"I Pledge Allegiance to Arrogance and Ignorance"

We all have our Covid pandemic war stories. Talk to anyone and it’s a challenge to not have a heavy heart or shed a tear. Yet, I’m sure that many stories can’t come close to what front-line Covid healthcare workers have had to endure for the last (almost) two years.

Whenever I can, I try to read these stories and, the other day, I read this Business Insider article about Andrew Hudson, an ICU nurse who quit after 19 intense months of working the front lines.

His experiences are harrowing, but two things jumped out at me. First,

        In the early months [of the pandemic], Hudson bagged up dead patients and brought them 

        to the morgue…What’s worse, to protect morticians from exposure, Hudson gauzed and

        taped the eyelids, nostrils, and mouth of his dead patients. "It felt macabre," he said. "It 

        was pretty grim to look at and felt like this feels kind of medieval in a way.”

It breaks my heart that he and others were put in such a position. So little was known in those early phases. Can you imagine being in a room with a corpse and having to gauze and tape eyelids, nostrils, and mouths? You don’t know the person, but you know the person had to die alone. You know a family lost a loved one and they couldn’t say good-bye much less have a funeral and, yet, there you are, a stranger, covering a dead person’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

This made my anger rise. Anger for all the workers forced to stare into a wall of death on a daily and nightly basis. Anger for all the families who lost loved ones and couldn’t have a funeral. Anger because I know there are people out there who doubt that someone like Hudson experienced what he described convinced that he made it all up. (I consistently see doubt of people’s personal experiences on the Next Door Neighbor App.) Anger that there are people (still!) who think that Covid is “just like the flu” and that somehow, in any given time, flu deaths are equal to Covid deaths. This, by the way, underscores how worthless our education system is,  but that’s another blog rant.

I can only imagine how the horrors of Covid will haunt these front-line workers for the rest of their lives while others will merrily roam their way through life thinking, “Didn’t happen if it didn’t happen to me!” Makes me think of a NICU nurse I knew who, at the beginning of the pandemic, spread false information about how only symptomatic people should quarantine and everything should remain open like it all supposedly happened during the 1918 Spanish (really American) Flu pandemic. Not only is this untrue, but I asked this person and this person’s co-workers and friends if they understood what “asymptomatic” meant. My question never got answered, but plenty of “you sheep”-type comments were flung my way. Once again, proving our education system’s worthless especially in the sciences.

The second thing that Hudson said which jumped out at me was:

Last year also brought out aggression from patients he hadn’t seen before…Patients’ families 

        would tell Hudson to not intubated [sic] dying patients and instead give them the ivermectin, a 

        parasite killer that does not work against Covid-19. “We just feel like we’ve vanished, like we 

        can’t do anything,” he added. Shortly before leaving his job, Hudson recalled coming home 

        from his shifts feeling defeated.

If people don’t believe Covid is real, why are they seeking help at a hospital when they get sick?

OR,

If they are seeking help at a hospital, why are they then telling doctors and nurses what to do?

STAY HOME SINCE YOU BELIEVE YOU KNOW BETTER.

Re-read the line above. Keep re-reading it. 

The arrogance is astounding and it is this arrogance that is contributing to the collapse of our healthcare industry. We are losing people like Hudson in droves because humans can only take so much abuse from the Arrogant and Ignorant.

My biggest wish for humanity is for people to see how connected we are. We carry germs. We carry bacteria. We carry viruses and we spread these germs, bacteria, and viruses to each other. I am humble enough to understand that much about science, and not arrogant enough to believe I know more than a virologist, someone who’s dedicated their life to the study of viruses. Part of my responsibility as a human being is to help humanity and that includes listening to what the majority of scientists, researchers, and experts say on a topic. This is called consensus. The lesson on what is majority vs minority seems to be one many people skipped.

The choices made by the Arrogant and Ignorant make my life harder right now. It also makes front-line nurses’ and doctors’ lives harder, but what the Arrogant and Ignorant fail to realize is that, ultimately, his or her choices make it also harder for him or herself. In the end, it becomes our collective story and scar. We could be helping each other, and yet….

We are forever changed in both good and bad. We are forever scathed. We are forever scarred. The biggest question is how do we handle the aftermath of all this change and all this pain. My secret wish is that we would come out of this working towards improving our education system, but that wish is crumbling with all these bans on books and theories. My not-so-secret wish is that we come out of this kinder. I have to admit that I feel the world’s candle on that wish is growing faint. But it’s not out. Not yet. Please keep it lit.

Pitch Perfect, Not So Much

i have wanted to watch the movie Pitch Perfect for years now. the concept and theme are right up my alley, and who doesn’t love an underdog story? 9 years since its release, i finally watched it.

one of the reasons i wanted to watch it was because of the actress Rebel Wilson. she’s a fat actress and we rarely see fat actresses on screen.

about 15 minutes into the movie, as the fictional a capella group, The Barden Bellas, is in the process of assembling its team for the year, it became clear what the creative/executive team behind the movie not only thought of fat people, but what they thought of Asians and Blacks. to be more precise, what they thought of Asian women, Black women, and fat women.

to the creative/executive team, it was funny to have a character who wants to sing, but is made to be so quiet that she is on the verge of being silent. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that this character is Asian. Asians are stereotypically hard-working and obedient; the women stereotypically submissive and not courageous. why give an Asian woman an actual voice and let her not only speak normally, but also sing in a normal tone? i winced every time the actress was on screen having to speak (and sing!) barely above a whisper. the most horrific scene is that the creative/executive team found it funny to have this character land in a pool of vomit and then make vomit(“snow”)-angels. i mean, how much more degrading could you make a near-silenced character be? on top of that, the only other Asian character was Becca’s roommate who, like the Barden Bella teammate, was nearly-silenced. she spoke very little and had a consistent scour on her face. She was also consistently annoyed at her brooding roommate, Becca, (played by Anna Kendrick) who would try to talk to her, but was always stonewalled. again, it’s apparently funny to not let Asian characters, especially Asian women, have a voice.

also, to the creative/executive team, it was funny to have a testosterone-driven lesbian character. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that this character was Black. the creative/executive team gets to feel good about themselves - “Hey, look! We’re woke! We have an LGBQTI character!” - and - “Hey, look! We have a Black person in our cast!” but…when you read in between these token lines, all you have is a stereotype that a Black woman cannot be feminine because that threatens the fragility of the white members of the a capella team. to make the Black character more masculine, she poses no competitive threat to the other women whether it’s in singing or in romance. in addition, the creative/executive team never has this character explicitly define their sexuality leaving the issue in limbo and, if the character really *is* a lesbian, they keep her silenced. why? to be clear, her sexuality makes no difference with whether the team can do a good job singing, but if you’re going to jump into the “inclusivity” pool, don’t half-ass it. LGBQTI people are just that first: people. not jokes or mysteries.

lastly, and to the character closest to my heart: Fat Amy played by Rebel Wilson. i mean, the name itself is an eye roll. she explains this name to a shocked Aubrey (played by Anna Camp), by saying she’d rather say “Fat Amy” up front than have “bitches” call her that behind her back. by explaining it away like that, the creative/executive team takes themselves off the hook for perpetuating stereotypes about fat people. the character literally becomes a label while everyone else is allowed to use a simple name. why is the fat person separated simply because she’s fat? Rebel has a great voice. and, if not Rebel, whoever were to take the role would have had to have a great voice because that’s what the movie called for and, so, why is that not enough?

and, as if the word “Fat” attached to the character’s name isn’t bad enough, the character, like most fat characters in movies, is the comic relief by perpetuating the most stupid stereotypes ever. there’s a bit where cardio is discussed and Fat Amy is the only one who doesn’t want to do it. when they all have to run around, Fat Amy is caught laying down joking that she’s running “horizontally.” it’s so easy to peg a fat person as not wanting to exercise and, while there are those who don’t like it, i have a secret to tell you: i have known thin people throughout my life who don’t like to exercise either, but weirdly, that’s not so funny and no one bats an eyelash. is that shocking to you? keep reading cause i have another secret to divulge: i was fat growing up and i used to play volleyball in elementary school, in high school, and college. and i’m fat now and i exercise whenever my schedule permits. has your head exploded? i hope so. 

fat. people. exercise. 

to make them the butt of the joke that they don’t want to exercise, or don’t like to exercise, perpetuates this myth. how about writers use their brain and come up with actual jokes for someone like Rebel Wilson to tell? ones that don’t involve in perpetuating *myths* especially if they want to see themselves on the silver screen.

one last mega-eye roll about this movie has to do with the fact that the creative/executive team decided it’d be funny to have Fat Amy make “jokes” (if you can call them that) at the expense of Jews. these “jokes” aren’t funny and, in my humble opinion, are examples of more lazy writing. there’s a scene towards the beginning of the movie where Fat Amy approaches a table at the college Activities Fair and she starts making Jewish jokes. the table seemed to be a club for DJs, so i wasn’t sure why Jewish “jokes” seemed appropriate at this time, but what she said was offensive and made no contribution to the story in any way. there were so many other one-liners that Fat Amy could’ve been given. a few scenes later, she tells Aubrey that she’s giving her hair style a Jewish name. her hair style was simply a high ponytail with strands going down the side of her face. why was it necessary to compare her hair to a Hasidic Jew? i don’t get the “joke,” but because she’s a fat character, she’s given these bad “jokes” which only paint fat people in an even worse picture: “Fat people aren’t funny. They’re pathetic.” as a fat person, i’m no longer hurt by these stereotypes. i’m pissed.

however, despite all these blatant wtf’s, i still love the concept of the movie. i do feel, though, that it lost such a great opportunity to make great headway into bringing in a diverse group of people and showcasing their talents. music unifies and the movie’s arrangements and performances were top-notch (the scene where all the a capella groups have a riff-off is one of my favorite musical scenes ever), but the creative/executive team chose to insert stereotypes that taint the movie for me. i can’t unsee these choices, nor can i unsee these choices continuously being made in hollywood which begs the question, when is hollywood going to actually let people showcase their talents instead of perpetuating myths? perhaps the Pitch Perfect TV series on Peacock will get it right, but i'm not holding my breath.

age is but a number in time

 shhh….

can you hear it?

tic-toc. tic-toc. tic-toc.

it’s rhythmic. 

up. 

down. 

up. 

down.

something i discovered about myself a while ago is that i am fixated with time. this ranges from near-manic obsession with the minutes of the day melting away to hyper-focusing on the passage of time, or the passING of time. is it any wonder i studied history? shockingly, though, i don’t really focus on the future in terms of what i’ll be, or even, will i be. “age” has always been an “other” to me. i can understand “age” in relation to the past, but i have trouble applying an understanding of it to the future (my future).

as a child, i thought that when i became an adult, i would have all the answers. i turned 18 and still had questions. then 21, 25, 30 and still had questions. when my mom passed away in 2016, she left behind a list of plans she hoped to one day complete. realizing that we will die never doing all we wanted to do saddened me to no end. i questioned, what was the point then? it still saddens me when i think about it, but i’m not as nihilistic about it anymore. despite all of this, i guess i always assumed that by retirement age and beyond, i would have figured out, at least, some things. right? Right?

recently, i watched the movie Poms starring Diane Keaton. it has an all-star cast that includes Rhea Perlman, Pam Grier, and Celia Weston. i had no idea what it was about, but i love Diane Keaton, so i pressed “play.” what a treat!

as i watched Diane Keaton’s character, Martha, navigate through the emotions of selling all her belongings and moving to a retirement community to live out the last weeks of her life, i began to ponder how necessary these types of movies are. nothing about the age of this cast made the movie any better or worse than a movie in which the cast is all under 30. the glaring difference, of course, is that Martha is staring mortality in the face. and…so…So What? well, i think, this is key. we all like to think we’re immortal and we all like to think we’re not going to age.

watching Poms made me fully realize something. life as we know it doesn’t end at a certain age, nor does it end *because* you’re a certain age, and people in their 70s still have similar concerns that i have in my 40s, many of which are similar to the concerns i had in my 20s. sure, aspects of a 40-something-year old are different from the 20-something version, but, i believe, the core of who we are remains a pretty straight line. i watched these older women face challenges of friendship and family, sex and sexiness, and self-acceptance. you mean, none of those challenges get fully solved by your 70s? by golly! how refreshing!

in the movie, Martha and her friends want to be cheerleaders and are faced with obstacles varying from ageism to sheer physical challenges. of course, they overcome all that, even if the physical part is a bit slower. and, there’s nothing wrong with that! no one can expect a 75-year old body to operate in the same way a 25-year old body would. the depressing truth is that we have been conditioned to hide away the 75-year old body. why? the human body is beautiful and mesmerizing. when treated well and when respected, it can achieve so much, regardless of age. i think we need to honor bodies of all ages and stages, and we need to not hide them after a certain time - especially women’s bodies. we are so hungry for youth and remaining young that we deny the possibilities of what beauty and adventure awaits us when we are no longer a young age.

it brought me so much joy to watch Martha and her cheer squad rehearse their routines and learn different movements, not to mention being challenged to love and accept themselves as they are. i knew what the movie’s ending would bring and, yet, i still cried because it hit close to home, but my heart was so full. this kind of a movie underscores that we won’t have it all figured out by 75, or 80, or 100, should we live that long. but, that is OK because what matters most is that we appreciate the now. strangely, knowing i won’t have it all figured out in 30+ years doesn’t bother me as much as not achieving dreams and long-term to-do lists. there’s that pesky issue with time creeping in, but, with that aside, it’s important to remember that it’s the memories we make along the way that help guide us over the years. by ignoring the fact we won’t, or don’t, have the agility of our youth dishonors all that we have experienced. these experiences, after all, helped usher us into an older age in the first place.

at 75, one may not be able to run a 25K, but it doesn’t mean you cannot run. at 85, one may not be able to dance with a dance company, but it doesn’t mean you cannot dance. at 95, the wrinkles can’t be hidden, but it doesn’t mean one must hide. run, dance, and be seen, but, most importantly, smile in any way you can at whatever age you are. 

your soul will love it.

tic-toc.

Those Who Can, Zoom

Presenting my latest project starring Elektra Cohen, Amanda Lynne, Suzan Mikiel, Paul Petschek, and Allison Youngberg with Music by Josh Hershfield (www.joshhershfield.com).

Teaching remotely. What could go wrong?

(Video contains explicit language.)

5 years without her

five years gone.

five.

the first two to three were rougher than rough. trying to handle this monumental change on top of other monumental changes that occurred in the 11 months prior to my mom’s passing was trying, exhausting, and numbing. i missed so much of my 2nd daughter’s early childhood as a result, and while the mind understands, the heart finds it hard to forgive. there were milestones both daughters’s met without my mom’s cheers or without her words of support. there were moments of getting blind-sided by overwhelming grief like coming across a forgotten hand-written note while looking for something else or opening the closet and suddenly getting a waft of her smell that is still on the scarves i inherited.

having to redefine and reconfigure your life without a loved one as the rest of the world hums along is one of the most challenging experiences many of us will go through.

is today as difficult as it was 4-5 years ago? no. life’s routines and responsibilities, in this way, are a saving grace. my girls were my saving grace. they were a daily reminder that “life goes on.” but the brain still seeks a “How To” book; a timeline of what happens when. we want answers. we want to know what to expect. we want to be prepared. we want to gauge others’s experiences, compare it to ours and determine if we are “on the right track.” someone said to me that i must share my grief so that they will know what exactly to expect and how it will “be.” i am here to emphatically say there is no “How To” book. this is fundamentally why grief is so God damn lonely. your grief will be different from mine. it may take years for one to reach the anger stage. it took me less than 4 weeks. some stay in that stage for a long time. i didn’t. there is no guidebook to say “On Day 46 you will feel like ‘     .’ it all sucks, and the only way is through. 

the only way is through.

it's easy to think the big events will get you: the bday celebrations that won't happen, the holidays, the anniversary of the passing... those aren't easy, per se, but, for me the hardest has been all the little things in between that i always took for granted. the letter in the mail, the phone call, the "just because" packages. i still sometimes check my email in the morning to see if she's written me. 

i recently handed off to my sister some clothes that our mom had sent me for my daughter, and as i showed them, i happened to say "Myti" out loud (which is what we called her). as her name passed my lips, i realized i couldn't remember the last time i said her name out loud. that stung. 

then, a few weeks ago, i went for a walk and found myself at my daughters's school and it hit me that soon it'll be a year since covid shut us down. i stared at the jungle gym bar that my older spent the first 4-5 months of school playing on trying to learn how to flip over. i remembered the day she met me after school excited that she had finally accomplished her goal. seeing her so happy overflowed my heart with joy. i turned it into a teachable moment about how important it was to not give up and not give in to fear when you want to achieve something. i stood there now recognizing that my daughter’s accomplishment was something i could never share with my mom. i started to cry as my grief for my mom became entangled in my grief for this last year with covid, and the crying turned to sobbing as the hole in my heart throbbed wanting nothing more than for my mom to tell me all will be ok. that i will be ok. that i can handle all of *this.* that i'm strong and will survive like i always have.

this is why there's no "How to." what hit me maybe wouldn’t hit someone else. and if it did, maybe it would happen on Day 73 or Day 5,227, respectively. for me it was Day 1,798 and Day 1,800, respectively.

despite the heaviness in my heart, i have done much emotional kneading in the last five years. i’ve always been pretty good at self-analysis, but this time it’s different because it is punctuated by, and driven by, my mother’s loss. i continuously analyze my life and my past, and how it all fits into the road that i wish to carve out for myself. i will share one thing that has become crystal clear. it is so cliché, but, for me, it is so true, and so important that i’m going to say it anyway: my life isn’t driven so much by fear now as it is driven by my desire to accumulate as many moments (memories) as possible that fulfill my soul. i am lucky that prior to my mom’s death, i already had many such memories, but it is now a purpose. often such occasions are spontaneous and i try to seize such experiences when they present themselves. it’s good to have a plan, but it’s even better to be open to flexibility. this has also been, unfortunately, a rather challenging wish to fulfill because not everyone around me feels this way, or even ever understands this. sometimes reaching fulfillment takes effort and to some, the effort isn’t worth the reward. it’s possible “reward” is viewed differently, but i have become all the more convinced that effort is in of itself a “reward.” after much self-reflection, i realized i have spent quite a bit of my life in the last 23 years or so in a passive state because of fear, allowing the trap of don’t-venture-outside-of-your-box to dictate decisions.

work, laundry, paying bills, picking up toys, organizing closets…the list goes on and on…those things are never ending. i’ve done marathon laundry days, i’ve washed mountains of dishes, had marathon cooking days…those help in the short-term, but i know that on my deathbed i won’t be thinking about those never-ending chores. you hear such things over the years, but there’s a difference between hearing and knowing. i still do all of those necessary-to-function chores, but i now view their worth differently which, based on various grief readings i have done, often comes with the territory of losing a loved one, often a parent(s), often your mom.(1)

on February 26, 2016, as my mom transitioned, i stroked her hand and told her to let go, to fly free, that it was OK and that we would miss her, but that i would always remember her and i would talk about her to my girls. i thanked her for everything; for all our times together, for all the experiences we had, for being in my life, and that now it was time for her to be free. not once did i think about all those bills we helped each other pay or whatever fights we had or how she upset me or the ways in which i felt she was being unreasonable. it was the moments and experiences we had together; the overall journey. later, my thoughts fell to wanting to sit down with her just one more time to discuss, or argue, politics, or to discuss religion and spirituality, challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we had, or to talk about mundane things like lesson plans. life’s routine and schedule will always be there. there’s no escaping the societal construct we have created, and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. but, i no longer want that to be this tunnel vision like it has been for so many years. what’s unfortunate is that covid hit just as i began to awaken to this shift in focus and i’ve been forced to put off some of those bigger moments i seek to have. but, i accept the gift this virus has given and i try to find ways to have constructive time with family especially my girls. i’m silly with them, i dance with them, i play with them, i make art with them, we talk religion or have more difficult conversations like racism and white privilege (yes, you can have those conversations with children!), and i look forward to the many days ahead where we sit down with some wine and some lighted candles, and discuss, or argue, politics, or discuss religion and spirituality, or any challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we have, or to talk about the mundane things whatever they may be at the moment. the only constant is change, and change knows only one direction: forward. 

i want, more than anything else, for my “forward moments” to be filled with many more of my “best moments.” it is how i want to honor my mom, and it is how i want to honor me.

(1) i highly recommend The Orphaned Adult by Alexander Levy

Imagination Knows No Gender

Hate. Love. Hate. Love. Hate. Love. And so it goes, this complicated relationship with fashion that I have had since I was a little girl.

Being a fat child, I quickly learned that fashion wasn’t meant for me. Over the years, I developed a deep love for accessories. Purses, jewelry, hats; I couldn’t get enough. These were things that didn’t require going into a changing room only to be disappointed. I could wear my black-colored outfits and splash them with color and style using the various purses and accessories I wore. For many years, this worked.

Of course, now, the fashion bar has moved. Stylish fashion isn’t just for the size 0 crowd anymore, and while not all areas and malls carry plus-sized clothing stores, the choices and variety out there is much more abundant than even just 15 years ago. For this, I am grateful.

But…this isn’t what I wanted to focus on. Let’s talk children’s clothing. More specifically, clothing for girls.

The gender stereotyping is a horror show. I have two daughters and my hate, love, hate, love relationship with fashion continues.

We, Americans, love to stand out. We practically salivate from craving individuality. One way we seek this precious uniqueness and individuality is through fashion. The image we seek to portray to the world is very much told through the clothes we choose to wear in public regardless of whether it is our “casual” look or our “professional” look. However, diving deeper beneath the surface of the fashion industry, I find a very catered world of how each gender is to express said uniqueness and individuality. We’re made to believe we have some sort of choice, but, do we?

One of the saving graces of growing up fat in the 80s is that whatever was “in” at the moment never fit me. Knock-offs were tough to wear because they were cheap and made me stand out even more. However, not being able to run out and get whatever was the latest trend contributed, in part, to me not being a “girly-girl” (much to my mother’s constant dismay). In the 90s, when the alternative music scene hit and the short-lived grunge style came along with it, it was like the fashion gods heard my cry.

However, rejecting the “girly-girl” image early on has presented some challenges in raising two girls who *are* extremely “girly.” I want them to wear pants and t-shirts and they want the frilliest, most poofy dresses possible mixed with the brightest colors in existence, topped with a Disney princess crown and feet in little heels. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but it’s here to stay, and I’m working on accepting this part of my life. It’s an on-going process, I admit.

Now, despite all these sensational "girly" vibes, my girls are also into some of the coolest things. They love science, planets, geology, geography, dinosaurs, robots, deep sea fish, animals, legos (where they build their own worlds, cars, planes, robots, etc), history, and, yes, even a little bit of religion and politics with their own opinions that don’t necessarily always agree with mine. (Yes!)

When I go to the girls section of a clothing store, all I find are sparkles and glitter, shiny t-shirts, frilly dresses and skirts, and an uncomfortable amount of pink and purple. Designs on t-shirts for girls are almost solely about friendships, fashion, or social media. When my older daughter was 3 1/2-years old, we moved to a town where the summers can get hot. That first summer in the new house, I went looking for shorts for her and I couldn’t find anything the was NOT a “short-short” with blinged-out lettering on the butt. I’m sorry, what? I didn’t want my child’s underwear to be showing underneath her shorts any more than I would want my 15-year old’s to be seen. I was shocked and disgusted to find that this sexualization of girls began at such a young age. It’s appalling.

Last week, I was at Carter’s (children’s clothing store) and found some items that I knew my girls would like, and that I could stomach. I then happened to go into the boys section to see if I could find anything for my nephew. Suddenly, right in front of me was this incredible t-shirt: an anglerfish with sharks! I stood there feeling like I had struck gold. My 5-year old would LOVE this! She’s obsessed with anglerfish. She constantly talks about them.

Some weeks back, we found Google search has this cool option to view animals in 3D and we had to view the anglerfish multiple times (along with the other animals) and she wanted to find out all she could about it. I recently checked out a kid’s book from the library about anglerfish and, when I brought it home, she took it, and sat on the couch to look at it. We read some of it together and then, at some point, she took the book to dad to read more.

I stood in the aisle at Carter’s and my elation quickly grew to anger. Why wasn’t this t-shirt ALSO in the girls section?! I looked around. All the science, all the sharks, all the dinos, all the building and all the superheroes, all these “manly” images surrounded me. When I looked across the store to the girls section, it was shining bright with all the sparkles and glitter, and messages of popularity. Enough!

There is nothing wrong with all the sparkle and glitter. I have, over the years, embraced a more “girly” side to me. Not only do I love me some sparkle and glitter, I will even wear a dress or a skirt, and feel good in one. But why, oh, why, oh why, does that have to be the ONLY option for girls? And why are the stereotypical “manly” images the only options for boys? I, personally, know of, at least, 2 boys who love glitter and sparkles and the colors pink and purple, but who also love trucks and racing cars and guns and swords, and bless their exhausted mommas for finding creative ways for them to indulge in these interests.

Why can’t we have more gender-neutral stores? Why can’t we get rid of a “girls section” and a “boys section?” A boy shouldn’t feel bad if he wants to wear a fairy on his shirt or pants, and a girl should be given the choice of wearing a dinosaur fossil on her shirt or dress. Kids like what they like, and much of what they’re into, they will probably outgrow. Kids thrive in their imagination. Let us allow for that! Imagination knows no gender! If we truly want to value uniqueness and individuality, then let’s present the whole picture. Let’s provide choices to the kids that will actually tap into that uniqueness and individuality instead of having only an industry’s catered world of what it defines uniqueness and individuality to be, and done so entirely based on the biological sex with which a child was born. Humans are more complex than that, and that is what makes us so beautiful. Let's credit that appropriately.

Below is a list of companies that I feel provide some alternatives. I wish the list was longer. I wish there were any brick and mortar stores. A couple of months ago I purchased “I Will Vote” dresses from Princess Awesome, and my girls love them because when they twirl, the dresses twirl out wide and it makes them giggle with joy. I love it because they have America’s colors and help start conversations about government and voting. Yes, that can be boring to them (I won’t lie), but seeds, people. I’m planting seeds. 

After all, what else are children if not seeds of our future? How healthy do you want yours to be?

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#clotheswithoutlimits - a list of 8 companies that are doing exactly what we need

this site lists 7 companies that offer gender-neutral clothing.

rainbow shops - (a lot of “girly” options, but it offers a couple of clothes with images of little black girls on them - another area the fashion industry fails to fulfill - and the site offers plus sizes for women, so i’m including them on my list.)

and just because, biodegradable glitter to help do our part in staying "girly" but also not harming the environment.

Just Kids Campaign - a post made by two Norwegian moms calling out to H&M to change their approach to their line of clothing for boys and girls. They took the store’s clothes and mixed and matched them on boys and girls without gender stereotyping and created a video posted below. It is fantastic, and it is my sincere wish is to see so much more of something like this.

Dear Parents, Stop

We're drowning. In so many different ways, we're drowning. From climate change to chemical dependency to the disappearance of critical thinking skills. How long do we humans have left?

Over the last 20 years of teaching, one of the most disturbing trends I have witnessed among parents is the pressure put on children to be perfect, to be the best, to be the most competitive in order to attain whatever recognition possible. It is almost impossible, I think, for us to not place our insecurities on to our children, but we must be aware of when we are doing it. I also think it's a fallacy to believe that our children are carbon copies of us. They may look like us genetically, and they may have some inherited traits, but they are 100% their own people. To push our own insecurities on to them is inflicting more damage than we can imagine. I'm not a psychologist, but I speak from experience.

My mom's insecurities with relationships, which stem from growing up with a cold mother and an alcoholic father, were pushed on to me convincing me for a long time to be distrustful of men. It took years for me to realize and recognize that each man is an individual. Not all men are assholes. So, let's say you are competitive and feel inadequate unless you win 1st place, you are probably pushing that same insecurity on to your children, teaching them that one has no value unless you are #1, when the true lesson should be that everyone has value regardless. And maybe your child doesn't care to be so competitive. Have you asked? Maybe your child has other interests. Have you asked? Have you had an honest conversation about what your child may want? Adults tend to think kids of all ages have no opinions, but they do. Oh, they do.

At Lithuanian school, for the last 3 years or so, we have had a symposium where the 11th and 12th graders are given the floor to describe about what challenges they feel today's youth face. Every year my heart breaks. Consistently, more than half of the students talk about all the pressures they face from family and school to get good grades, to do well on their SAT, to excel in anything they do, to get into an exceptional university, and to be in as many extra-curricular activities as possible, but to also not forget to have an active and fun social life. I know it affects the wealthy, but are you truly surprised by the college admissions scandal that hit last year?

Every single student mentioned that their days often begin before 6am, how they rush to school (some starting their first class by 7am), have classes until 3pm or so, then sports or other lessons, come home early evening, and then sit down for 3-4 hours of homework. Many of them aren't getting to bed until midnight, sometimes later, only to start the day again before 6am. Teenagers should be getting 8-10 hours of sleep. I have yet to meet one that gets that much sleep. Guess what happens to the brain and body when you don't get enough sleep? I think there's enough evidence of the negative effects.

These kids are 16 and 17 years old.

These kids are overworked and tired.

These kids are desperate and sinking.

Read again: These kids are sinking.

Again: KIDS.

These. Are. Kids. And they're drowning.

The more popular social media becomes, the more apps, the more cyber inter-connectedness, the more pressure to be perfect and the deeper the dive below the surface gets.

What are we doing?

According to Business Insider, when analyzing education world-wide, the US ranked

            #6 in 1990 and now

            #27 in 2016.

In math, out of 71 countries, the US ranked

            #38 and

In science, the US ranked

            #24.

What happened over 30 years? We started spending less money on education than other countries even though student enrollment increased. We do not value education. Yet, we sure like to pile on the pressure to excel in it.

What in the actual hell?

Something has to give. When we live out of balance, we get sick. In some way shape or form, we get sick. Maybe it's emotionally, maybe it's physically, maybe it's psychologically. We are not meant for all this pressure. We are not meant to separate ourselves from each other. We are not meant to separate ourselves from nature. We are not meant to separate ourselves from creativity and thought and adventure. We are not meant to separate ourselves from boredom. Being the best and having the most gets you nothing in the end. No amount of awards, money, or accolades will get you out of death. Those awards, the money, and the accolades will be thrown away, distributed, and forgotten.

My wish for people is to see their children as individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses, and help them build on their strengths. Don't force your missed dreams on them. Listen to them and try not to take their weaknesses and mistakes as some sort of failure on your part. We all have strengths and weaknesses, both of which are worthy and valuable to work on. Our strengths and weaknesses are our own - like our thumbprint - and they bring us lessons from which we can learn, if we are open to them. Guide your children to find theirs without you tainting them with your own skewed view of things.

Our children are drowning and they are begging for help. We are the adults. We should know better. We should guide better. We should live better. 

Let. Them. Be. Free.