Ignore This!

I remember the first time I witnessed street harassment.   I was a young girl visiting my Grandmother in a fairly large city.  We were walking downtown to catch a matinee and just ahead of us was a woman wearing a beautiful red halter top dress.  Although it revealed her shoulders and back the hem fell well below her knees.  It was a hot summer day and considering the weather it didn't strike me as particularly immodest.  I can still see her long dark hair.  She was striking as she walked along with confidence and I could tell she felt beautiful.

Suddenly a truck going by her screeched to a stop and the driver leaned out the window leered and yelled to no one in particular and yet for all to hear, "G__ __ D__ __ __!  Did you see that!"  Everyone, including my grandmother, ignored the comment and eventually the driver, having informed the public of his hard-on, moved along.

The woman herself seemed to ignore it as well, but I could tell it affected her.  I could tell by her step.  She no longer felt confident.  She seemed deflated and keeping her head lifted seemed a burden.  I wondered if she questioned her choice to don that beautiful red dress that morning.  If perhaps she should have chosen a different style or a different color.  Then maybe she could have walked down the street unharassed.

By the time I moved to NYC when I was 24 I had been the focus of street harassment myself.  By instinct I successfully ignored it.  But living in the Big Apple upped the game and ignoring it was a lot harder to do in an environment where I frankly felt on shaky ground to begin with.  But ignore it I did with dogged determination.  I think also fear,  because to recognize it and say or do something might have opened me up to other kinds of much worse assaults.

Sometimes is was just verbal, a whistle or a cat call.  Those were easy to ignore.  Sometimes it was pretty specific about my person.  One time it was someone following me for several blocks before asking me for a cigarette even though it was painfully clear I did not smoke.  Sometimes it was physical.  That's when it became impossible to ignore and I handled it by just moving my body away from the offender.

I have to admit I was a little mystified by it.  Was this an effective technique for attracting women and getting them to have sex with you, perhaps on the spot?  "Why yes, I've always wanted to get it on with a large homeless type man a good 40 years my senior.  You know some place around here we can go?"  Or perhaps they were seeking the woman they could settle down with for the rest of their life and have a family.  "It was the "hiss" I heard as I walked by him for the first time.  Such a noble hiss.  I knew right then I found the father of my children."  What exactly was the end game here?  Why yell out "Mom-mee, Mom-mee" as I walked by?  I mean, what the hell is that even supposed to mean?

No doubt by now you've wondered how I dressed during these assalts.  And I will tell you it doesn't matter.  Not because a woman should be able to wear whatever she wants without getting harassed (Although I think that's true), but because I got harassed while wearing PERFECTLY modest clothing.  I got harassed no matter what I wore.  IT. DIDN'T. MATTER.   In fact, some of the worst offenses happened when I was wearing something two ticks shy a burqa.  Once I was severely yelled at by a stranger in front of a subway station full of people that it was "a damn shame" for me to cover up my legs.  And he went on from there.  Yeah, that was one of the times when it got physical and I had to move away.  Sometimes I swear, and this will sound crazy, that covering my ankles provoked more attention than if I actually revealed my thighs.

Perhaps I was supposed to feel complimented.  But for some reason, a random stranger coming up behind me and comparing my ass to a bowl of jelly didn't really boost my confidence.  I don't know why.  Maybe because it really wasn't about complimenting me.  It was about making me feel uncomfortable.  The man who yelled out at the woman in the red dress --  that wasn't for her, it was for him.  It made him feel powerful.  Perhaps because he knew he didn't have a prayer of a chance with that woman and so he did what he could.  He made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin and although she tried to ignore it, that discomfort was abundantly clear.  He reveled in it.

Street Harassment isn't about a woman making a man losing control, it's about a man taking control of a woman.  Its purpose is to control someone by forcing a reaction from them.   If you get someone to react, you've won.  They're not thinking about what they want to think anymore, but about you and what you want.  And knowing you've done that, and making someone feel awkward and uncomfortable to boot must be a real rush.

I don't suppose I can speak for all women but I for one resent the efforts of a total stranger to control me even from afar.  Not only is it an intrusion it's intimidating because if a man enjoys forcing a reaction from me in public God knows what else he might enjoy forcing from me if he got half a chance.  It makes me feel like I'm not safe.

And the truth is -- I'm not.  Only 2 out of every 100 reported rapist will spend any time in jail.  1 out of every 3 females will be sexually assaulted before she's 24.  Politicians throw around phrases like "legitimate rape" and the concept of consent seems to somehow be blurry.

No,  I'm not safe.  How can someone feel safe when they are taught from a very young age not to walk alone somewhere after dark?  To be careful about being alone with a man you don't know, or even do know.  To never accept a drink you didn't pour yourself.  From the time we are girls, women are taught to check and watch and be ever vigilant lest we become a statistic.  It's on us because our bodies have this amazing power over a man's judgment.  So yea, a man aggressively asserting the effect my body has on him makes me a little nervous.

Street Harassment is the gateway rape. The men who do it aren't complimenting you or trying to meet a nice girl or even trying to hook up with someone.  They are extorting a response that empowers them.  That reminds you that in this "rape culture" they've got the upper hand.  That you aren't even allowed to walk down the street without acknowledging them if they so choose.  They can invade your thoughts and even your personal space and get away with it.

98 out of every 100 times they get away with it -- unless of course it's Street Harassment.  That's 100 out of every 100 times.  And although we may try, those odds are as hard to ignore as the street harassment itself.

I did eventually come up with something that was quite an effective answer to catcalls and the like.  When faced with unwanted comments I'd tilt my head back, hock up a loogie, and spit on the ground in front of me.  That sent a clear message that was pretty hard for them to ignore as well.

Get Over It

It's a misnomer to call America the "Land of the Free".  It implies that somehow you are free to do what ever you want.  It just isn't true.  You can't, for example, physically harm someone,  or damage their property, or publish lies about them.   That's the price you pay for living in a society.  There are rules you must abide.  And if you own a business one of those rules is that you can not discriminate against someone because of the color of their skin, the faith of their choice, or the lifestyle of their preference.

Does this limit your freedom.  Absolutely.  Because it means that you will have to occasionally render service to someone whose choices you feel are reprehensible and while you are free to think as you wish you are not free to refuse service.   That is a choice we made as a country long ago when we decided a restaurant didn't get to decide if someone got a cup of coffee based on skin color.  Sure it was "their restaurant" but the restaurant was in America, in a society that decided we didn't believe in that sort of discrimination.  Believe me those restaurant owners felt serving a black man was just as repugnant as two gay men getting married but their personal belief didn't give them to freedom to discriminate in their very public business.

It requires sacrifice occasionally but letting personal belief dictate who our business will or won't serve will take us down a slippery slope and I don't think anyone will be happy with what is waiting for us at the bottom.  It protects you, it protects me, it protects us all.

Many years ago I worked at a short lived and ill fated Internet Provider Company.  One day a co-worker introduced me to one of our clients.  My hand was already shaking his when I learned his name.   I knew at that moment no amount of washing would ever remove that feeling of slime from my hand.  The man made a fortune running pornography sites off the very internet we provided.  If you've know me very long you probably know the deep and abiding hatred I have for pornography of any type.

What this man did for a living repulsed me to the core of my very being and my company sold him the service he needed to do it.  But as much as I hated what he did I had to acknowledge that he had the right to do it.   Trust me when I tell you I was in no position to go running to the company president and demand this client be dropped but even if I did have that kind of power did I really have the right to let my personal belief dictate who we would provide internet for?  What if people of color offended me should we drop those clients too?  Or what if someone's religion offended me, maybe we should refuse service to them as well.

For some people I know the thought of gay marriage is just as offensive (though I honestly wonder how many of those people have enjoyed my former clients services).  But you live in America, and in America you are not free to discriminate.  If you want to discriminate against gay weddings then perhaps Russia is the country for you.  But I think you will soon find that sword swings both ways and then making a cake for two men wanting to live together as husband and husband won't seem so oppressive.

And for heaven's sake it's a cake.  A CAKE.  I fail to see how making a cake, just as you make all the other cakes could be so abhorrent.  Do images of homosexual behavior plague you while you are mixing the batter? Are you unable to control the image of the client burning in hell as you frost it?

I understand that for some types of business, such as photography or catering you do have to be more personally involved.  If you are sickened by two men embracing, or disgusted by two women kissing (yeah, right.) no one says YOU personally have to do the work.  Subcontract the job out.  I'm quite positive there will be someone in your area who will be more than happy for the work.  You don't even have to keep any of the funds so your hands stay clean.

Altogether, it seems like a small price to pay for living in America so just let it go and make the cake.

But I have one more thing to add.

I have heard it said that some gay people are deliberatly taking their business to "Christians" (and I use that term loosely)  for the purpose of forcing them to participate in something they are uncomfortable with.   IF this is indeed the case such behavior is petty and malicious and in no way is furthering your cause.  Forcing someone to do something you know they find morally objectionable under the cloak of liberty is no better than refusing service to someone under the cloak of religious freedom.

And for this point I have another little story for you.

When I was planning my wedding many many years ago I heard of a lovely site to have a reception.  It was a hall that had a beautiful open courtyard.  I called the business and began to discuss renting this particular site from a lovely sounding and friendly woman.  She asked me if I would be getting married there.  I explained that I was getting in married in a Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and only wanted the hall for my reception.  The other end of the phone went as cold as an arctic blast.  Suddenly this reception hall was not available and the called ended quickly.

I don't have definite proof but I'm pretty sure the reason that hall was unavailable was because of my personal religious belief.  It made me feel pretty crummy to be honest with you.  Did this business have a right to discriminate against me because I was a Mormon?  No, they did not.

But you know what, I let it go.  Maybe I should have pursued it.  Maybe doing so would have furthered the cause for Mormons everywhere.  Maybe Mitt Romeny would have even won the white house. (Ok, for that reason I'm sorta glad I didn't do it.)  But I don't think so.  I believed then and believe now there is a better way to show people who you are and what your about, and that's part of being in America too.

(And as it was I found an even BETTER place to have my reception at a much more affordable price.  So there Lady who doesn't like Mormons.)

So everyone, just calm down and let it go.  Make the cake, or find someone else to make the cake and be grateful you live in a country that although we do have to compromise from time to time is a country that is....well, that is America.  And that is something  I'm not willing to let go.

The Story Of Me

When I was little no trip to grandma's was complete without going to see some old person I was related to in some incomprehensibly complex way and usually generalized as  a "cousin".

Often there were sweets of some kind involved, so I didn't mind so much. I used my best manners as I had been warned to do, ate as many of the yummy treats as I could discreetly get into my mouth, and listened while the adults talked.

The conversation always began with an explanation of who I was. ("This is Bobbie's Daughter." "Eh?" "BOBBIE'S DAUGHTER". ) The "cousin", wrinkled and stooped with age would "Ooo", and "Ahhh" over me, which made me feel very important.

Then the conversation would sharply turn away from me and on to various ailments, marriages, births and other family news to be shared. Old pictures were inevitably pulled out and poured over, all the time pointing out who had Papa's smile or Aunt Nettie's brow. Sounds like boring stuff for a kid, but still I didn't mind.  I liked looking at the pictures and hearing the talk. I liked hearing the stories from long ago childhoods when the ancient person in front of me was like me -- still a child with all the world in front of them.

I'm sorry to say I don't remember those stories or even the names and most certainly not the relationship beyond "Cousin". But somewhere deep in my memory a vague idea was planted that wove itself into the fiber of my being.

I understood that the story of me did not begin with me.

I was a collection of parts tumbling through time, space, and generations, combining and separating again and again until finally coming to a scattering halt in me. Certainly I was unique, but the parts that made me were as ancient as human life itself.

There was something reassuring about it to me. I could almost sense those people from the pictures looking up at me, smiling and proud. It made me lift my chin an little higher.

This last week I took my 9 year old daughter on our annual visit to see Grandma and Grandpa in North Carolina -- a trip we look forward to every year.  My Mom mentioned that Mary Laura wanted to see me. Mary Laura is my Mother's Mother's Grandfather's Son's.....she's a cousin.

I distinctly remember Mary Laura from my childhood. She was gracious and poised, warm and always smiling. She was the kind of person that everyone loved, and I was no exception. So it seemed natural to take my daughter and niece to visit their "cousin" Mary Laura.

She greeted us with a smile that has not diminished with age one whit and wasted no time setting out treats for us all. We properly introduced my daughter and niece,  swapped our family news, and poured over family pictures.

When my mother saw the picture of a 9 year old Mary Laura she suddenly gasped. "Look at that!  Who does that look like?"  she pointed out. And there, staring out at me from a photograph over 50 years old was an expression so like my daughter's I had to gasp too. The brow, the smile....parts and pieces donated to my daughter. I never noticed it before.

When I was young I understood the story of me did not begin with me, but now I understand the story of me does not end with me.  I will go on tumbling through ages as this tradition, this odd little tradition, works itself into the next generation.

Reclaiming Valentine's

Do you remember when you were a kid and Valentine's day was just fun? First, you got to decorate a box or bag or something with red and pink crepe paper. Then on the big day the whole class would exchange those cheesy little cards, some of them complete with conversation hearts. You gave a card to everyone. And then you'd get a cupcake or something that someone's mom made. It was awesome!

Then we grew up and Valentine's day took on a whole different meaning. It wasn't about giving everyone a card any more. It wasn't even about getting a card from everyone. That wasn't good enough. You only wanted to get a card from that special someone, and not just a card -- no no. You dreamed about bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolate, and maybe even a stuffed animal. (OK, at least that what girls dream about, I won't venture into what boys fantasize about that day.) The day was ruined -- a least for most of us. For those of you who always managed to have a Valentine is was still awesome, I'm guess. I wouldn't know. It seems like I spent the bulk of holiday feeling rather glum, and alone.

At least until one day while in college, inspired by Charlie Brown (as in "Well, Charlie Brown how many Valentine's did you give away?), a chum and I decided to reclaim Valentine's day and go back to the cheesy little cards. We made one for everyone we thought we might see that day, complete with conversation hearts, and spent the day passing them all out.

It changed everything. The day was fun again. Getting those silly little cards seem to make everyone's day a little brighter, but none more than my own. Although I gave out far more cards than I received that day, I felt supremely happy. I learned an important thing, not just about Valentine's that day, but about life. The quickest path to happiness and the best antidote for a glum mood is doing something for others.

I don't know why it is. It doesn't make any logical sense. You'd think if you just focus on yourself all the time you'd be sure to get everything you want and you'd be happy, but it just doesn't work that way. Giving to others brings a joy to our lives that can not be acquired through any other means. Truly happy people know this. Adolescents haven't learned this yet, and really is there a more miserable lot in this world than 13 year olds? Only through serving others can we forget our own insecurities and frustrations. And it is only through this forgetting, or losing of ourselves that we find ourselves again. I think someone else said something like that. (Matthew 16:25).

I eventually did find an "Eternal Valentine" and this morning I dropped our 9 year old daughter off to school, excited for the Valentine's card exchange today. I've tried to teach her that she will find joy through giving, but I realized this morning as I watched her toting two dozen cupcakes (with really yummy chocolate frosting I might add), presents for her teachers, and a card for each and every classmate, she already knows that. I just have to make sure she doesn't forget.

A Different Perspective of the Christian Argument

I am a Mormon and I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe that he is God's only begotten Son and that, as such, he is the Savior of the world and the Redeemer of mankind. I believe that only by him, in him and through him can mankind be saved. I have been baptized in his name and in doing so have taken his name upon myself, meaning that I try to -- although I admit I come up short many times -- do as he would have me do.

And I am not a Christian. I don't mean to depart from what leaders of my church have emphatically argued. They assert that we are Christian and I understand what they mean, and I agree. But there is a different perspective of the argument that can help us understand those people who are so adamant about not letting Mormons into the Christian tent, and to consider that perspective just seems.....well, christian.

I remember the first time someone told me that I wasn't a Christian. It completely perplexed me. The name of our church is "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" after all. If you look up Christian in the dictionary the definition is "Someone who follows the follows the teachings of Jesus Christ". How could anyone presume to tell me I didn't believe in him when weekly I took a sacrament to remember his sacrifice for me and to renew my desire to follow his teachings. The theoretical justification for why I wasn't a Christian seemed like so much babble to me.

But over the years I've come to better understand the doctrine that admittedly confused me when I was younger and why so many "Christians" take offense with me sharing that title with them. I think it would be beneficial to take a closer look at what "Christian" is -- not as defined in the dictionary, but by thousands, even millions of people.

About 325 years after Jesus Christ died, 318 bishops came from around the known world to settle differences that began to divide the Church. What they all eventually agreed to would come to be known as the "Nicene Creed".

The Nicene Creed is a pretty simple document, yet from it bishops and other religious leaders extracted dogma such as the Trinity, Faith without Works, an unchanging Canon of Scripture, and other doctrine that the LDS church simply does not accept as truth. But the creators of the Nicene Creed were pretty clear -- to be Christian you had to accept all of the creed as truth eternal, not just a single part, some, or even most of the doctrine. So for many people the word "Christian" and the doctrine of the creed became inseparably connected.

When Christians hear Mormons say that we believe in Jesus Christ but not in other doctrine they use to define Jesus Christ, they find it unfathomable. The Christian faith for many followers does not simply imply their belief in Jesus, it's how they see him and how they interact with him. For Mormons to change long and dearly held tenets changes everything.

It's as if someone were to claim they are Mormon because they believe Joseph Smith was a prophet but didn't believe in eternal families. Or if someone might profess that the Book of Mormon was true, but didn't believe in continuing modern day revelation. Not only would it strike Mormons as preposterous, but we'd be convinced that person had entirely missed the point.

Which makes me think that perhaps we've missed their point all these years. They've been saying "You're not Christian", and Mormon's have heard "You don't believe in Jesus Christ". In fact what I think they've been saying is "You don't believe in all of the doctrine of the Nicene Creed." To them it's the same thing. It seems strange because a word like "Christian" clearly indicates a belief in Jesus Christ and has become synonymous with kind and charitable acts. But it also implies many other things we as Mormons don't believe.

Maybe this is something Mormons need to embrace. We don't believe so many things associated with the word "Christian", why would we work so hard to be part of it? We are not like them. We don't want to be like them. (No offense meant.) So why debate so heatedly that we are? If we continue to insist that we are like them, how will people come to realize what makes us special. Maybe it's time to realize that even though all Christians believe in Jesus Christ, not all believers in Jesus Christ are Christian.

It's hard for Mormons to let that go. We so desperately want people understand how profoundly we believe in Jesus Christ. How real and tangible we believe his love for us is. We want the world to know how his atonement saves us, in every way, it saves us. To not be called by his name is... hurtful.

So if not Christian, what could we be called? Jesus himself referred to his follower as Disciples. He never used the word "Christian", which actually only appears in the New Testament three times. The word disciple appears...well more times than I wanted to count. So while I can not claim to be a Christian without much debate and controversy, I can claim without any disclaimer that I am a Disciple of Jesus Christ.

Of course, the proof is in the pudding, isn't it? Ultimately, it isn't what we are called that matters. It's what we do. If I am a Christian or a Disciple of Jesus, it's what I do with his name that I will have to answer to. I found the video below very touching. I don't know if this man would call himself Christian or not. But what he does exemplifies the teaching of Jesus Christ. Maybe if we could come to some common ground and understand each other we can spend less time talking about a word, and more time doing as he would have us do, no matter what we choose to call ourselves.

Under the Gun

While Gabrielle Giffords struggles for her life and families and communities mourn the senseless loss of loved ones, we have yet to learn the true motive of shooter Jared Lee Loughner. Meanwhile, the validity of images such as gun site crosshairs, "Aim and reload" rhetoric, and other violent metaphors are now being hotly debated.

I believe if Loughner was indeed politically motivated we need to re-evaluate the use of violent metaphors in politics and if Loughner is simply crazy and not politically motivated, I believe we need to re-evaluate the use of violent metaphors in politics. In my opinion these images of threat seem to run counter to the very idea of freedom and have no place in our democracy. Isn't the idea of democracy that you are free to choose without concern of bodily harm to yourself or others.

I'd like to ask the authors of these radical images what happened to "Do unto others as you would have them do to you"? Would you honestly want to see your hometown on a map, a place where your children live, covered with the image of a gun site crosshair (or even something that looks quite similar)? Wouldn't you feel just a little nervous, knowing there are some real kooks out there, if someone suggested, even metaphorically, to shoot you? And in those cases where something horrible does happen, such as a 9 year old girl being shot to death, wouldn't it be a comfort to absolutely know it had nothing to do with you?

Look, it's a free country. People are free to say what they want and I don't know if they are to blame if some chemically imbalanced person uses that as an excuse to go on some rampage. I don't think this is the sort of thing we can legislate.

What I do think is that politicians need to be wise about the images they choose to convey and all citizens need to be even wiser about the images the choose to respond to. Because there are a lot of crazy people out there--you know that--and sometimes all it takes is a little nudge to tip them over to the psychotic side of the fence. Guns are powerful- not bad- just powerful. They can take away a life with the slightest twitch of a finger. We need to show more respect for that power and stop carelessly using its image to further our own personal or political agendas.

In a democracy your power comes from your vote, not a gun, and if we stop believing that we've got a real problem on our hands.

Me, weighing in on the Cordoba House

Ok, here’s the thing about the Cordoba House, the proposed "mosque" near Ground Zero...

First of all, I have to wonder how many of the most embittered and outspoken critics of the Cordoba House, a proposed Islamic Center to be built two blocks from Ground Zero, even LIKE let alone have actually BEEN to New York City. (If they had they’d know that two blocks is like...practically another city) When I first moved there I was amazed, not just at the diversity, but at the ability of humans to coexist with such diversity. People who were from cultures and religions that were diametrically opposed sat next to each other on the subway, peacefully reading their newspaper in arabic or hebrew or chinese or whatever. I remember thinking the fact that the city hadn’t blown itself to tiny bits was a testament to human kind and it’s ability to tolerate someone who was VERY different, from you. I discovered that diversity and tolerance is what the big apple is all about--well, that and really great pizza. It gave me hope for us humans.

Second of all, over 50 Muslims lost their lives that day, and no, not I'm not including the highjackers. Included in that group is a young paramedic whose EMT bag was found next to his body underneath the rubble 6 months later. His family didn't know where he was that whole time because he wasn’t scheduled to work that day, but when he saw the need he went to help, and gave his life to do it.

Third of all, what WOULD Jesus do. We don’t get to pick and choose when we’re going to follow his creed. We shouldn’t do it just when it’s convenient or easy. He taught us “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you”. He taught that because he knew THAT was the only hope this world had. So I say it’s time to put your money where your WWJD jewelry is and honestly ask yourself what he would do.

Fourth, all Muslims are no more guilty for 9/11 that all Christians are for the Inquisition. I saw a sign that claimed it was like building a shrine to Hitler in Germany. Well, you could also say its like building a church with a big fat cross on it in the middle of Jerusalem - a city that suffered unspeakable injustice during the crusades.

And finally, all of the above doesn’t matter. What’s it to me if they build the center, or don’t. I didn’t loose someone that tragic day. Ultimately, I think it should be up to families of the victims. It should be up to the kid who will never know first hand his father’s smile, or the parents who still feel a gapping hole in their hearts, or the widower struggling daily to raise his children without their mother.

I think it should be up to them--seriously, let ‘em vote. They’re the ones who had to pay the price, not me and certainly not those spot light grabbing politicians and news pundits . And while I do feel a great deal of sympathy for them I won't presume to speak for them. To be honest with you, I can’t say I’d blame them if they didn’t want it. All good will and tolerance aside, that such faction could splinter from a religion....well, it isn’t new but it can be scary.

But wouldn't it be something if they agreed to let it be built. Wouldn’t it say something about tolerance, understanding, love, and forgiveness. Wouldn’t it say something about being the bigger person and setting aside your own profound grief so maybe a bridge might be built and such a tragedy might be be avoided in the future. That would give me hope for us humans all over again.

But if those families should decide that the wounds are just too fresh and that for some the insult too great, then I hope those planning to build the Center would change their plans and move the building to what would be considered a more respectable distance. Not because they have to, but because they choose to out of tolerance, understanding, love, and forgiveness. From what I hear, their religion teaches that too.

And that would give me hope for mankind as well.