an obstacle called vagina

I never thought of my vagina as a hindrance to achieving my goals.  I was raised by a progressive, forward thinking, feminist family that encouraged me to reach for the stars.  They promised that if I put in the effort and received an education, I could do and become anything I wanted.  I set my sights high at a young age and imagined myself as the first female President of the United States.  I envisioned future me as a type of Wonder Woman with the world at my feet.  I could do anything, Mom and Dad really did say anything, I wanted!

So, I busted my ass in school.  I took my grades very seriously and reached to the top of my class.  I graduated from college as Summa Cum Laude and set out to make a difference.  Naturally reality set in along the way, and I slowly became aware of the glass ceiling and unequal pay that existed for many women in the workforce.  Introduced in academic lecture halls, and later discussed feverishly at dinners with friends and colleagues, this issue was a regular talking point.  But it never felt real to me.  It was always an intangible, that although outraged me to no end, I never fully believed this problem existed.  I thought it was leftover from the past and would eventually disappear.  Surely, by the time I established my career it would be a non-issue.  I was trying to fool myself into believing that it couldn't happen to me.  But it has... and it's only going to get worse.  

It's a sad joke that I find myself defending my rights as a woman in 2012.  These battles have already been waged and won on a government level. Why are they being re-introduced?  We already have enough trouble trying to change the culture on social and corporate levels, we don't need more headaches from a policy standpoint.  As far as I am concerned, it's a closed case ladies and gentlemen, and has been since the 70s.  As women, we have the right to plan our families through the use of birth control, we have the right to opt for an abortion within a health-care facility, and we have the right to equal pay if our skills and qualifications match the requirements.  It's a done deal.  I've been entitled to these rights for years, do you really think I am going to sit back and watch passively as they are snatched away from me?  Hell. No.

For women, this shouldn't be a question of politics.  Being a Democrat, and a liberal one to boot, doesn't drive my opinion for women's equality.  Being a woman does.  It's not a Republican vs. Democrat issue, it's a human rights issue which shouldn't be decided on party lines.  As women, it is our responsibility to remove the conversation from politics and take ownership over it.  Stop letting old, white men in Congress tell us what to do.

Trying to remove the politics from women's equality is quite frankly, impossible.  My pipe-dream so to speak.  Our country is too invested in the two party system and the lines have been drawn.  The issue of women's rights is for the Democrats.  A valuable lesson I learned while on a business trip in Texas, and stumbled my way into a very heated political discussion.  I don't want to stereotype, and this may come off a little trite, but I was surrounded by Texas bred, ex-Marines that vehemently believe women do not have the right to abortions, and that basically a woman's place is in the home with her children.  And much to my surprise, it wasn't just old, white men I mentioned earlier holding these opinions.  It was young, white men too.  Honestly, the forum didn't offer much other than white males.  I was acutely aware of my femaleness the entire conference.  During our political disagreements, I felt as though I had been thrown into a time warp.  Although bizarre and in direct contrast to my understandings, it is their reality.  Life for them functions this way.  But as far as I am concerned, we don't need our legal system placating these unequal beliefs.   

I'm a registered voter, and I am going to vote for the candidate that continues to protect these rights.  And I can only hope that every other woman voter is going to do the same.  It's a fight worth having, and we shouldn't sit passively and take it.  As Helen Reddy put it, "I am woman. Hear me roar".  Better watch out boys - vaginas are starting to take their rights back.    

  

  

nocturnal

Summer has arrived in Michigan, and I am starting to feel like my old self.  I'm a desert rat, and only feel at home in the heat.  As far as I am concerned cold weather is for polar bears, penguins and humpback whales, not for human beings.  I'm off kilter through out the winter months- cranky, cold, and constantly shivering- I typically struggle to put my best self forward.  But when the sun is shining and the warm air wraps around me like a favorite blanket, Davina returns.


It's been a wonderful spring in Michigan, and probably the first real spring since moving here.  For the last couple of years, the weather jumped  from sub zero temperatures to triple digit numbers on the thermometer.  It was one extreme to the next in a blink of an eye.  This year however, spring has matured slowly and its progression has been beautiful.  I've enjoyed watching the flowers bloom and the trees come back to life with all of the various pinks, reds, blues, purples and greens refreshing the landscape after a winter of dingy brown.  It has a revitalizing impact on my soul.  And although the days of glorious sunshine and vivid colors are amazing, spring is missing one important aspect - warm nights.  


There's something magical, and very romantic, about a warm, summer night.  It's always a little weird to be outside at night without a jacket - it feels as though you are privy to something special and unheard of.  I feel as if I am a member of a private club that only a select few people get to experience.  It's eerie because typically we associated darkness with cold, so it's an unexpected curve ball to embrace the warm temperatures.  Plus, it reminds me of my teenage years growing up in Vegas.  Vegas' summers are un-Godly hot and most people stay indoors, unless of course you are in a pool lathered in sunscreen.  The night is for the locals, when we come out of our air conditioned caves, and embrace the darkness.


I have fond memories of late nights spent on my parent's back patio with my teenage friends - without a care in the world, or a single jacket within the group - we would pass the time with jokes and laughter into the wee hours of the morning.  We were carefree and felt invincible.  Those were our nights filled with thoughts of love, change and uncertain futures.  We opened our hearts to each other during those late, midnight hours transforming ourselves into the adults we would later become.  And although this might sound cliche, the warm nights made expressing our feelings safer and easier.  My mind wasn't preoccupied with feeling uncomfortably cold, and my body wasn't working hard to keep itself warm, so I was free to focus on myself.  My thoughts, my feelings and my expectations - all of which were overwhelming and totally confusing during my fragile, teen years.  But those pleasant Vegas nights saw me through the turbulent high school phase.


Last night was reminiscent of those balmy, Vegas nights.  I spent the evening with my husband and two close friends at dinner.  Afterwards, we walked a couple of blocks to Washtenaw Dairy to get dessert.  Sitting outside on the wooden bench in the dusk hours enjoying a strawberry ice cream cone, I felt 16 again.  I was warm.  I wasn't wearing a coat.  And I felt safe.