Sometimes a series of coincidences with the right timing provide just the nudge I need to try something new. Somehow the pieces fall into place; currently this feels a bit surreal. I got all fired up about the reauthorization of VAWA (S.1925) for very good reasons. Lo and behold, when I began to talk about it with folks, they actually agreed that this was a problem! So I started musing about how best to make a difference, and several ideas began to coalesce in conversation with various friends and colleagues. Three major projects grew from those ideas, all connected, all trying to accomplish the same general goal; mobilize public pressure to ensure the reauthorization of VAWA.
It started as simple blog post idea, but quickly evolved to be a letter to Senators and Representatives. I asked a couple friends to read and provide feedback on the letter, having never done anything like this before. I also asked a couple agencies if they would provide support statements with a letter of their own. Some responded favorably, others failed to respond. In talking with a colleague, we developed the idea of filming a public service announcement to circulate online. She is an experienced videographer, so she told me what she needed to make this happen and I got to work organizing the people and details, writing a script, and seeking help and feedback as needed. I connected with our campus Women's Resource Center. They were immediately on-board and have been vital in this becoming a successful endeavor. We will be filming this Thursday during International Women's Day! I also opted to start an online petition. I talked with a couple folks who are more connected within an activist community, and I learned several great options to proceed. I also received some wise advice, which I appreciate immensely. I got a few friends as readers again and got that up online yesterday. Much of the petition and the PSA script came from the original letter, which made this series of projects less overwhelming. What did my one friend say when he read the letter? Oh yeah, he saw three parts to it. I guess I figured out what to do with each one...
The timing and salience of events in the political world and in my life gifted me with space, energy, and passion for this particular cause at a time when it feels possible to facilitate positive outcomes. I hope I am approaching it in ways that are impactful beyond my small circle. Somehow this petition, PSA, and letter grew out of my connections with the most amazing folks, and I am thankful I was able to reach out to them as readers, writers, creative artists, activists, friends, and colleagues whom I trust. I love that it mostly developed during casual coffee shop chats, breakfast meetings, long phone calls at odd hours, and one crazy girls night at my house. I do highly recommend neighbors, kids, margaritas, guacamole, hair dye, and activism all in the same evening!
Showing posts with label Activism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Activism. Show all posts
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Not being the quiet gal
Most of the time I am a fairly quiet person. I am busy with my family and friends, my work, my studies, my research, etc. I tend to fly under the radar, get my stuff done and move on to the the next task without generating much notice. And then there are times that something happens where I feel moved to open my big mouth...
I already outed myself as a survivor on my blog post "Happy 10th," then the next day I read an article in the NY Times about the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act. Are we still this archaic? I answered yes, and counted myself as culpable. How many times have we heard that there is dignity in silence? Don't believe everything you hear. Silence is the domain of isolation, shame, and fear; these are the same wardens that keep people in violent relationships and prevent them from reporting assaults. Yet until recently I have been remarkably silent, and just kept moving forward to do right by my own little family.
Now I am doing something different; I am trying to do something right on a much larger scale. I want to go back to being silent, but my growing realization of mass disempowerment is more unsettling than the intensity of facing the wardens. I just need to stay connected as I do this. The next 2 weeks should be one heck of a roller coaster ride, but ultimately I think this is a good thing.
I already outed myself as a survivor on my blog post "Happy 10th," then the next day I read an article in the NY Times about the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act. Are we still this archaic? I answered yes, and counted myself as culpable. How many times have we heard that there is dignity in silence? Don't believe everything you hear. Silence is the domain of isolation, shame, and fear; these are the same wardens that keep people in violent relationships and prevent them from reporting assaults. Yet until recently I have been remarkably silent, and just kept moving forward to do right by my own little family.
Now I am doing something different; I am trying to do something right on a much larger scale. I want to go back to being silent, but my growing realization of mass disempowerment is more unsettling than the intensity of facing the wardens. I just need to stay connected as I do this. The next 2 weeks should be one heck of a roller coaster ride, but ultimately I think this is a good thing.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Happy 10th
Tonight I find myself considering what 10 years looks like. For me it has been an interesting decade; where it started is such an incredible contrast to where I am today. It was a lot to hold throughout the day; this is not the traditional kind of milestone that I celebrate with others, and I would certainly not celebrate it in a way that is visible to my children.
It was 10 years ago today that I dropped out of college and drove away from an abusive marriage with a minivan full of whatever fit that I thought would be important and $50 in my purse. My parents had come a week earlier and taken the kids and some household stuff in their Jeep. I had spent the week afraid that I would become another shirt on the clothesline project, but I had given notice at work and felt obligated to stay until that date. Looking back, I cannot recall what could have possibly been that important there, but who thinks clearly under such stress? Obviously not me. When I hit I-94 I started to breathe again; the farther I went the easier it got; Highway 10; Highway 64, and so on. When I arrived at my parent's house 5 hours later I realized that I had done it, finally.
OK, now what? It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my reality. I knew what my goals were: be a good mom, get a job, and to finish my education someday. Luxuries like school seemed so unattainable at that time, but I never took it off the list. In the meantime I worked and adjusted to parenting alone. I swallowed my pride and accessed public assistance, lived with my parents, and saved enough to put a down payment on a house. I was that exhausted mom in the grocery store at 6PM toting three kids (who were sometimes whining or screaming). Eventually my youngest started kindergarten, so I finally went back to school. Over the course of 4 years I completed 2 Bachelors degrees and a Masters degree - still working on the PhD. Luckily I am not anticipating any major road blocks at this point; the hardest years are a decade behind me and I have gotten pretty good at managing the hiccups that appear.
Don't mistake my track record as the most important source of my confidence; I would not have accomplished any of this in isolation. On average, women leave and return to an abusive relationship 7 times before staying away. I never understood why this statistic was so surprising to folks given how stigmatized victims of intimate partner violence are in our society. This was my third try, but I had the right supports and opportunities in my life this time. What stands out most clearly to me is the people who have been present in my life, and the ways in which they have helped me to accomplish what once felt impossible. Much of the inspiration, courage, and strength I found was renewed within the context of my relationships with family, friends, and mentors. There are so many people who have been witness to and part of my journey, most never realizing what that journey actually was.
It was with the people in my life that I learned to begin living again, to love the ordinary, every day in my life. OK, so I worked all day and came home and worked all night until I fell into bed. So do a lot of other people, and it was worth it to do it well whether I was tired or not. Making dinner became less of a chore and more of an opportunity for getting creative, having fun, and bringing people together (which subsequently made grocery shopping more enjoyable). I sang while I washed the floors and danced while I dusted. Spelling practice became kinesthetic silliness with my son and math was a great excuse for popcorn. My homework was forward mobility in APA format. I hosted sleep overs and movie nights, scout meetings and BBQs. I had late night phone calls with friends and still got up at 6 because both things mattered.
I try to find small ways to celebrate the everyday, and I intentionally make time for people and activities. My friends marvel that I can manage to find time and energy for side projects and hosting get togethers; I can't image not doing so. We only have one life. It is not going to finally be happening in 10 years, it is happening in our everyday moments. So this 10th looked like late nite nachos and tequlia shots with Katie after the kids were asleep; 10 years could look like any woman, but tonight it looks like me.
It was 10 years ago today that I dropped out of college and drove away from an abusive marriage with a minivan full of whatever fit that I thought would be important and $50 in my purse. My parents had come a week earlier and taken the kids and some household stuff in their Jeep. I had spent the week afraid that I would become another shirt on the clothesline project, but I had given notice at work and felt obligated to stay until that date. Looking back, I cannot recall what could have possibly been that important there, but who thinks clearly under such stress? Obviously not me. When I hit I-94 I started to breathe again; the farther I went the easier it got; Highway 10; Highway 64, and so on. When I arrived at my parent's house 5 hours later I realized that I had done it, finally.
OK, now what? It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my reality. I knew what my goals were: be a good mom, get a job, and to finish my education someday. Luxuries like school seemed so unattainable at that time, but I never took it off the list. In the meantime I worked and adjusted to parenting alone. I swallowed my pride and accessed public assistance, lived with my parents, and saved enough to put a down payment on a house. I was that exhausted mom in the grocery store at 6PM toting three kids (who were sometimes whining or screaming). Eventually my youngest started kindergarten, so I finally went back to school. Over the course of 4 years I completed 2 Bachelors degrees and a Masters degree - still working on the PhD. Luckily I am not anticipating any major road blocks at this point; the hardest years are a decade behind me and I have gotten pretty good at managing the hiccups that appear.
Don't mistake my track record as the most important source of my confidence; I would not have accomplished any of this in isolation. On average, women leave and return to an abusive relationship 7 times before staying away. I never understood why this statistic was so surprising to folks given how stigmatized victims of intimate partner violence are in our society. This was my third try, but I had the right supports and opportunities in my life this time. What stands out most clearly to me is the people who have been present in my life, and the ways in which they have helped me to accomplish what once felt impossible. Much of the inspiration, courage, and strength I found was renewed within the context of my relationships with family, friends, and mentors. There are so many people who have been witness to and part of my journey, most never realizing what that journey actually was.
It was with the people in my life that I learned to begin living again, to love the ordinary, every day in my life. OK, so I worked all day and came home and worked all night until I fell into bed. So do a lot of other people, and it was worth it to do it well whether I was tired or not. Making dinner became less of a chore and more of an opportunity for getting creative, having fun, and bringing people together (which subsequently made grocery shopping more enjoyable). I sang while I washed the floors and danced while I dusted. Spelling practice became kinesthetic silliness with my son and math was a great excuse for popcorn. My homework was forward mobility in APA format. I hosted sleep overs and movie nights, scout meetings and BBQs. I had late night phone calls with friends and still got up at 6 because both things mattered.
I try to find small ways to celebrate the everyday, and I intentionally make time for people and activities. My friends marvel that I can manage to find time and energy for side projects and hosting get togethers; I can't image not doing so. We only have one life. It is not going to finally be happening in 10 years, it is happening in our everyday moments. So this 10th looked like late nite nachos and tequlia shots with Katie after the kids were asleep; 10 years could look like any woman, but tonight it looks like me.
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