Rox and Roll

On being faith-full

Over the past year, Petunia has been exploring her faith through confirmation classes, called "Confirm not Conform," at our Episcopal church.  Next weekend, she will complete the process and become a full member of the church.  When I shared with a friend at a Halloween party that our weekend would involve Petunia's confirmation, his reply was: "F*ck religion.  Why are you doing that to your kid, teaching her to be a sheep?  Seriously, f*ck that.  Don't do it.  How could you?"  And I looked him in the eye and replied, "I don't think I can engage in this subject matter with you," and I left it at that -- and walked away.  I learned long ago that when a person feels *that* strongly about religion, there is no point to engaging in debate. 

Mine is a quiet faith, and, frankly, it is not always there; at times, I feel more agnostic than Christian, and. for a while, I felt certain that my correct label was "secular humanist" while I also felt a draw to Buddhism.  Where I ended up is here: does it matter?  I am not a member of the "religious right" who inflicts her faith on others through the political process.  In all likelihood, I am a member of the "Christian Left" who believes but one thing: that a God of love and acceptance, a source of hope and strength, is a good thing to have in my life.  Someone else once mocked that angle on faith, calling it "Santa Claus faith" -- all good things, no damnation.  Well, it is what it is.  I do not purport to having the answers, but I do know that in the very darkest moments of my life, I have felt like I am not alone.  And that counts, very much, for something.  I cannot dismiss that feeling as mere "coping." 

As well, just as I identify as part-Welsh, part-Italian, etc., Christianity is part of my family's identity, and the path that I have chosen to walk through my own life very much incorporates lessons of faith from generations of my ancestors.  We have incorporated Christ's very real community service into our own natures; it feels like our family's faith roots me to a history of community action and to a way of living.  Sure, those without faith can do that, too; we just consider it part of a calling -- perhaps, even, an obligation -- even as we do not shout from the rooftops that we "walk in love, just as Christ loved us" (Ephesians 5:2).

I also feel that I parent differently because of my faith.  For example, when my children argue, it is my refrain to tell them "be loving."  That message has been handed down from my family, but it also comes from my faith's focus on loving-kindness.  The two are so intertwined that I am not sure I can tell one from the other.  And at the end of the day, I feel fortunate to come from a family who took me to church to spend time among those with, for the most part, a shared value system.  (It may be important to note, here, that we subscribe to a more "liberal" type of Christianity.)  Some friends from my upbringing in the church remain friends for life.  So, when my own daughter started placing importance on the church community to which I introduced her, I felt very warm-hearted.  These people, they will be part of her community of support for as long as she needs it; and she knows, now, that if, at any point in her life, she needs to broaden her community -- whether because she needs something or because she has something to offer to others -- church is a solid place to find that space.  In these confirmation classes, she had mentors with listening ears and open hearts.  I am not convinced that teenagers seek that out, but I do know -- from my own experience as one of their teachers -- that when given the opportunity, they seize it.  Perhaps faith is not a requirement for such community connection, but church is one community in which such connection can be found and fostered.  And if kids take away from that what I did years ago and what my own daughter does now -- that our church community is an extension of family -- all the better.

With Petunia's permission, I share with you what she offered at the first phase of her confirmation, a presentation to our church on something she learned.  I had never attended such an event at our church and ended up being caught quite offguard by our priest summoning her (first among the confirmands) to the lectern with the words "Come and Teach." 

Nine children taught that day.  We can learn so much from them; I find myself now wanting to say "teach me something" to teens and think this will be the subject/challenge of their next lesson with me.  The confirmand's faith-based lessons last Sunday all tied to being good people.  I am so proud to be among their teachers, and my heart burst when Petunia shared the following, my favorite prayer, followed by her message:

The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument

of Thy peace.

Where there is hatred,

Let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

Grant that I may seek

Not so much to be consoled

As to console.

To be understood

As to understand.

To be loved

As to love.

For it is in giving

That we receive;

It is in pardoning

That we are pardoned;

It is in dying

That we are born to eternal life.

 

Petunia then offered: "The prayer of St. Francisc really moves me because St. Francis cared for not only himself, but he cared for everything around him too.  He used to be rich but then gave all of his money to the poor.  He not only gave up everything, but he gave it to a good cause.  St. Francis also cared about the animals.  He believed that animals were our brothers and sisters.

My mom and I were in San Francisco a couple weeks ago to see the Wizard of Oz.  We were putting coins into the meter when someone asked us "how are you?"  My mom replied, "good, and you?"  Then the man told us that he had talked to twenty people that day, and we were the first to reply to him.  My mom and I couldn't believe that no one else had responded to him.  This relates to the prayer because where there is hatred and judgement, we should all sow love. 

St. Francis should be a role model to us.  He was extremely charitable, and we should all follow in his footsteps to make better communities."

***

From her mouth to God's ears. 

Regardless of what you believe, this seems, to us, like a good way to live.  And living this way does not make us sheep.  It may make us servants in the best possible sense, though -- and in our house, that's a laudable aim.  We hope to give more than we receive, drawing our example from that of Christ, the original community organizer.  I am glad that Petunia's village has expanded to include a large church family and look forward to seeing her blessing and welcoming by our bishop this weekend. 

Go off to see the Wizard at the Orpheum!

On Wednesday, Petunia and I had the privilege of being guests of SHN* for the opening night of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s new stage adaptation of The Wizard of Oz. I have long been on record as a huge fan of seeing productions at the Orpheum, San Francisco’s gorgeous, intimate gem of a theater. Our seats for the night were in the orchestra section, rather toward the middle, so we enjoyed a pretty spectacular view of this marvelous production.

What made it special? For starters, it felt very San Franciscan, especially because of the colossal neon rainbow (pictured above) evident for much of the production. It looks like something straight out of a 70s disco and is just fabulous, overshadowed only by Glinda’s (played by Robin Evan Willis) spectacular entrance in a dress that also looked very disco – sparkling, glittery, and silvery. Her magnificent character stole the half of the show that the loveable scarecrow did not steal. He, the Tin Man, and the Lion are a rather funny trio. And the real, live Toto –- a rescued Cairn terrier –- garnered the biggest applause upon entrance and end.

This performance stood out because of some new songs and dance numbers; the ensemble works well together throughout them. I am so used to seeing munchkins as small, so their full-size was a bit of a surprise, as was the witches’ hair, collectively shaped into some sort of funnel-updo that neither Petunia nor I cared for – just too sci-fi, really. We also tended to think that Dorothy, played by Danielle Wade, was kinda “meh” – but in some ways, that’s good. It did not feel like the whole production was staged only around her. It felt more balanced than, say, the movie. And plus, since every Dorothy ever is going to be held up against Judy Garland, well, them’s big shoes to fill. But this one has a non-traditional path to the Broadway stage: the Canadian public chose her as she competed on a reality show called “Over the Rainbow” on CBC-TV.

While it’s not Wicked, this round of The Wizard of Oz still delivers a great production of a classic tale. I would see it again and recommend it to friends, even those with small children. The flying monkeys are markedly less scary than in Wicked. And the way the play also uses some movie theater-type projections of images adds some depth and interest. I would see it again with a friend, so it gets a thumbs-up from me. Enjoy the show!

The Wizard of Oz will play at the SHN Orpheum Theatre from October 16-27. Tickets are available at www.shnsf.com or 888-746-1799.

*Note: I received complementary tickets to the show courtesy of SHN and committed to writing a review; however, I did not commit to writing a favorable one. These opinions are entirely my own, and I actually did enjoy the show and encourage you to see it for yourself, especially if you can do so at the Orpheum.

To the Men in Charge

Today's shitstorm over Twitter filing to IPO without a woman on the board, and the related articles about whether or not Silicon Valley is a sexist, racist place, and the accompanying Twitter frenzy, has me going /headdesk, /headdesk, /headdesk.  You see, most of the folks involved in this bruhaha have it totally wrong because they cannot admit that they are totally wrong.  I've heard their arguments: women have not yet come "of age" in the Valley yet.  "There aren't enough qualified women."  "Filling a board is hard."  "It's nobody's business how Twitter puts together its board."  "It's more than checking a box."  Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  And the defenders come to Dick Costolo's side ("really, he's not a sexist asshat!" they cry), and soon, everybody wrings their hands, and who knows who's right anymore -- but here is what should have happened:

Dick Costolo should have immediately issued this statement:

After reflecting on the criticism that Twitter has failed to include women on its advisory board, we have decided to cop to what is actually a very serious oversight -- no, actually, a very serious mistake, and a disservice to furthering the advancement of women in technology.  While we did pursue female candidates for our board [God, let's hope that's true!], we did not prioritize highly enough the importance of having women at the table.  We could have tried harder.  We should have tried harder.  We have daughters, and we realize that it is important for our girls to see role models at the table if they are to one day aim for that seat.  We realize that Twitter could have been a game-changer here.  And just like our product has been used for revolution in Egypt, so, too, could our company, be revolutionary when it comes to promotion of women in positions of leadership in high-tech.  Companies have a social responsibility to do good, and "good" is not being done when so few women are advancing to positions of power.  There are historic, cultural, sociologic, economic, and many other factors related to this imbalance of power in corporate America.  We know that there are "binders full" of capable women whom we could have tasked with a Twitter role.  Maye they didn't raise their hands, but maybe we should have asked them to.  Maybe we should have cultivated that talent from within since day one.  But when a company is heads-down on developing a product that will change the world, sometimes it is too easy to have blinders on.  Today, those blinders came off. 

We can choose what to make of this moment, though, and we choose to use it to effect a significant change in our corporate culture.  As of right now, I commit to you that within the next two years, Twitter's advisory board will include an equal number of men and women.  We will challenge other companies in this space (hello, Facebook!) to do the same.  We will continue to focus on existing initiatives within our company to recruit and to retain women, especially those working in traditionally male-dominated fields like software engineering.  We know that we can do better.  We want you to know that we will do better.  We offer no excuses, just a sincere apology to the women who should already be seated at the table and to our daughters who should never question their ability to get there just because they don't see themselves reflected in our white, male faces.  It is unquestionably time for a revolution, and Twitter has always been up for that. 

For news on this initiative, follow us @ ...

***

Really, I could go on and on, but you get my drift.  Research supports that gender parity improves the bottom line and much more.  (I could find the citations, but others will as this shitstorm continues to unfold.) 

It is time for a revolution here.  There is no reason why Twitter could not have a board that is 50% women.  Check out some of these contenders.  I know some of these women and many more who are not on this list but who'd be great.  Doesn't Dick Costolo? 

C'mon, Twitter, be the change you wish to see in the world.  I have always been a *huge* fan of Jack Dorsey in part because he once said that his product was about systemic change over generations, not about when it is going to IPO.  I believed him when he said that.  Now, let's see him make good on his word.  Nah, let's demand it, for if women stopped using Twitter tomorrow, it wouldn't even be a thing. 

Now *that* is something that should worry Twitter's backers very, very much.

 ***UPDATE: Looking for hard data on this subject matter?  Read this.

On Sinead and Miley, on Sex and Power, and on Owning Womanhood

Sinead O'Connor's letter to Miley Cyrus about Miley's "Wrecking Ball" video, widely publicized yesterday, pushed me over the edge.  I have been biting my tongue over the "Blurred Lines" song and especially video, its "feminist" parody, and the controversy surrounding it regarding whether or not it's a "rape song."  I have held my breath about Miley's twerking, a popular parody of twerking,and over what it's like to be raising a teenaged daughter, as well as a man-child, among all of this madness.  But as a radically liberal, sex-positive feminist, I cannot sit on my hands anymore.  This post is writing itself.

And I'm going to start way, way back.

In college, I authored a thesis titled "Stronger and Thus Saner: The Athleticization of Women in Late-Nineteenth Century America."  Too long to sum up in a blog post, the thesis examined the premise of women's physical education's and sports' rise due to male doctors' desires to control women's reproductive systems and, in part, the related affliction of "hysteria" -- an afflication that infallibly beset anyone with a uterus. Doctors like Dudley Sargent suggested that if women lazed around a little less and exercised a little more, they would become better mothers to the future race (yes, it just smacks of eugenics, doesn't it...), stronger, and less hysterical -- or more sane. 

Well, if that's the case, the way Miley twerks, she must be the sanest woman on the planet, right?  I mean, that is *work.* Have you twerked?  I have.  I actually took a twerking *lesson,* and no, I am not kidding.  It's kind of like bellydancing: constant, exhausting motion.  That Miley is one. fit. chic. to twerk like that.  My hat is off.

(Yes, I did just move from the scholarly into the sarcastic, and that is kind of purposeful to set the tone of this whole piece.  Bear with me.  Like a Louis C.K. routine, this piece will give you a takeaway that'll make you say "hmm" -- I hope.)

Say what?  Miley is nude and licking a sledgehammer and gyrating wildly -- and Sinead thinks that this is because record company execs are "prostituting" her? This is not Miley's natural way?  She doesn't move like that to get fit and sane?  She does it for -- gulp -- men's attention? or to make men money?  Sound the alarm!  Feminists, take up your placards and March on Washington!  A twenty year-old is naked and trying to get some attention from men!  Except ... that has happened since, oh, the beginning of time ... and most of the most negative attention is coming from ... women.

I have so many problems with this on so many levels.  I mean, in her time, Marilyn Monroe was too sexy, too, and she wasn't naked and licking and twerking and twenty.  But beyond that, I had an experience lately that made me think twice about this male-exploitation model.  (You knew this was coming.)  I spent a week at Burning Man, where "sex positive" culture rules the nights and days.  Women twerked with other women at Slutgarden.  Men twerked with other men at Glamcocks.  Gay, straight, whatever, there were a whole lot of naked and nearly-naked people twerking and writhing and bumping and grinding, and there were no record company execs present.  Nothing was to be gained from being half-naked in the desert; there were no dollars to be made.  No one was worried for the future of our daughters.  People weren't worried about "Blurred Lines" (more on that in a sec).  We danced until the sun came up, and we owned our bodies and what we did with them.  We were confident and, yes, sexual, beings who drew the attention we sought and rejected what we didn't want.  It was a fantastic place to learn where to draw one's lines.  I fear more for a world in we try to censor that which teaches us boundaries -- one in which there is no twerking and worse, no conversation about it.  So really, I welcomed Sinead's letter.  It's a conversation I've already had with my own daughter time and time again.  Maybe more parents will have it now. 

But I'm of the ilk that the twerking shouldn't stop, nor should videos like "Wrecking Ball."  Why?  Well, what is our end-game here?  What is our goal?  Is it to stop the hypersexualizing of teenagers?  Or is it to realize the freedom that comes from acceptance that we're all sexual human beings who will act accordingly -- and that liberation comes from owning that sexuality, being empowered by it, and dancing however the hell we want to dance?  Other cultures have figured this out.  Being naked on TV in France is no thing.  And last I checked, their kids aren't having sex earlier than ours, or having more unwanted pregnancies.  What do we really fear, here? 

That leads me to the concept of liberation as part of the controversy around Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines," the chorus of which repeats "I know you want it, I know you want it."  It's a man singing to a woman and the song invokes the concept of liberation: "OK now he was close, try to domesticate you, but you're an animal, baby it's in your nature, just let me liberate you..."  And there are many more lines in the song that are as double-entendre-rich as those.  What is Thicke *really* singing?  Is he being pushy?  Is he suggesting that he doesn't take "no" for an answer, or that he knows what the woman he's singing to wants?  The fact of the matter is that *she* isn't represented in the song.  He's singing it.  And it's called, get this: "Blurred Lines."  We're not supposed to know.  It's walking *that line.*  It's making *that point.*  It's friggin' ingenious.  And I play it in my car, and I sing along, and God, I love to dance to it -- and I am not offended by it.  I do not think that hearing it will make my son think that women "want it" or my daughter think that a man knows what she wants.  For it is a song, and it is art.  We are not supposed to take it literally.

I know: whoa.  The hate mail, it's going to come flying.  Friends will disagree on Facebook, and I'll get some PMs and some VMs and some tsk-tsks.  And Imma make it worse right now.

I look around me, and I am surrounded by a whole lot of very rich, very beautiful women, because I live in Silicon Valley where we have enough in the bank for Botox and new breasts when ours get saggy.  We wear Lululemon and drive Cayennes, and we go Paleo and dye our hair.  This is not Portland.  This might as well be LA. 

I am far more worried about what our daughters see us eat -- or, more importantly, NOT eat -- every day, about how they see us diet, about how they hear of our botox and surgeons and attire and Miracle bras -- than I am about Miley Cyrus twerking.  I am far more concerned about how we mothers are fighting the aging process, dying our hair and still dressing like teenagers.  And don't even get me started on their fathers and what example *they* set in their interactions with women, from their wives to their waitresses to the people they seat that the table in their boardrooms (for it is mostly men staffing those still).  And no, I'm not being funny.  There's nothing funny about this scene. 

And yes, we can say that Miley is no role model, but hey -- are we? are our friends?  And plus, who says that celebrities are supposed to be role models anyway?  And how many of us freaking out about Miley Cyrus on Facebook have posted about the Kardashians or the Real Housewives in the past week? or have a People magazine lying around? or watched Madonna's "Like a Virgin" video the very moment it debuted on MTV and didn't end up going right out and getting sexually "ruined" - ?  We can't have it both ways, moms-of-the-world.  If we're going to preach, change starts with us, and with the media that our daughters see us consuming, and with keeping it real -- and/or, we need to teach them to see it all as entertainment, use these things as a way to start good conversations, and aim to get to a point where a video like "Wrecking Ball" just isn't a thing.

So here's the role I choose to play for my kids: self-confidence.  Self-acceptance.  Comfort in my own skin.  I make a point of making healthy eating choices, and of exercising for health -- things I try to role model for my kids.  So how do I model for them, when they're old enough (and/or as they're growing old enough) that I think it's okay to be a sexual being -- that sex isn't dirty or bad or wrong, and that women can want it just as much as men? that women can feel sexy and powerful while clothed in a boardroom or while naked and riding a wrecking ball? that men can play a role in women's sexual liberation by calling out those "blurred lines" and playing with the notions of dominance and submission, roles that really shouldn't be just in Fifty Shades books but, rather, are part of any healthy, adult sexual exploration? Is there any discourse over this to be had with kids?  I think there is, when they hit whatever the 'right' age is in your home, for I sure don't want them learning only from other teens or from MTV -- and, as far as I can tell, these conversations just aren't happening.

I think it's time that we rip this band-aid off, and that maybe Miley has actually done it.  I am ready for women to own our sexuality, for us to say: it's actually not just about pleasing men.  Maybe we get naked and ride wrecking balls because we like it.  Maybe we twerk because we want to.  Maybe it's high time that we stop freaking out because someday, our daughters are going to have sex.  Maybe instead, we try to set a tone such that when they do get there, it is as much about their own pleasure as it is about the traditional role of man-pleasing -- a role that, I fear, Sinead O'Connor folded right into with her letter.  I don't think Miley's video is about men at all.  I think it is about women becoming fearless with our sexuality, wrecking a dated notion of sex and power. 

And I kind of feel that if we started looking at it that way, then we can stop freaking out about sex and start focusing on things that really matter, like the fact that women are still making 77 cents to the dollar.  There sure is *nothing* sexy about that.

***

P.S. Amanda Palmer wrote a letter to Sinead today in response to Sinead's letter to Miley.  Sure, we can all roll our eyes that Amanda has thrown herself into the discussion -- but her letter is a bit more aligned with mine than much of the current debate, so I encourage you to read it.