I killed Trayvon Martin

This infrequently used blog has awakened for a timely guest post from Eddie Hatcher.

Eddie in a hoodieI’m a racist. There is no known cure, so best I can hope for is to minimize the symptoms. I’ve struggled my whole life to do just that, but I still can’t help but feel partially responsible for Trayvon Martin’s death. I carry this guilt because nothing I do is enough to combat the system I once gladly took part in.

I grew up in a small North Carolina town surrounded by farms and factories. What I learned about racism, I learned hanging out in hunt clubs, on farms, in country stores, and in gun shops. We often talked about race, but never about racism. Everyone knew that racism stopped existing after Integration. In our minds, we were not discriminating against anyone because of their skin color; we were simply describing the way people acted, their mannerisms, language, dress, etc. Nothing about that seemed racist. Sure, the N word was thrown around occasionally, but black people use that word to describe themselves, so we thought it was OK.

Looking back, I think the worst part may have been the “justified” fear. While the words of wisdom demanded that I not talk to strangers, a part of growing up was learning which strangers were safe and which were dangerous. Of all the strangers out there, none were more important to avoid than black men. If you see a black man, check for your exits. Make sure your friends and siblings are close, as they might not have noticed the black man yet. Whatever you do, don’t talk to them. The more of a “homie” they appear to be, the more dangerous they are.

It’s hard to pinpoint all the things that led to me questioning the mentality I grew up in, but I clearly remember a critical turning point in elementary school. It was Black History Month and our librarian, an intelligent, well-spoken woman, was talking to the class about Dr. Martin Luther King Junior. Like a good white kid, I was brazenly proclaiming my disdain for him. In a display of patience that was no less than heroic, she waited until the class had dispersed and she sat down to have a chat with me. Her first question was simple and direct: “why don’t you like Dr. King?” Since “racism” was not a possibility in my mind, I justified myself by claiming that it was his methods. She continued asking questions about why peaceful marches and civil disobedience bothered me so until the only answers left were, “I don’t know, just because.”

I will never forget the frustration I felt after that conversation 20-some years ago. It burned in me as I scrutinized her questions, searching for logical explanations for my disdain. All my teachers loved me and I got A’s in every subject, yet this librarian had completely stumped me. I thought about those questions for days, weeks. I am still thinking about them today.

I used to think that conversation was the beginning of the end of me being a racist, but now I know that is incorrect.

Of all the speculation of what happened the day that Trayvon Martin was shot dead, one detail of the killer’s story that I do not question is his claim that he was afraid. No doubt he has learned, like me, to be afraid of black men. Florida law says that Zimmerman had a right to stand his ground and defend himself if a “reasonable person” would fear for their life in that situation. No reasonable grown man with a gun would be afraid of a skinny minor, but a racist person like myself would.

But unlike Zimmerman, I take ownership of my fear, my racism. I’m not going to shoot someone because their skin color makes me afraid. I’m going to do the opposite. When I see the “black man in a dark alley” and that childhood fear pops out, I push it down to replace it with a smile and a nod. When people cultivate that fear, innocent children die.

Now that the verdict has been read, I can’t help but be filled with personal guilt. For years I have struggled to own racist upbringing and I have spoken out when people around me say things that demean cultures they know little about. I guess I hoped that my efforts had combined with those of millions of other Americans and that we were moving toward a better world. Maybe I didn’t do enough. Maybe I should have gone to more marches, should have gone to law school, should have been a school librarian. Seeing Trayvon Martin’s murderer go free leaves me feeling hopeless, as though no amount of effort as an adult can undo the damage I did as a child.

I’m like an alcoholic trying to change my life. I’ve walked through the door, but there are 11 more steps and I have no idea what any of them are.

I killed Trayvon Martin.



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Angel in the Office: The gender wage chasm, nonprofits, and what I thought I knew

photo by only alice, via Flickr Creative Commons

Fellow Women of America, happy Equal Pay Day! We have earned as much in the past 473 days as men earned in the 365 days of 2011. (Although if you are a woman of color, you’re going to have to work even longer.) According to Lori Bettison-Varga of Scripps College, as a result of this difference,  the average woman will make $400,000 less in her lifetime than she would have made as a man doing the same job.

(Just a terminology note here: I can’t bring myself to refer to this as a gender pay “gap,” although that’s the most-used description. Gaps are something you can step over. 3 months and 17 days worth of work is not a gap.  $400,000 is not a gap. I’m going to call it the gender pay chasm. If we are going to get to the other side of it, we have some serious work to do.)

I assumed that, because I work in the nonprofit sector, things would be better. After all, nonprofits are run by nice people who are generally striving to make the world a better place. Workers in the nonprofit sector are more than half female. Surely, the disparity between what men and women make would be less.

But last week, Gov. Scott Walker pissed me off enough that I felt motivated to do a little research. What I found in three simple Google searches shocked me. (As a politically active feminist with almost a decade of all-women’s education under my belt, I did not expect to find that things were even worse than I thought they were.) Here’s a bit of what I thought I knew, and what I learned about women, our paychecks, and the world of nonprofits:

Myth #1: Things are getting better.

Whether or not you work at a nonprofit, the chasm between what women make and what men make for similar work is not getting smaller. (Informative infographic here.) College-educated women have seen the gap between their pay and the pay of their male classmates hold steady at round 25% since the mid-1990’s. In 2011, that translated to $998/week median pay for women with a college degree, and $1,332 a week for men with a college degree. Women without a college degree had a narrower gap by all of 2% – their median salary was $554 in a week, and men with a similar education made $730.

Women make, on average, 77 cents to every dollar made by a man (or 62 cents if you’re an African American woman, or a measly 54 cents if you’re a Latino woman.) If that doesn’t sound like a big difference, add in some zeros.

To top it all off, Governor Walker’s incredibly ignorant remarks (including, “You could argue that money is more important for men. I think a guy in their first job, maybe because they expect to be a breadwinner someday, may be a little more money-conscious.”) sound a lot like something someone said to my mother in her first job interview out of graduate school in the mid 1970’s.

Myth #2: Increasing leadership by women decreases the gender pay chasm.

In a study of nonprofits in the rural south, Rural Support Partners found that  although women lead nonprofits more often than men (56% of respondents’ organizations were led by women, 44% by men), women make less money than men in those positions.  Similar trends persist nationwide. According to the 2011 Guidestar report, women may make up a sizeable portion of nonprofit leadership, but they get paid less to lead, and they are far less likely to hold leadership positions in larger nonprofits, where salaries are higher.

To top it off, we may have leadership positions, but we still don’t have more of the real decision-making power in our field. Women account for 43 percent of the board seats among all nonprofits but hold only 33 percent of the board seats at nonprofits with incomes of $25 million or more, according to the White House Project.

Myth #3: Gender wage discrimination happens in other places. It doesn’t happen in nonprofits, where we’re all good people.

The gender wage chasm is very present in the world of nonprofit compensation. As a general rule, the larger the organization, the wider the gap. According to Guidestar’s 2011 compensation report,  women nonprofit CEOs made 13.4 percent less than men at nonprofits organizations with budgets of $250-$500K. At organizations with budgets of more than $50M, they made 24.6 percent less.

Ms. Magazine’s January, 2011, article on the Guidestar report from 2010 explained:

For organizations with a budget over $5 million, women executives earned an average yearly income of $401,000—a generous salary for the nonprofit sector, but one that pales in comparison to men executives’ $621,000. That means these women earn just over 64 cents to a man’s dollar. At small nonprofits, the gap was less pronounced but still alive and well: Women executives earned an average wage of $84,000 compared to men’s $100,000….[T]he greater the organization’s budget, the greater the wage inequality.…

That Rural Support Partners study found that nonprofits in the rural south paid “$48,738 on average for female executives, $60,468 for males.”  That’s a difference of $11,730 a year for the same work and the same level of responsibility.

A 2011 Philanthropy Journal study of fundraisers had similar findings: “Average salaries for male fundraisers totaled $92,540 in the U.S. compared to $70,614  for female fundraisers in the U.S.. With the exception of 2005, average salaries for men consistently have exceeded those for women by $20,000 for the 10 years in which the survey has been conducted.”

Women are also noticeably more likely to feel that they make financial and non-financial sacrifices to work in the nonprofit sector.

Myth #4: It’s our fault.

I’ve been told time and time again that women are bad negotiators. There’s a general acknowledgement that women are socialized to be agreeable and passive, so we fall short when it comes to the hard-nosed money-making self-interest skill set. The solution most often presented is for us to take responsibility for  learning better negotiation skills. I’m the first to admit, this made sense to me. I have never felt comfortable negotiating salaries. It may be the one area of my life, except for maybe family vacations, where I could ever be accused of not being very assertive.

A 2008 Washington Post article provides a good summary of the kinds of statistics used to illustrate this widely acknowledged problem:

  • Women, on average, ask for 30 percent less money than males.
  • Men are four times more likely to negotiate a first salary than women.
  • Men are eight times more likely than women to negotiate their starting salary and benefits.
  • Women ask for raises or promotions 85 percent less often than their male counterparts.
  • 20 percent of women (22 million people) say they never negotiate at all, even though they recognize negotiation as appropriate and even necessary.
  • 2.5 times more women than men said they feel “a great deal of apprehension” about negotiation.

But it turns out, surprise, surprise, that the people being discriminated against may not be responsible for the problem. Women, next time you are in a salary negotiation and you feel like you need to back off so that people still like you, it may not be because you have bad negotiating skills. It may be because you are right.

In 2007, Harvard researchers Bowles and Babcock studied how women fared in negotiations about pay. The Washington Post explained:

[T]his study found that women’s reluctance was based on an entirely reasonable and accurate view of how they were likely to be treated if they did. Both men and women were more likely to subtly penalize women who asked for more — the perception was that women who asked for more were “less nice”….”What we found across all the studies is men were always less willing to work with a woman who had attempted to negotiate than with a woman who did not,” Bowles said. “They always preferred to work with a woman who stayed mum. But it made no difference to the men whether a guy had chosen to negotiate or not.”…While both men and women were penalized for negotiating, Bowles found that the negative effect for women was more than twice as large as that for men.

So next time you think that people aren’t going to like you because you advocated for fair compensation, you can get some small comfort out of realizing that you probably aren’t thinking that because you are too weak and you can’t get the patriarchy out of your head. You may be thinking that because you are smart and perceptive.

So now what?

So here’s what my research taught me: as a woman with a graduate degree in the nonprofit sector in 2012, I’m not somehow immune to pay discrimination. I am likely to face even more pressure to be self-sacrificing than my male colleagues, and I’ll probably get paid less, relative to them, than I would be in the for-profit sector (and certainly less than in the government sector.) It’s that old Victorian “Angel in the House” myth come back to haunt us, except now, it’s the Angel in the Nonprofit Office. Most of us do the work that we do because we love it, because we want to make the world better, because we want to be on the right side of history. But right now, for many of us, the price we have to pay is being trapped in the same injustices we’re trying to fight.

So to my nonprofit colleagues: Let’s do something about it. And no, I’m not talking about us ladies brushing up on our negotiating skills. One thing we can do is establish clear, transparent, accountable pay structures. According to the National Women’s Law Center, there’s good evidence to show that pay secrecy contributes to pay inequality. As nonprofits, we’re accountable to our funders and those we serve when it comes to our finances. Let’s be accountable to each other too. If nonprofits develop pay structures that don’t rely on one person’s judgement, no matter how nice or well-meaning that person may be, we can build fairness into the system and build discrimination out of it. There are some great examples out there of relatively transparent and objective pay structures. (For a start, check out Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute and the Center for Participatory Change.) Nothing’s going to be perfect, but, the way things are now, improving isn’t that hard to do.

Also, you could sign this petition from the National Organization for Women asking the President to make sure employees can discuss their salaries, and join your local feminist organization so that you can sign the next petition/go to the next march/talk to your Senator about the next bill/etc.

This is not something than can wait. We’re not getting back the 108 days worth of compensation we lost between January 1, 2011 and now. We’re not getting back the health insurance, retirement accounts, childcare, vacations, good books, take-out dinners after long days of work, graduate degrees, local food, plane tickets, new tires, craft beers, or any of the other things we could have bought with the more than $10,000 each of us, on average, didn’t get paid last year just because we are women. The Scott Walkers of the world are working hard to make sure it’s even worse next year. Enough is enough. Who’s with me?

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Get your status off my boobs.

[Warning: There are boobs in this post, and they are not happy. Also, Barbara E. said it better.]

Ok, people. I’ve had enough. It is none of your business what color my bra is. It is none of your business if I have, and I quote, “touched my boobs today.” *

(The answer is no. My fibrocystic boobs pretty much always feel like big lumps of cancer, and they hurt this time of month. Too much info? Then you shouldn’t have asked.)

Cancer is not a fashion statement. It is not cute. It is not sexy. Chemo is not cute. Major surgery is not sexy. Dying isn’t either. Losing people I love does not make me want to talk about my underwear.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the importance of raising awareness. Women should not be ashamed of their bodies or what happens to them. I understand the importance of a good marketing campaign. If you’ve got something important to say, it helps to say it well. I have no problem with a campaign that makes women facing breast cancer feel supported. I have no problem with a campaign that makes what was once a shameful disease into something we can face together. I don’t even have a problem with laughing at the things that make us afraid, or by making a movement for change into something joyful.

But this whole “let’s all raise awareness, and it will be really cute because the boys won’t know what we mean,” or “let’s raise awareness by making double entendres – ‘Touch your boobs.’ Get it? It’s, like, funny!” is not amusing. For one thing, it pretends that if we can all band together, all do monthly breast self-exams, all buy enough pink shit, we can actually stop people from dying.

I’ve got news (really old news, but here goes): Breast cancer is not caused by lack of early detection. And it’s usually not cured by early detection either. There is a healthy debate about whether regular mammograms are a good idea, but even the American Cancer Society says that breast self exams “play a small role in finding breast cancer”, and, according to the National Breast Cancer Coalition:

There is currently no scientific evidence from randomized trials that breast self-exam (BSE) saves lives or enables women to detect breast cancer at earlier stages. In addition, there are some data that show that BSE greatly increases the number of benign lumps detected, resulting in increased anxiety, physician visits, and unnecessary biopsies.

So we might not know for sure the best ways to detect and treat cancer. We might save lives with this, we might not.

We do know that there are things that cause cancer. Living near hazardous waste sites. Working in factories with petrochemicals. Bovine growth hormone.  Vinyl.  Some pesticides and insecticides. Some water bottles and baby bottles and canned foods. Household cleaners. Cosmetics. Radiation. Even laptops, which means maybe I shouldn’t be writing this.

Save second base

How about lives? Can we save those too?

So, in addition to not wanting to talk about my underwear, I would not like to buy a vinyl pink ribbon magnet to put on my carcinogen-producing car. I would not like to buy a pink teddy bear made with plastic yarn in a sweatshop.  I would not like to buy a pink t-shirt that invites people to concentrate on my breasts that is made with cotton picked by workers exposed to carcinogenic chemicals and manufactured with carcinogenic dyes by women with no health insurance in machiladoras. I would not like to buy pink cosmetics filled with chemicals that jack with my hormones, or buy pink-lidded yogurt made from milk from cows fed non-organic grain and shot up with rbGH.

I would especially not like to raise money for breast cancer research and see that money go to companies that sponsor breast cancer awareness events, manufacture breast cancer drugs or equipment, and, at the same time, make things that cause cancer. (And finding a company that makes breast cancer treatment drugs that doesn’t also make carcinogenic chemicals is so hard it will make you sick in the metaphorical sense too.)

So go ahead and do whatever screening makes you comfortable. Talk to your doctor. Talk to your friends. Talk to the press, if you’re brave. But do not, do not, do NOT make this into one big sexy excuse to make crude jokes, sell shit, and spread misinformation.

If we really want to stop cancer, we need to go to the root causes. Finding a cure sounds flashy, but we could save lives right now, without any more research at all. There are lives we could have saved that we didn’t. We need to read labels and make smart choices about what we buy. We need to make sure all women have access to great health care. We need to fight radiation and carcinogens and corporate pink-washing of health information.

This is hard. Way harder than buying a t-shirt, and rather less fun, because no corporation is spending millions of dollars on an advertising campaign to make it fun and easy for you to hold them accountable. We need to do it anyway. The lives of people we love depend on it. We do not need a corporate sponsor or cheap puns to love each other and take care of each other and make change in this messed-up world. If you want to protect my health, stop talking about my bra and my boobs, and start talking about things that matter.

PS – This post comes with a gigantor disclaimer. I know a good number women who have found the pink campaigns to be an source of support, or at least the occasional laugh, during their battle with cancer, or during a loved one’s struggle. Also, some really fabulous women asked me to post my bra color. Just because I hate pink doesn’t mean I don’t love the hell out of you. But you know that already.

*Don’t know what I’m talking about? Then you haven’t been on Facebook in the last two days.

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Unapologetic Twilight Love. (Ok, maybe a little apologetic.)

[Spoilers, yo.  Beware.]

A large chunk of the feminist blogosphere and press hates Twilight with a passion.* (Here’s lookin’ at you, Bitch and Feministing and Ms.)  So do a bunch of my awesome feminist friends.

I get it. I really do.

The romantic hero is a creepy stalker. Friend-boy is in a testosterone war with stalker-boyfriend over who should control the protagonist’s social life. There’s a subplot with a husband who cuts his wife’s face to shreds one day when he’s mad, but that’s OK, because he did it because he loves her so much. Yes.** There’s plenty to dislike, even before you get to the babies-eating-their-way-out-of-uteri bit, and the oh-how-wonderful-it-is-to-be-an-18-year-old-mom bit. And let’s not even start on the Native-Americans-who-are-so-close-to-nature-they-are-actually-part-critter bit.

I have eight years of all-women’s education under my belt.*** I have read every Bitch Magazine published in the last seven years from cover to cover, and sometimes I get mad because it’s not feminist enough. I hate the patriarchy. So these things alarm me.

As a template for a how young women should see the world, Twilight is lacking. ****

But here’s the thing. I love Twilight. I love it. And not because I think Robert Pattinson is hot. (Robert Pattinson, boys and girls, is scrawny and has weird eyes. Taylor Lautner, on the other hand, is smoking, smoking hot. H-O-T.*****But I’m getting distracted.) And not even because it’s about a series written by a woman with a female hero, which has turned into a huge economic phenomenon driven by women and girls, with a movie directed by a woman, although that helps.

I bought the Twilight from the used bookstore near my house one evening, thinking it might be good evening reading during the business trip I was taking the next day. I decided to read a chapter or two before bed. I went to bed about 2 am. After I finished the book.

I had to leave town at 10:15 the next day. The used bookstore opens at 10. I was waiting in the parking lot for them to unlock the door. I read New Moon and Eclipse in my room at the conference center between lectures and at night. I was at the conference for two days. I finished both books before I left.

Then I was mad. I was mad because I thought it was a trilogy, and, let me tell you, the end of Eclipse is pretty crappy, especially when you are on Team Jacob. (I have not bought the t-shirt. I know Team Jacob vs Team Edward is a cheap marketing trick used to sell shit made in sweatshops. I know I lose. I’m still on Team Jacob.)

Then I found out a fourth book was coming. Thank God. I bought Breaking Dawn in hardback. The first day it came out. I do not buy books in hardback unless they are by Barbara Kingsolver, but there I was, in the children’s section of my local independent bookstore, laying down $26.95 for a big book with a glossy chess piece on the front for no discernible reason.

I told my husband not to talk to me, and I read it in one afternoon. I may have actually yelled “Holy shit!” at one point. I know there were also some “I can’t believe she just did that,” and “Awesome”s in there. At one am, lying in a very lukewarm bath, I finished Breaking Dawn.

I recommend Twilight right and left, to everyone from my writing teacher to my boss to my husband. (He loved them, and only complained a little bit about all the time Bella spends going on about staring into Edward’s eyes. Reason #627 I am glad I married him.) I have gone to see both movies. I have not read the leaked Midnight Sun draft, but only because it’s online, so I can’t read it in the bath tub.

Here’s the thing: I don’t like books without strong female characters. A slow plot, OK. Cheesy prose, OK. Misogynist characterizations, very not OK at all. And by this measurement, I think Twilight actually comes out pretty well.

At the heart, this is a story about a girl who knows what she wants. What she wants is good sex and superpowers.

The men in her life keep telling her she can’t have these things, because those things won’t be good for her. They do all sorts of things “for her own good,” including leaving her for noble reasons, valiantly refraining from having sex with her or sucking her blood, then valiantly refraining from having rough sex with her (good married women only like vanilla sex?), and also kissing her without permission (Jacob, honey, I’m looking at you. Why you gotta be that way?).

All of these things end up being not so good for Bella. As a devoted hater of “I’m leaving you for your own good” romance plots, I found this delightful.

Bella is not too bad on her own, either. I would hang out with her if she were at my school. She’s smart as hell, sarcastic, and she drives a beat-up pick-up truck. She knows the square root of pi. She goes to independent bookstores. She Google-searches things in the middle of the night. She doesn’t want to get married. She says what she thinks. She doesn’t put up with bullshit, unless that bullshit might lead to good sex or superpowers.

A good friend of mine objected to this assessment, because, I quote, “She’s always cooking! And she’s unbelievably clumsy!” To which I could only respond by giving her a long hard look, because, frankly, I resemble that remark. Also, Bella rides motorcycles and goes cliff-diving. I think that makes up for a knack for making good lasagna and a tendency to trip over things. (Strong women sometimes trip over nonexistent things, people. We have bigger things on our mind than where our feet should go.) ******

Her parents are pretty alright too. Mom may be a bit flighty, but she doesn’t forget to talk about safe sex. Dad accepts his daughter’s nontraditional lifestyle, no questions asked. Get off their case, y’all. No one’s perfect.

Best of all, in the end, Bella gets what she wants. And guess what? Not only does she have great sex, and not only does she get superpowers, but she is also the most badass vampire in the history of badass vampires. She doesn’t get all crazy, she saves all the good guys, she defeats the bad guys, she saves the day, and she stops a big vampire war. How? By having a really fucking strong mind. The end.

If she wants to live happily-ever-after with her superpower-wielding daughter and her debatably-hot husband and have amazing sex augmented by her badass superpowers all day long, I say more power to her. If it were me, I might use those superpowers to advance world peace and overthrow the patriarchy, but these are romance novels, so I’ll cut Bella some slack.

One more reason I’m sticking with Twilight – I can’t wait to see how they make a romantic adventure movie out of a book where a baby eats her way out of Mommy’s tummy while Daddy bites Mommy all over and where the big finish involves an invisible telepathic battle.

Until the next movie comes out, I’ll be watching Buffy vs Edward over and over again.******* Because nothing is so awesome that a little feminist criticism can’t make it better.

I can’t wait for Buffy vs Bella. That will be worth watching.

*But some don’t. That makes this one of those opening blanket statements that my sophomore English teacher told me never to make. Sorry, Dr. East.

** Feel free to take a break here. I’ll wait till your nausea subsides. If it ever subsides.

*** Including four years of training in post-modern, feminist literary critique. Boo-yah.

**** Not to rock anyone’s world or anything, but teenage girls are not passive sponges that soak up pop culture. And sometimes, they read trashy shit. Or listen to it. Or watch it. Twilight is just another reason we need to teach cultural critique in middle school, ladies and gentlemen. Just another of many, many reasons.


******Also, sometimes strong women fall in crazy stupid love, and their friends still respect them afterwards. Just sayin’.

*******And over again.


Filed under Books

Blood laptops?

Secretary of State Clinton’s visit last week to the Democratic Republic of Congo brought the conflict there to the attention of the US media – at least to the attention of the media that weren’t too busy talking about death panels.  Five million people have died in that war – more than in any conflict since WWII – and one million are displaced.

Frida Esperance, 16, survivor who is seven months pregnant - from the Sydney Morning Heralds multimedia presentation about survivors and perpetrators of rape in teh Congo.

Frida Esperance, 16, who is seven months' pregnant - from the Sydney Morning Herald's multimedia presentation about survivors and perpetrators of rape in the Congo.

This year’s offensive by the Congolese Army, with UN support, has led to a spike in rapes and other atrocities – and, for the most part, the recent perpetrators are members of the Army. The stories are stomach-turning. Many survivors are shunned by their families and have no where to turn. Bad, bad, bad.

And here’s where the cellphones fit in. The chaos is motivated, in part, by an illegal trade in minerals. Tantalum, tin and tungsten are used in the consumer electronics industry. They keep our cell phones vibrating and our laptops charging.  Tracing the sources of the raw materials in electronics is virtually impossible for consumers and difficult for companies, so it’s hard to tell if your phone or your computer is contributing to one of the worst wars in history.

This shit pretty much makes me want to stomp on my cell phone and cry, then go on a screaming rant about how everything comes from somewhere, everything has a cost, and who the hell do we think we are anyway, getting all the good stuff while someone else pays the price? It makes me ashamed to be typing this on a computer*.

Fortunately for me**, I found the Enough Foundation before I started stomping. This human rights organization is advocating for more traceability and accountability in the consumer electronics industry. They have a bill in the Senate right now. Plus, they have a rockin’ contest on YouTube for PSAs about the issue.

Other good places to give seem to be Heal Africa and Women for Women International. Heal Africa is a Congolese-led health care organization. I’m much less skeptical about international aid when it’s actually led by the people it aims to help.You can watch a really cheesy music video and read about Clinton’s visit on their Web site.

Women for Women is a fairly transparent organization, and they put a feminist slant on the whole sponsorship model. You’re not sponsoring a child, you’re sponsoring a sister –  a woman who is rebuilding her community after war. Thaz cool.  I don’t like condescending sponsorship, but solidarity’s good.

Onward and upward,


P.S. Here’s my favorite Enough video. Poetry+activism=thebest.

*As if enough reasons already to think twice about buying a new computer.

**And for all my friends who are tired of me telling them about slavery in their Hershey’s bars, etc. and who surely don’t want me starting giving them hell about the laptops they need to finish their novels.

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If by overbear you mean…

Words are important. Or if they aren’t, I at least need to pretend they are, because I’m an English major, writer, and PR professional, and if words aren’t powerful, I might as well go home and watch TV. So, before we begin, here’s an explication of this blog’s title.

It started with the word “overbearing”,* which, according to the Oxford Pocket Dictionary, means “unpleasantly or arrogantly domineering.” Domination, in general, is not something I’m in favor of.** In my opinion, the whole world would be a better place if we’d all listen to each other more often.

Overbearing, however, is also a polite word for bitchy, at least in the ever-polite Southeast. As in, “Well, she is a little bit…overbearing.” It’s the opposite of nice. People, women especially, who cause trouble, speak up, talk about politics at dinner, yell when angry, don’t back down, or subscribe to Bitch Magazine*** are overbearing.

Here’s the contradiction: How are we all going to be able to listen to each other if we can’t all say what we think? When people shut up because they’re afraid of being overbearing, their voices get lost. Silence is assent. Fear of being  overbearing keeps people quiet in the face of domination and injustice. If overbearing really meant having power over, I wouldn’t want to endorse it. But too often, overbearing means willing to question power. Questioning power, I like.

No one has ever called me overbearing for strongly expressing my love for someone’s new shirt, for commenting on the deliciousness of dessert, for blabbing about my plan to fly to CA for vacation, for talking loudly about the weather, or for saying someone’s baby is cute at the top of my lungs – even when I‘m loud and interrupt.**** I’m overbearing when I point out that new shirts might be made in sweatshops, that that candy bar is made with slave chocolate*****, that plane flights warm the globe, that I don’t want to crank the air conditioning up because it tears down mountains in West Virginia, that I don’t plan to have kids because there are enough people on this planet already – even when I’m quiet and speak in turn.

Ok, then. If asking for a better world is overbearing, if being heard is overbearing, well I plan to overbear!

* No, I don’t always put my punctuation inside the quotation marks. That rule doesn’t make sense. Deal with it.

** Unless it’s between consenting adults and involves safewords, in which case, go for it.

*** Do this now.

**** I do all these things. I promise.

***** But Fair Trade chocolate isn’t! Yum.

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