International Women’s Day

Why Resist?

Because I believe in protecting the rights of the marginalized, especially women, children, and the disabled.

Even though we have much to work do in our country, I tell myself to work on myself. Make a difference in the ways I can. Work on the things in my realm. This is the way I dug myself out of the 9 11 morass. I did small acts of kindness. I cleaned my kitchen. I joined forces with people who focused on children. I worked for social justice, which means a lot to me. I worked with the General Board of Global Ministries and United Methodist Women. My life has been about fostering sisterhood and brotherhood across borders and countries, which are, let’s face it, arbitrary lines on a map, subject to interpretation. I’m now teaching. And teachers can make a difference.

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Why International Women?

When I went to China for the women’s conference in 1995, I was amazed by the beautiful diversity of women around the globe and the work they do. Especially women activists – rural women, college women, labor advocates, environmentalists. I don’t know if international women will save the world. But I think it’s possible. I find hope in knowing that there are countries where women political leaders are not anomalies. Diverse leadership teams always succeed in ways that homogeneous teams do not.

Young international women, too, like Malala Yousafzai, are making a world of difference. Can you imagine being shot by the Taliban and then rising like a phoenix from those ashes to write and speak so brilliantly (and win a Nobel prize!)?

well behaved womenSo Why Now?

I enjoy Maria Shriver’s weekly newsletter. In last Sunday’s paper, she said:

Feminine power is available to every woman because power starts within. You don’t have to act like a guy, talk like a guy, or dress like a guy to be powerful. You have to talk, act, dress, and think like the person that you are.

It’s not a man’s world. It’s everyone’s world, and it’s ours to go out and make better.

Yes, we have the power. We have the international connections. We have the authenticity to start right where we are. To do something, anything — with compassion. We can write a postcard, support a teacher, speak highly of women leaders, join a march,  vote, organize a huddle, diversify our boardrooms, or run for office.

On International Women’s Day and every day, women are looking out for each other, for children, for people with disabilities. And we are facing fear with love. We are calling out hypocrisies. We are finding our why and sharing it.

These are some of the reasons why I’m proud to wear red today and I’m proud to be a woman every day. I celebrate international womanhood and sisterhood!

Girl Power

It was 9 am and I was a little behind schedule. I had gotten up early to finish and submit two freelance stories, one a day late. Got them in. Then I hopped on my bike to rush to my art handling job. Wait. First. I had to stop at the private school where I’ve been substitute teaching to get my paycheck on track.

Having to talk about money and getting paid makes me uncomfortable.

Like with my freelance jobs — I worry that I accept too little. And then I worry that I charge too much. Whaaaa! Whatever I do, I want them to like me. I live to be liked!

When I got to the school, I dashed up the stairs, two at a time. Then, I slowed down. Wait. What’s this? Yup. A ton of cool signage in the stairwell about the Day of the Girl. (This is a United Nations movement on October 11, which aims to educate and end child marriage, stop sexualized media images of girls, and celebrate girls as athletes, students, artists! Check their link to find out about more.)

Seeing these signs made me drop my insecurity. I felt empowered. it’s important I’m paid well and fairly. I want to be a good model for the girls.

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Girl power!IMG_7004.JPGI started a Pinterest Board, Girls Can Be Anything, with images of girls doing fun girl stuff — climbing trees, playing superheroes, making art. I hate when the only option for a girl is princess. I prefer president. Girls can aspire to that. They can be anything.

In fact one of my daughters ran for student council today. I don’t even care if she wins. I’m just proud of her for writing a speech, delivering it, and throwing her hat in the ring.

On my bike ride from the school to the art job, the chain came off my bike. But I put it back on and kept riding. Got my hands dirty. But yup, girls can fix their bikes too. Girls can do anything. IMG_7003.JPG

Reflections on Race after the Verdict

Here are a few random thoughts on race.

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I believe more people should learn conflict mediation skills and fewer people should carry guns.

I was thinking about the Girls Leadership Institute (GLI) workshop that my daughters and I attended last year. A key factor in resolving conflict is TALKING, not fighting, not fearing each other.

After being shot by the Taliban, on 16th birthday, Malala Yousafzai spoke at the United Nations. (photo courtesy of Charter for Compassion)
After being shot by the Taliban, on 16th birthday, Malala Yousafzai spoke at the United Nations. (photo courtesy of Charter for Compassion)

The talking solution may sound girlie, sissy, touchy-feely. But in fact, if more people talked about their feelings and fears, there would be less trigger-happy people and disputes.

Look at what a girl can do when you look at Malala Yousafzai who had been shot by the Taliban for speaking up. She celebrated her 16th birthday by speaking to the United Nations in favor of educating girls.

Personal gripe: Last year, when I worked for the faith-based women’s group, I wrote a curriculum on using conflict resolution skills in small group settings for a young women’s training. Despite being riddled with conflict, even the women’s group saw conflict mediation as a low priority.

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If my 16-year old son were walking the streets of Florida, no one would feel alarmed. This case was definitely about race. The Paula Deen incident shows people talk about race in private, but not in public.

We say nothing. We are afraid. We don’t want to offend. We avoid conflict. But talking (writing) is the best solution. And we may need to employ conflict mediation skills to let one another talk without judging. Use “I” statements and all.  We need to learn to talk about tough stuff. I do, any way.

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What the hell, Florida?

My father belonged to a neighborhood watch group in Florida.

Last year, I asked him if he saw anything worrisome. He said once he saw a group of Hispanic men hanging out near a park at night. He called it in. The cop said leave them be. My father said the group claimed to be a soccer league, but my dad did not see any soccer ball.

He never saw the group again.

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Once I was at a cocktail party in the Adirondacks and I met the writer Nell Irvin Painter. She wrote the book, “History of White People.” She was about to go on the Daily Show to talk about her book. She was studying art. We sat on a comfy couch and talked about Princeton, art, writing, and race. Her book sounded brilliant.

Nell Irvin Painter
Nell Irvin Painter (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We shared some laughs. I wanted to read her book about white-ness and the construct of race. I have not read it yet.

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I was at another cocktail party in the Adirondacks. (Apparently that’s the only place where I go to cocktail parties. (Though once I went to cocktail party at Gay and Nan Talese’s house. That’s another story. (Charlie Rose was there.))

Back to this friend in the Adirondacks — she said that the U.S. should’ve never fought the Civil War. This idea was anathema to me. She said, ‘We should have annexed the south because southerners were and are such a drain on the country. The north would accept all people as free people. The south, because of its bigotry, would implode. All would be welcome in the north. We would thrive.”

Again, it was provocative cocktail party talk.

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I want to take my kids to see Gettysburg.

Once I went to Gettysburg with college chum Jeff Carey (T. Jefferson Carey). I was splitting up from my first marriage. He was going through some shit.

We took this crazy road trip in his really crappy car. We totally made all these connections about how the Civil War was a metaphor — for my marriage and for our families, for our divisiveness within ourselves, and for our country, even today.

I kind of remember him burying something on our road trip  — some kind of talisman — under a tree. Or maybe he dug something up. I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.

I do remember that Jeff and I bought this tape. We played the dramatic tape in his tapedeck as we drove around listening to the story of the bloody war at Gettysburg. I remember crying over that tape’s dramatic narration of Gettysburg — where brother fought brother.

I want my kids to hear and learn about Gettysburg. I want, as a country, for us not to forget the Civil War. I want us not to forget Trayvon Martin. I want us to listen to people like Malala Yousafzai and Nell Irvin Painter.

I want fewer people to have guns. I want to read books and talk about race. I want people to learn how to mediate conflict and talk about race and gender, like we learned to through the GLI.

After all, this is the least we can do to mark the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.

P.S. I want to go to more cocktail parties.

United Nations Meditation Room

I was headed to the Church Center for the United Nations to spend a day with peacemakers but in the crush of 42nd Street I ran into a group for whom I’d led a communications training a couple of days earlier.

I pointed them in the right direction (they were heading towards Fifth Avenue instead of First Avenue). In gratitude, they offered me an extra ticket to their United Nations tour. I’d done the tour a few times, but it is ALWAYS different and always great, led by some brilliant international young person.

Our guide was the super-smart, super-gorgeous Jali, an Egyptian mother and artist who was a tad bit disillusioned with the effectiveness of sovereignties who fail to implement the UN resolutions. 

Extremely powerful– one of the last exhibits on the tour is the one on landmines. This is the heartbreaking reality — the landmines look like yoyos and rocks. So ten years after a war has ended, who picks up the yoyo or rock hoping to play? Children.

They are the ones maimed and killed by landmines. And even though 11 years ago, 156 nations signed the UN Ban Mines Treaty, China, Russia, and the United States have not joined. Ugh! So embarrassing to be an American when you hear this.

I chatted with Jali about the UN, her art, raising children in NYC. I said good bye. I will probably never see her again.

I started to walk out of the UN to get to the church center meeting, but I spotted a group of women. They were as pretty as water lilies floating in a Matisse painting. I walked towards them. They departed by the elevator, and I was left standing in front of the UN Meditation Room which is right beside the Marc Chagall peace window.

Despite my love for the UN and the many times I’ve been there, I never knew there was a chapel in the UN. It was dark but for a couple of shafts of light. There are so many faiths around the world that the chapel is intentionally free of symbolism. The beams of natural light are the symbols. Oh, and there is a slab in the center of the small space. It reminded me of the sacrifice stone upon which Aslan, the lion and Christ figure,  is sacrificed in the movie, “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.” It is a big stone in a small room. The big rock and its sacrifice altar quality — made me uncomfortable. I tried to focus on the shafts of light.

I wanted to sit a while. The space reminded me of one of the favorite churches I’ve visited — the Louise Nevelson chapel. https://mbcoudal.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/the-gospel-according-to-louise-nevelson/

But, as often happens, some tourists walked into my sanctuary. (Note to self: Learn to love the tourists.)

I also have to admit I consistently feel ridiculous and indulgent sitting quietly in churches. I know there is work to be done. Kids to provide for. Articles to write. Work meetings to report on. Phone calls to make. Emails to read.

Why should I get to sit quietly in the middle of the day contemplating sacrifice, land mines, spirituality, peace, my own sanity? Then again, why should I not? I take in a church a day the way other people have a cigarette break.

My church a day visits are my break. I could do a lot worse.


– Dag Hammarskjöld