Fathering a Feminist

I adored my father. That much is obvious. Yet I was always under the impression that my father would love me more if I was a boy. Maybe it was because they were expecting a boy. They were going to name me Christopher Robin.

When I was five, I was given a black pair of Bauer hand-me-down skates. I knew they were boys skates, my Uncle David's first pair. It didn't matter. Daddy liked to skate, so I would learn how to glide across the ice like he did, no matter that I didn't have the same pristine white skates with toe picks that I saw other girls wearing.

I have a fantastic memory of my father swooping over and asking me what was wrong. "Daddy, I can't skate!" I wailed. He showed me how to push and glide, push and glide--it wasn't at all like walking, and I didn't have picks to help me push off. He took my hand, and together we surfed the ice until I let go. I did exactly as he showed me and suddenly, it was easy. Viola! "Daddy, I'm skating!" In later years when we shared that memory he remembered it differently. He remembered me letting go of his hand and saying, "I got it, Daddy." And off I went. Sure enough, his little girl could skate.

It's a common theme in my life, always wanting to please my father and be good at all the things he loved. Because I believed he would love me more if I was more like him. More like a boy. It shaped who I am in interesting ways.

He played guitar and loved music. I took up drums and learned how to read music. I learned to appreciate all music-- classical, jazz, folk...stuff that wasn't metal. He loved airplanes and got a pilot's license. I became his co-pilot and navigator. I read all the books he used for ground school, weather patterns, cloud formations and how to read flight instruments. Our family went to airshows and my father and I collected T-shirts of our favorite aircraft. I built model airplanes. He loved hockey, both my sister and I learned how to 'speak fluent hockey', and we have our favorite teams of course. I collected hockey cards, and learned the value of those too. I can no longer tell you what Goals Against Average means, but my sister still keeps up with everything from draft picks to playoff games.

Here's where the feminism comes in...When my parents bought an acerage, I made myself useful. There was a lot to do, and if I wanted to spend time with Dad, that meant tough chores. It meant clearing brush and taking down small trees. It meant rototilling the earth and gardening. And lots of weed whacking. Lots, and lots, and lots of weed whacking. With a gas-powered weed whacker, no less. Those things are freakin' heavy.

And I grew strong. 

'Longest Distance Flown' at a Fly-In Breakfast

One day, he needed to bring a pallet of shingles to the roof. He had friends that volunteered to help, but Dad really just wanted to make sure it got done. Everybody seemed to be taking their time, and the roofers were going to be there in just a couple of days. So I helped him. This involved Dad hoisting a stack of shingles on his shoulder, and climbing a ladder. I stood on the roof, and grabbed the shingles from his shoulder by the plastic straps, and placed them in stacks. Such hard work! But it was worth it...After dinner, Dad's friends phoned. They were ready to help. I'll never forget how my heart sang when I heard my father say, "No, it's all finished. Me and my ah....daughter got it done." I could hear his pride. I saw it in the way he lifted his heels just a little when he said it.

We both hurt like hell the next day, but I was chuffed. From that day forward, I felt like I could do anything. I was strong and hard working. My father was proud of me. I'd heard him bragging about me. I'll never forget it.

That was the day I realized I could take any job, and work every bit as hard as a man. I realized my power and I was determined that if I worked like a man, I deserved to be paid like one, I deserved to be given the same opportunities, and I deserved fair treatment. My father believed in me. The best part? I did it. Just me. I didn't have to be a boy.

Looking back, I realized my parents raised a feminist all along. I realized my father simply never told me I can't. He never once said, "You're a girl, you can't/shouldn't do that." Not once. My parents just let me be myself, and I'm grateful for that. I like who I turned out to be.

I am a creative woman with a few odd interests and abilities and I am a good worker with a solid reputation. I'm that person, because my parents never told me, "You can't."

SO Proud Tonight

Borrowed from:Isobel Carr. Photographer Unknown

Normally I try to keep politics and writing separate. Yes, I'm perfectly aware that my true feelings have a tendency to leak into my work. But if you've ever read any of my stuff, I'm sure you've guessed that I am a feminist.

I've actually been a feminist since I was a teen. Truth be told, I distanced myself for a lot of years when I found the feminist movement seemed less about women's rights than it seemed to be about being MORE equal. I happen to like men. I have male friends I adore, and like to coffee with.Guess what? My husband ALLOWS that! He allows me a lot. Part of the reasons why I married him. Anyway, I wasn't willing to view them as my enemy to get my point across. I saw a movement that no longer reflected my views. I viewed old school feminism as an aggressive, bad joke unto itself.

But the new feminist movement recognizes EVERYONE as equals, and I'm proud to support it. Men, women, gay, trans, children---we all deserve equality. I speak of it on my personal Facebook page. I feared I was one in a handful of people who cared.

Ever feel happy to be wrong? Today millions of people--men and women marched. I have the privilege to know a few of them on Facebook. Mj Weber marched with a sign. Michael Charton provided security on the outer edges. No violence, thank you. <3

Where was I? I was at work. It's a Saturday, a restaurant/pub's busiest day of the week. I worked on a team of four men, and three women, and we all have important parts to play. I lift things, chop things, mix and prep things. I'm also the 'runner', as in I run to get things for the cooks in order for them to make the food orders. It's a team effort, and I really like my co-workers. I don't make excuses to not do things because 'I'm a girl', and my male co-workers don't disrespect me. We all respect each other, and I love that.

I work because I am in a partnership with the man I love, and when he got laid off I stepped up and got a job. Now we're both working, and we're surviving decently. I still have to keep the job--which works against my writing, but I'm okay with that. Because it's my mortgage too. Because they're my bills too. And why should that be all his responsibility anyway? Who decided that the MAN had to do all that?

Gone are the fifties. Gone are the days of the single income home. The ideal of the perfectly coiffed housewife and the immaculate home and children are gone. Thank God. While there are still women who would like to have families and be homemakers, there are some who would prefer to work and avoid motherhood. We should have the right to CHOOSE.

Today, when I came home from work, I saw my facebook page filled with hope. I am NOT alone. There are thousands upon thousands of us--men and women working together to fight for what I believe are basic human rights. It brought me to happy tears.

I may be an armadillo, but know this...I am a feminist and I've never been prouder!

Femmuse#1 And Deservedly So

I've saved the best for last. MALALA inspires me as no other woman in the world can.

What can you say about a fourteen year old who defies her government to exercise her right to an education? Though it almost cost her life? Her bravery and determination astound me.

I'll be the first to admit, when I was going to school it mattered...but not enough. I took it for granted. I was late, absent, and spent more time at work than school. I did try. But not hard enough.

Then came this small girl in a country where education for girls, among other human rights, is frowned upon. She not only overcame obstacles to GET to school, but she braved her society and made speeches about why it was the right of every female child to get schooling. She knew full well what the Taliban was, and that they would try to stop her. Did she know they would go to such extreme lengths?

I read the book 'I am Malala'. Here's the link to Amazon: I am Malala I learned how her government's politics worked, and how her father, a public speaker himself, not only created schools for girls, but encouraged his daughter to speak her mind. She became an orator as well.

I can't imagine what she felt when that man boarded her bus, and shot her in the head. Just because she wanted an education for herself and the girls of her country. Because the Taliban wants to treat their women like livestock. What kind of madness compels men to shoot children for wanting to better themselves?

She was rescued. Flown to England so that they could perform life-saving surgery on her. Why? Because the world NEEDS Malala. She was too valuable to the world to lose.

And what does she do once she recovers? Right back to school. Back to making speeches. Business as usual. Gobsmackery right there.

I read how she saw the clothes she was wearing when she got shot in a display case, and burst into tears. She was with the man who she shared the Nobel Peace Prize with. ( Also deserving of the Nobel Prize. I am ashamed to admit I didn't know of Kailash Satyarthi until I learned of Malala's sharing of it with him. Also an inspiring person.) I'm guessing the enormity of her mission, and its consequences finally hit her.

But she's a brave soul. I intend to keep up with her. She's only 18 now. She's already done all this, and she has her whole life ahead of her. Imagine what she'll do with it...

Malala-1, Taliban-0. Give 'em Hell, girl. This is why Malala is the number one Fem-Muse.

Fem-Two, As in Muse-ik

Kind of looks like Furiosa, doesn't she?

This album was one of the first I ever purchased that wasn't Duran Duran or a Smurf album. (Strange fact, my very first album was Styx, 'Use your Illusion'. Short story--I have no idea why I bought it. I was six and I think I wanted to buy something grown-up with my first allowance.)

I bought 'Touch' because of "Here Comes the Rain Again." It was this beautiful, painful song about unrequited desire that spoke to me. At the time, I assumed Annie Lennox was 'just' a singer. I thought Dave Stewart was the brains behind the whole outfit. Now I know Eurythmics  ( It means: a system of training through movement to music.) would not be the unique animal it is without her. She's an equal and appreciated partner in the duo.

If you watch her musical partner in interviews explain lyrics, Dave Stewart will say things like, "It was just something Annie needed to express at the time and it really shaped the album." I have to give kudos to Stewart for putting ego aside and allowing Annie to do the thing that makes them great together. Not every man is that laid back. That's why they made brilliant music for over thirty years. He`s a musical genius, she`s a lyrical mastermind who is exceptional at using her voice.

My enlightenment occurred while listening to my favorite song of theirs, Beethoven (I love to)
It's a cool video too. See here:Beethoven (I Love to)

I loved that song because of the emotion it invoked.  When I'm stressed out at work, I hear it in my head, and I feel her tension. Then, after years of playing that song, a single lyric slapped me in the face..I was just thinking of something SLEEK, to wrap around my tender throat. 

I thought, "Ohhh. That's RAW." Lyrics about fantasizing about suicide isn't what amazed me.  As she says herself, it's "Something extreme." It's the fact that she said it. She went there without apology. She came right out and said it, and doesn't care if anyone heard her.

I love Annie because #1: She's amazingly talented. Anyone who has ever heard her voice knows she's got a perfect sound and great range. But seriously listen to her voice. It's more than perfect tone. It's truly an instrument. If you have any doubt, listen to this:Sex Crime

It was about the George Orwell novel, 1984. Listen to the many different ways she uses her voice.  Right from 'HAI!" To 'Doopa-doopa-doo-booboop'. She likes to use her vocals to create different effects. (And sometimes with Mr. Stewart's help.)

Number Two: Annie is unique. She once said in an interview. "You can't define me by the way I dress."  In Annie Lennox's career, I've seen her as a man, an angelic waif, a housewife, a slut. Like how she felt here: I Need a Man Plus many more. It depends on her mood. I LOVE how she dons any character she feels like. Which brings me to the number three reason why I love Annie Lennox.

Number Three: Annie is emotional, and she doesn't care that everyone knows it. Remember that bit where I said her lyrics are what makes the Eurythmics great? Yeah, it's because she isn't afraid to tell you she's feeling hurt, pissed off, happy, liberated or lonely. She's made a successful career out of it. She's 'used that weapon against us'. And I really admire it. In a world where women are belittled and shunned for expressing themselves, Annie Lennox never made apologies.

This is why Annie Lennox is Fem-Muse#2.

The Elusive Joy.

She videotaped my wedding for me.

This is the first year I've dreaded New Year's Eve. DREADED it. I couldn't even look at Facebook. It was plastered with bright colors and sentimental drivel about wishes and opportunities and other things I knew weren't coming my way since I'm gearing up for what feels like the hardest year of my life.

Husband still isn't working. Work hours drying up. Bank account shrinking. Impending need to publish, even though I may or may not make a single cent off my work. If I can even figure out all the computer stuff I have to do to get there.

My favorite uncle came to visit, and I tried to make light of it. I don't want to worry him. He's a bit of a hero to me. When I think of my mortgage, I remember him telling me about the years he had to pay 17 percent interest on HIS mortgage. "How the hell did you manage?!" I asked. He shrugged, and said, "We did what we had to do."

We did what we had to do.

When I told him how I was worried about paying my mortgage, at a measly three percent, and that it's half my wage, he assured me, "You'll figure it out." He sounds so confident. After all, I'm his niece. I come from good stock, and a long line of feminists.

As far back as anyone can remember, we had an ancestor named Suzanna, who left her home in Lapland at seven years of age to get a job rocking a cradle for a rich family in England, so they say.  I think she was my great-great-great grandmother. My great-great-grandma was Ida, wife of Captain Mikkelson. I don't know much about her, but I can imagine being the wife of a sea-capatin meant long months alone with the children. Things they don't tell you until you are an adult: My great-grandmother, Lydia Pajunen gave birth to seven children. My grandmother, her sixth,  was her first child to live past three years of age. (She's now 93) Great-grandpa drank too much, so she took courses to become a successful midwife. My grandmother was married to my grandfather for over 50 years, despite the fact that he didn't believe in looking for work. He thought his reputation should bring work to him. They had four boys to feed, so grandma took on any job she could get, including writing articles for the local newspaper.

I want to surrender. I want to just pack in the writing thing and say fuck it. Usually, I embrace change. It's inevitable. It's the only thing in life you can consider an absolute, along with death. Why am I resisting? Because I'm not ready. I don't have the time, energy or money to embrace it. I don't want to self-publish, and I resent the fact that I have to do it RIGHT. NOW.

So tonight, my best friend Mel took me to a movie with gift cards she got for Christmas. The movie was called 'Joy', starring Jennifer Lawrence. I think the universe is trying to tell me something.

No spoilers, but a synopsis. Ms. Lawrence's character has a complicated family, and a stressful life. Good thing she's a smart cookie. The story drags Joy through hell, over and over, but she doesn't give up. She uses her smarts to invent a mop, and does everything in her power to make her product a success. She's savvy, determined and doesn't sell herself short. She stays true to herself.

I got the message.

I also got to spend time with Mel, a woman I still can't believe is my best friend. If you knew who we were in high school, you would agree that life is strange. I can spend a few hours with her, and she makes the hurts seems comical and handlable. She makes me happy, and she is good to her core. Time with her today made me realize I'm not alone. And that there are OTHER friends in my life I DO appreciate. As long as I have friends like Mel, Colleen, Kathy, Kevin, The Raju's and the Maguires and so many more, I'll be okay. I'll do what I have to do.

I'll be an armadillo. I feel my optimism returning.