I’m sure you’ve all seen this video about the 13 year old boy,Isaiah Johnson, in Houston who was brutally beat down by his teacher, Sherri Davis. Jamie’s House Charter School, a school for students at risk where many of them have disciplinary problems, fired Davis, but Isaiah’s mother, Alesha Johnson, wants her put behind bars. I agree.
Does anyone really think that her behavior is acceptable under the circumstances? Perhaps, if she feared for her life or that of the others in the class? Perhaps, if he were wielding a knife or gun? They say that the teacher unleashed the beating on the student when he provoked her by teasing an alleged mentally challenged student. Still, no excuse for this behavior. Reprimand him, send him to the principal to be properly addressed. My God, she BEAT a child. She physically and mercilessly laid hands on him, repeatedly.
If a parent beat a child they’d be brought up on charges. At the very least shouldn’t this woman be locked up somewhere? I can tell you that if a teacher beat my child like this, I’d find her and exact the same punishment that she had exacted on my child. A teacher is supposed to be a trusted individual that you leave your child with for the day to expand their intellectual boundaries that does not give them cart blanch to discipline a child in such an extreme manner.
I don’t believe in corporal punishment at all and I surely don’t think that a teacher has the right to lay hands on a child.I thought sending a child to the principal’s office for a swat was barbaric back when I was a child. This…well,this is something quite different.My hopes are that with all this media attention, Ms. Davis will be brought up and charged and have her teachers license revoked. I think she is a menace to society and has no business around children.
Even worse so, there was reportedly other teachers witnessing the incident. Really, no one thought it was a good idea to intervene and stop this. It is also reported but not confirmed that students were threatened to not leak the footage by one of the adult witnesses.I think any parent whose child attends that school should take a closer look at what is going on in that place and the people running it.
I love the way you cup my face and kiss me when you are trying to make a sincere apology I love the way you summons me from across the house only to tell me “Mommy! Close the doah , Me need PIRACY” when you’re taking a poop I love the way you still say “Me” versus”I”. I really don’t care what anyone thinks. I wouldn’t mind if you said it your whole life through I love that you are sarcastic at 3-years-old. Not jaded, just so above and over it all. I love your unapologetic attitude. I love your sense of style; rain boots ( the more colorful the better) a hooded pullover and a pair of bootie shorts on any given day of the year and about 13 hair clips and a couple self made crooked pony tails with about a handful of flavored chap stick to polish your look. I love the way no matter what happens to you, its always your sisters fault..even if she isn’t even here! I love the way you bite your lip just before you fall asleep ( just like Mommy did does) I love the way when we first had you, you strongly resembled a sumo wrestler ( I wasn’t quite sure you were ours except for the fact you never left my room) but now you are a long, lean version of my little kid self.
I love the way when we get back from dropping Bella off from school, you wrap your legs and arms around me tight and always want me to carry you in like a little monkey from the car. I adore it! I love the way when you are falling asleep, just before you completely crash, you move your lips in some imaginary conversation and practice your Karate kid crane style. It’s also pretty funny that you like to sleep with your feet by your sister’s head..I’m pretty sure you do that on purpose to be an asshole but it is really cute to watch. I love the way you run to your sister and give her the world’s biggest squeeze when we pick her up from school. Every drop off is like sending her off to war and every pick up is like she made it home in one piece. I love that you want to do everything your sister does, even if you are too little. I love your fearlessness and bravery. I love that I am your “Mommy” and no one else seems quite good enough to you. I love the way you randomly shake your bootie and try to get your sister to do the same. I love that you announce to everyone…”I Faaahhhhh-ted!” I love the way you always put your shoes on the wrong foot, the first time! I love that when you are really tired you say ” Me want my Daddy!” I love the way you air kiss me from across any room, no matter where we are or who is listening There is so much about you that I love that I could write a book about it. You are my sunshine.
Bella
I love your big giant heart. I love that you love big and do everything in a big way. I love your flamboyance ( Satine from Moulin Rouge as a Birthday party theme at 5?) I love your willingness and openness to new experiences and people. I love how you came into this world and made me a better person for all time. I love the way you always want to be all girlied up! I love the way you say say “Shua” for “Sure”. I love that you are timid but so brave. I love that you befriend the little guy just so they won’t be alone. I love that you are so unaware of your beauty.
I love your passion for life. I love the way you walk around the house with my high heels and purses pretending to be me ; it makes me feel like I am someone worth being! I love the way you snuggle with me, even though you are probably starting to think I am a dork:) I love the way you say my name like I am the most important person in the world. I love that to you I am the most important person in the world. I love the way you think about what you say ” My Mom is way cuter than me!” (OMG..complete lie but so sweet of her to say. Even more, I love that she believes it!) I love that you made me a Mommy and let me have the honor of knowing you. I love the way your Daddy is your rock. I love that you tell me I am your best friend ( I pray that never changes) I love the way you light up when you dance ballet. I love the way you watch over your sister. I love that although you may not look like me exactly, you have my personality to a t! I love that when I get excited about something that’s going on in my life, you get it and join right in on the celebration. I love the way you hold my hand when I walk you to school.
I love the way you talk in your sleep about the things of the day. I love our “Peace out/I love you” sign. I love the crazy songs we make up and sing together. I love the way you harmonize and sing with your uncle while he plays the guitar or piano; I love the way you accompany your Grandpa when he plays Happy Birthday at all family birthday parties. I love the way you draw pictures of you and I together holding hands. I love all the girly things we do together; manis/pedis/facials, slumber party/ pizza night. I love the way you are so blissfully unmarred by the world and exist in pure naivete. I love that when you get hurt and I ask if you are going to live , you always answer ” Just always only with you Mommy!” I love that you tell me that I am the best Mommy in the world. I love how when you do something cute or crazy, you immediately ask “Are you going to BLOG about this?” I love that when we have been separated ,for any amount of time, you run and scream my name and hug my neck like I’m returning home from a lon g journey and nothing has ever made you happier! I love how you look so sweet and peaceful when you sleep and I can still see that baby they first placed into my arms. You are my heart. I love you to the moon and back 27 million times!
My Girls,How do I love thee? There are infinite reasons to count!
Let’s talk about something a lil icky, weight gain. I’m 19-years-old, about to finish my freshman year of university, and medicated. But before I get into all of that, let’s start with some basics. I am 5’10, not nearly as active as when I was ages 10-15, dancing 30 hours a week. I’m busy with work and school, so I usually don’t have time for all 3 meals. I thrive on caffeine and a dream 99% of the time, slaying my classes and trying to be a functional person in my family. But recently when visiting the student clinic for a sinus infection, they took vitals as usual, blood pressure, temperature… and my weight. If I’d never had any predisposition for eating disorders or body image issues, this was enough to set my mind on fire.
Let me tell you, when you are already sick and exhausted the last thing you want to do is be weighed, but we all have to go through it. I try not to look at the scale when being weighed just because I know that I have some struggles with food, weight, and exercise. Now, my lovely, amazing mama tried her damndest due to her own eating disorders to make sure my sister and I grew up body positive, especially in the dance world. That being said, it was just kind of inevitable. Nothing was ever said directly to me, but constantly hearing your standard petite, very thin, best friend constantly be called “fat” or “a whale who eats too much” makes something in your brain flip. It happens just as quickly, if not faster, than turning the light on in your room. You start to think if this is what they think of her, wtf do they think of me?
This was the beginning of the slow an steady hits to my body image.
Now, I never really had an “aha” moment but it definitely started around age 12. Seeing myself in tights and a leotard 6 days a week surrounded by mirrors, oof, it was rough, and I never really discussed it with anyone because my best friend wouldn’t understand, she was nowhere near as “fat” as I was, she could only understand the hurtful insults constantly being heard. Picking clothes to wear everyday now that I’m no longer confined by uniforms, is such a nightmare struggle because I hate everything I put on my body.
I never really brought it up to my mama because she struggled with her own eating disorders and I didn’t want her to feel like she “failed” in a sense that I was feeling this way. When I was 12 that’s when I stopped eating breakfast, just woke up and had my coffee. Lunch consisted of whatever yummy stuff my mom packed for me, because I stopped eating the cafeteria food, and that was enough until 4 or 5 pm-ish when I was home from school/before dance and when I would eat dinner with my family.
The gradual onset of eating disorders is almost unnoticeable in the beginning,.
Now, enough about the origin story and back to the now. I was still, up until this weighing, only consuming coffee for breakfast and then eating dinner with the family. If there was any snacking it would be either another coffee or a granola bar of some sort. Recently though, I’ve been making small changes like a protein shake for breakfast, along with my beloved coffee, a salad for lunch, and then whatever happens to be on the menu for dinner. I try to move, walking around campus when not working on assignments between classes, but here in the midwest I must suffer from mother nature’s wrath and allergy season (which is all year round for this allergy shot girl). That plays a huge role in my ability to walk outside. I try to do lil 15 minute core routines on youtube but your girl is tired when she gets home, ready to pass out on the couch with my fur baby, Stella.
Earlier I mentioned being medicated, I suffer from severe anxiety, depression, insomnia, and terrible/excruciating periods. Periods so bad with radiating pain and numbness in my back and legs caused by cramps that are so severe, I sometimes feel bed bound. At the start of the new year I was lucky enough to be put on and start birth control to try and help manage those symptoms, so I’m no longer debilitated during that time of the month. I also would have very irregular periods due to stress and life, that now is being helped as well along with several other things. But even with a low dosage, adding that medication can play a role in weight gain/distribution. I’m also being treated with mental health medications such as gabapentin and prozac, both of those are known to cause little to no weight gain, but with my luck I’m definitely likely to experience that side effect.
I have to remind myself that I am in control of my actions, reactions and choices.
I decided in March (my birthday month) that I want to make some changes. I want to get in shape and be healthy, because at the end of the day I need to be happy with what I see in the mirror even if it’s not accurate. I feel like there are so many people, women specifically, my age that are experiencing so many changes with moving away for college and balancing work, school, social life, relationships, etc. that many of us neglect simple things like eating healthier and getting our steps in.
With the help of my wonderful therapist and supportive mama, I’m determined to work on these things and try to make myself happy by making a few lifestyle choice changes i.e. when picking out outfits for class, put some thought into it the night before instead of getting frustrated because I have “nothing” to wear ( which we all know is a lie because my bedroom floor discovered in new clothes), running late just to end up in leggings and a sweatshirt. It’s so exhausting and it makes me feel terrible.
Moms, talk to your daughters. Ask them how they feel about themselves when they stand in front of a mirror. I think there needs to be more discussions being held even though they are uncomfortable, but I know I’m not alone. Don’t stop asking, no matter how many times they roll their eyes or brush you off. My mom talks to us about everything, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. She’s taught me to get comfortable with being uncomfortable so that I can be happier and feel more in control of my own life. You can’t just ignore the hard parts, they don’t go away…they just grow and fester and get more uncomfortable. We just face it together and get through it, hopefully, less traumatized and triggered than if we tried to do it alone. We have to create an environment where our daughters, sisters, mothers and friends feel safe to be vulnerable. Because the truth is, body image struggles are all too common, affecting an estimated 50-80% of women.
To think about how I’ve felt this way about myself since I was 12 years old, makes me sad. Just like my mom when I have my own children I’m gonna do the same things as she did. Make sure my kids are comfortable with their bodies and being naked from birth. I wish more than anything that they never think of themselves how I think of myself.
7 years, almost ½ of my life, I’ve hated my body and never said anything about it, because I didn’t want to upset my mom, or trigger my sister to think negatively about herself. The average onset age of eating disorders in women is between 12-25.
Check on the women in your life that are between those ages, ask those older in recovery and ask how they are doing, eating disorders never really go away. It’s a daily battle to make the decision to eat rather than restrict or eliminate meals. This is something I will continue to struggle with for the majority of my life.
One day, I hope I can genuinely be able to say I love myself, but until then I hope this helps others realize they aren’t alone. These feelings and thoughts, while unkind, are common to think. That’s the problem. Beauty standards are set for us since birth and we spend our whole lives unhappy trying to achieve them. Do the things that make you happy. I hope one day I can too, in the meantime though I’m working to make the changes. Even the Tinkerbell sized ones.
And to any other young woman out there who is battling her own demons when it comes to food, weight, and self-acceptance – you are not alone. I see you, I hear you, and I’m here for you. It’s a daily fight, but you’ve got this. Eat the bread, wear the crop top, and don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Together, we can break the cycle of body shame and learn to love ourselves, one small step at a time.
As a feminist mom of teenage girls, this is the post that lives in my mind at all times. As a daughter and granddaughter of a mother and grandmother who have always been marginalized by what lies between her legs, I am offended. As a woman who has been judged, juried and punished for being feminine and curvy, I am livid. As a woman who has been sexually harassed and abused by men and afraid for as long as I can remember, I am done. As a woman who thinks and feels and sees and exists, I am outraged. This is my open letter to men on misogyny, abortion, sex and equality
For as long as I can remember, I have walked through the world feeling in danger. In danger of being touched, groped, raped and even assaulted by men. Worse still, I have learned to survive. To make myself small and quiet when I needed to which if you know me, you know is not me. I am not alone.
When strange men on trains, on planes, in clubs, at school, at church, online, at frat parties, walking home from school, playing at a friend’s house, while shopping, while eating, while working, breastfeeding, playing at the park with my children, while living my life and even while sleeping have forced their crude remarks, wandering hands and themselves upon me, I had to learn to escape with the least amount of damage; not unscathed because, as any woman knows, that is impossible. So I made a decision, a long time ago, I refused to raise my daughters to make themselves small and I myself will never again make myself small…because they (my daughters) are watching.
Misogyny
I refuse to raise my daughters to hunch their shoulders, hide their bodies in baggy clothes, feel shame for being attractive or saying no. Not today misogyny. I would not raise them to consider anyone other than themselves when getting dressed. No one else’s opinion on what they wear, their size, shape, hair color, makeup or sexual prowess is any of their business. I taught my girls that they are equal to men and, let’s be honest, in some ways, they’re better. Most importantly, I raised them to respect themselves and their own thoughts and opinions over anyone else’s. That being said, they were taught that everyone else is entitled to their opinions about life but those opinions have no effect on our lives.
My girls know what consent is. I taught them to say no loudly and habitually when they want to. Their body is their body, not mine, not yours and not some random dude who can’t keep his toxic masculinity and hormones in check, not even their husband or boyfriend. Believe me, toxic masculinity comes in more forms than just a rapist in a dark alley or skeevey dudes at the clubs, these men can also be your boss, your priest, your friend, the old man down the road, the boy next door and the guy who’s supposed to protect and serve your community.
I’ve fought the school on dress codes and refuse to have my daughters wear baggy clothes just because it’s too distracting to the boys. Why aren’t clothes that fit enough? Sorry, breasts and butts happen. We all have them.
I’ve fought public opinion on my daughters wearing bikinis when they were toddlers because someone had the audacity to say I was sexualizing my toddlers. No, you pervert are the one sexualizing a child. That’s a “you” problem. I was simply buying a suit that was comfortable for my tall child. Covering her belly button is not more important than preventing discomfort or causing infections. As teenagers, I stand by that statement. What women are wearing is not a concern for men. If it offends you or overstimulates you, overt your fucking eyes. Stop policing us. We don’t police you. Stay in your lane.
Sex
I’ve taught my daughters that sex is beautiful when they are mature enough to handle all that comes with it. We’ve talked about sex since they started asking. It’s not dirty or bad. They are not naughty for being curious. I don’t preach abstinence. I talk about respecting their bodies, themselves, their partners and waiting until they are ready.
I tell them that sex does not equal love. Sex is sex and someone can love having sex with you and not love you at all. I’ve taught them about birth control and responsibility, taking it themselves and demanding it of their partners. Sex with someone you love is beautiful and sex with yourself is cathartic. We don’t slut-shame so I’ve even taught them that we don’t judge and criticize other people’s sexual choices.
Abortion
I am pro-choice and I’ve raised my girls to know why. It’s not that I am pro-abortion or that I’ve had or would’ve ever chosen to have one. It is that I respect women and their lives and it is every single human being’s right to be in control of what happens to their own body. You can argue that you are pro-life because you believe every single life is precious but if that’s your reasoning, what about the life of the girl or woman who finds herself pregnant (for whatever reason, the reason is irrelevant…women should not have to qualify the choices they make for their own bodies to anyone else, especially men) and is not capable of raising it, taking care of it, wanting or loving and providing for it in the way that she wants at that time?
If you are pro-life only for an unborn fetus, then you are not concerned with life (because you have disregarded the woman’s) you are concerned with moral superiority and inflicting your beliefs on others. It’s a power struggle not a pro-life issue. If abortion morally offends you, simply do not have an abortion. Period. While we’re on the subject, can all the politicians please GTFO of our uteruses?
Whatever your belief is, the consequences rest with the woman having the abortion and it’s between her and her God. She will have to live with that choice forever. There is no way around that. If you think the decision to have an abortion is one a woman takes lightly, you’ve never actually asked a woman who has to make that choice. Her decision has no immediate or direct effect on your life. It’s not your business to decide and making abortion illegal will not stop abortions, it will only stop safe abortions which means they will put women’s lives and their future reproductive health in jeopardy.
Equality
My girls are free to make their own choice on which side they choose to support because I respect them, their intelligence and their right to choose. If my daughters ever find themselves unexpectedly pregnant, I will do what any parent should do, I will counsel, love and support them in whatever decision they make for themselves. But at the same time, it’s my responsibility, as a parent, to teach them about respecting their bodies, loving themselves, pregnancy prevention, sexual safety and knowing the difference between love and sex.
Don’t misunderstand, I am not promoting teen sex, promiscuity, unplanned pregnancy or abortion. I am simply saying that these things happen and, in case no one was paying attention, it takes a man and a woman to get pregnant but only the girl or woman is left with the immediate responsibility of raising, caring for and providing for the child because we are the ones who carry it. Men can walk away and pretend it didn’t happen and some do. Men are not the ones paying for the consequences of one night for the rest of their lives, women are.
So until men can be held equally accountable for women’s reproduction, they should have no say in what we do, how we behave or what we choose to do or not do with our own bodies. Women are not property, nor inanimate objects, we are not born to provide care and pleasure for men…we are simply born to live and pursue our own happiness, just like every man.
It’s enraging enough that we are not given equal pay, equal voice or equal respect or rights as human beings. The world teaches little girls that doing anything like a girl is bad, weak and less than. It teaches girls to be quiet, be amiable, smile more and accept the places they’ve given us. Little girls need to be encouraged and empowered to use their voices, stand up and be everything they dream of being without the worry of being oppressed and reduced to their sexuality. Our girls are more. We are more.
This is not about me bashing men. This is me protecting and standing up for my daughters and every other child. These things I am teaching my daughters; need to be taught to our sons as well. Things will never change until we all work together to change the way things are; we have to stop accepting misogyny (in all its forms) as just the way it is. I don’t want my girls to feel scared and afraid of men and boys and I don’t think your boys want my girls to feel that way either. It starts now by refusing to let one more girl make herself feel small and quiet just to feel safe living with girl parts in the world.
Do you love brand name and designer clothing, accessories and shoes? Be honest, do you want them because you genuinely love them or is it more of a status symbol, like in middle school? Hey, I’m not belittling your “why”, I’m just asking. If we’re telling truths, and I usually am, brands matter to me. I don’t choose a product because you’ve slapped a fancy name like Versace, Prada, Dior or Gucci on it. But I do love these brands.
I don’t like it because my favorite celebrities rock it or some rapper is singing about it. BTW, no child should be rocking Gucci on the regular, though I was completely fine with mine rocking Burberry. Hey, a woman’s got to have her limits. The point is I like the quality behind the label. If you know me, you’ve probably heard me say, “I’d rather pay $200 or even $500 for a pair of jeans that I’ll wear every day than $50 for a pair that I’ll never wear because then I threw $50 in the trash.”
This is how I came to know the answer to the question, ” Are Gucci sunglasses worth the price tag?”
For me, the answer didn’t come right away. I love big, beautiful sunglasses. I collect them. They protect my eyes from the sun and they protect my face from wrinkles. I’ve been rocking sunglasses since before it was cool to do so. But other than a pair of Oakly sunglasses the Big Guy bought me back when we first started dating, I’ve never owned or paid more than $75 for sunglasses.
Once I became a mom, forget about it. For one, babies like to pull sunglasses off your face to see their mommy and throw those suckers to the ground. I can’t tell you how many pairs of beloved sunglasses were thrown to the pavement and scratched beyond repair. Sure, I tried to wear them but they were essentially making my blind. I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t have nice things (unless it was jewelry, bags or shoes) and there started my tenure as queen of the under $25 sunglasses. I just couldn’t risk it.
But are Gucci sunglasses for women worth the price tag?
Once again, the Big Guy gifted me my first pair of Gucci sunglasses for our anniversary last year. He knew I needed new sunglasses and he knew I liked them big and beautiful and he is sort of a sunglasses for men connoisseur himself so he got them for me. It surprised me because I totally wasn’t expecting them but really wanted them. I just can’t make myself spend $300 + dollars on Gucci sunglasses ( or any other women sunglasses for that matter). Buying for others is not an issue but for myself, I need a steep markdown (because there is always something else that I can spend the money on). It’e the mom guilt. We don’t allow ourselves these little pleasures.
I love third markdown designer everything. There is some sort of satisfaction that comes from knowing you got a quality ( not irregular or last season) piece of clothing, shoes, accessories or handbags for a reduced price. Fortunately, the Big Guy is not as frugal as I am. That’s how I got these amazing sunglasses.
Yes, Gucci Sunglasses are worth the price tag!
But why, Debi? Why are Gucci women sunglasses worth the price tag? Why would anyone pay $300 + dollars for women sunglasses, men sunglasses or Gucci sunglasses when that could pay for 2 weeks of groceries? Because you can’t get the groceries if you can’t see to drive to the grocery store. You can wreck when you are being blinded by the sun. You will get wrinkles if you try to squint through life while looking into the sun. Guess what costs more than $300? BOTOX!
You’re shaking your head and thinking to yourself, how wasteful to spend that kind of money for sunglasses. I would have agreed with you 2 weeks ago but then one morning I drove home from dropping the kids off at school and I looked directly into the sun…like Wonder Woman and I was unaffected. Nobody was blinded. I did not squint or swerve. I looked directly in the direction I needed to without any squinting or wincing. Looking life right in the eyes is empowering and that is priceless.
READ ALSO: Why Mom Guilt is Useless
While I never would have bought them for myself and I hardly even wore them for months because it felt embarrassing to be so opulent in my everyday life. Just like I feel like a jerk every time I carry the Louis Vuitton the Big Guy me a few years ago for an anniversary. Then it hit me. I deserve nice things. And it’s only wasteful if I don’t use these things. If I wear my Gucci sunglasses every day, for drop-offs and picks ups to school and ballet; in yoga pants and cocktail dresses, then I’ve used them $300 worth and so I am.
So, yes Gucci sunglasses are worth the price tag because I’m worthy of nice things and so are you. Buy the Gucci, buy the Louis, buy the Louboutins and the Chanel….just make sure that you have the money to buy the groceries too.
What is your favorite designer brand piece of fashion that you own or have dreamed of owning? Why and what makes it special to you? Now, go treat yo self!
I’ve been quiet about the Brett Kavanaugh and Dr.Christine Blasey Ford situation, not because I don’t believe it’s true but because it probably is. Kavanaugh aside, this story is not a new one or even an unusual one to any woman.
My girls are 11 and 13-years-old and I’ve already told them to never leave a drink alone with a guy or to take a beverage that’s already open. I’ve taught them not to walk with headphones on and to always be aware of their surroundings, especially at night. I’ve taught them how to fight back. I’ve taught them that no always means no and if someone ignores their no, fight, run and report. It sucks that we live in a world where I have to teach my girls to be on the defensive so that they can try to stay safe but it’s even sadder that we live in a world where victims are shamed, blamed and not believed.
Christine Blasey Ford is my hero and a champion for all of our little girls. A true hero is one who stands up in the face of conflict and puts it all on the line for the greater good. She came forward because she felt it was her civic duty and the price she has had to pay is nothing short of everything.
“You’ve never been afraid to walk outside alone at night?” This is the question that I asked my husband.
“No.” He looked baffled at the idea of a grown person afraid to walk outside in the dark alone. He was completely unable to relate.
My husband is a 6’5”, college-educated, Caucasian man who weighs about 250 pounds. There’s not much that scares him and certainly, walking after dark alone, even in foreign countries, does not cause him any hesitation. I, on the other hand, have never felt comfortable walking alone at night. Even when I’ve had to do it. It’s done very quickly, hyper-aware of my surroundings and terrified of what could happen.
Yet, every young girl and woman that I’ve ever known is trepidatious at the least and more so terrified. There is an entire market based solely on this premise; pepper spray, female defense classes, Tasers and little pink guns. We are born into a world with a vagina and a knowing that this very fact makes us vulnerable.
We live on the defensive. We are taught from a very young age to protect ourselves, from the clothes we wear to where we go, what we do and how we behave. It is inferred that sexual assault is preventable if only we do all the right things but the moment we step out of those lines, we have put ourselves in harm’s way and we are, in some way, to blame. We knew better. We knew we weren’t supposed to walk alone at night. We feel shared guilt and shame as if we willingly participated in our own attack by simply being born a woman.
If you were to talk to a million women, privately with promised anonymity, every single one could recount at least one time (but I’m betting from my own experiences, many more) that she was sexually harassed, assaulted or raped. I don’t know a single woman who has not been, at some point or another, pushed into a corner and been made to feel threatened and unsafe by a man. Not one woman who isn’t afraid to walk alone at night.
The saddest part is that we live in a world where powerful men, which are all men by the way, are given a pass. Somehow the world roots for the rapist like he’s the wronged. He is the underdog. We are ruining his life. Yet, women are cast as the villains who are destroying their attacker’s life by bravely recounting their truth in detail.
We are less than. We don’t matter. This is the message that we are perpetuating to our little girls and women. So we stay silent out of shame and knowing that we will be humiliated more than our abusers.
Do you know how many rapes go unreported in the United States alone each year? It is estimated that only 310 out of every 1000 rapes will get reported. That’s 2 out of 3 rapes that don’t get reported. Of those 310 reported, only about 6 rapists will be incarcerated.
Christine Blasey Ford has risked everything to warn the world of the moral fiber of a man who is in contention to hold the highest moral position in the country. She has not only painfully recounted her story of an attempted rape which, in case you’re not aware, is just as scary as the real thing because the intention was the same. The feeling of being overpowered is the same. The feeling of helplessness and your own sexuality being used against you is the same. You are changed forever. The only thing that stood between Ford and a drunk Kavanaugh raping her was a one-piece bathing suit and a fluke interruption.
Ford walked away from that night, at just 15-years-old ( almost a child), feeling afraid, terrorized and never feeling safe again. She walked away grateful that he could not complete. She walked away feeling shame and guilt. She told no one because she felt like she bore some responsibility for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She chose to be there, therefore she feels like she contributed. Which is insane.
The thing is Kavanaugh walked away laughing. Stumbled away drunk with his buddy. No remorse. HE felt entitled. He felt like he didn’t do anything wrong. He might not even remember it because it was so insignificant to him. He continued on with his life, kept walking around alone at night unphased or changed by the experience because he wasn’t the victim. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now. He is a criminal who wasn’t reported; nonetheless a criminal. How can he be considered to uphold the law when he himself breaks it? How can he pass judgment when he can’t even recognize that he committed a crime?
You see, sadly, the Kavanaugh’s of the world are not few and far between and rape is not just between strangers, behind dumpsters and in alleyways. Just because we know our abusers doesn’t make it less abusive and doesn’t imply consent. Men are not entitled to women’s bodies. Little boys are not just being little boys. No means no and rape is rape.
The sad thing is that we put the onus on girls, from a very young age. We teach them to cover themselves; to hide their bodies. We teach them to feel shame when they are the slightest bit sexual. We teach them that good girls don’t get raped. We teach them not to fight because no one will believe them. We teach them to judge and be judged by other girls.
I have a young teenager and in the past few months, I have heard several stories that have made me cringe because even in 7th grade, they were being groomed to be victims. The schools are telling our girls explicitly to hide their bodies because they are distractions to boys. A little girl was run out of our school because the bullying became so bad when she refused her attention to a boy. She was relentlessly called a slut and whore (at a Catholic school) and eventually she changed schools and her family moved away. Nothing happened to the boy.
Another girl was texting a boy all summer, when he tried to take it further and she refused, he told the whole school it was a joke. She was a joke. She thought he liked her. It was implied to her that if she did what he wanted, he would recant and she could be his “girlfriend.” Another girl, kissed a boy back this summer who was “dating” another girl, he told everyone. She became known to everyone as “the side piece” even to the girls.
Another 13-year-old girl, spent the entire summer fighting off the aggressive advances of her “boyfriend”. He spent the summer being the model citizen in front of her parents all the while trying to force himself inside their daughter. She was afraid they wouldn’t believe her. She eventually broke up with him but she no longer trusts boys.
These girls tell no one but one another; the keepers of their secrets. In some cases, they tell no one. I was harassed and assaulted on various levels throughout my life and I never filed a single report because maybe I was at a party? Maybe my dress was revealing? Maybe I had something to drink? Maybe I agreed to the date? Maybe I knew the guy? Maybe we were friends? Maybe we grew up together? Maybe I misunderstood? Maybe I was a prude? Maybe no one will believe me because he’s the star football player? Maybe he was cute and I flirted with him? Maybe I let him buy me a drink? Maybe I went into the room alone with him? Maybe I was walking alone in the dark at night? Maybe it was my fault? These are some of the things that go through our heads when we’re assaulted.
Or maybe he raped me? Violated me? Assaulted me? Pushed up against me? Tried to push inside of me? Maybe he grabbed and groped me? Maybe I was frozen in fear? Maybe I was sleeping and woke to him on top of me? Maybe I was just at work minding my own business? Maybe I trusted him and he locked the door and overpowered me? Maybe the only thing that saved me was a one-piece bathing suit or a knock at the door? A stranger walking by? Maybe I should have reported it because he’s probably doing the same thing to someone else’s daughter? Maybe I should have been brave for my someday daughters? These are the things that go through our mind when we are older and removed from the situation and find our voice and move past the fear of what people will think about us and move toward trying to stop it from happening again. There is power in numbers and sometimes we just need to know that we are not alone to know that we are not less than.
I have shared my Me Too stories, there are more. More than I can count. Starting at a very young age. I believe Christine Blasey Ford because I know it happens. Her story sounds like a thousand other stories. That’s the true crime; it’s a recurring scenario that happens probably daily to women and girls around the world. We stop it by telling our stories. There is no shame or guilt that any victim should ever bear. Her life should not be destroyed for telling the truth while our President makes excuses and supports a rapist who he calls a victim; who he calls a good man. Good men don’t lock young girls in a room and grind into them while their friend cheers them on and watches. I don’t care if he was a teenager, he has no remorse and there’s no reason he would ever stop because he can get away with it. Appointing him to the Supreme court is sending the message to women everywhere that we, as a nation, don’t care about you. As if that’s not glaringly clear from the government always trying to have one hand in our uterus, now they will have a judge holding us down by the throat while they shove their hand into our uterus.
Walking alone at night in the dark without fear may be a dream never realized by myself but I will fight for it to be a right my daughters can have. We need to teach little boys to respect little girls and to know what consent is. They need to know that little girls have human value and intelligence and needs. We need to teach our little boys that little girls are equal to them and it’s not okay to just take what you want. We need to teach them that there are not two sets of rules, there is only one and that is to respect one another.
My question is why do we live in a world where a victim is put on trial to prove her allegations and the world wants to give her assailant the benefit of the doubt? Why does it take a sacrificial lamb like Christine Blasey Ford to risk everything to inspire a nation to give women human decency and respect? I hope she inspires them to stop a monster.
What are your thoughts on Brett Kavanaugh being considered for Supreme Court justice? Do you believe Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations? If so, what do you think should happen?
Disney’s Beauty and the Beast is one of our family’s favorite animated movies. It has been since before we even had children. In fact, when I met my husband it may have been one of the first things we had in common; we both loved the story of Belle the beauty and how she saw past a less than beautiful exterior and saw the beauty within the beast. We both believe strongly that people’s true beauty comes from within, it has absolutely nothing to do with how someone looks. As we got to know one another, my husband told me stories of being bullied when he was young. He’s been 6’5” since he was a freshman in high school and he was very thin. Over the years, I’ve heard his stories as they reveal themselves to me one by one and it breaks my heart that he ever felt that kind of rejection. It pains me that other people couldn’t see the beautiful person that he was even back then because they were too busy fixating on the outside. When I look at him all I can see is a big, strong man who loves his girls fiercely, whose heart is bigger and more beautiful than any other person I know. His smile across the room when he spots me, the way his lips curl up unknowingly into a smile and his face lights up when he watches our girls do just about anything only make him more beautiful for me. I see the man who has held me tight and lifted me up on more occasions than I can count. I see selfless sacrifice time and time again so that he can insure our happiness. When I look at him, I see the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. That’s what I want for my daughters: to love completely and to love someone and be loved for who they are on the inside, the person they are when they think no one else is watching. The thing is that I’m not sure that I’ve always done this myself. Before I met my husband, I was fickle and young and stupid. What I looked for in people was more about what they could do for me, how they could compliment me; make me feel better about myself and less about them. I was in my 20s and I was superficial. I had never been bullied. I was popular and I had lots of friends. I lived in a bubble. Everything was about me and I never even once considered how my actions could affect others. I am embarrassed by the person I used to be. It’s said that we all want better for our children and that is certainly true. Not only do I want more out of their education and circumstances, I want them to benefit from the wisdom that I’ve gained from living my life. That’s why from a very young age we’ve taught our girls that true beauty comes from within themselves and others. We’ve bluntly taught them that judging someone by how they look or before having a conversation and getting to know someone is simply an ignorant thing to do and could certainly be to their detriment. It’s something we work on daily. It’s something that we teach by example. And though my children are far from perfect, every now and then I get glimpses of the truly beautiful human beings they are becoming. Bella, our oldest, has just entered 6th grade. 6th grade is tricky, folks. In case you’ve not been there yet with your child. It’s a magical place full of awkwardly beautiful babies in budding adult bodies. Everyone is simultaneously hideous and breathtaking at the same time. It’s like watching caterpillars morph into majestic butterflies while knocking over and breaking everything in sight. It’s helplessly watching your child being reborn into adult form over a period of a couple years. But if you watch closely, there are big changes taking place quietly on the inside too.
Sometimes hormones get the better of these ever changing “kidults” and sweet children become ugly beasts. They say and do things that they may not have even thought of doing the year or even the day before. I know, I’ve seen it happen in our house. But in our house, the love is unconditional; at school, that is not necessarily the case. The tween years are almost as fickle as the twenties. I have witnessed several of my daughter’s friends pull and push away. They buck and rage against the changes. One minute they embrace them and think they are women and then the next they reject the entire idea and try desperately to hold on to who they were in the bosom of their mothers. During this self-centered centric period of growing up things are often said and done out of frustration that cause a lot of collateral damage. Unfortunately, during this in-between time, not only do children shed their little kid bodies they shed some friendships too; some are outgrown and some are irreparably damaged by what’s said during this time. It’s like they are suffering from Jekyll and Hyde syndrome and we all know how that turns out, someone is going to get hurt. My daughter has a best friend that she’s had since she was 5. Suddenly, this girl started being mean to my daughter. I don’t even think it was bullying. She just became, for lack of a better term, cruel for the sake of being cruel. There was no calling of names but more of a general, shutting my daughter out and bluntly stating things in a way that broke my daughters heart because this was the one friend who has always been there to support her and love her. Suddenly, her rock was gone and my daughter was left confused and unsteady with no explanation. My mama bear instinct was to tell my daughter to stop associating with this child even though I had taught my daughter to see past the superficial. Let’s be honest, if you are hurting my child, as far as I’m concerned you can drop off the face of the earth. But my daughter, at the ripe old age of 10, said something profound, “Mom, she’s always been my friend and I think she’s just confused right now. I’m not going to stop being her friend because she’s having a bad day. I’ll just give her some time to get normal again.” And that’s what she did. They didn’t speak all summer. There was no animosity. There was just space. Space to grow and get “normal” again. On the 1st day of school, her friend ran to her and hugged her like the best friends they’ve always been. There was no grudges or judgement just pure love and acceptance on both sides. My daughter embodied the lesson we’ve been teaching her since she’s been a toddler. Like Belle, She showed me that seeing the best in people, giving them the benefit of the doubt and seeing the beauty within despite the ugly they are projecting on the outside is the most generous and caring thing we can do. The student has become the master and I couldn’t be prouder. Celebrate Beauty And The Beast 25th Anniversary Edition on Digital HD and Blu-rayTM. You can get your copy here.
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Disclosure: This is a sponsored post but all opinions are 100% my own.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
Sometimes Single Mothering~ As many of you are aware, the Big Guy works out of town..A LOT! Several days of the week he is gone and I am left alone to Mother the girls all by myself. Honestly, when he comes home for a couple days..it’s like Christmas and Fourth of July all in one.Its chaotic and exciting but it’s not routine.It’s like a great big Daddy tornado sweeps through the house.We love it.Believe me, I am ecstatic that he has a job at all and I look forward to him coming home the way most people look forward to the last day of their work week. But when it is over, I am left to pick up the emotional pieces ( and literally to clean up the house that the tornado hit); to soothe the crying, to bandage the heart wounds, to deal with girls missing their Daddy.Plus I get to do all the stuff all mothers get to do, I work from home, I clean,cook, do laundry, run the girls to and fro various activities, arrange play dates, bathe them, get ready for school, pick up from school, homework,pack snacks, sign permission slips and all the other obligatory school responsibilities,ballet, rehearsal, and on top of all of that…try and maintain my sanity.
Single Mothering
So,when I got engaged in a Twitter debate with a fellow tweep over a statement similar to this “just because your husband works out of town a lot does not make you a single mother.” Her viewpoint, being neither a single Mother, nor a woman whose husband is gone 5/7ths of the week, was that my disagreement with the statement was not right. In fact, she went as far as to tell me that I was not single mothering it…I was lonely.Which made me laugh because how the hell can I be lonely when I have 2 littles with me at all times of the day and night? Hell,I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself.I’m not lonely…most days.I’m too busy with all this mothering that I do on my own to be lonely. She argued that I was married and the fact that he paid the bills made me not single mothering.Wow! Who knew the only qualification for being a father or co parenting is to pay some bills! I love a woman who has never walked a minute in my shoes telling me that my life is easy and I am just a lonely complainer. Yey, for her!
I really should have just stopped tweeting because honestly trying to explain it to her was like trying to talk to an ESL student in Pig Latin on Mars. I don’t know if she didn’t understand what I was trying to say or simply just didn’t care. I am going to say it was the latter.
Single Mothering
Let’s be clear, I have the utmost respect for single mothers. I don’t know how you do it. You are seriously the hardest working women in the Mommy business. That being said, it’s no picnic having a husband who has had to take a job that takes him away from the house….always. It’s not occasional business trips.The weekly job, that is the business trip.Can you say commuter marriage? I am NOT a single mother because I am not single.I am married. That is true. But this is also true, I do all the mothering and daddying..5 days a week..by MYSELF! So, when this narrow minded broad, who doesn’t know me, doesn’t share my situation, doesn’t even listen to my explanation, tries to tell me that I have it easy because I am married, forgive me for wanting to punch her in her gullet. It was almost as ridiculous as having a single non child having person trying to give out parenting advice.
What are your thoughts?Do you sometimes single Mother? Are you a full time single mother? Do you think life would be easier if it were only sometimes? Or maybe it would be easier if it were full time?What qualifies it as being hard? Time spent doing it? Doing it alone? Isn’t mothering hard enough with all the Mommy guilt?Now, we have to prove how hard it is to other unsympathetic women?
There are a lot of parenting misconceptions out there. Those parenting books don’t tell you the truth about what it’s really like to parent a living, breathing child. I think they write about parenting in theory. One of the biggest misconception is that children are supposed to meat some kind of quality standard, like a piece of USDA regulated meat. It’s not true. They are people, not products. If I hear one more new mom tell me what an asshole her toddler is I just might throw up. Look, I have compassion. I really do. I totally thought that my toddlers were both assholes of epic proportions and then they got a little older.
Thinking your toddler is an asshole is the same thing as thinking you are in love when you are 15. You really believe you are but you only think you are because you don’t know what they hell you are talking about. You haven’t experienced the real thing yet. The same way in high school you think everything is so important but really it is the most inconsequential shit that will ever happen to you.
Toddlers are not assholes this is just one of many parenting misconceptions.
Besides, takes one to know one, right? If you really want to know what an asshole is try having a conversation with an eye rolling tween. There is nothing (as of yet) that is more egregious in parenthood than having a full-grown person talk back to you, roll their eyes and walk away.
The worst part is that my “tween” might look like a big girl but she still has this tiny baby voice and still wants hugs and cuddles but when she’s done with you, she’s done with you. It’s all eye rolls and stomping and looks that say without words, “ You are the stupidest person alive!”, we really should renaming the “tween” years, the “cat” years.
I remember the toddler years. I remember being told, “ I hate you mommy” (I have a feeling that one might be making a come back.) I remember full on tantrums in the middle of the grocery store. I remember wanting to cry because my 2 and 4-year-olds were breaking me and crushing my soul. I had no sleep, the sleep I was getting was filled with kicks to the face and head butts and all day long I was to dance monkey dance. I was the walking dead. I remember their favorite word was, “NO!” The saving grace for them was that they were so damn cute and I just forgave them of all the terrible shit they did to me. And believe me, terrible twos is a myth it’s the threes and fours that you really have to watch out for.
But even with all of that, I remember the random hugs and kisses and all the, “I love you mommy” for no reason at all. I remember the nightly game of, “I love you more.” I remember tiny arms reaching for me like I was salvation and soft cuddles that made my heart explode. I remember all of that. I never forget that.
My theory is this, kids are born so ugly that they are cute and we have so much love for them that it almost kills us. The thought of losing them is crushing and losing one can nearly kill you, at the very least makes you wish you were dead. Then they become toddlers and they do become little terrorist assholes but they are now so cute and have those cute voices and say the sweetest things that we forgive them all their transgressions.
As they enter preschool and elementary school, we love them so much it is almost unbearable to let them leave us for the day. The letting go is awful. We sulk and cry and then we enjoy every moment we get with them after school, watching them blossom into amazing, smart, funny little people. Sure there is whining, interrupting, sibling squabbling and for some reason they never want to go to bed and use more toilet paper than is humanly possible but overall they are awesome.
Then they hit the tween years and they become eye rolling, gum popping, Justice wearing, whining, 1-D loving part-time strangers. Some days they are your baby and the others, they are some sort of wildebeest in designer clothing. One minute they want to tell you everything and the next, they eye roll you to mind your own damn business. Still, I enjoy the moments when we have real conversations and I love that she is at an age where she wants to dress and be like me. Not like an adult but actually coordinate with her mom. It makes my heart all squishy. If only she knew this power she has over me. Shhh, let’s keep that under wraps.
Then, they become teens. Hormones are out of control and they quite frankly are nowhere as cute as they were in the early years. Bad skin, awkwardness and bad attitudes prevail. You are basically financing them but are not entitled to any interaction (that costs extra, my friends). It’s like trying to get the girlfriend experience from a hooker, all that extra money but still, no fucking kissing on the lips. None of it’s real. They hate you and, truth be told, you don’t particularly like them either. You still love them but they are not your favorite people.
Then sometime around senior year, they turn back into normal human beings. They’ve finally got the hang of those damn hormones and they’ve probably had a crisis or two enough to know that you are not going anywhere but now, they are leaving you. My theory is that the only reason moms and dads don’t drop dead on the spot the minute their “babies” go away to college is because of all the growing pains we experience when they are tweens and teens. The pain is necessary to lessen he blow when they have to leave us.
This is my theory and I’m sticking to it and every time my tween rolls her eyes at me, I feign irritation but inside, I’m thanking her for making it easier to let her go in the end. For now, I will take every single kiss, cuddle and eye roll and cherish it because one day she might be across the world and I’ll be longing for the days when I could see her face and when she say, “ I love you,” I’ll always know that I love her more.
What was 1 of your biggest parenting misconceptions?
The past week was spent preparing for and celebrating my ,now, 6 year olds birthday. It was very emotionally draining and, quite frankly, physically exhausting. The big Guy worked form home last week so that he could be here for Bella’s birthday. Last year, he started a new job out of state on her actual birthday and missed it. He was devastated and Bella was inconsolable so he promised her it would never happen again. He was here. Now, the last year and a half has been incredibly intense for all of us, as a family. We have been separated by distance, then moved our entire lives only to be sent home once we stared getting comfortable. We returned and after a couple months of the stress of the unknown, the Big Guy found a job..out of state.And into a forced commuter marriage we went. Into a forced commuter parent/child dynamic the Big Guy and the girls were thrown. It’s all been very hard to adjust to. I knew this. I know this.I hate this. But the end is in site. The house in on the market and once school is out, we are moving..no matter what.
Since the original move away, new school, move back episode of early 2010, I’ve been focusing my attentions on Bella because she was the one old enough to verbalize her anger, confusion and resentment at the entire situation.Good Mommying, right? The only problem was that I got so tunnel visioned about Bella’s emotional state that I completely glazed over the ticking time bomb that is Gabs. I’ve known for a couple months that Gabs is having a really hard time with the distance from the Big Guy. She cries for him, literally, every night before bed.It truly breaks my heart but what can I do? This was the stimulus for putting the house on the market earlier than planned. We are all ready to drop everything, pack our belongings and go.But the finish line is in sight.
I keep reassuring the girls that the minute the house sells we will be reunited with the Big Guy.I promise them that as soon as school ends, we will be in the same house and he will be tucking them in at night. He calls them. He Skypes them.He bought them little Teddy Bears that have his voice recorded in them to tell them good night, so they can hear his voice before bedtime. I’m trying everything I know to bandaid this situation until June. But honestly, its felt like putting my finger in a crack in Hoover Dam. Basically, it’s not going to hold. I’m just waiting for the dam to burst and for me to drown.
I know that when the Big Guy is home, it seems to be worse. I think it’s because they know this is not permanent. That again he will be leaving. All last week, Gabs was like a preschooler on the edge. Constant meltdowns and tantrums ensued. I knew exactly what it was from. I tried to soothe her fears. The Big Guy tried to comfort her but nothing worked. She’s no dummy.For three years old, she is remarkably insightful even if her chosen mode of communication is crying and whining.
Then Friday night happened.You know the night before the party, or as we refer to it in our house, “Hell Night”. It’s called Hell Night because the Big Guy and I spend the entire day running around like chickens with our heads cut off due to last minute details and decorating. I’m sure this is the norm for most households, right? Tell me we’re not the only ones. Then we usually have a house full of out of town birthday party guests. On top of that, I , not unlike Gabs, was feeling a little annoyed with the whole situation of knowing that he would be leaving again in a couple days. I was biting his head off from all the stress. Then bedtime for the girls rolled around.
Gabs wanted us both to lay down with her but we had a house full of guests and her sister who we had to make sure didn’t escape from her bed. I made the mistake of asking her who she wanted to get her to sleep. This was enough to trigger a meltdown of epic proportions. She lost her ever loving little mind. I spent the next 2 hours down on my knees as my 3 year old hyperventilated and hit at me,sobbing as she told me in speech as broken as her little heart, that I was not good enough. That she missed her Daddy and I need to spend more time with her.I’m with her 24 hours a day but I’m not always present. I do admit that. Apparently, with the Big Guy being physically unavailable , I have to be present..mind, body and soul at all times. I’m not going to lie, this is going to be hard for me. I have my own issues with this situation. I need to zone out a little bit to get through the days. I am overwhelmed ,lonely, and I miss my husband. But,I am the adult so I have to suck it up because she can’t.She shouldn’t have to. After she got it all out and we both cried really hard and ugly, she went to bed and got the first full night of peaceful rest that she’s had in a month. I was drained. Now, I’m wondering do I get an all expense paid trip somewhere when this is all over to recoup from the past year and a half? I hope so, because I have a feeling that I’m going to need it.
I have shared my Me Too stories, there are more. More than I can count. Starting at a very young age. I believe 
