John McCain Losing Traction, Relevancy.

With John McCain’s temper tantrums on and off the Senate floor during the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell repeal debate, I wonder more and more at his irrelevancy. With both his wife and his daughter coming out for “the other side” you’d think he might listen to the counsel his family offered. Nope. McCain led the opposition…and lost.

As this editorial points out, when George W. Bush was still in office, McCain often joined the Democrats.

So what is John McCain’s deal?

He’s an oppositionist.

McCain, for whatever reason, has to be on the minority side. Not in a good way–he doesn’t champion the cause of the “little guy” or the “everyday American” or even the poor and downtrodden. He likes to be the one arguing against whomever has the majority in Congress and holds the Executive branch.

His lack of consistency in sticking to any one party could be admirable, if it were based on any ideals. But it doesn’t seem to be the case. Getting criticism for both parties could be seen as a good thing–but not in his case. John McCain won the nomination in 2008 because of a split in the party, not in any large showing of support for his candidacy. I believe the same for President Obama–progressives were split in their support between Hillary Clinton and John Edwards. In my analysis during the 2008 race, Obama was an idealistic politician, without any real chance for gaining the nomination. The same for John McCain, sans the idealistic part.

Yet he holds on, and Arizona keeps reelecting him. I suspect at this point it may be simply the incumbent’s advantage that keeps him in office, however. We’ll see if that’ll be enough when this term is up–if he keeps this up, I suspect it won’t be.

The Census Results: What it Means for Kentucky.

Kentucky is among those states that will not be gaining any seats in the House. Kentucky, however, won’t be losing any seats, either. Currently, Kentucky has six Congressional seats.

However, thanks to population declines in eastern and western Kentucky, the state will have to redistrict.

What does this mean?

Rural Kentucky has historically been more politically conservative. With the population declining in these areas, this could lead to the rural, conservative communities having less power in our Congressional races. Meaning, the possibility of more liberal, left-leaning Democrats getting elected. Now, re-districting alone will not turn Kentucky from a red state to a blue one, but it could mean that the Commonwealth will swing slightly more to the left, while still being considered a red state.

In the big picture, this doesn’t mean very much. Several red states have gained seats, including Texas, Arizona, Georgia, and South Carolina. Of course, those states could be redistricting as well, but at this point, it’s too early to say.

This change will not come quickly. The Secretary of State, Trey Grayson, isn’t yet sure if the legislature will do the redistricting during a special session in 2011, or wait for 2012. My guess? They’ll do it during the special session in 2011. With election season coming again in 2012, everyone will want to know where to campaign, who to solicit for donations, and what issues to focus on.

Musings on Academia and a Blog Recommendation.

Recently, I’ve taken to visiting Clarissa’s blog more and more. I’ve previously read a post here or there, but was never a regular. Now, I’ve made up my mind to become a regular reader.

Who is Clarissa? Well, this should explain it:

An academic’s opinions on feminism, politics, literature, philosophy, teaching, academia, and a lot more.

This is the subtitle of her blog, which sums up the content quite nicely. (I’ve never been able to do that very well, for some reason, with my own blog title and posts.)

I left academia in May 2010, having graduated from WKU. I was extremely excited. To be done! with writing papers! forever! (for now.) It wasn’t long before I started to miss it terribly. For lovers of learning, there is no place quite like academia. The past several weeks, I watched via Facebook as my friends back at WKU chose next semester’s classes (jealous!), bitched about all-nighters, about presentations and papers and exams (oh my!), and started counting down til the winter break. Meanwhile, I’m working a second shift job, that has nothing to do with my degree, for the decent-ish pay and good benefits, and I’m going crazy doing it.

What does all this have to do with Clarissa? Nothing really, I don’t know her at all (but I’d like to!), but more her writing.

Her post on Fox News made me snicker. It appeals to my interest in politics and news. I bookmarked it to show my conservative friends at an appropriate moment mid-debate. The evil, evil liberal in me delights in the potential facial expressions her post will get from said friends.

Just from this last week, there were several posts regarding academia that made me feel in the loop, almost like I was back at WKU.

Misery is Fashionable. This post is about all the complaining that teachers do, but it reminds me of all the complaining college students (myself included) do as well. Why did I take up smoking? Oh yeah. College. To be completely honest, student government drove me to start, but striving to complete two majors, in addition to all the other things I was involved in, in only four years kept me smoking. For all the complaining, as Clarissa said, academia is well worth it, so much that I’m thinking more and more about becoming one of those awesome English professors that I so adore.

The Best Piece of Advice I Can Offer on Surviving Grad School. I was not so good about relaxing on weekends. I relaxed, all right, but I felt guilty the entire time. Perhaps I’ll be better in grad school, y/y?

This post, especially resonated with me, as a humanities student. I’ll probably write my own response to the “article” that Clarissa was responding to in her post sometime later.

 

DADT Repealed!

Today, the Senate voted 65-31 to repeal the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.

Today, Congress finally listened to the heartfelt pleas of American troops.

Today, our military is a stronger force–no longer facing continuing decimation of the ranks, and no longer are a significant portion of troops vulnerable to blackmail.

Today, a significant portion of the United States Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corp can now stand proudly in uniform, whole and free.

Today, hundreds of families can now freely support their loved ones in uniform, and hundreds of troops can now be stronger for that support.

Today, America and her Armed Forces are now stronger, freer, and more united.

The journey doesn’t end here. It will be a long journey before the damage from Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is undone. The discharge process must be stopped, the way must be opened for those discharged under DADT to return, if they wish. But that’s all paperwork. The biggest hurdle is behind us.

Let’s take this day to celebrate. Victories come all too seldom. Let’s bask in it, before we return tomorrow to work.

What Would a War on Date Rape Drugs Look Like?

Today I found this article. In it, the police speak about their stepping up on stopping crime during the holidays. But one snippet of the article jumped out at me:

“Operation Saturate has already seen drug dealer Leighton Foster, 21, jailed after he was caught with a £7,000 stash of the date rape drug GHB.”

When do we ever hear about police busting a date rape drug ring? Never.  So it was great to hear on that level—that there’s now that much less GHB on the street, and potentially, fewer women being assaulted.

But then, I asked myself, what would the American War on Drugs look like if it were a war on date rape drugs?

I pretended it wouldn’t be racist and classist like this one is. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded—why aren’t drugs that are slipped into nonconsenting women and men’s drinks, in order to commit a crime that is harmful to that non consenting person, given more of a priority? If it were, would it be possible that we would have a more constructive dialogue on rape and sexual assault? Might our dialogue be more focused on questioning, blaming, and prosecuting the one doing the raping rather than the victim? Might the reporting of rapes go up, since police would ostensibly take rape more seriously? Might we even be able to educate the masses on acquaintance rape?

Things might be a lot different.

Men Fighting Violence Against Women

A few days ago, I discovered an amazing organization.

A Call to Men

I found this organization via this wonderful video, which features a talk by one of the co-founders of A Call to Men, Tony Porter. He started this organization to encourage, teach, and lead men to end violence against women.

After watching the video, I googled Tony and watched as many videos of his talks as I could. It was truly wonderful to see, as a woman, and as a feminist, a man so passionate about ending violence against women. So much work in this area focuses on victim advocacy, victim-focused awareness campaigns, and the like. A Call to Men is different. He seeks out “well-meaning men,” the men who do not commit any violence. He educates them on behaviors and mind sets that encourage violence. Then he encourages them to hold men accountable–not just violent men, but well meaning men who, through seemingly harmless jokes, behaviors, and the like, encourage and foster such an environment where men come to believe that committing violence against women is acceptable.

As a feminist, I sometimes despair at the lack of men who work for equality. It’s hard, knowing that things just might be easier, more efficient, more fruitful if men were to stand with us against harassment, against domestic violence, against rape, and all the other inequalities women face in the world. I cried watching the video linked above, not only because Tony was speaking about things near and dear to my heart. But also because he, a man, cares, and he cares enough to found this organization, travel all around the country, and rally other men to the cause.

I know there are many men out there who care, and even many men out there who are active allies. But sometimes they’re hard to see. And A Call to Men is a great reminder that they’re there for us.

For all our male allies, I encourage you to check out this organization. Share the videos with your friends–they’re a great 101 tool, especially for men who may be reluctant to read or watch anything with “feminist” associated. Tony is straight-forward, an “everyman” kind of speaker, and a great storyteller.

Compassion.

Compassion is such an important thing. It makes all the difference to someone who is hurting, whether that person is a stranger or someone you care about. We can’t change the world in one fell swoop. We can’t (most of us, anyway) give someone all the money they need to take care of themselves, or a loved one. We can’t prevent bad things from happening. But we can show compassion. It’s such a little thing, and often it manifests itself in the smallest of actions. Here is where intent does matter, and the action doesn’t.

Compassion is the difference between hope and hopelessness, despair and endurance, feeling small and weak or feeling like someone who matters, despite being small and weak. It’s the difference between tears and a smile, feeling loved and feeling alone.

Tales of Epilepsy: Refusing Treatment

For a long time, I refused any kind of treatment for my epilepsy. For a period of my life, I hated any kind of drug, even aspirin or acetaminophen, and refused to take anything. And I got endless harassment for it. It was my decision. It was my body, and my choice whether or not to pump chemicals into it, and I chose not to. I knew well the consequences of my decision—I knew that it left me open to seizures, should the circumstances, and my body’s reactions to them, be the right combination, and I chose not to take medication anyway.

I was foolish, people said. I wasn’t taking care of myself. Didn’t I know all of the bad things that could happen to me if I had a seizure at the wrong moment? I was being immature, people said. I should take medication. I didn’t like drugs? Well, I should suck it up and take them anyway. I was being selfish. How dare I!

I quickly saw it wasn’t about me for these people. It was about them. They would worry about me going away to college with untreated epilepsy. I inflicted my epilepsy upon others. My body, my neurological disorder, my choice to reject medication, and my seizures were mine. I made my decision, and I had to live with it. I had to live with my epilepsy every day. Not them.

Every partial, every seizure was an opportunity for friends, family, EMTs, ER staff, and random strangers to lecture me on my choice, and to attempt to cajole me into taking medication. I was already struggling with the loss of control over my own body. I was struggling with memory loss. I struggled with the injuries I’d gotten from falling down stairs, knocking my head on the concrete, the soreness from my body tensing up and then jerking about. I struggled with the indignity of pissing myself. I struggled with the humiliation of the lonely walk from the cab, the ambulance, to my bed, knowing I looked like hell, wasn’t quite fully aware yet, and very few actually cared enough about me and my well-being, to actually ensure I was alright. I struggled with the knowledge that I could not ever fulfill my dream of being an officer in the United States military because I had abnormal brain waves on an EEG, and these people were taking advantage of all of that to get me to do something I did not want to do, had chosen not to do, because they wanted me to do it, so I would not inconvenience them.

Sure, there were some good arguments. I could hurt someone else. My life would be much easier if I took medication. I—can’t actually think of anymore than that. But what no one considered is that I considered all of that already, and I still did not want medication. I had my reasons. They were even more intimate. Sometimes, I would get so frustrated I would blurt it out, in a desperate attempt to shut them up. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes I got, “So? Get over it already.”

My professors were outraged that I hadn’t told them while on a study abroad trip. So much so, in fact, that when I had one, they threatened to send me home if I didn’t take medication. I had very little choice. So I did. I took medication that had just been released in Europe, that hadn’t even been considered by the FDA in America, which I knew nothing about. When I forgot to bring the medication on a weekend trip, I was lectured, reduced to tears, forced to remain on the bus while the rest of my classmates toured a chateau, and forced to take a Xanax. I wouldn’t be allowed to join our group on our next stop, Auschwitz, if I didn’t take the Xanax. What choice did I have? None. So I did. I took a drug that I didn’t, and still don’t, even know the name of. I took a pill that I knew would do nothing for me because my professor thought it might, and that was all that mattered. My knowledge of my own disorder, my own body, didn’t matter.

When I got home from the trip, and that new drug ran out, I got on medication. Once I started, I couldn’t easily stop—my body adjusting to the lack of drugs would mean more partials and more seizures while the drug was purged from my body. I’ve been on medication ever since. It’s been a year and a half since my person was disregarded, my choice disrespected, and my agency taken from me. Everyone is happy I’m taking medication. They’re so pleased that I got a little keychain pillholder for emergencies. They’re satisfied that I’m being the Responsible Broken Body. Everyone is happy, but me.

Judge Suspended for Crimes of Abusive Husband.

(Note: Trigger warning for descriptions of domestic violence and spousal abuse.)

Carla Hartman, an administrative judge in Indianapolis, is suspended after police found evidence of a marijuana-growing operation in her home. The items belong to her husband. The police discovered it when Carla called them to her home after her husband threatened her with an axe.

This is yet another example of domestic violence victims being punished for the crimes of their abusers. Did police ever think that she may have feared reporting her husband because he might hurt her? That the marijuana might have been the least of her worries? Douglas Hartmen, her husband, sounds like a classic abuser, based off the information from the article. Aside from threatening her with the axe, he broke windows. He stole her birth certificate, law degree, and other important documents. Documents that she would need if she were to try to get away. Police found four guns in the home–this article indicates they belong to Douglas. Their presence makes a scary situation even more frightening.

Douglas Hartman was arrested, but was released after posting a $5,500 bond. Carla has been suspended without pay while the police investigate her husband. She has not been arrested or charged with anything, in fact.

There are so many things wrong with this situation, the most appalling of which is that the police and the BMV, who should be Carla’s allies, are inhibiting her by suspending her from her job, which not only gets her out of the house, but provides her with her own income separate from that of her abusive husband. It looks as though she’s no longer living with him, which is good, but it is also dangerous, because abuse tends to escalate when the victim escapes.

I hope Carla is able to escape cleanly from this situation. And I would hope that the BMV will rectify this atrocity by reinstating her immediately.

“Guy Friends” and Boundaries.

Friendships are wonderful things. They enrich life. Friends become a pillar, people you can depend on  and trust—they are the people that share the good and bad that life throws at you.

So when a friend, especially a good friend, betrays you, it hurts so much more than a betrayal by anyone else, because of that mutual trust, respect, and life-sharing that is so inherent in friendships.

Every woman has friends of the male gender. Every woman has fought with parents, religious mentors, or girlfriends about the very idea of “guy friends.” Some think that friendships between persons of opposite gender cannot happen, that there are always ulterior motives. We’ve fought this idea, insisting that this idea is wrong.

But sometimes they’re right.

And damn, does it suck. You almost never find out that this “guy friend” has ulterior motives—say, is attracted to you and wishes to have a romantic relationship with you, for instance—until you’re vulnerable. This vulnerability takes on many forms—it may be that you’re talking to this friend about a broken relationship, or upset for another reason. It may be that you are alone with this friend someplace, whether it be your home, his home, a bar, restaurant, out of town, on the job, wherever.

But suddenly, you find yourself stuck. You may panic. You feel your trust in this friend evaporating. You want to disengage from the conversation and confide in someone else, only to realize that no one would really believe you, or pressure you to act as if nothing has changed.

But it has. You question yourself—because you might have been wrong all along that you and he were good friends, and that boundary was unshakable. You question the entire friendship: was this his motive all along? Did I ever do anything to indicate we might be more than friends? Panic again—because you had trusted this friend, and so relaxed with them. You’d let down your guard. You confided in them. They know so much about you. What if? What if? What if? And the friendship, in an instant, is lost. You mourn that. You instinctively put up that guard that you wear every day when facing a world rife with misogyny, sexism, and physical danger that is unique to women. You mourn that you have to put that guard up for someone who, only five minutes before, was a close and trusted friend of yours.

That is the betrayal. It may only take something as little as a “joke” about him finding you attractive, or an insinuation that you should really spend the night at his place instead of going all the way home. They’re such little things, but they break the boundaries of a friendship, and thereby the trust. You let down your guard with your friends. You can relax. You don’t have to worry about drinking too much. You don’t have to worry that they’ll hit on you, get angry if you reject them. You don’t have to worry if they’re going to follow you home. In the case of a disability, like mine, I don’t have to worry that they might take advantage of my epilepsy. If a guy friend breaks that boundary, then all of those worries return. It’s even more frightening because you weren’t prepared for it. You felt safe. Now that friend feels like another creeper in a bar trying to “get you right under [his] arm.”

Now what do you do? Because while this reaction, and these feelings, are perfectly normal, many people, including said guy friend, won’t quite get it. Maybe some will. The answer is, outside firmly establishing boundaries, risk anger, a fight, or a rift in your social group, and slowly building up that trust again, I don’t know. There isn’t a 100% safe solution that won’t cause anger or resentment. All I can do is write about it and hope that enough men will see this, and be more aware of the consequences their behavior with their female friends can have.