am unconvinced that the Bible is more than a poor human attempt to capture something about the life of a great prophet mixed up with a bunch of misunderstood metaphors and more attempts at social control.  Could I be more arrogant?  I could try reading it again.  Hmmm.   Funnily enough, right now I am more inspired to read Nietzsche’s critiques of Christian faith (“In heaven, all the interesting people are missing”)  Is this denial?

Ultimately I am a feminist and a social progressive.   (In my world, God would be too.  And isn’t that the problem with believers in general, that they remake God in their own image?……  and then fight about it.)  Perhaps this is why I was always more comfortable with “The Universe”; a benign, omniscient, intermittently interventionist energy…..  without any baggage…  and certainly not triggering any of mine!  My fixation with the linguistics of faith is interesting.  I’m sure “God” answers to Allah, so why wouldn’t He answer to “The Universe”?  (Sorry to anthropomorphise.) 

I know that the Dalai Lama recommends that Western spiritual seekers should investigate the spiritual offerings of their own culture as an easier path, as you already have a grounding in the beliefs and customs.   True, but some of us are weighed down by the (real or imagined) associations with Christian faith.  

Presumably any real God does not mind being subject to the interrogations of mere mortals.  A suggestion from a friend that during our trip around Australia, I could pop into Sunday services at the local churches along the way, I find appealing.  I can wear my tourist hat in more ways than one.

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Why I love the yanks

November 3, 2008 · Filed under feminism, politics

Until my twenties I dismissed Americans as arrogant imperialists and/or ignorant fundamentalists.  Then I met a few.  Nothing like actually getting to know members of the “other” to shatter one’s prejudices.

Now I love them.  I love their ballsiness.  I LOVE their enthusiasm.  I love their cool use of the English language and that drawl.   I love the fact that the men shamelessly wear toupees that would be laughed out of Australia.  I love the fact that they are a democracy and the only remaining superpower.

And right now, I love the fact that they are about to blow our minds and elect the black guy, middle name Hussein, last name rhymes with Osama.    They sure know how to lead the world.

When Barack Obama first crossed my radar in November last year, I got excited.  (Who could be excited about Hillary?  Kind of exciting for a woman to get up there, but less so when she’s a member of a dynasty.)  Here was a guy coming from nowhere, looking like a forlorn hope, inspiring people.   Nothing like an underdog to inspire an Australian.

“If Barack Obama gets the nomination, I’m going over there!  Times Square – 4th November!”  That was a rash remark.   Obviously I’m not there, but, like a lot of the world - around 70% apparantly - I am excited.  

No doubt I am doomed to disappointment.  All politicians are obviously interested in power, and subsequently they inhabit the middle ground where most of the votes are.  Fair enough, that’s what democracy is supposed to deliver – what most of the people want.   Having said that – leadership on issues doesn’t go astray!  And whatever else you might say about Barack Obama, the man has leadership skills!

I can forgive a lot, as long as the next president can get the world moving on serious action to mitigate climate change and protect our environment.

Go Barack go!!  My kids need you to save the world.

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Sarah Palin: a case study

October 30, 2008 · Filed under feminism, homeschooling, parenting, politics

Ok, I am forced to quickly record some thoughts before this lady (barring a minor miracle) disappears off the world stage.  What more could be said about her?  In all my reading, I haven’t read what I’m thinking, so I’m writing it here….. in all it’s unformed confusion.

Woman with 5 month old son with downs syndrome (and pregnant teenage daughter) applies for position as 2IC of the free world, with excellent chance of further promotion.   Could we have a more compelling example of the feminist conundrum?  Could her family need her any more?   Could the job on offer provide any more  ”meaning”, and a real sense of making a difference?   Women can, and should be able to “do anything”,  but children, especially babies, need their mums. 

This to me is the failure of feminism, in that rather than changing societal structures to value and accommodate parenting, in the main, feminism gave women societal permission to behave like men.   This is a dead end – we need to find a new path, for all of us.  My beef with feminism is essentially that it pushed the costs of the patriarchal/capitalist system down the hierarchy to an even more disempowered group – children.  That is, many of the advances made by women into work, have come at the expense of their children’s best interests – namely parental time and care.

My favourite Germaine Greer quote: “equality is a poor substitute for liberation”.  Freedom to choose is what liberation is about.   To do something voluntarily is to be empowered.   This is what is powerful about the voluntary simplicity movement, and as an aside, is also one of my gripes about schooling.  That it is compulsory – kids “have” to go, they don’t choose.   Anyone in the helping profession can tell you that programs pretty much only work when the person wants – chooses – to participate.  Why should kids be any different?  

Your choice to spend time with your children, over other opportunities, is the ultimate expression of your love.  This applies to both mothers and fathers.  When children  know in their hearts that their parents had ‘no choice’, I think they can understand and move on.   When they know in their hearts that their parents did have a choice, and that they weren’t chosen, that is much harder to reconcile.  

So, Sarah Palin has two once-in-a-lifetime opportunities – to spend time mothering her new baby son or to run for Vice President of the USA.  One job, she is the only person who can do it.  The other job could be done by many.   

I feel somewhat conflicted about this.  If I have to choose between support for the competing principles of freedom to choose, or proscribing the ‘right’ choice, then for me, freedom to choose is the over-riding principle.  But I reserve the right to be sad about some of the choices, and advocate for those who don’t get to make a choice.   I wasn’t thinking about abortion at all, but I guess that is ultimately the pro-choice position. 

We need to reject the false construct that ’work is community’ with family off to the side, and move forward with systemic ways that re-integrate family, real community and work.

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