Yesterday was officially Memorial Day, even though we all had Monday off in observance. Well, actually, I worked,(yay for domestic workers)but on my way to and fro I had a chance to hear NPR’s coverage of the occasion. They had interviews with veterans and others about how they were spending the day.This was the first year I remember there being a perceptable tension between recognizing the sacrifice of the troops and enjoying the beginning of BBQ season. On facebook there were a rash of statuses’that said, if I may paraphrase, “while you are out there having fun, assholes, remember someone died so you could enjoy this day. Freedom isn’t free!” It smacked of Jesus’ dying for my sins, frankly. On the radio elderly respondents lamented the lack of respect they perceived from the American public.There was a defensiveness, almost a hostility that divided the world, at least in the minds of those speaking into those who do Memorial day right and the rest of us.
What bothered me was the generational blame game that seemed rear its’ head. These kids they said, they don’t appreciate what we did- they don’t know how it is. The multiple calls to reinstate the draft sounded to me like frat boys standing up for hazing. While I get the logic behind saying that if everyone had to go to War we wouldn’t be so keen on starting them, whose babies will unwillingly be slaughtered to prove your point? and who says we wanted to start them in the first place? As though we voted on these last few. Who are we talking about, exactly, when we say “they”? “They” who don’t care about history, who don’t spend Memorial day putting flags on gravestones, who should be drafted so they know what wars about. Which generation is in question? Is it mine? I definitely got dragged as a child to the cemetery. Our baby boomer parents, even the hippies, emphasized the enormity of the whole WAR proposition early enough in our minds.Besides,the gray haired men who sign the budgets and bills to pay for the war, they are my parents age at least and their own experiences with the draft hasn’t seemed to stop them from making war.
I know for sure the kids growing up right now have a grasp of the concept, because imagine that if you are a twelve year old girl and you live in America, you must take for granted that from the moment you were born, the United States has been at war.You grew up slowly piecing together the letters that graced the bumper of so many cars, “Support the Troops.” You see the most recent Katy Perry video, Part of Me, in which the message seems to be if you get mad at your boyfriend maybe the answer is to enlist in the Marines. You are the target demographic of the artist in question and you have just begun to be involved with boys romantically, in the sense that they tease you mercilessly. There is a strong possibility that this could be considered recruitment material.
As a six year old, you watched Elmo’s dad come home from being deployed for multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. (Since when does Elmo have parents?) The subject matter is both treacly and deep all at once. What does the future hold for you? Why do all the old people on public radio want to draft you? Why can’t they let you enjoy the sunshine outside? Do peaceful societies need these kinds of holidays at all? Yesterday I said a prayer for all the fallen soldiers and for the generation that hopefully won’t become them.
I make no excuse in regard to my love for the reality TV show, “Toddlers and Tiaras.” On some level I know I am watching the exploitation of young girls turned into commercial entertainment. The show is an hour long orgy of mothers forcing grotesque standards of beauty on their often pre-school aged daughters in the form of fake teeth and spray tanning. Every episode features countless toddlers wrestling on the floor in piles of taffeta while their mothers’ own aspirations and need for attention are satisfied. I know this is wrong. But I can’t stop watching.
I think I like the show because it’s absurd and the presentation doesn’t lend itself to critical analysis of what it is we’re watching. It’s how I can get away with not thinking about what happens to the little girls who don’t win or the long term prospects of those who do.
I have often joked that the reason I am not famous is that my own mother wasn’t a good enough stage mom. I tried acting as a kid but if on a Saturday morning I decided that I’d rather stay home and watch cartoons than attend an audition, she’d let me do just that. I didn’t want to drive you anyway, she’d say. I joke that her lack of pressure was what separates me from Lindsay Lohan, the joke of course being that in reality my well-adjusted obscurity is enviable in comparison to Lindsay’s out of control celebrity life. On the stage mom front, the mothers of the pageant circuit take the cake. They would have dragged their children to who know where in the pursuit of fame; a few dark alleys come to mind.
The subject of my fascination, however, are not the ladies who daughters are primped, plucked and pimped in service of good television, but the children themselves. Young girls who are being endlessly prepared to flirt with the middle aged female judges, with the occasional odd male judge thrown in, as part of their pageant training. The bikini wearing three year olds freak me out. The kisses being blown and the winking makes me sick, which in turn keeps me glued to the TV. How can this be happening, I think, people are so weird, is this legal? The exacting ideas of what is beautiful is based on who knows what dark thoughts, but my former roommate used to say that he felt uncomfortable watching the show and wouldn’t admit to friends or coworkers that he had. If you weren’t in the room with me, he’d say, it would instantly classify me as creepy.
I’ve also joked that ballet school with its’ punitive discipline and anxiety producing body fixation is the launch pad for a million stripper careers. It takes strength and flexibility to work the pole and the dexterity and grace displayed on so many strip clubs has to be learned somewhere. Maybe that’s where all the girls who get too curvy for ballet go. So many girls study dance and there are so few professional ballerinas. In that vein I believe the pageant world must be another feeder source for the exotic dance community. For girls whose self-esteem and sense of self-worth was attached at such young ages to bodies used for the entertainment, judgment and enjoyment of other, it seems an easy leap. Those girls already have so much practice preening to other’s specifications, and so many beauty skills. By age ten they are already well versed in make up and hair. Why it’s the same curling irons and tan in a can on the counters of pageant queens and strippers alike; the same fixed smiles attached to their faces.
In the continuing saga that is my fangirl relationship with Ms. Melissa Etheridge, I got to be a call-in guest on her Radio Show. It all started when post-bothering her at breakfast, I came home to see whether I might continue to bug her, preferably through social media. Though I was sad to find her missing from Twitter, some consolation was found in the discovery of her aforementioned radio show. Who knew she was a radio personality?
On the website for her show there was a contact form to fill out if you wanted to talk to her. They offered the chance to call-in to Melissa! Well, I pounced on the chance and filled out the form, explaining my run-in with her and how I’d love to talk to her about gay parenting.
In the end we did talk parenting a tad, but the gay part wasn’t mentioned. What happened was that they called me one morning and asked if I wanted to join in on a conversation about who I’d rather meet the president or a big celebrity. They mentioned that back in the day everyone would have picked the president but that it was no longer the case. I’d much rather meet Obama than Brad Pitt, but if it was Bush being talked about the story would be different. They said they’d call me back in a minute because the connection was bad.
I formulated some cool response about how it comes down to the impact people perceive either of the profferred figures had on their lives. Like people care to meet those that matter, that have somehow touched their lives. It used to be people felt the President, regardless of Party, had the greatest power over their lives. People might not feel that way as much these days given all the talk of corporate interests running things behind the scenes. I knew I wouldn’t get a chance to say all of that but I figure’d I could come across smart. They never called me back. I called them twenty minutes later, cold tea in hand, and they said they’d try to call a bunch of times but it hadn’t gone through. It happens sometimes, they said, and promised to give me a call again in the next couple of days.
I was bummed. But early the next week, as I was clocking hours at my own personal version of the office, aka the playground, who should call? The guy from the radio show. This time he asks me if I consider myself a patient person or an impatient person? I think I’m somewhere in between, personally, but since I was at that moment rather patiently following a two year old aorund a park I thought, let’s go patient. He asked if that meant that extended into my tech life- So I don’t pay the extra money to overnight things and such? I thought about my old-ass computer at home and how being broke really does train one patience wise. Yep- definitely not overnighting things. This time he put me on hold and when a few minutes later it reconnected, Melissa Etheridge was the voice on the line.
Hey, We’ve got Kellen on the line who says she’s patient and do I hear children in the background? Because kids will definitely require someone to be patient…We bandied about over the idea of patience being really tied to staying in the present moment and about how kids will force one to be present as well. She mentioned a line about the present being a gift.I said something about how I bet she was a great parent and she said, well, now you’re just being sweet. It was pretty sweet all around. Although, I didn’t get to mention meeting her. She has a real knack for framing short interactions gracefully, saying well, thanks for calling Kellen as she leads me off the line once I’ve given my soundbite on patience.
I call a mom immediately to brag about it. Afterwards a mother at the park tells me that she couldn’t help but overhear and did I really just talk to Melissa Etheridge? I’d say only in Hollywood folks, but I’m pretty sure you can call-in from anywhere.
Wanna know how I’ve managed to avoid pregnancy all these years? Hi Mom! Well, all this time I’ve been living in shame, thinking I was no better than a high-schooler in the back of someone’s Chevy, and all the while using a, according to Planned Parenthood, safe, free and reliable method of birth control. I can’t wait to see the video about Coca-Cola douching that has be next…
Long time no see, you say? Well, balderdash say I! Anyhow, I’ve been sent two very interesting articles that sit at the intersection of my quadrants of interest- the junction of babies and queers-
The first is about a boy who likes pink-it’s an article written by his mother defending her support of her son’s non-normative gender expression. She very eloquently and humorously describes how people try and tell her how to parent and exposes the contradictory stance Dr. Phil takes on the issue- he says being gay isn’t a choice and then encourages parents to enforce gender norms to prevent being gay later? Huh? I remember when my brother was little, he had some very feminine( think putting on make-up with mommy in the mornings) moments and some very masculine ones ( I will never forget his instinctual interest in guns as a toddler in ToysR’Us). At one point his favorite color was pink (until it changed to Orange), so I am aware from personal experience that gender expression in children, without imposition from adults in their lives is very fluid, changes day by day a lot of the time. My brother ended up as a Rugby-playing Frat Boy despite having tried wearing a skirt to kindergarten. So Dr. Phil can chill out- but you should read this article, right?
The second article, also about children and gender, concerns a controversial single sex pre-school, opened near Santa Cruz recently, called the Pink Academy. “It’s pink, it’s girly,and it’s all about them”- was their tagline. Purposefully all-girl, it was advertised as a place that would emphasize math and science as well as all things pink, and create an environment where girls excel. Well, bless that poor misguided mother who came up with that idea- likely bolstered by studies of older children that say single sex education benefits girls- because most have not taken kindly to the subject. It seems, and I don’t disagree, that the pre-school years are not where fully formed expressions of gender occur and that most experts encourage more co-ed interaction during these years not less. The last thing we want to do with pre-schoolers in general is try and limit their expression to appropriately gendered displays (you hear that Dr Phil?). That being said- I know that I, who used to collect paper dolls, porcelain dolls and fairy figurines ( show me a doll I don’t like) would have felt quite at home at the Pink Academy. So if those uptight people would let their boys embrace pink, I say open the doors to all and let the Pink party begin!
Check out the Slate article in the subject here.
So as i’ve mentioned, I write for an online parenting magazine- InCulture Parent and this month my column is excitingly titled “Why Gay Parents are Superior to Hetero Parents,” I hope this controversial moniker will inspire folks to check it out ! I don’t seriously think gay parents are better, just that mine are the best… but I do have some stuff to say about positive parenting that I associate with the gay community.
I was watching “Hard Time”, NatGeo’s exploration of the Ohio penitentiary system, with my roomates this morning. I’d given some thought already to why it is that we like to watch prison reality shows. I used to watch alot of “Locked Up:life behind bars” at my old place and the fascination seems rooted in it being a glimpse into a very different world, one we know otherwise little about. It’s thrilling, and it makes us feel powerful to be able to observe without participating. We can judge from afar.
Today one of the segments was about a program in which mothers who come into the system pregnant can keep their infants with them in a segregated nursery ward. Before my roomates had a chance to comment I announced how happy I was to see this happening. They seemed surprised, their instinct that it was awful to be born behind bars and even worse to be kept there. It is true that the babies suffer the consequences of a crime they did not commit, and yet that would be the case regardless of whether they are with their mothers behind bars. The punishment outside would just be different, a sentence in the foster care system. I have long wanted to be a foster parent but not because I believe in the system’s efficacy. In fact it is the opposite. Much in the way that I am a free range cattle rancher and vegetarian because I believe in reforming from the inside, I want to be a foster parent because the current version is largely evil and unacceptable.
In many countries women are allowed to keep their children with them while they serve their time in prison. The Indian prison system lets women keep their children with them for the first five years. Since the women in India’s prisons are largely from the lowest castes, keeping their children with them could be preventing their starving on the streets. Indeed the life availbale to them inside may be preferable. It’s an imperfect solution to an unideal situation in any case but my sense is that it is better for the attachment needs of the child than seperating them from their mothers. Here in the States, Prison Nursery programs tend to feature resources and support for the mothers that can help prevent their recidivism and promote good parenting. I believe more resources should be put to early childhood concerns in general, behind bars and in the world at large.
The Quakers have created a comprehensive report on children in prison worldwide that examines all sides of the issue, if you can handle the twenty two pages….
I’m impressed that found so many insightful tidbits on the interweb….
I got babies from the NYTimes, in an awsome article describing “The movement to restore children’s play”, while i’m not trying to hate on Tiger moms out there ala’ Amy Chua in Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, I do believe in the value of letting children explore and imagine without adult direction. My kid are more likely to go to a Waldorf school than take piano lessons in the end. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/06/garden/06play.html?emc=eta1
Being that we are half way back towards Summer and in LA it always feels like June, I found it appropos.
Since I got the Babies and Jews covered, let’s go Queer: Another NY Times piece, this story about the beautiful life of an adopted black son of Gay parents, totally made me cry. Not only does it show the sort of beauty found in an unwanted child loved by unwanted parents, but there is a horse involved. Get out your hankies folks, you’re going to need them….http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/24/nyregion/24towns.html?hp
Now the only quadrant of interest left untouched would be Acting and it is perhaps a mirror of my current life in Lalaland that shows the asbsence therein. I’ll keep trying, we’ll see how “The Kids Are Alright” does at the Oscars…..
As I have previously mentioned herein, one of my personal heroes, the late great Magda Gerber, founder of the RIE approach to childcare, said that Babies are Peacemakers. Well, the NY Times just keeps on backing that up. In another article they show how babies help us treat one another better. An amazing Canadian program called Roots, uses classroom visits by a mother and infant to help children develop empathy. Having the baby around had a marked effect on bullies, who perhaps had a chance to leave that role behind and be gentle momentarily. Check it out at http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/08/fighting-bullying-with-babies/
If you just can’t get enough of my writing/opining or you feel like my content herein has negelected the Baby part of my promise to focus on Jews, Queers, Babies and Acting- there is hope! I have been asked to contribute to the latest and greatest venture on the interweb, the brand spanking new online parenting magazine- InCulture Parent. It is going to help people raise tiny global citizens…Hurrah! And what do I know about parenting, having yet to pop one out myself? That’s a good question. For the sake of the magazine a leap of faith is being made that in all my years of nannying I have learned something from watching. You can be the judge of my judging of others- it’ll be great! My column, “Other People’s Parenting covers the Nanny’s perspective. OPP, yeah you know me…. Here it is:http://incultureparent.com/