Life Under Construction

Published on by Lisa Category: Uncategorized

Ebb and flow.

The ebb and flow of life has brought me to a place where I am failing to remain centered on life’s most recently delivered tray of decisions.

Moving.

House.

Job.

Trip.

Travels.

Ebb and flow.

The waves of life are bringing some big tidal waves where I will still be sailing along with my blog, but will definitely be stoking the flames of other transformative and larger components of my existence.

I will soon be moving. We have purchased our first home. We have travels for weddings. Our own anniversary.

And, the most salient ingredient is my impending trip to my parent’s homeland, the Philippines. I will be studying the economic, history, literature, and language of my ethnicity for six weeks and staying an additional three weeks for my own exploration. During this time, I will be (formally) researching social movements, feminism, and colonialism. Informally, I will continue writing my memoir about my personal search for everything – and the misconceptions and lessons learned about identity, belonging, feminism, family, and culture from two continents.

There’s no break in blogging, just a flowing continuation of suggestions, thoughts, ideas, and epiphanies. I’ll still be here, but just know, my dear readers, I shall be absorbed in a place where I yearn to be entirely reminded, transformed, and living for what is most important.

Ebb and Flow.

Feminist Mothering

Published on by Lisa Category: pregnancy

By this time next year, I’d like to be a mother, or expecting biologically or through adoption. Today, a weird day, Mother’s Day, I am thinking about what kind of guardian I will be.

I’ve encountered lots of phrases to describe the experience and effort to parent young souls in a manner that indulges in love, fairness, reality, protection, and forgiveness. “Feminist Mothering” is one of those phrases. That phrase is alright, but a bit inflexible. It’s not like I expect Adonis to say he will be practicing “Feminist Fathering.” It’s just called parenting, and for me, a mindful vigilance and fight against the kyriarchal powers at work in society, school, and our family. Regardless of how much I try to work out my own crap and not project errors onto my children, or heap unfair expectations on them, or push them too hard, or take things too personally, or take too much shame and pride in them – I know that I will frequently stumble.

There are many ways to be a mother, I realize. Feminism, someone once said, is about being surrogate mothers to each other from time to time. While much of my exposure to feminism has been about promoting sisterhood, the idea of being a surrogate mother from time to time is more appealing to me. There are so many aspects of who I am that is mature, wise, and loving, but then there are the bleakly immature and under construction areas. These areas have benefited from the surrogate mothers who have stepped in with their fierce understanding that we all need space to stumble before we get it right, we’re all in this together, and there’s no one right way to be yourself. Surrogate mothers walk the labyrinth of feminism with the knowledge that building another person up outweighs the benefit of tearing anything or one down.

My surrogate mothers have been strangers and friends, relatives and teachers, mentors and lovers. They’ve been editors and writers, co-workers and supervisors, students and young(er) womyn who have taught me grace, when to let go, and how to forgive others as well as myself. Feminist surrogate mothering is not about just giving good advice or showing up when no one else does.

Surrogating mothering is a radical belief that the path we are on to gender equality and liberation, the path to a conscious society, the path to collective transformation is fraught with danger. And surrogate mothering is opening oneself to the possibility of being stronger for the sake of the other, letting someone rest when needing, appreciating what went unnoticed, and celebrating the totality of someone’s natural gifts. It is about moments of divine leadership and self-emptying compassion. It is not about recognizing the convenient moments when you would like to be a surrogate mother, but identifying when someone else is in need.

I can identify more moments when I have been gently corrected or when my fire has been tended by someone else than when I have given of myself. Call it selfishness or my youth. Or greed.

This Mother’s Day, I am quietly vowing to look beyond myself.

Springing Forward

Published on by Lisa Category: Life is Never General, Notes From Home Plate, Shoutouts, Weather Rant

There is something tragic about Spring that I cannot put into words.

The lush green trees, the sweet clean air, and the sound of baseball meeting a bat. Spring time.

I sit here with red eyes, a scratchy throat, and compressed lungs that wheeze when outside for more than 5 minutes. I hate my allergies. Egh.

Other than the arrival of beautiful Spring while Boston is rated the third WORST CITY IN THE US for allergies, other things have been going on.

Last weekend, Nick’s parents came into town and it was a lovely break to have some family around us in our home. If you haven’t already, please ask Ron and Nick about their first lobster experience. Two words: DIS-ASTER. I don’t know if Nick is allowed back in Maine after the mess he created on the table. I wasn’t there, but I heard the stories. My reaction when he told me he ordered a lobster, “You don’t like seafood, so I don’t follow why you even tried it in the first place.” His reply, “I live on the edge! That’s how I roll.”

He’s been saying that a lot lately and it is getting old.

This past Monday, Andy Wendelon was in town and since I was trapped in the third ring of hell (work), Nick went out to dinner and showed him a fine bar of Boston. Tomorrow, my bud Jennifer Buckley will be visiting from NYC along with a potential Memorial Day visit from my oldest brother Victor who lives out in Los Angeles. They’ve got the right idea folks — if you want to see Boston, get here sooner rather than later cuz we’re outta here pretty soon.

So other than lobster feasts and family/friends visits, we have been running around like mad with school letting out, moving, house hunting, job hunting (me), and my impending trip to the Philippines. My scheduled departure date is June 23rd.

That’s a quick update from the east coast. Hopefully, I will have more to share as our final weeks in Boston begin to dwindle.

To spring! Cheers!

Surveying the Damage: Part II

Published on by Lisa Category: Feminism

As I continue to survey the damage, I find an growing awkwardness inside me. There’s almost a puddle of disgust next to my computer from writing – again – about the latest feminist bombs. (I’m soooo sick of this.) On the stronger hand, I don’t feel quite right to blog “as usual” yet either. One thing I do know is that the more I reflect on the damage, the more I learn about what kind of activist I want to be. I want to be a person that does not carry on business as usual when “as usual” is not the reality.

And the reality for others is that “feminism” remains an unwelcome place, an impossible dialogue. Whether that is online, in a classroom, conference, community group, or any place that requires a public audience – the function of feminism as public activism is disjointed.
My blog is dedicated to creating a space for anyone battling the front lines of gender equality, liberation, and the truest sense of the word: resistance. This space is built especially for womyn of color and difference who seek a safe space to ponder and wander aloud. In my own wandering aloud, I came up with two pieces of damage control: 1. Language and 2. Goliath

Clean Up Your Language: Grab Your Arrow and Be Specific
Let me cut to the chase. If you blog or write about something that refers to online communities, be specific. BFP, BA, and a lot of other womyn bloggers referenced in the (W)AM and a Seal bombs belong to the Radical Women of Color blogger ring. That is quite different than just saying “women of color.” There’s a lot of WOC bloggers out there who would most definitely NOT agree with what we individually and collectively advocate. Also, PLEASE never write, “Sudy and other women of color say…” Of WHOM are you speaking? Be specific. I do not speak for all women of color. (And contrary to popular opinion, neither does Blackamazon.) I speak for one lone iSelf and, while I most certainly identify as and am a womyn of color, I do, can, will not approve of general labels in references.

Specificity also cuts out a lot of the garbage that takes up thread time. Specificity enables familiar and non-familiar readers to quickly and (more) accurately identify who is involved and being referenced. It’s not about being all PC, it’s about accuracy. When appropriate individuals and communities are correctly identified, it also minimizes identity drama.

Speaking of identity drama, one of my pet peeves is the dismissal of anti-racism arguments and bodies of work because a few comment something like, “You know, I’m a woman of color and I don’t think racism exists.” Careless use of identity as assumed credence neutralizes the reasoning and work done by those who have thoughtfully engaged their own lives and personal experiences that give backbone to their assertions.

Challenge bloggers who either generalize communities (“…those White women….” or “women of color….”) or those who use their “identity” to neutralize the work of others. Ask for specificity in the presence of ambiguity. Do your part and work to clean up the language. We spend more time refuting circular points than we do engaging our actual thoughts.

At the same time, get over yourself. If you know what the writer means, go with it and don’t lose the lesson over a beef tip.

2) The Fight Within Feminism: David (Indie) and Goliath (Mainfemistream)

To not acknowledge the difference between individuals of fem bloggers would be ludicrous. So, who would we not acknowledge the difference in their feminisms? The largest solvent in the feminist cocktail mix is mainstream feminism – the feminism that speaks to the majority of those in the middle – those who have access to feminism due to formal instruction, Barnes and Nobles, blogging, and 3 day women conferences in a secluded resort. This is the feminism that is largely pitched to White college educated heterosexually identified woman who love drinking, hetero sex, and cry in their sociology classes when their profs make them sit in a circle and prompt the students of color to talk about their childhood. This is the feminism that both Fox and CNN feature. This is the feminism that sells books. This is the feminism that enjoys the mic. This is the feminism that raises eyebrows, not consciences.

Is there a space for these women and their feminism? Sure.

But, why has this become of the face of public feminism?

Why is this feminism most staunchly defended?

Because a feminism pitched to a buying audience is a feminism sold.

Sold.

Here’s another catch. Mainfemistream blogs, sites, and publishers take it upon themselves to feature marginalized issues and voices. While I have no problem with that, I don’t believe that sideshow warrants applause or a label of intersectionality. Dude, if you’re appealing to mainstream, you will never fly with intersectionality. The sacred space of difference is an experience of intense joy and immeasureable pain. That grey is too in-depth for cool, “normalcy,” or a dollar. Mainstream feminism is the attempt to, once again, prioritize the needs and concerns of the few, and claim it universal for all. It attempts to water down the rocks so that most people can wash it down. Mainfemistream vocalizes the same objective of candied individualism that refuses to heed caution for others’ well-being. To sell feminism, someone, somewhere usually has to be forfeited in the process.

(That “someone” is usually young(er) woman of color; 13-20 year olds, in my opinion.)

As I take my privilege out for a stroll this week and peruse the public face of feminism on the news, magazines, blogs, and bookstores, I am nauseous with symptoms of a flu-like bug. Steinem, Femwhatever-dotcom, Ground-breaking Press with apologies – I want to vomit over the repetition of themes – love, relationships, jealousy, career, success, motivation, sexual freedom, and equal pay day. Am I anti-mainfemistream? No. Am I angry? No. Do I want to stay far, far away from it? YES. The dearth of radical and indie voice is present, but distant. It needs to be louder. It needs YOU.

Stop expecting mainfemistream voices to be the David (practices of equality) against Goliath (kyriarchal practices). When you’re asking why mainfemistream isn’t what you want it to be – lame accountability, tripping over s-s-s-orrrries, lackluster vision – remember that they themselves don’t even know they, in fact, ARE Goliath.