Tag Archives: feminism

Baseball is the Reason I am Voting for Hillary

02 Thursday Jun 2016

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I try to ask my eighteen-year-old niece what it is like being a young woman studying biochemistry. She has no complaints. I try to engage her about being a woman in a traditionally male field, but she doesn’t see it that way. My niece is voting for Bernie Sanders. Most of the people I love are voting for Bernie, but I am voting for Hillary, and the reason is baseball.

At nine years old, I had three older brothers and a mother who worked full time. Our neighbors, an older couple, who lived across the street and down a few houses, treated me with kindness and went out of their way to spend time with me.

Mr. Carlson worked for the Department of Fish and Game, and he would bring me eggs from all kinds of birds. He would meticulously label them for me, much like my grandfather labeled rocks for me, and I had an impressive collection. My favorite was an ostrich egg because it was so big, but I didn’t pick it up often, afraid as I was of dropping it and having whatever was inside splatter all over the floor, and possibly, me.

Mrs. Carlson would invite me to their house and ask me to do her hair. She would allow me to put hot rollers in it and comb through the thin curls after they had “set.” While the rollers were doing their thing, I would look at Mrs. Carlson’s bell collection. She had hundreds of bells all lined up on shelves throughout her living room.

One day while I was styling Mrs. Carlson’s hair I told her my one dream was to play baseball. I wasn’t the kind of girl who dreamed of my future wedding, or going to Disneyland or being a princess. I wanted to play baseball like my older brothers even though it meant I would be the first girl in our town to play little league.

Mrs. Carlson laughed when I told her my dream was to be on a little league team. She told me that no girl who loved her would ever play baseball. It wasn’t something that girls do.

I had never given voice to my dream before that day, and I never would again. Silently and despondently I put the dream of baseball behind me.

Not too long after that, my mom got married, and we moved to another town. I would occasionally take out my baseball mitt and play catch with my new step brothers, or my biological brothers or neighborhood kids.

As I grew older, I never replaced the dream of being a baseball player. I wasn’t particularly passionate about anything.

When Hillary Clinton gets up to bat this November she is going to knock that ball out of the park and rather than be on the sidelines as a cheerleader, I am going to grab my mitt, get on the field and play whatever position I want.

That’s the way we do it now, Mrs. Carlson. Girls can finally do anything they want, baseball included.

My Latest on She Knows

25 Wednesday May 2016

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Okay, I know you have heard whispers that I write articles on things other than schizophrenia, and it is true. In fact, I am doing it more and more (although my new column on Drunken Boat will have to do with mental illness but in a totally exciting and unique way).

So, here is a light article on aging.  I hope you will pop over and read it.

http://www.sheknows.com/living/articles/1122427/getting-older-is-great

New Post on Psych Central

23 Monday May 2016

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, mental illness, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized, writing

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I have a new blog post up on Psych Central. It is about being an imperfect advocate. It mentions Bob Dylan, feminism, and stereotypes.

I hope you will pop over there and read it.

http://goo.gl/Ot4wtb

I Will Not Be Silent

31 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized, writing

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I am not always sweet or kind when it comes to equality, discrimination, feminism, racism, and the treatment of the mentally ill.

I spend a good portion of every day on social media. One of the reasons I do that is to try to learn more about the intersection of mental illness with other marginalized populations. (I frequently find that I have a long way to go in understanding the best way to be an advocate for the mentally ill, women, people of color, and people who identify as LGBTQ). I’m not a perfect advocate for any cause, but I’m learning (as slow as that process is).

What I see on social media every day is that people like to feel good. They love to share cat videos, baby videos, and inspirational quotes. If you try to point out when someone has said something offensive, or ignorant, you can almost be sure that you will encounter a dismissive response like, “You are too sensitive” or “don’t take things so seriously.” I have seen a meme on Facebook that has made the rounds that says, “2015 will go down as the year that everyone took offense at everything.” I frequently hear people complain that everything has become too “politically correct.”

These dismissive responses are intended to silence the people who are speaking out. They allow people to go along with a status quo that they are comfortable living with because more often than not, that status quo benefits them in some way. If they were the ones being made fun of, put down, discriminated against, bullied, etc. then they would have a different experience (and one that can at times make people appear angry).

I like cat videos and baby videos. I also like inspirational and motivational quotes. That isn’t all the world is, though. I don’t have to feel good about everything. Injustices are happening daily and to turn our back on those injustices to make ourselves feel good is cowardly and insensitive. It also helps injustice to flourish.

We can’t always be polite, kind, silent, and agreeable. If we are going to address the tough issues that occur all around us every day, we need to speak out even if that makes people uncomfortable, even if it isn’t the “polite” thing to do. It may not be “polite” but it is just, and it is right.

I say some very unpopular things. I have lost some friends over it, but when it comes to erring on the side of “feel good” or the side of social justice and equality, I’m going to take a stand for the tough stuff even if that means I have fewer followers on Facebook.

I don’t mind making people uncomfortable. I am a person who is marginalized every day because of an illness in the same way that some people are marginalized for their skin color, or for their gender, or for their sexual orientation. None of us chose the things society uses to hold us back, see us as less than, or define us as “other.”

Because we didn’t choose these things, we are not to blame for them, and they are not wrong. I ask you to please not be among those who dismiss someone when they point out offensive speech, degrading comments, racist attitudes, jokes that were never funny, and bullying.

I know it isn’t as funny as a cat video or as uplifting as an inspirational quote. It is, however, the reality of millions of people, and I believe that we all want people to have the same chance to be safe, educated, employed, respected, valued, protected, and accepted as others. Who wouldn’t want that? Justice and equality are two of the most inspirational things that can exist. You can quote me on that.

 

Equality And Justice For All

28 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by in bipolar, mental illness, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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Yesterday my husband and I watched Netflix all day because my back was hurting and the two of us came down with a cold. We watched an old movie, “Regarding Henry,” and we watched a documentary from 2007 called, “For the Bible Tells Me So.”

“Regarding Henry” is about an attorney, who isn’t a nice guy. He gets shot and has to learn everything all over again. It is about his transformation. It is a feel good movie.

“For the Bible Tells Me So” is a documentary about how many people in the church have treated their gay children and the things that many pastors and famous preachers have preached about being gay. It only got three stars on Netflix (probably because of a poorly done cartoon that explains studies scientists have done to find the cause of homosexuality, and it lists all the medical associations that no longer consider it a disorder). Besides the strange cartoon plopped in the middle of the documentary my husband and I both think it is worth watching.

Many people writing about mental illness call themselves advocates, and I want to suggest that if we are going to be effective advocates, we need to advocate for equality and inclusion for all people. I didn’t know this, but LGBTQ teens had a much higher rate of suicidal ideation and attempted suicide than the general population.

Suicide is a problem that should be on the radar of any mental health advocate. The other things that should be on our radar are the number of people of color locked in prisons and who suffer from a mental illness. Women should be on our radar too because it is a fact that doctors often dismiss their complaints or treat their pain in a much less aggressive manner than they do that of men. Also, the percentage of mentally ill women in prison is higher than that of men. 

I have known for a long time that there is an intersection between disability issues, feminism, racism, and LGBTQ issues. As someone who cares passionately about the issues regarding the mentally ill, and how we are perceived, treated, talked about, housed, etc. There is no way to move away from these other issues.

To be an educated advocate for the mentally ill and to understand all of the issues and how they intersect, collide, and combine with other issues, we need to start reading about feminism, racism, LGBTQ. The problems inherent in these movements are also our problems, not just because equality and justice are something we are fighting for, and we should help others to achieve – these issues have an impact on the mental health of Americans as a whole. The way I see it is that we must move forward hand in hand because if we leave one group behind that group will keep the rest of us from truly flourishing. Many of us are in this together.

It was the 70’s

04 Tuesday Aug 2015

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Some of our smallest acts last for a life time in the hearts and minds of those who witness them.

When I was in grade school, I had three older brothers (after my parent’s divorce and remarriages I would end up with nine brothers, but that was when I was older).

It was the 70’s and my mom worked outside of the home in various jobs while I was growing up. I don’t remember a time when my mother didn’t work. She worked, and she worked hard. My mom never complained about working even when she had two jobs, and our lights were turned off for not paying our bill.

You would think with all those boys, that I would have been the family princess, but the brother that was closest to me in age, definitely didn’t think I was a creature to be cherished. He enjoyed slugging me in the arm just to see me cry. We were very close growing up, and played together building forts, as well as, climbing trees, riding bikes, and playing kick the can with all the neighborhood kids.

I liked dolls though. I had Barbie, her Country Camper, and her kitchen. I also had little pink suitcase that turned into a studio apartment when I opened it up. When I was old enough to really read and choose my own books at the library, I picked books with females as lead characters like Little House on the Prairie and Nancy Drew.

On television I watched Gilligan’s Island, M.A.S.H., Bewitched, the Brady Bunch, and I Dream of Jeannie.  The choices back then didn’t exactly provide me with strong female characters to look up to and think about being.  The only women that worked were on M.A.S.H and very few of them were doctors. I loved the magic in I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched, but in reality most of the magic was used to manipulate the male characters in some way.  Neither of the lead female characters in those programs had jobs.

It was a time when woman’s roles were changing, but most of the messages in toys, books, and on television were confusing at best. I never did figure out the answer to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  I really didn’t know my choices, and society wasn’t doing much at that time to help me figure it out.

I look at the 70’s as transitional. Many parents were getting divorced. Women were working. We were the first generation of “latch key kids.” And male dominated professions were beginning to open up to women for the first time, but not as equals, in fact, it has been over forty years and that still hasn’t been completely achieved.

Beyond my mother, I had my teachers to learn from, and there was one in particular that did something that changed my thinking.

In third grade, I had a teacher that went by Ms., not Miss, not Mrs. but Ms.

It was the first time I knew anyone that took that title. I realized even at my young age, that I didn’t know if my teacher had a husband, if she was single, or if she was a lesbian. The title she chose for her young class to refer to her as changed everything. She was Ms. Bush. She was singular. She was not a possession or attached to another human being.

Ms. Bush was one of my favorite teachers. As a young child, I loved her.

The choice she made in taking the title, Ms. has made a difference in my life. It opened my mind to possibilities, and it spoke about things I couldn’t yet define.

To her it may or may not have been a big decision, although I imagine in the 70’s she was trying to make a statement.

She made a statement to me, and it was one I have returned to over and over again as I have passed through different phases of my life as a woman.

I like to imagine that Ms. Bush is still alive and living a radical feminist existence somewhere even though it has been over forty years since I last saw her. I would like to believe she will see the first woman president. I would like to believe that, because she was more important to me than characters in books and on television, she was my teacher and she opened up my young mind to the importance of being my own woman, and the defining of self not by my marital status, but by one’s own accomplishments and imagination.

Society may have been sending mixed messages, but Ms. Bush was strong and clear.