Monthly Archives: April 2010

I need a name

No, not that kind of name (I did promise I’d never fake y’all out on a pregnancy again, after all). The name I need is for the anti-kyriarchy/pro-diversity kids’ books review series I’m (finally, after thinking about it for aaaaages) starting.

I’ve asked around on Twitter and Facebook, but for those of you following me neither place (whyever not?), here are some of the ideas so far:

An Unbiased Review
Books Against Bias, or Books Without Bias
Words Without
Raising Refined Readers
Get ‘Em While They’re Young
Equal Reads
Raising Radical Readers, or Raising Readers Radically
RMB Reviews
Wonderful Words, or Wonderful Words Without Bias.
Actually Good Books
Books for Unbiased Babes (or Babies — except it’s more for toddler+, if only ‘cuz that’s where the Boychick is).
Boychick’s Books Against Bias, Boychick’s Unbiased Books, Boychick’s Anti-Bias Books
Read the Change

It’s been pointed out that most of the names are about what the books are not, and it might be better to have more positive description, of what the books under review are, or at least are trying to be.

Another point: pro-diversity books tend to come in two types: 1) “Not everyone lives/looks/is the same as you.” and 2) “You are not alone.” White privileged liberals (like myself) tend to focus on the first type; and while those are indeed valuable, they are also quite othering, assuming (ironically enough, given their supposed messages of anti-marginalization) that their audience is a child of privilege, usually white, abled, with two parents, middle class, etc. The reviews will include that type of book, but not exclusively, and (to the best of my ability) acknowledging that narrow focus. The name, therefore, should reflect this; titles like “Books to Open Minds” speak only to the first category of book, and aren’t really what I’m looking for.

The review will cover both books with explicit anti-bias messages and those which feature non-white straight cis middle class characters. It will focus on American books geared (for the moment) toward toddlers/preschoolers, because that reflects the books we read to the Boychick, but I hope it will be relevant to my readers outside of North America and with varying ages of children.

So, what are your suggestions on the name? Thoughts? Ideas? And while we’re at it, have any books you’d like me to review?

Also: please remember that I’m still accepting submissions for two guest series: the Womanist/Feminist Parenting Primer, and the anonymous series Naked Pictures of Faceless People. Ideas for other guest posts are also always welcome. Share your stories!

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Menstrual Monday

It’s that time again, and lacking any thinky thoughts or filking inspirations, I’m using this post to ask you¹ about what you use for your period, whether traditional disposable products, something you made yourself, or purchased reusable products, or…?

Specifically, because I had a massage tonight², have any of you used a menstrual sponge? With my prolapse issues, neither cups nor tampons are an option for me, but it’d be nice to have something for the rare occasion like tonight, when going pad-free would make life easier.

Also, I’m on the hunt for both a wet bag and a “moon pot”³; consider this an invitation either for recommendations to your favorite makers, or self-serving spam if you think you make/sell Just The Thing I’m looking for. Bonus for being moon or menses themed, or otherwise exceptionally cool, neat, weird, or pretty.

‘Til next month!

The set of “you”, my readership, who menstruate, now or when not pregnant or lactating, which is not the same set of “you”, my readership, who are women, which is not the same set of “you”, the totality of my readership. Just to be… clear? ↩
Yes, you can get a massage while menstruating; you always have the option to keep your underwear — or anything else that would make you feel comfortable — on, or wear an internal menstrual device. And if everything else fails and you bleed on the sheets? I promise, it’s not the end of the world. Massage therapists can get oil out of sheets — we can get menstrual fluid out, too. ↩
Lidded pot for soaking cloth pads in after use, before washing. ↩

22 Comments | Posted on 20 April 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Body | Tags: comment begging, Menstruation

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We knocked on the neighbour’s door

I’m having lots of thoughts on houses¹, on gentrification, on neighbourliness and introversion, on white privilege and class privilege, on schools and lead paint and… all sorts of things. But those are all still swirling around, and I don’t have the clarity to discuss them yet.

But here’s what I did last Friday:

The Boychick fell asleep in the car, on the way home. Not being able to transfer him inside anymore without waking him up, we stayed in the car. The weather had taken its cue from a tourist guide: sunny, warm but not hot, breeze just enough to bring fresh air without bringing chill. He napped, I enjoyed the sun and breeze on my leg, stuck out the car’s rolled down window.

He woke just as our neighbours came home from their after-work walk, their one year old happily worn on his mother’s chest. He watched them walk up the hill, eyes bleary and unfocused. After they left his sight, he started talking — about them, about the baby, about wanting to go talk to them.

We got out of the car (I rolled down the leg of my jeans, rolled up the car’s window), and he talked about wanting to go see them. I checked the mail (equally divided between bills and junk, as usual), and he talked about wanting to play with them. I told him they’d gone inside (tossed the junk in the recycling, tucked the bills in my bag), and he talked about asking them to come outside. I told him they were probably busy (rolled up the other windows, got our jackets out of the back), and he talked about me calling them. I told him I didn’t have their number on my phone (I did), and he talked about how I could find it.

I hemmed, I hawed (I stalled), and he persevered.

“Well…” I said (thinking about everything I’d ever written in favor of community and real relationships and practical, tangible support, and trying to remember whether the father’s name was Brian or Ryan), “I guess we can go knock on their door and ask if they want to come out.”

“They will!” he said, and talked about what they’d do outside. “They might not,” I warned, wanting to avoid a heartbroken child (wanting my heart to stop trying to beat out of my chest). “They will!” he said, as we climbed the lawn separating our driveways.

We got there. He knocked and asked the closed door “Do you want to come outside?” (I said he should wait to ask until they answered.)

She answered the door, and was lovely, and listened to him talk about his balloon-glove. The one year old was walking (how had I not known he was walking now?), and decided for us that the plan of the day was to come outside with a ball.

My child talked, and tossed the ball downhill and retrieved it and tossed it and so on, and talked. (I tried not to tell him not to talk so much.) She talked and played with him, and we chatted. (I tried not to hyperventilate.) The Man came home, and opened the door to the garage to put his bike away. (I tried not to cringe at the catastrophically messy state it’s in.) The one year old walked out of his pants, and she said she wished she could go around without pants too. (I tried not to say anything embarrassing, and so I said nothing.)

We decided it was time to go in, and made our goodbyes; she and the baby up the hill to their house, we and our no-longer-baby up the stairs to ours.

We go inside, and I think: Is this what it is to be neighbours? Is this what it is to be in community? How do I pass on what I never learned? My kid wants to play, so I teach him how to knock on doors, though it’s the last thing I want to do; my kid wants to talk, so I teach him it’s ok to approach people, even if I’m not sure it it? Is it wrong to be so proud of this one, small (twelve-month-old-like wide-legged wobbly) step toward not being That Neighbour, Who Doesn’t Talk To Anyone? How many times am I going to fall down on my butt before this becomes second nature? And will people smile and find it cute, or will they not see how hard this is for me, how new?

We make dinner. We stay inside the rest of the night. I look at houses online and think about community.

I want to live somewhere I can bike more — these hills kill me, even without a 36lb 3yo on the back or in tow! — so we’ve been fantasizing about buying somewhere on the flat side of the river. ↩

17 Comments | Posted on 18 April 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Kyriarchy, Parenting | Tags: community, social anxiety

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On teens

Laurie (knitmeapony) shared the following post a couple days ago on Twitter, Today in existing while woman, about this case:

[A] US professor of philosophy… a single mother, has been accepted to participate in a month-long European seminar this summer, but her acceptance was made conditional on her demonstrating to the satisfaction of the directors of the host Institute that she has full-time childcare arrangements in place. She was given 12 hours to provide this satisfactory proof, or her acceptance would be withdrawn.

The age of the professor’s child was quoted as being 13 years old in the post (I heard from a second source that he is 12, and in 6th grade); the following is based on the assumption that the quoted age is accurate.

I wholeheartedly agree with the analysis of the linked post on the misogyny inherent in the institute’s demand, but there is another angle worthy of pointing out: since when do 13 year olds automatically require “full-time childcare”? What happened to 13 year olds doing childcare?

Now, not all 13 year olds are up to being by themselves 40 hours a week; most people, frankly, would find that boring, and a 13 year old in most places would have a limited set of options for self-amusement (in the United States, for instance, many malls disallow anyone “of school age” entrance by themselves during school hours; still other places disapprove of unaccompanied minors entering at all, ever). And to be sure, there are many 13 year olds with whom I would not entrust the Boychick — but there are equally small numbers of 23 year olds, 33 year olds, and so on, whom I would find responsible enough!

But I find there’s something very, very wrong with a society that treats teenagers — “even” young teenagers — the same as they do infants and toddlers, who most certainly do still have need for high levels of supervision. “Adolescents” — persons who have (usually) entered puberty and matured sexually — are, basically, adults. (Robert Epstein calls teens “apprentice adults”.) The only absolute categorical difference between teens and adults is years — not wisdom, not maturity, not even experience, but years¹. Those years usually mean that adults have had more opportunities to exercise judgment, to make — and with luck, learn from — mistakes, to gain experience in a wider variety of situations, true; but not necessarily. Before going off on how many teens have “bad judgment” and make “bad choices”, I ask you to think of all the adults you know; are they, to a one, paragons of wisdom and virtue? I guarantee the answer is no. Then why do we expect any more from teens? Why are their mistakes used as justification for a categorical condemnation of their entire cohort? By that measure, adults — of any age — should surely not be allowed to drive or vote or run businesses.

All children are people, and deserve respect and autonomy appropriate to their development; honoring the personhood of teens requires that we recognize that they are not rebels, not enemies, not delinquents, not signs of the eventual downfall of society, not good-for-nothing loafers and thrill-seekers concerned only with their own pleasure: and to the extent that they are, or act that way, consider that this is a natural response of any person to having their self-determination thwarted, their autonomy disrespected, their personhood and very humanity belittled (as when we say about teens that they are “wild animals” or “hormones on legs” — as though adults aren’t!).

If teens are irresponsible, it is because they are categorically denied any opportunities for responsibility; if they are self-centered (as though adults are universally not!), it is because they are not given chances to serve; if they rebel, it is because they are told they must stop acting like children, but are not yet treated like real people, and because they are told to get out now, so they can move on to “settle down” into “real life” later. They are told, and usually have been told their whole lives, that they are not trustworthy or capable or responsible; is it any wonder should they give in, and believe it of themselves, and act to fulfill those predictions?

Not to sound too much like the proverbial story of “I walked to school in the snow! up hill! both ways!”, but by thirteen I had been menstruating for three years. I was 5’9″. I was just starting high school, I’d been biking myself to school for half a decade, I’d been babysitting friends for a couple years, and I’d laugh if you told me I needed “full-time childcare”. My mom took me along to conferences (sometimes a few days, sometimes a full week), and generally I kicked around the hotel by myself for most of the day (and this was before the days of everyone having cell phones, although my mom had one and knew I could reach her should I need to). By sixteen, I’d found and started a relationship with the person who was to be my lifemate.

I’m not saying that I expect all 13 year olds to “be like me” — but I do expect them to be like them, and some, perhaps most, could have the ability to be responsible and “mature” (and non-destructively self-entertaining!) if we let them. Teens — “even” young teens — tend to be a lot more competent and able and responsible than adults give them credit for.

Of course it would be ridiculous to one day simply dump responsibilities and duties and finances and the expectation of full independence on a 13 year old; but it’s equally ridiculous to do the same to an 18 year old. More sensible than either would be the gradual transfer of independence and responsibilities, and always, at any age, respect and trust in the abilities an individual shows (remembering that one needs opportunities for capability to be demonstrated!). And yes, arbitrary age limits attached to the transfer of certain rights (like voting), to some extent, are practical and perhaps even necessary. But let’s try to make those ages reasonable; culturally, let’s make sure that as many persons as possible reach those ages well able to handle those responsibilities because they’ve had the chance to prove to themselves their competence well before then.

Maybe this particular 13 year old needs someone watching him at all times (I don’t know and no one except he and his mother can know); certainly, for a month-long trip, ensuring (or helping him to ensure for himself!) that he has something to do during that time, for at least part of it, seems reasonable. But how about putting him to work, should he wish, in the childcare? The average 13 year old is far more likely to be suited for that, if with supervision — or better yet, mentorship — than for being on the other side.

Someone raised the idea of legal rights; while in most places around the world, it is true that 20+ year olds have far more rights than teens, but that is still cultural, not a universal absolute; in many cultures, modern and historical, there is much less of a liminal stage between child and adult, and people in their teen years may acquire full rights well before we would consider them out of “adolescence” ↩

8 Comments | Posted on 15 April 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Kyriarchy, Parenting | Tags: Privilege, teens

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Reply-turned-post: teaching patience

I wrote this in response to one of the Carnival of Natural Parenting posts (Seeking Patience by Earth Mama), who asked:

My children are healthy, well adjusted and happily bonded to us but they are still children. They are still experiencing all the aches and pains that come from the process of growing up. They have moments when they scream out in anger, lose their tempers and lash out in ugly ways. They will sometimes cry uncontrollably when something frustrates them and shout angrily when they are cross. Sometimes these ‘moments’ seem to run together into a series of many moments, filling an entire day with negativity, frustration and unrest. I find myself, at best, staring flabbergasted, and at worst boiling up in my own swell of afflictive emotion. I believe in teaching through example but sometimes practicing patience is my own biggest challenge and every good intention and all my broad forward thinking evaporates into thin air.

How do you teach a child to be patient?

I replied (with minor edits):

Well, you already know that modeling is probably the best/most effective way — and also quite hard. I’m thinking though that we can also offer them skills to practice patience, although I don’t know at what ages these might be appropriate:

Encourage breathing/centering/grounding: “Hi! You’re getting pretty worked up. Would you like to take a deep breath with me?”

Engage their creativity: “You really want to play with that toy. What do you think we can do while we wait? What about this toy? Or we could hop on one foot!”

Redirect to different ways of expressing themselves: “I can see that you’re upset. Would you like to go scream into a pillow? Or go punch the couch [or any appropriate physical activity]!” (The Boychick, at just 3 years old, will say “I need to go to my [our] room!” and will go spend some time by himself, before coming back for hugs and kisses — because he’s seen me model that behavior when I’m feeling overwhelmed.)

Address the underlying issue: my family uses the acronym HALTTT, because no one copes very well or reacts very patiently when zie is Hungry Angry Lonely Tired Thirsty or needs to use the Toilet. So encouraging them to check into their bodies and figure out why they’re reacting so poorly, and then fix that, can really help. (I do this too; I often find myself snapping at the Boychick in the morning, but then I remember, and tell him, that it’s because I’m hungry and my blood sugar is low and I’ll feel a lot better when I go eat, so how about he get dressed now so we can have breakfast? It usually works, and it gives him a self-care vocabulary.)

Finally, I’d encourage you to accept that not all emotions are particularly pleasant, or calm, and that’s ok too: I want my child to be OK with the times when he’s feeling out of control, when he’s angry, when he’s frustrated, when he’s sad, and to know that whatever he’s feeling right now is ok. That very acceptance of the emotions that we’ve labeled in this society as “negative” can, paradoxically, help dissipate them. For you, too: it’s ok to be frustrated that they’re not more patient! It’s even ok to be frustrated that you’re not more patient with their impatience! Accept what is, as it is, without needing to change it. Only then can we change it.

And a disclaimer: I use these in my life, but I also am so, so far from perfect at any of it, and I lose it over his tantrums and neediness much too often. But y’know what? That’s ok too. I can, and am, changing it, but I don’t need it to happen overnight.

Hey look — I’m modeling patience!

ETA: In a stroke of fascinating coincidence and/or serendipity, at the same time I was posting this, the amazing Kelly Diels was hitting publish on Nice Girls and Nice Guys Finish Middle (Class), on why “nice” isn’t. For anyone wondering why I’d rather the Boychick learn to express even “unpleasant” emotions than learn to appear calm and collected at all times, read that. Good, yes. Kind, yes. Able to assert boundaries, hell yes. But save me from raising a “nice” child!