~black and white wednesday~ international day of women

manger ~ gertrude kesabier ~ 1899

 

on this international women’s day, i want to share some thoughts i’ve been collecting since before the election, concerning the experience of victims/survivors of domestic violence. i realize domestic violence is not a rainbows and butterflies topic, but it is one of the most important topics i write about, and on a day that is all about women, it’s important to me to remember how very alive this problem remains.

there are a few statistics that jumped out at me when i went a-googling, in order to give some context to just how big a problem we are talking about. the national coalition against domestic violence says that in the united states, about 20 people per minute are abused physically by a significant other. also, although we know that toasters don’t make toast; people make toast! it does seem significant to me that the risk of homicide in a domestic violence situation increases by 500% in the presence of a gun. this article portrays the problem in another shockingly succinct statistic: “The number of American troops killed in Afghanistan and Iraq between 2001 and 2012 was 6,488. The number of American women who were murdered by current or ex male partners during that time was 11,766.”

with that i would like to share a friend of a friend of a friend’s words that i saw posted as a comment on one of dan rather’s pleasantly sane facebook essays. to me, it reads as a poem of sorts. it explains exactly how i feel about certain refrains i keep hearing about the current administration.

“Karen Rose says: A few things I’ve heard the last two months:

  1. Give Trump a chance.
  2. Maybe it won’t be that bad.
  3. All politicians are horrible.
  4. He’ll get better once in office.

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Just a few things I’ve heard from victims of domestic violence.

  1. I’ll just give him another chance.
  2. It’s not that bad.
  3. All men are like this.
  4. He’ll get better once we’re married.

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Just a few things I’ve heard months/years later from victims of domestic violence:

  1. She’s dead
  2. She’s in a coma
  3. He killed her child.
  4. He’s now beating his new girlfriend. “

this article is probably the one that hit home the most during an election campaign cycle that i personally experienced as déjà vu. many other women experienced it the same way. roughly, i’d say, one in three women, might have experienced listening to one particular candidate as traumatic or triggering, because of how it reminded them of emotionally violent partners. physical violence is only part of the story, of course, and almost always goes hand in hand with psychological/emotional abuse. in my case, the emotional violence was far worse, went on for far longer and was far more responsible for eroding my coping skills and morale than the one physical attack i endured.

 

actress margaret vale howe marching in 1913 for women’s suffrage in washington d.c.

(public domain, found for me by my fiance)

i’ve talked about memory issues that i have, and one of the reasons i write is a need to put my storyline back in order and keep it in order after it was fragmented by trauma. this fragmentation in domestic abuse situations can stem from the way in which the rules of fair discourse go out the window, and the rapid fire pace at which lies, denial, and fallacies of logic are lobbed at you. the shifting of blame, the abuser framing himself as victim (and finding plenty of folks who are willing to assert his victimhood!), the gaslighting (aggressively denying objective truth is a definition i like for this term); the way the subject gets abruptly turned back on you when you try to address an issue; the appeals to “everyone” who is said to agree with him about whatever egregious claims made about you; the use of voice as a weapon (the therapist who mediated between my abuser and me told me privately that he observed me becoming meeker and quieter as he got equally louder and more forceful in his speech); the confusion of being accused of dishonesty by the person who was a seasoned veteran at dishonesty (confusion, because i was receiving these accusations before i knew that he was a cheating liar. my mom saw that coming, and  knew the accusations were a red flag. i now see it in other people the same way she did, and know to avoid them.)

these tendencies in emotionally abusive individuals became normalized during the election. everything i just said is represented in the way the president has spoken and acted these past months. insistent denial of a very clear public record of lying; when confronted on his appalling record with women, bringing up the other candidate’s husband’s past record with women; when confronted on tax returns, bringing up emails; grossly overgeneralizing; making sure his voice is the loudest one in the room. jane goodall, renowned expert in ethology (the study of behavior) calls it like she sees it: he behaves like a male chimpanzee asserting dominance.

the article on emotionally abusive debate tactics didn’t mention physical intimidation (since it’s not a verbal debate tactic) but invading someone’s space and positioning one’s body in threatening ways is another thing survivors are familiar with. i’ve had door frames filled by a man’s bodies who wanted to trap me, i’ve had my own space invaded in order to back me down from sticking up for myself. there is a whole world of women who know what that looks and feels like, along with me.

i’m weary of the way people are treating each other. i’m disheartened by the descent to the lowest common denominator, the name-calling, the number of times i’ve heard people i thought were otherwise decent human beings use terminology such as “libtard” (and much worse) on other human beings. i was condescendingly criticized for my “thinking style” and accused of twisting words by a childhood friend on another friend’s facebook post. i stood up for “lefty liberals” when another friend of a friend slammed “them” for bringing the demise of recreational salmon fishing, since i was able to speak firsthand about my own work to ensure that there are any salmon left for future generations (including but not limited to recreational fishing). i’ve also chimed in when called out for “crying victim” which is how some “friends” would summarize the intent of the women’s march. there is a whole post to be written on the subject of shaming and invalidation of emotions such as fear and sadness, the natural and proportionate responses to things going on in the world.

this violent, careless way of speaking to people is not limited to the political divide. sitting in karate with coparent a few months back, who shares many liberal political views, he passive aggressively spoke about what an idiot his Psych 101 professor must be, because when he asked her to define codependency she failed to respond that it is, “the refusal to take a look at your own issues.” it’s been almost 9 years since i had a restraining order, but some things (victim-blaming) still haven’t changed.

and my situation, as tough as it was at times, reeks of what a place of privilege i experienced it from, and am able to reflect on it from. there are others with far fewer resources and who are therefore far more vulnerable to the effects of domestic abuse. you caught that 98% of domestic abuse cases also include financial abuse when you read through the statistics, right? my case did as well, but i had a way bigger safety net to jump into than many women.

which is why i don’t buy that anything this administration says they are doing in the  name of protecting women is really motivated by actual care for women. this (very current) article sums up how clauses in executive orders targeting domestic violence (of a certain religious bent) are more likely to pose an increased barrier to reporting domestic violence, and more like to threaten the very group of people they are claiming it will protect: immigrants. as if financial hurdles and the common threats of losing child custody and housing stability weren’t enough, these women have to deal with potentially being deported on top of it all if they speak up about abuse.

migrant mother (florence owens thompson, who at the time was a single mother of 6, and worked farm labor jobs during the depression) ~ dorothea lange ~ 1936

“After September 11, 2001, we had abusers from certain communities who affirmatively used anti-Muslim hostility as a tool of abuse… ’If you contact that police, you’re exposing our entire community, our household, and you’re likely to be treated as a criminal as well.’”

any provision to target the violence of only one religious group (and ignoring all the other religious groups with domestic violence issues), is a thinly veiled targeting of immigrants, rather than a source of help for victims of domestic violence. this administration’s threat of removal of funding from all 25 VAWA grant programs makes this case; this executive order is motivated by something other than care for the welfare of women.

which is why when it comes to abusive men, something we all need to learn (i needed to learn it!) is that even if you can’t trust anything they say, you darn well better watch their actions. as maya angelou said, “when someone shows you who they are, believe them.”

i’ve quoted her once, and i’ll quote her again. she and the women in the photos i’ve borrowed to celebrate today, are great examples of women to look towards for inspiration, as women step into the strength that is already ours, but that the world still hasn’t embraced.

~black and white wednesday~ love not fear

75 years ago, on february 19, 1942, executive order 9066 was signed, enabling the incarceration of japanese americans. our federal government stole 3 years of the lives of over 100,000 people, stole their livelihoods and dignity as well, in many cases. they did this in the name of national security. the rights of these people were suspended based on suspicion, not fact or evidence.

the fact is, that no evidence of spying or sabotage by any japanese americans has ever been discovered.

alternative facts, circa 1942:

“The Japanese race is an enemy race and while many second and third generation Japanese born on American soil, possessed of American citizenship, have become ‘Americanized,’ the racial strains are undiluted.    …It, therefore, follows that along the vital Pacific Coast over 112,000 potential enemies, of Japanese extraction, are at large today. There are indications that these are organized and ready for concerted action at a favorable opportunity.   The very fact that no sabotage has taken place to date is a disturbing and confirming indication that such action will be taken.”

— General John L. DeWitt, head of the U.S. Army’s Western Defense Command

“A viper is nonetheless a viper wherever the egg is hatched—so a Japanese-American, born of Japanese parents—grows up to be a Japanese, not an American.”

— Los Angeles Times, February 2, 1942

did you know that nowhere in executive order 9066 did president roosevelt identify the particular americans whose rights would be violated? the order simply circumvented the constitution by establishing a zone from which “any or all” persons could be excluded. i didn’t know that until a few days ago, and the comparison to current events came into sharper focus for me.

(white) Wartime Civil Control Administration workers

because japanese americans looked like the enemy, they were given identification numbers, put on buses, and forced to sleep on straw mattresses in horse stalls. they were not given due process, not charged with crimes, because they hadn’t committed any crime. evacuees built the barbed wire fence intended to contain themselves; forcing prisoners of war to labor is a violation of the geneva convention which states, “No persons may be punished for an offense he or she has not personally committed.”

prisoners clearing more land to hold more prisoners

in the grip of fear, we lost sight of our values.

george takei, who was five years old when his family was imprisoned, reminds us that, “The stigmatization, separation and labeling of our fellow humans based on race or religion has never led to a more secure world. But it has too often led to one where the most vulnerable pay the highest price.”

i was touched by the photos of japanese prisoners taken by dorothea lange. in the spirit of frederick douglass, i am once again engaging in photo activism, borrowing her amazing work, which as far as i understand, is in the public domain. up until 2006, most of them were hidden away in the national archive, and were only seen for the first time a decade ago.

i was particularly moved by the photos of japanese american farmers who were removed from their land, as a farm kid myself, there are few things that pain me as much as the thought of losing our land. though it was claimed the prisoners would be “given opportunities to continue farming and other callings,” that promise was obviously never going to make up for the loss of land and livelihood, and reminds me a bit of the potted plants i kept on my sidewalk when i lived in the city.

there isn’t (to my knowledge) an official day of remembrance for the japanese internment, but informally, many paused and remembered this past sunday, on the 75th anniversary of executive order 9066. i hope we do not need to commit any more atrocities against people of any race, religion, or ethnicity, because the calendar feels full of heavy, dark remembrances already. may remembering these grim events in our collective past prevent more crimes against humanity from bring committed; may we live based on love instead of fear.

~black and white wednesday~ this land

this land is your land, this land is my land

from california to the new york island

from the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters

this land was made for you and me

~woody guthrie

reason #9761 i know that i have found the right man to spend my life with: he has counted exactly how many redwood trees are growing on this land.

lest anyone come to the false conclusion that this post is unpolitical, since i kicked it off with a woody guthrie folk song, i will share one more frederick douglass quote with you as we honor black history month:

“in thinking of america, i sometimes find myself admiring her bright blue sky — her grand old woods — her fertile fields — her beautiful rivers — her mighty lakes, and star-crowned mountains. but my rapture is soon checked, my joy is soon turned to mourning. when i remember that all is cursed with the infernal actions of slaveholding, robbery and wrong, — when i remember that with the waters of her noblest rivers, the tears of my brethren are borne to the ocean, disregarded and forgotten, and that her most fertile fields drink daily of the warm blood of my outraged sisters, i am filled with unutterable loathing.”

-frederick douglass

 

~black and white wednesdays~ tractors and lace

a lot of the photos from this trip seemed to lend themselves to black and white…

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resting up before the flight… he must have been a little tired from his first week of fourth grade!

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these three again…

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these five… i’m letting myself sneak in just this one image, no faces, no names. there’s something universal about climbing on a hay wagon. all the kids are currently in the three school grades that grammy taught during her career: 1st, 3rd and 4th. the cousin quintet.

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something new stands out to me every time i’m back on the farm. this time is was the afternoon light pouring in through the knot-holes in the barn siding. since my dad and i talked about it, i’ll record here that the barn was built in 1903, and the beams are red beech, while the siding is hemlock. my grandfather bought the farm in 1948 when my dad was just 4 years old.

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obviously, i couldn’t get enough of this effect, and am only showing a subset of the barn light pictures i took. i also spent a lot of time up close to the barn siding on the exterior, up a ladder with a paintbrush in my hand.

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same hoop, new generation of rews…

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manly stuff going on here. dad and rich were working on tightening one of the cables they put in to help stabilize the walls of the barn. dad was on the outside, and is climbing down the ladder, which you can see from his reflection in the combine that is parked inside. rich is up in the hayloft checking on the come-along. they also used chain saws together on this trip, and dad seems to think i should hang onto the guy. i think so, too.

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quinn climbed trees that were planted prior to 1948.

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my mom, painstakingly documenting each apple she identifies. i’ve said a lot about lifelong learning, and if you met my parents, you know where i get that from. mom reckons she would like to find a college course in pomology to take. i reckon she has learned so much from her own self-study that she could probably teach it!

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~black and white wednesdays~ all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by

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“like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
i have tried in my way to be free. “

~l. cohen

 

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a (late) beaver down by the bayou on our new property. we keep finding ourselves meandering down to the swamp to listen to the birds and feel the peaceful stillness and breathe the boggy air.

 

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quinn had a fever and got sent home from school the day we planned to go for a tall ship sail on the lady washington, but he was determined to go. in fact, he was devastated that “i missed the tall ship!” when he woke up from an hour-long nap, thinking he had slept all night, that i knew we had to try. he has been anticipating this voyage all the way since the dock tours we did last year. i figured, a drop of nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm, after all.

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why not help to sweat a line, when you’ve already got a fever?

“a drop of nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,

and we’ll all hang on behind

and we’ll roll the old chariot along…”

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my men look rather nautical, wouldn’t you say?

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the hawaiian chieftain was also sailing that evening, so i got to play with framing their ship in our rigging. always good photo opportunities when you’re not the one sailing the vessel. if you’ve known me a long time, you know i volunteered on the chieftain when i lived in berkeley and its home port was still sausalito. this was my first sail on the lady washington, better known as the interceptor in the movie the pirates of the caribbean.

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“heel-yo-ho, boys, let her go, boys,

bring her head ’round into the weather

hell-yo-ho, boys, let her go, boys,

sailing homeward to mingulay”

we did get to sail “into the weather” (essentially, heading upwind) and help with bracing around the square sails, and it was amusing for me to watch the volunteer crew not quite know which lines were to be eased and which were to be hauled on during “let go and haul,” or during the setting and striking of the sails… nuances that i think the average passenger wouldn’t notice whatsoever. i found i had to restrain myself from pointing out the right lines, or coiling down all the loose lines lying around the deck after a sailing maneuver, or hurrying out on the bowsprit to furl the staysail or aloft to furl the topsail and topgallant. i didn’t want to steal anyone’s experience, after all! i got to have my time as a tall ship sailor, and it’s someone else’s turn now.

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i’ll close with one more nautical treat, this time a poem by john masefield…

sea-fever

i must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

and the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

and a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking.

i must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

and all i ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

and the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.

i must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

to the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

and all i ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,

and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.