The TRUTH About Motherhood

Category: Girl Mom

An Open Apology to Men in Light of the recent Witch Hunt for Sexual Predators
Dear Men,
In light of the recent Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey situations, and so many others I am realizing that these men are not the exception. That’s not to say all men are bad. In fact, some men are amazing partners, brothers, fathers and role models but something is really wrong and I never realized it until all the #METOO stories began to flood my feeds. Fundamentally, as a society, we are collectively dropping the ball.
Honestly, that part wasn’t even completely surprising to me. I’m a woman and have been living with my vagina for my entire life. I’ve always suspected that all women have been victimized to one degree or another but I never realized that part of the problem is that men don’t have a clue of how their behavior affects women.
The misconception is that if we have not been dragged into some dark alley and been violently raped by a stranger, we are lucky. We have not been victimized. But that’s not true. Many of us have been victimized and brutalized over and over again for decades.
We’ve just learned that there is an acceptable amount of assault. We’ve learned to live with it. Don’t get me wrong, we are terrified. It has left us scarred. It has left us trembling and cowering. It has robbed us of trust and safety.
We walk fast to our cars at night. We will never be afforded the luxury of a slow stroll under the stars alone to think; not without a cost of safety. We run past large groups of men. We cringe when a man pushes into us on public transportation. Cat calls give us anxiety. We avert our eyes when strange men expose themselves to us. At the end of every date, we pray that we escape without being forced against our will to perform some sexual act that men seem to feel is owed to them as payment for eating dinner with us. We don’t leave our drinks unattended. We travel in packs for protection. But you know none of this because you don’t feel any of this. I never realized it until now. I’m sorry that men have no clue how hard it is to function in the world as a woman.
The Big Guy, my husband, the man I have been with for almost half of my life is a good man. By all accounts, he is a great man, husband, father, and partner. Just ask my mom. You see, he lives his life based on the simple act of being a good person; treating others as he would like to be treated and it works. He is a kind, giving, loving man but he doesn’t understand the female condition. He’s tried but our experiences walking around in the world are so vastly different that it’s like a caterpillar and an elephant trying to understand what the other one’s life is like. It is impossible. How did I find this out? We had a conversation.
I’ve been having a lot of conversations about what’s going on in the world at dinner a lot lately. I respect my husband’s opinion and he’s very intelligent so we can have reasonable debates about most things. But painfully, I’ve realized having an honest conversation with a middle-class white man about the female condition is like talking politics with a monkey. It’s not their fault, it’s just so out of their frame of reference. What a luxury it must be.
I’ve always known that men and women are different but fundamentally, we are all human beings. We are the same species and for whatever prejudices men have about the abilities of women or their place in society, they had to concede that we are all human beings, right? I was wrong.
They know we are human beings but they can’t relate to our experience because it is so fundamentally different from their own. I was talking to a group of men who normally agree with my beliefs and politics. These are educated, feminist men and still, I was surprised at how the conversation went.
We were talking about Weinstein, who we all agree is a monster. Then, we moved on to Spacey who I feel is a definite predator; a pedophile. The group I was speaking with did more listening and less speaking. I could feel myself losing them. Then, the Charlie Sheen third-party accusations came about. We weren’t there. We have no idea what happened because the alleged victim is dead, his mother says the accusations are false and the accused denies any of it happened. Then, a new accusation about Roman Polanski that is 50 years old came up.
This is when the men took it upon themselves to circle back to Weinstein. Then it came, “Why did these women all wait so long to come forward?” I could see doubt poking its ugly head in. I could see them taking offense to the audacity of these women. I could feel myself, the lone vagina owner having to go on the defensive and have a real talk about the female condition with them.
I assured them that I believed wholeheartedly that every single woman who says she has been assaulted and shared her #MeToo story is telling the truth. I do. Maybe it feels like women are all coming forward now and maybe they are but not because it’s popular. It’s because there is safety in numbers. There is the Internet and you can tell the world without having to be given the hairy eyeball by some man who doubts you and questions your part in all of it. What were you wearing? Were you drinking? Did you lead him on in any way?
But how do you know it’s not just for attention? Why all jump on the bandwagon now!
I could feel my head about to explode. You see all of these seemingly educated, intelligent feminist men don’t know shit about living as a woman. But then again, how could they? I don’t know much about walking around in the world with a penis.
I explained to them that we women learn at a very early age that men have the power. It starts with our father; the head of the family. The provider and protector. And if you were raised in a macho Latino family like mine, you know early on that boys are prized above girls. Little girls are taught to be subservient to boys and boys are taught to take care of women, but they are also taught that they know what is best for girls. They don’t.
Then I explained that what they don’t understand is to women, the penis is a weapon, that can be used to hurt us. To defile us. To take from us. To humble us. To punish us. That’s why unsolicited dick pics from random men not only don’t excite us, they frighten us. It’s a threat.
I’m not saying women hate penises. In the right situation, when wanted, between two consenting adults, it can be magical and beautiful. It is the coming together of two as one, perfectly. It gives pleasure and life, literally.
The guys still look unconvinced. These women were grown adult women. They were strong enough to walk away. Especially in the case of Louis C.K. Why didn’t the women run screaming from the room? Why did they ever agree when asked?
I don’t know all the details but I think all women have been in some situation with a man where he has asked of her something so unbelievable that she is like, “Sure, whatever.” (because if she were to flee from the room at the thought of something so ridiculous she’d be labeled a hysterical woman who took everything entirely too seriously.) So, you say, “whatever” never expecting what follows next. I know if I was a fan or colleague of Louis C.K. and he asked if he could get naked and masturbate, I wouldn’t have taken him seriously. I would have thought it was a bit.
The men I was talking to still did not seem convinced. But I could see them rethinking some things so, I told them. I told them some of my truth. This was uncomfortable for me because these men included my husband and two of my brothers but if we don’t talk about it, it never changes. Even though we women have no part in our assaults, we feel shame that we were victimized. We feel like we should have known better because we are raised to not get raped, not get harassed and not get assaulted. Can’t we just teach our boys not to rape, harass and assault?
I told them of the time in college when I woke up in the middle of the night frozen in place to the horror of a guy I’d met earlier that night, a friend of a friend, on top of me kissing me and touching me while I slept. No, we had not gone to bed together. We happened to be staying with people in the same apartment. I pushed him off but I felt violated and I feel that I narrowly escaped being raped but in all honesty, I have no idea what he did before I woke up.
I saw my brothers cringe. They asked why didn’t I tell them. Well, one of them was 11 at the time and the other was 1-years-old. By 19, I had had men push themselves on me more times than I could count. The protocol was to escape the situation as unscathed as possible and be thankful things didn’t go worse.
Then, I told them about the time I was a teenager working at a department store and the loss prevention guys locked me in their soundproof office at the end of the night with the two of them. Then they proceeded to tell me how they enjoyed watching me on the cameras and laughed as they matter of factly told me that they could do whatever they wanted to me in that office and no one would ever hear me.
My husband asked why didn’t I report them. I was 18. They were who I was supposed to report these things to. One was an off-duty cop. Who was going to help me? I just had to stay clear and avoid them.
There are so many instances from little-nuanced things to full-on date rape antics that I have experienced, that most women experience, that our mothers had to survive, that our daughters will have to survive all because men don’t understand. This is not an excuse. This is a fact.
Yes, men know rape is rape but all the rest is murky for them. Between the forgiveness they are afforded because of the boys will be boys clause and the lack of respect they are taught for women and the lack of reverence for the female condition, we women have to appear as irrational, hysterical females jumping on bandwagons just to get the world to pay attention and reevaluate the whole damn system.
I’m sorry that you weren’t raised to truly understand how vulnerable it is to be a woman. I’m sorry we never realized that you didn’t know until now. But the jig is up. I’m putting it out here. MOMS and DADS the onus is on you. Starting with your newborn sons, teach them to do better and to be better to our girls.
How about this: no means no! No touching unless invited to do so and keep your creepy comments and dick pics to yourself. No shoulder massaging. No ass grabbing. No pushing your penises up against us when you’re standing behind us or rubbing it on us when the opportunity arises.No brushing your hands against our breasts. No disgusting comments about our mouths or what you’d like to do with our bodies. No drugging us. No having sex with us when we’re drinking or sleeping or incapacitated in any way that doesn’t allow us to give consent. How about treating us the way you’d like to be treated, with some dignity and respect?
Men, I am sorry that you feel like all the hysterical women of the Internet are on a witch hunt for sexual predators and you are uncomfortable and afraid that some woman from your past might accuse you of some wrongdoing but ask yourself, why are you worried? Why are you dismissive? Have you behaved questionably? Ask yourselves next time, would this be okay if it were happening to my mom, my sister, my girlfriend, my wife, or heaven forbid, your little girl? If the answer is no, then don’t do it.
2017/11/15
The Importance of Teaching Our Girls about History and American Girl Giveaway
How important do you think it really is to teach your kids about the history? Do you actively teach your children about their past, the past of the world so they can live accordingly or do you place your focus on the future? Eyes on the prize and all that.
I had a secondary focus on History in university so I learned early on that those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it. It’s the first thing they teach you and it’s true. It’s like my tween trying to school me on how cool “The Smiths” are. Girl, I was there in the beginning. I know how cool they are. You are only cool enough to understand how cool they are because I made you so.
I make sure that my children know what the world was like before they came into it because if you don’t know the struggle, it’s hard to appreciate that it no longer exists or how far we’ve come to get where we are. Otherwise, we all become complacent and stop growing in any meaningful way. In this way, I think it’s my responsibility to teach my girls.
Not all kids love history unless it is relatable to them in some way. When you are a kid, you are the center of the universe and seeing it any other way is almost impossible. This is one of the reasons I love the BeForever series at American Girl. It has helped me make history palatable for girls no matter the age.
For example, American Girl’s newest BeForever character, Nanea Mitchell, a Hawaiian girl growing up on the island of Oahu in 1941 helps me to explain WWII to my girls.
Nanea’s story explores what life was like for islanders in the weeks leading up to and the aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and the U.S.’s entry into World War Two. In bringing this significant period in history to life for girls today, Nanea’s story illuminates how the courage, patriotism, and aloha spirit of the Hawaiian people inspired a nation at war and shows how one girl can make a meaningful difference in the face of big change.
“The BeForever line is about building a bridge of understanding, helping girls today see the interconnectedness—the feelings, experiences, hopes, and dreams—that exists between themselves and girls from long ago,” says Katy Dickson, president of American Girl.
The hope is that Nanea’s powerful story of resilience, responsibility to others, and contributing for the common good—or kokua, as it’s known in Hawaii—will resonate with girls and show them they have the power within to face the obstacles that come their way.
Written by Newbery Honor Award-winning author Kirby Larson, the Nanea series introduces readers to 9-year- old Nanea Mitchell. Nanea loves her close-knit extended family, dancing the hula, fishing with her father, and playing with her dog, Mele. Nanea is also eager to “dip her paddle in” to be useful at home and at her grandparents’ store.
When Pearl Harbor—the naval base where her father works—is attacked by Japan, the peaceful existence the Mitchells and their neighbors enjoy is replaced with martial law, and rumors of additional attacks and frequent air-raid drills have everyone on edge.
Amid the chaos and uncertainty, Nanea embraces her spirit of aloha and deeply held belief in kokua—doing good deeds and giving selflessly—to do her part for the war effort and help restore peace to her beloved Hawaiian home.

In addition to the stories, the Nanea collection features a beautiful 18-inch doll featuring an all-new face mold, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair, plus several 1940s-era, Hawaiian-inspired doll outfits and Nanea-inspired apparel for girls. Numerous authentic-to- the-era accessories round out the play experience, including Nanea’s Hula Outfit and Hula Implements and Nanea’s Family Market, with 90 pieces, including a wooden store with a movable counter, food, supplies, displays, and more.
To help ensure the historical accuracy and cultural authenticity of Nanea’s story and products, American Girl worked closely with a five-member advisory board who provided their expertise in Hawaiian culture, language, and history to inform all aspects of Nanea’s development—including the doll, books, outfits, and accessories.
To support Nanea’s inspiring message, from August 21 until the end of 2017, American Girl will be collecting donations for the American Red Cross Service to the Armed Forces (SAF) program to help provide comfort and care to the members of the military, veterans, and their families.
American Girl will match every dollar donation made at americangirl.com or at any American Girl store in the U.S. up to a maximum total donation of $75,000. American Girl is also giving $575,000 worth of its signature 18-inch dolls to the American Red Cross to provide a bit of cheer to children in times of crisis.
Through the generosity of American Girl Dolls, I am giving away a Nanea Mitchell doll to one lucky reader to give to the little girl in her life, just in time for the holidays too!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

2017/11/08
The Problem with Little Boys
The problem with little boys is that society grooms them to grow up to be misogynistic men or rather we don’t do anything to prevent it from happening. We’re so busy teaching girls to protect themselves while living in a rape culture world that we totally (for the most part…not everybody…not you) take it for granted that boys will just know to respect girls, wait for consent and be decent. Not tell dirty jokes, grab women or use their power and leverage to, literally and figuratively, have their way with women.
Can you believe that I heard the radio DJ this morning saying, “He’s old. It was probably harmless. He comes from a different generation.”
WTF? NOPE! Sexual harassment is sexual harassment, no exceptions. Why do we always err on the side of men when they do something stupid? Why do we always choose to believe that they didn’t mean it?
The problems with little boys might just be us…wait, I did it again.#ViciousCycle
The thing is we’ve hit that strange period in parenting where boys are noticing my girls. Wait! What? Yes, apparently, my girl had her first boy “ask her out”. I know this because I heard it as she mentioned it matter a factly when she told me what she had for lunch that day.
Wait! I gotta get the baby book. Right? I mean, this is a milestone. It’s not a tooth or a first word but I think it’s a pretty important first. It was last Thursday (10/19/17)…that was for me, not you (baby book b*tches). Tawanda!
Suddenly, I find myself approaching the conversation like she is a puppy off its leash and if I speak too loudly she might run off into oncoming traffic and SQUISH! But I want to know more. I want to know everything but she can’t know I want to know everything or…you got it…SQUISH!
It takes me 3 random, nonchalant conversations to figure out what “asked me out” means to a 12-year-old these days. Turns out, it’s what we used to call flirting. Remember “Notes”? Basically, if a 12-year-old boy asks a 12-year-old girl “out” he’s letting her know officially that he likes her and maybe he wants to text her or communicate via a barrage of Music.ly messages. It’s a tween boy letting you know he’s interested and wants to get to know you better for one reason or another. But we are not quite there yet.
I ask my daughter what she said when he “asked her out”. Her exact response was, *Laugh in shock as if he just asked her if she still wore diapers (that’s my impression of what she showed me) and then she said, “Uh…NO!” Pretty much as if he asked her if she’d like to share a shit sandwich for lunch.
Now, I’ve always taught my girls to not be cruel to other children. I’ve even asked the girls to please not be mean to boys who like them. Let them down easy. Say things like, “Thank you but no” or, “I’m flattered but I’m not interested in you in that way.”
WAIT! What the fuck did I just say? Worst f*cking feminist ever*
Holy shit! I’m part of the problem with little boys!
Why do I give a flying flip about some boy’s feelings? Boys who don’t learn what consent is and think raping girls who are drunk or ruffie-ing co-eds is okay. I don’t.
I don’t care about their fragile egos. Not one bit. Because believe you me, if it’s between some strange boy’s feeling and my daughter’s safety…I don’t give a damn about your son.
See, I thought I was doing something good. I was thinking of all little boys and men as the Big Guy but they’re not. The thought of some mean girl laughing in the Big Guy’s face when he was going through his 12-inch growth spurts and looking like some kind of praying mantis creature in his tweens broke my heart. But I’m not his mama. I am my daughters’ mom in a world that treats women like they are disposable. There are a lot of creepers and misogynists out there and I don’t care about them or their imaginary right to every woman’s body.
I’ve spent the last few years consciously uncoupling with the word “SORRY”. My parents raised kind, thoughtful, well-mannered children. We were taught to say Please, Thank you, excuse me and I’m sorry.
F*ck “I’m sorry.” Sorry is appropriate when someone dies. Sorry is appropriate when you make a mistake and want forgiveness. Sorry is not for when you have to ask someone to pay you what they owe you (money and respect) or when you aren’t interested in someone in “that way.” That causes confusion and leaves them with a glimmer of hope. Nope, sorry about your feelings boy I don’t know but I want my daughter to be strong, solid and uncompromising in her NO to you. I don’t want her to be unnecessarily cruel but NO is not cruel, it is honest and no is no! SQUISH!
I really thought that if I taught my girls to be kind with their rejections, it would save some other mom’s daughter from getting the guy who had his heart broken and his ego smashed. We’ve all dated the guy who dated some crazy broad before us and it’s not fun but it’s not my daughter’s responsibility to protect your son from ever feeling bad about himself. Make better choices. She’s not the world boy feelings police and neither am I.
So while boys are on the approaching horizon sooner than later, politeness needs to be thrown out the window. I want my girls to say, “NO” loud and proud like they mean it. I want it to ring out and register like a rape whistle. Maybe that way, these little boys will get the meaning that no means no, in no uncertain terms.
Polite, demureness will get you raped and killed in a world where boys are taught that consent is a moving target. If it’s not a hell yes, it’s a no, boys.
See the real problem is not little boys at all but the misogynistic men they are allowed to grow into in a world where men are king and women are expendable collateral damage.
Let’ start by teaching our little boys to respect our little girls and then go from there. The opportunity for change is now, as grown women we can fight back against the oppression that we have lived in. We can name our assailants and call them out for their crimes. I encourage it. Every damn transgression, if you can. If you want to.
But more importantly, let’s try to stop that from being our daughter’s reality. Maybe she won’t have to fight for her right to exist as a woman, a real live human being who deserves equality and respect and is more than the sum total of her female parts.

2017/10/26
The Reality of Being Born a Woman
As I raise my hand to claim “me too”, I’m faced with a society asking who is to blame for the Weinstein situation? Obviously, Harvey Weinstein is a piece of shit and is to blame for his own actions but what about the society we live in that feels it’s okay to objectify little girls and rape women with no ramifications? How do we expect our girls to be safe when we let our boys get away with sexual harassment simply because someone in history said “boys will be boys” and that means girls need to live on the defensive while boys just get to live. When do women get to be people too? Are you angry and done with this attitude?
Me too!
Last night, there was a call for women to set their statuses to #MeToo if they have ever been sexually assaulted or harassed. I don’t know a single woman who didn’t set her status to Me Too! It made me sad. It made me mad and it made me feel not alone but utterly shattered that I am not the minority because what does that mean for my girls? Who is protecting our girls?
Sexual harassment is a disease and we apparently all have it. It’s like the moment you were born with a vagina, you were assured that you were going to be assaulted. Thankfully, they don’t tell you that or many of us would have looked for a way out a long time ago or our mothers would have mercifully drowned us at birth.
We live in a society that grooms women to be victims. We don’t intentionally let these horrific things happen to us. Women live a society that has completely failed us. We are taught that creepy guys are just misunderstood but harmless. We give them the benefit of the doubt because it was only a dick pic, it wasn’t his actual dick in my face. But wasn’t it? Weren’t you just as violated? The only thing missing was the imminent fear that his dick would be in y our body.
We live in a world where we are taught from a very young age to live on the defensive. It’s our job not to get raped or be abused by a sexual predator. It’s our responsibility to make sure that we keep ourselves hidden away and safe from men and their “natural” urges. We are taught to walk a little faster, cover up, not enjoy sex and steer clear of any situation that might put us in danger which boils down to our sheer existence.
It’s not all men though. My husband was appalled when I talked to him about this situation. But he also has no understanding of what it is like to be a woman. How lucky he is. How nice it is to be able to live a life where you can walk down the streets and never worry about someone attacking you from behind, pulling you behind the bushes and raping you.
What a utopia it must be to live in a world where no one will ever corner you in a room and threaten to have his way with you. No one will ever break into your apartment while you sleep and take what is not his.
The first time I can remember being assaulted, I was 4-years-old, a little boy in my kindergarten class wanted to steal a kiss under the parachute during gym class. It may sound innocent and sweet but I didn’t want it. He took what was mine without asking. I cried. I was mad. I told on him. The gym teacher laughed, “Awww, Debbie he likes you. Boys will be boys.” Nothing was said to him. The onus fell on me. That was it. It was my problem. Get over it. That began a lifetime of knowing that the responsibility fell on me to protect myself and if something bad happened to me, then I must not have done a good enough job.
A few of my Me Too Moments
When I was 7-years-old, a teenaged boy (a family friend) repeatedly groped me at a family party and told me if I ever told anyone they would blame me for being such a “slut”.
In 4^th grade, Andre pushed himself against me and kissed me hard, just as everyone was walking into the classroom after recess. Everyone saw, so not only did he take what he wasn’t given permission to take, he embarrassed me in front of the entire class. The teacher and all the students laughed. What could I do?
In 6th school, my art teacher used to come over when I was working on a project and take his hand and massage my neck while telling me how “spectacular” my artwork was. He was a grown man and his hands always found their way to my breast buds. I pulled forward to escape his grip, he grabbed me harder. This was done almost every art class for 3 years.
In 7^th grade, walking home through a field, a high school boy exposed himself to my friend and I. We were in shock. We were terrified. He thought it was hilarious. I never wanted to walk home again.
When I was 18, working at a retail chain and the security guys called me back into the security room. I thought they needed a female employee as a witness as they questioned a suspected female shoplifter because that was protocol. Instead, when I got back there at 9 at night, when we were working on a skeleton crew, the two grown men, locked the door and started making comments on how I looked in my uniform. They told me that they liked watching me on the cameras and told me to my face, as they laughed, “You know we could do anything we wanted to you in here and no one would even hear us.” I was trembling I was so terrified.
Once, I was visiting a friend and I’d met a guy who was visiting her boyfriend, after a night of drinking and hanging out, I woke up to feel him pressed up against me and kissing me. I pushed him off but by the time I had woken up, he’d already been touching my body. I don’t know for how long, I was passed out. But I didn’t do anything about it because I felt partially responsible because earlier that night I had smiled when he sang a song to me. Even though there was no consent and no making out before I passed out, I felt responsible for letting myself get into this vulnerable position because that is how this society has conditioned women to believe. If we are assaulted, we must have done something to encourage it.
Or the time I was at a frat party and a group of brothers from another university came to the party. I was a little sister at the fraternity, so I was comfortable and even felt safe at the house. A cute walkout started talking to me and one thing led to another, the flirting was in high gear and then in the middle of a room full of people, he pushed my head into his lap. I was drinking but that sobered me up immediately. I felt vulnerable, threatened (in a room full of guys) and angry. Luckily, the president of the frat (a friend of mine) saw the whole thing happen and literally, kicked the guy out of the house. Of course, then he spent the night “comforting” me. I let him because I felt like I owed him. I didn’t want his advances but it felt safer than some stranger shoving my face in his crotch and becoming an unwilling participant in a gang rape.
Then there was the time I was at a college bar with my friends and the star basketball player came up behind me and started grinding on me. I gently moved away. He followed in pursuit. Then he came in front of me, grabbed me by my ass and lifted me up around his waist and started trying to kiss me. No one did anything. I was terrified. I didn’t want his advances. I did not invite him to do any of this. I was minding my own business. No one helped me. I wiggled myself out of his grip and ran out of the bar. When a friend found me outside, she did not care if I was alright or if I was shaken. Her question was, “Don’t you know who that was?”
How about the time I was at a cop party with my friend and a married cop tried to make advances towards me and when I said no because he was married (and I wasn’t interested) he told me that I should think twice before driving alone in his city ever again because he could pull me over late at night on a dark road and it wouldn’t matter if I was interested or not.
Or the time I broke up with a boyfriend, I hadn’t had sex with because I was still a virgin. He had spent the entire time we were dating dry humping me, slowly trying to expose himself. I felt like he was a child that I had to keep telling no. He was much bigger than me. I always felt threatened. He saw me out after we broke up and said he wanted to talk to me in private and apologize for being a jerk when we broke up. I was naïve, I went to his car with him. He exposed himself to me and said, “Try it. You’ll like it.” If I wouldn’t have pulled my knee up and hit him in the groin, he would have raped me and he thought he was doing me a favor. As I got out of the car and ran, he screamed after me, “Slut! Cock tease!”
I am sad angry and even in recounting these events (and there are so many more and so many worse that I can’t bring myself to share with you yet) I feel helpless, ashamed and on the verge of having a full out sob fest, right here in fucking Starbucks and that makes me unbelievably mad.
I’m trying to use my words but the problem is that I’m angry and I’m sick of the world giving men hall passes for rape, attempted rape, pressing up against women on the train, grabbing their breasts in a club, forcing themselves in so many ways big and small and society acting like it’s a victimless crime. I could go on for pages listing all the different times I’ve been accosted to one degree or another but I can’t because I’d probably go on forever.
Sometimes were worse than others. Sometimes things went further than I wanted them to go but I never felt like I could do anything about it because the truth is that no matter how good, bad, drunk, sober, promiscuous or frigid you are, if you are a woman, you have been made to feel vulnerable and unsafe in your lifetime. It’s the reality of being born with a vagina.
We don’t have to do anything to precipitate an attack, they just happen and we just have to learn to live with it. But this is bullshit. I don’t want my daughters to feel this shame and vulnerability or fear of living in a world where women are treated like inanimate holes put on this earth solely for men’s pleasure. Why do we have to be cautious and careful before doing everything? Even a girl in a beige cardigan who did nothing to encourage her attacker’s advances still got raped, left like garbage on the side of a dumpster.
That’s what society does, it makes men feel like they are entitled to everything and makes women feel like they are of no more value than garbage. I stand with all other women, in saying ME TOO! Over and over again. I knew it was wrong. I said no. I told people but still, the assailant prevailed because he had a penis and I was only armed with a vagina. In society, that makes me the one at fault.
Well, now I’m saying NO MORE! Every woman should say no more. No more fucking excuses. No more touching without asking. No more boys will be boys. No more taking what’s not yours. And no more looking the other way. If you see something, say something. We have to protect one another because if we don’t we all fall victim. It’s happened to all of us. Do we want it to happen to our daughters?
Whatever we wear, wherever we go, yes means yes and no means no. Let’s teach that instead of Boys will be boys.
What was your Me Too moment?
2017/10/16
Netflix’s To the Bone Realistically Portrays Life with Eating disorders
Have you ever watched a movie or seen a show and thought to yourself, “Damn, that’s me! That’s my life!” I know it happens all the time because the human condition is a shared one. We don’t live in a vacuum and life is just a series of conditions, right?
The other day, I watched a movie and I saw me, exactly who I once was and it scared me because, by the way it was written, it was someone else too. Someone else had been where I had been and that made me think again about whether or not my girls might some day go down that same path. It was the Netflix Original To the Bone.
I see me, or rather, who I used to be. The anorexic girl. The one with the conflicted home life. The Unpresent dad, the checked out Mom who tried to help in her own way, while at the same time refusing to admit that there’s a problem at all.
Denial. It where we thrived. My job was to keep my dirty secret. Their job was to pretend it wasn’t happening. I fell through the cracks of a childhood held together by rubber bands and chewing gum.
I was alone, so very alone with my disease. People don’t really want to know when these sorts of things are happening, even if they suspect or even glimpse it with their own eyes, it’s too uncomfortable to discuss; to face head on. So we all pretend it’s not happening. Meanwhile, a child is dying.
READ ALSO: A Day in the Life of a Girl with Eating Disorders
It won’t go away. It doesn’t just stop. Sometimes, the darkness is so enveloping and the loneliness so crippling that you hope they don’t notice. You’d rather just disappear into the abyss without any fanfare or long, drawn out goodbyes. You want to cease to exist and other people’s concern only serves to prolong your agony.
The worst part for me was realizing that I was so good at it. Worse, I was so good at hiding it and it turned me into someone I despised because the only way to survive is to lie. Soon, you’re lying about everything to keep the one secret that you hold dearest to your heart.
There are never good days. It’s just a series of days you control better than others. You are being held at gun point in a prison of your own making; your head. There is no escape. There is no chance for parole. There is just a life sentence and, if you’re lucky, a life lived in daily recovery. Every day, for the rest of your life, you have to choose life because the alternative is that you die. You will literally die.
Though it may seem soothing and tempting, the thought of no longer having to endure; but the fucking guilt of it all is unbearable so every day, you get up, and you make the choice to live or to die.
For 8 years, I restricted and threw up every single day. Every single thing I ate. I threw up. I never binged, unless it was on alcohol and that was more to forget the world of shit I was living in, the complete loss of control and the fact that I was really hungry. I was starving in every sense of the word.
Five years before that, I began dieting. It was my gateway drug to starvation. I was 12-years-old when my journey started. 12, the magical age of awkward bodies caught between a child and a woman. My dad suggested that maybe I needed to “run more”. That was enough especially at that time in adolescence when you gain weight, right before you begin to develop and everything goes to the right place. You know, the exact same age as my daughter is today.
I’ve spent my entire motherhood tenure doing everything I can to not repeat this cycle. Here we are. This precipice that silently scares me to death. I’m constantly looking for all the signs. But I’ve done a good job. She thinks she’s perfect. She loves herself and her body. Then, it happened, beyond my control.
READ ALSO: Tips for Raising Healthy Daughters
As we were leaving the pediatricians office after her well visit last week, our dr was telling the girls where they rank on the charts. My 12-year-old has consistently ranked around the 98th percentile since birth. But this time, the new dr ( a female and girl Mom) told her “your BMI is a little high, so technically you are overweight.”
I shot her a death stare as I wanted to murder her on the spot but didn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of the girls. She continued, but that’s to be expected in a girl your age because most girls put on a little weight during puberty before everything goes where it’s supposed to go.
I saw the gut punch on my daughters face. I felt the humiliation of being told that you’re not perfect. Then, I saw her second guess what she’s always known about herself … we she good enough?
I spent the ride home assuring her that the doctor said this was normal at this age. I assured her that she eats right and is very active and an athlete. She trusts me because I’m her mother. She accepted my words. But I know that now, forever, the seed of doubt has been planted and that crushes me.
Words have weight. Thoughts sometimes should be kept inside your head. Actions are forever.
I know there has been some controversy about the movie To the Bone. But coming from someone who knows, I think it was far from making anorexia seem desirable, or acting as if it stems from a desire to “look skinny.” The writing is sensitive but unsparingly real because it comes from personal experience. There were lines in there that only someone who has suffered from eating disorders would say or know. An anorexic can spot another anorexic from a mile away.
It’s the directorial film debut of Marti Noxon, a writer and executive producer on such shows as UnREAL and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and to write To the Bone she drew on her own battle with anorexia. (The film’s credits note that it is based on actual events.) I wouldn’t recommend you show it to your teen daughter but as a parent of a teen girl, or someone who loves someone living with this disorder or even for the girl surviving it…this movie, in my opinion, is a must see.
Have you seen To the Bone and what were your thoughts?
Disclosure: I am a member of the Netflix Stream Team, so I binge a lot of Netflix, but my opinion about To the Bone and my personal experience with eating disorders are all my own.

2017/08/25
How to Make Back-to-School Easier for Your Tween/Teen
Disclosure: This is a compensated campaign in collaboration with CLEAN & CLEAR and #WeAllGrow Latina Network but all opinions about how to make back-to-school easier for your tween/teen are all my own.
Back-to-school is difficult for parents and kids alike. However, for tweens and teens it’s especially hard. They go away for the summer looking one way and chances are they come back looking completely different. Crazy things happen to their bodies and their faces when all those hormones are surging through their bodies.
They leave school in the spring looking like a kid and return in the fall with a growth spurt, a voice that’s changing, a body that is metamorphosing so much that not even they recognize themselves in the mirror and probably some skin issues. It’s a crazy time of year for so many reasons.
As we prepare to go back to school and get back into our routines, there is a lot of stress. Not just the regular back to school shopping for clothes and supplies but when your child is a tween/teen you have to include shopping to address your child’s skin concerns.
My daughter is 12-years-old and she is changing so fast that I hardly recognize her from one day to the next. That is no exaggeration. Growing from a child into a young lady is hard work. There are so many things going on inside and out that I want to make this time of transition as smooth and easy as possible so I try to help her navigate this time of her life with the least amount of stress and confusion.
Her skin has begun to suffer the effects of the hormonal changes. I don’t think it’s fair that she has to deal with acne on top of all the other changes so I started teaching her how to take care of her skin when she was about 10-years-old, the same age that her little sister is now.
We’ve tried all sorts of different regimens but nothing seems to work. She doesn’t have bad skin per se but she is getting a few small pimples. She’s an athlete; a dancer who performs 6 days a week. Part of dancing is dressing the part and that includes stage makeup which is terrible for her skin. She’s been having breakouts and she is not loving it at all.

Recently, we started using Clean and Clear Morning Burst Facial Cleanser, Deep Action Scrub and Deep Action 60 sec shower mask. They are easy to use and the simple to follow instructions make it easy for my tween to stick to her skin cleansing routine.

The CLEAN & CLEAR^® Morning Burst® Facial is a unique gel cleanser specifically formulated with effective cleansers and vitamin-enriched BURSTING BEADS® to awaken skin. Cleansers gently remove dirt, oil, and impurities, while BURSTING BEADS® with vitamins gently dissolve as you lather to help revive and awaken skin’s look.
Steps for Using product
- Start with clean hands.
- Use those clean hands to splash water on your face.
- Squeeze a small amount of cleanser onto wet palms – a dime-size should do it.
- Work into a lather. Place the now foamy cleanser onto your face and use your fingertips to gently swirl it around…circles, figure eights…that type of thing.
- Feel the BURSTING BEADS^® start to break apart. Oooh…
- Rinse your face thoroughly then pat it dry with a towel.
CLEAN & CLEAR^® Deep Action 60 Second Shower Face Mask is designed to work with the steam of your shower to deeply, but gently exfoliate away traces of dirt, oil and dead skin that can clog pores. You’ll be able to feel the deep clean as the tingling sensation builds, and in just 60 seconds, your skin will look brighter, healthy, and feel refreshed!
Directions: Wet your face then squeeze out a quarter-sized amount of the mask onto your palms.
- Apply to mask evenly all over your face.
- Now the important part: Let the mask sit on your face for 60 seconds… feel free to multi-task during this time.
- After the quick 60 seconds is up, gently massage your whole face as you rinse thoroughly off.
- If you get some in your eyes, no need to panic, just rinse your peepers with water.
- Use 2-3 times per week alone or right after your favorite cleanser
CLEAN & CLEAR^® Deep Action Exfoliating Scrub is designed to invigorate skin by cleansing pores deep down and gently exfoliating surface skin. The CLEAN & CLEAR^® Deep Action Exfoliating Scrub provides a tingly, cooling sensation as you gently massage the scrub on skin — the unmistakable, revitalizing feeling of a deep cleansing action.
Directions:
Wet face. Gently massage all over face, avoiding eye area. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry. Good for daily use.
How do you make back-to-school easier for your tween/teen?
2017/08/18
How to Explain Where Babies Come From to Your Child
Have you had “the talk” with your children yet? At what age did you decide it was time to have that conversation? It’s a big milestone in motherhood and childhood. Admittedly, it’s awkward and weird explaining to your baby where babies come from but if you don’t do it, someone else will or they’ll figure it out as it’s happening, probably too soon with someone who just wants to have sex.
I consider myself a little bit crunchy. I always have. I’ve always been a free thinker; open-minded, the spread love and equality sort. I love the earth and I think at the root, most people are good. I wear patchouli so that’s confirmation, right?
But the other day when I told the Big Guy that I thought we’re pretty hippie in our parenting ideology, he gave me the blank stare. I get it, I’ve been known to hover. But then it hit me, yes, hell yes… I have problems physically letting go of my children but I’m getting better but it’s not about me, it’s about them, this parenting thing.
I’ve always encouraged my girls to be free-range thinkers. I talk to them like people and we have open dialogues about anything they want to talk about from sex to politics and even such controversial topics as which is better…unicorns or mermaids. The point is everything we say and don’t say to our children counts.
I’m sure some people think I’m too free with my girls but I want to raise educated women who can think for themselves, no approval needed, from anyone. Radical concept, right?
My daughters are no longer toddlers. My oldest just turned 12-years-old and my youngest daughter just turned 10-years-old. Things are changing at a furiously fast pace, as they do during childhood. The tween and teen years are a whole different set of firsts.
I’ve been trying to do my due diligence as a tween mom, though. We’ve been discussing birth control and healthy/unhealthy relationships for a while now. Puberty and where babies come from became topics of discussion during preschool and I’ve just been elaborating and filling in the gaps ever since. The older you get, the more you know.
I’ve always told my children the facts as they’ve asked and let one moment lead to the next teachable moment. In fact, once the puberty conversation was done and elaborated upon and extrapolated into infinity, then we moved on to sex (for the 12-year-old). Though it was just the basics about sex, the mechanics of basic insert, ejaculate and consummate sex, she knows how babies happen.
Explaining where babies come from to your child but not birth control is not enough.
We need to explain everything. Turning children loose into the world with just that tiny amount of information is like giving a kid a loaded gun, teaching them how to shoot but not explaining that they could kill someone.
That’s why I’ve also touched on the healthy/unhealthy relationship conversation. I’ve explained that sex between two people who love each other and are mature enough to handle all of the possible outcomes is a beautiful thing. But, I’ve also explained the hard fact that just because you have sex with someone, that doesn’t always mean they love you. It could just mean that they like having sex with you and that’s okay if that’s all you both want.
I don’t want my girls to expect love in exchange for sex because that is not how it works. I think they should be prepared for that. I want them to decide when, where, why and how sex happens for them. I don’t want it to be something they do under pressure or out of some sort of expectation or obligation. You can’t put a timeline on when you are ready. You know because you know yourself better than anyone else.
My girls know where babies come from, how they get there, how they are born and (in theory) what a big responsibility babies are once they are born. Of course, I don’t think anyone fully understands that last one until the baby is in your arms.
My girls are young but they know what birth control is and that it is a woman’s right to choose; who she loves, who/when/if she has sex with and if/when she will become a mother because we are the masters of our own bodies but they also know that we must respect ourselves and our bodies.
We’ve been having the conversations about their bodies since they were toddlers. I’ve taught them that their bodies are beautiful and wonderful. I’m teaching them that sex is not shameful or bad. It’s beautiful and wonderful and babies are miracles. But I want them to know that the sex doesn’t have to mean a baby and babies shouldn’t happen until you are mature enough and ready to start a family.
Becoming pregnant shouldn’t feel like a punishment for doing something that is so natural. A baby should be something you want and try for. A baby should come from love and intention, not on accident. The only way any of this happens is if we have those awkward, uncomfortable conversations with our kids so that they can become free-range thinkers and decide for themselves.
I love the videos by Amaze.org because they are made for 10 to 14-year-olds. It’s not pornographic or above their head. AMAZE is a collaboration between 3 expert organizations in the field of sex education: Advocates for Youth, Answer, and Youth Tech Health. They produce engaging sex education videos that cover the “mechanics” (e.g., puberty) and also more complex topics (relationships, gender identity, consent, etc.). AMAZE wants to help empower parents to be the primary sexuality educators of their kids – the goal of the videos is to inform and spark a conversation. I’m using the videos as a tool to add visual explanation and levity to an otherwise serious conversation.
If you’d like access to these tools to help you explain puberty, sex, where babies come from, contraception and much more like the @AMAZEparents Facebook page (which includes video shares as well as fantastic curated content related to sex ed, health, etc.) because the more information we have the less weird these very important conversations have to be.
How did you or do you plan to explain where babies come from to your child?
Disclosure: This is a sponsored collaboration with Amaze.org but all opinions about how to explain where babies come from are my own.
2017/07/17
When You Realize Your Truth was a Lie
A couple days ago I realized something that broke my brain; I realized that my truth was a lie and the origin of my self-doubt originates from the most unlikely source, (more…)
2017/07/10
Wonder Woman is Every Woman
As a little girl, I had 1 hero (besides my mom) and that was Wonder Woman. She was smart, beautiful and she was stronger than any man; plus, she was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a brunette and she was the superhero plus, bonus Linda Carter was a Latina.
I still remember watching Wonder Woman, sitting in my fuzzy red teddy bear rocker. It was the best thing on television as far as I was concerned. She was better than Batman or Superman because she was a girl, just like I was and that was important then… and now.
Girls need strong female role models. My girls have women like Hillary Clinton, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and myself. But, I’ve always believed that it couldn’t just be guy superheroes who got to save the world. We don’t all need rescuing. We can be the rescuer. Women are more than just a pretty face, playing second fiddle to a guy superhero or otherwise. Even then, as a little girl, I knew that I could do and be more than just the arm candy or cheerleader to a man. I wasn’t a damsel in distress and didn’t want to be treated like one.
Then Diana Prince appeared in my young life and gave hope to all little girls everywhere because it didn’t matter if you were pretty or ugly, tall or short, where you were from or if you were poor or rich.
Wonder Woman made it not only plausible but probable that you could be strong, smart, funny and good just as good as any boy, even better.
You could care about issues and people and you could make a difference. All you had to do is decide that’s what you wanted to do. Maybe we couldn’t all be Amazons or Goddesses but we could do and be good and we didn’t need a man’s help or permission. We could just do it.
Wonder Woman was a critical part of my childhood. She was more than a fictional superhero, she was endless possibility. She was an inspiration to stand up for what I believed in. She was permission to do what was right even when it was hard, even when people didn’t agree or gave you funny looks because “girls” aren’t supposed to do those things.
I bought the Wonder Woman boxed set when I had my first daughter. I knew that I wanted her to feel that pride in her chest that swelled up and propelled her do the right thing even when it was the unpopular one.
When I heard that a Wonder Woman movie was coming out, I knew I had to see it with my daughters.
Last week, we took our girls to see Wonder Woman in the theater. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect since I’d heard mixed reviews. I hoped they wouldn’t mess up the feature film and over sexualize Diana Prince or make her a 1-dimensional supporting cast member in her own feature, as so often happens to so many women in real life. But I have to say honestly, for me, the movie was amazing.
For me, Gal Gadot was the perfect Wonder Woman.
She was just the right blend of strong, smart, beautiful, conscientious and independent to play the character. She did the right thing in spite of making the hard choice. She gave up the guy to save humanity. She saved the world because she believed she could. She believed and saw the good in people and it was all embraced and respected. She was a warrior and a lady.
Speaking of the perfect choice to play a part, Robin Wright’s General Antiope was phenomenal casting. She’s come a long way from the damsel in distress in The Princess Bride and I saw a lot more Claire Underwood in there. Her part was short but impactive.
Wonder Woman did what was right even though it meant losing everything she loved and leaving everyone she ever cared about.
She chose the human race over her own personal gain. She sacrificed herself for the greater good. She was humble and a hero.
“Be careful in the world of men, Diana. They do not deserve you.”
It may appear on the surface that someone or something doesn’t deserve our help, our sacrifice or our fight on their behalf but it’s not about them, it’s about us. It’s about the kind of person that we want to be.
I teach my girls to be good, do good. Stick up for your beliefs. Fight for your rights. Help those in need. It doesn’t matter if you are celebrated or thanked. You do good because your moral compass compels you to do so. Do it for the love and the justice of the world.
We can’t control others reactions, only our actions. Put your good into the world and let it take hold. It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching or knows that you did it. You do it because it’s right not for the glory.
Silence is equal to doing harm. You can’t hide because it’s not what’s popular. It’s not always easy but I want my girls to do the right thing, especially when it’s hard because every choice has a ripple effect. One small kind act or word can mean the difference between life and death. Wonder Woman reminded me of that.
My soul is on fire. My heart is happy to have had the opportunity to share the experience with my girls.
Maybe the world doesn’t deserve our girls but doesn’t our girls deserve to feel empowered and strong enough to do what’s right. Don’t our girls deserve to know they are strong and the possibilities are endless? Don’t our little girls, and ourselves, deserve to know that we are all wonder women?
If you’ve not seen Wonder Woman yet, go now! Take your girls, your boys and yourself. Celebrate the wonder that all women are!
If you’ve seen Wonder Woman, I’d love to hear your thoughts whether you loved it or hated it.
2017/06/12
American Girl Z Yang Giveaway
It’s May, my favorite and busiest month of the year. I don’t only love it because the world seems to be coming alive but I get to celebrate so many wonderful things in my life; birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Day, end of the year school performances and even the anniversary of this website. There are lots of reasons for celebrating so I will be hosting a few giveaways this month starting with the newest American Girl Doll, Z Yang.
Z Yang, American Girl’s newest contemporary character, is an imaginative 13-year-old from Seattle who develops her own take on the world around her.
Z is the latest addition to American Girl’s new series of contemporary characters and stories designed to speak to more girls’ interests, backgrounds, and experiences.
Z (short for Suzie) is a Korean-American teen who loves staying connected with friends through her vlog, Z’s Crew. Now she’s taking a shot at her dream of becoming a true filmmaker. The 18” Z doll has long dark-brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a beauty mark on her left cheek. The Z doll comes dressed in her signature outfit, along with a paperback of The Real Z by Jen Calonita.
American Girl brings its popular stop-motion vlogger character, Z Yang, to life for millions of fans who have come to know and love her as the star of the company’s popular web series, Z’s Crew.
Inspired by the American Girl Stop Motion (AGSM) phenomenon, the series has garnered more than three million views on YouTube and continues to draw a large fan base.
Bonus: An Amazon Original live-action “Z” Special, An American Girl Story: Summer Camp Friends for Life, is scheduled to premiere on Amazon Prime Video on June 9, 2017.
The full Z product collection includes several creatively-inspired doll outfits and accessories that reflect her filmmaking interests, such as a wooden fold-out desk—complete with a chair and several pretend video-making supplies like a laptop and video monitor, as well as her own filming accessories like a camera, smartphone, and tripod, to name a few.
The Z Yang collection is available now.
To learn more about Z and other new American Girl characters debuting throughout 2017, go to americangirl.com, Facebook at facebook.com/americangirl, Twitter at twitter.com/american_girl, Pinterest at pinterest.com/agofficial, and American Girl’s Instagram page at instagram.com/americangirlbrand. To request an American Girl catalog, call 1-800-845-0005.
Through the generosity of American Girl, I am hosting a giveaway.
If you’d like the chance to win a Z Yang doll for the special little girl in your life, enter the giveaway below and leave a comment telling me which American Girl doll you most identify with?
a Rafflecopter giveaway

2017/05/02