WA not MS

I'm a long time fan of Dan Savage. He's a loud and proud gay man who writes books, does speaking tours, writes a sex advice column, and has a weekly sex advice podcast. For the first time ever, I've submitted a question to his podcast.

It will likely make my kids disown me.

Here it is:

Hey Dan,

I’m the mother of a 13 year old seventh grader going to school in Western Washington -- yup, we are neighbors. The uncomfortable awkward end of year science class on sex ed happened yesterday and I’m unhappy with how the material was presented. 

The teacher likely hoped to discourage sexual activity before the children are emotionally ready. My daughter discussed this with me saying, “ I think that the teacher accidentally slut shamed today. “ In my home, I openly discuss sexuality with my children to create a non judgemental environment for them to ask questions. I want them to have the tools to recognize detrimental attitudes common in our culture. “Slut-shaming” is one of those concepts. “(Slut-shaming) is a neologism used to describe the act of making a person, especially a woman, feel guilty or inferior for certain sexual behaviors or desires that deviate from traditional or orthodox gender expectations, or that which may be considered to be contrary to natural or religious law.”  *

The teacher cut two pieces of duct tape; one he left hanging on the side of a desk and the other he likened to a “freshman girl, very attractive.” This girl catches the attention of a senior boy. After dating for a while, she consents to have sex with her boyfriend. To illustrate, the teacher applied the duct tape to his arm. The boy then breaks up with her a week later. The teacher demonstrates this by pulling off the duct tape. The story continues that the girl dates other boys and, “because sex is already part of her relationships,” she continued to have sex with subsequent boyfriends. He demonstrates this by repeatedly applying and pulling off the same piece of duct tape from his arm. He then asked the class who wanted to get married someday. Many kids raised their hands. He held up the two pieces of tape; one still pristine and the other now covered in arm hair, body oil, and not as sticky. Which would you want to marry?

I understand that abstinence is stressed at all grade levels in Washington state and while I do not object to the teaching of abstinence, provided that other forms of contraception and infection transmission are covered, I do object to using shame to drive home the point. When my daughter told me this story, I was horrified. I didn’t think this kind of abstinence teaching happened in progressive leaning Western Washington. I’m waiting the few days until school lets out before I bring this before administration. I promised my daughter that I wouldn’t embarrass her by being the mom who confronts a teacher like this. In addition it’s worthwhile that I calm down a little so I’m not just running on the disappointment and betrayal I’m feeling.  I’m certain I’m not the only parent alarmed by this method of teaching abstinence. Is there truly no way to teach abstinence or model it without slut shaming? How would you go about teaching this? What can the school do to mitigate the damage done in this class? The kids cannot unhear the message delivered by a well liked and competent educator in just about every other way. 

This letter is partly lifted from a much longer letter that I'll be sending to the school administration after school lets out next week. My daughter would like me to wait until after school is out. When she came home and related this story to me, I had to check my driver's license to make sure it didn't say Mississippi -- because you expect this kind of crazy to happen there. You don't expect it here. 

With the cyberbullying and regular bullying being such a focus in our schools it is hard to feel anything other than betrayal when a trusted adult gives credence to the idea that a girl is ruined after having had sex. Imagine how many kids in that classroom may have been victims of sexual violence, incest, or rape. Are they now to internalize more shame because now they're used up pieces of duct tape? What a model for the boys to have, that their male teacher says out loud that there are exactly two types of girls out there -- the ones you have sex with and the ones you marry. Wait, let me check my calendar to make sure it's still 2014. 

I'm hardly out for blood. I don't want to see this teacher fired or suspended or anything like that. I'd like to think it was an honest misstep. I truly don't know how to undo what has been done. 

The only bright side is that my daughter had the sense to label it exactly what it was:  slut-shaming. 

If Dan decides to answer my question, I'll post the link here. Until then, I have some relaxing breathing to do so I don't come across as an irrational angry mama bear.

*I put in the definition of slut-shaming in for you, not for Dan. Obviously.

***Update*** June 19, 2014

After a few emails back and forth between myself and the teacher, I received two emails from the principal. Initially the principal was going to table the matter until the fall and then make a decision. Then the teacher conferenced with the principal and the school counselor and decided that instead they would drop the duct tape demonstration completely.

The terrible part of this is that the teacher said he had gotten this from a guest speaker he had seen about 10 years ago when he was teaching 8th grade. I thought to myself that if a guest speaker had done this, maybe it is a program I might be able to see on YouTube or something like that. When I did a simple search on "duct tape sex education," I discovered two possible origins of this demonstration. The first possibility is Sex Respect, a fundamentalist Christian group that advocates abstinence only teaching. Salon recently reprinted an article about 8 crazy abstinence only teaching happening in public schools. Duct tape was number four. The second is the Abstinence and Marriage Education Partnership, also an abstinence only training program. The attached video shows how duct tape is used in their presentation. Given how my daughter described the lesson, this one is more likely.


I'm taking some time to think about this more and about how to proceed. Neither of these programs were part of the approved curriculum.

I wonder when I get to stop spitting nails. 

Hugs

I'm your average American woman. Not a twiggy French lady. I'm a curvy, fluffy, Botticelli-like goddess.

This past Easter, I spent time with some friends who are not your average American woman. They're sisters who are cursed with the opposite of most American women. Can't keep an ounce of fat on their bodies, you know? They're great people, lovely friends. And they give great long hugs. They give those kind of hugs that really make you feel hugged, pulled in and then they hold the hug long enough for at least 30 heartbeats. And because their metabolic rates are so low, those 30 heartbeats are a long time.

But I've always been a squishy kind of person. When they hug me, they're warm hugs, but I can practically reach my arms around back again on myself reaching around their bodies.

Which makes me wonder, not unkindly, what it must be like for them to hug me. Is it weird to be up against all that squishy? Or what is it like for them to hug each other? Because I imagine that's almost like bone on bone.

How's that for completely random?

Relatives

Me: So how is your wife related to that guy? You said that he's her second cousin so her dad must be his first cousin, right?

Bro: No, that's not right. (sounds of his wife talking behind him, muffled over the phone) Okay, he's the husband of the wife of her second cousin.

Me:  That still makes him her second cousin.

Bro: ...

Effing patriarchal politics

Bridgegate in NJ is one of those funny but irritating kind of news stories. The governor's people try to muscle a mayor by shutting down lanes on a bridge. Fools that they are, they left an email trail. The main actors are the former Deputy Chief of Staff Bridget Kelly, former Port Authority official David Wildstein, and a former top adviser to the Governor Chris Christie (R-NJ), Bill Stepien.

I don't claim to know anything more. I'm just gleaning from other news sources out there. But here's what's got my hackles raised. 

Christie hired some lawyers to look into this whole scandal and find who is at fault. His lawyers have essentially gone over all of the evidence in the case that will likely be used for Christie's own defense down the road and come up with their conclusions. The evidence except for testimony from everybody, and all the interviews that were taken were not under oath, but whatever. I'm not a lawyer. What has not happened and I'm alarmed that hasn't really happened, is them getting called out for being misogynists. 

The report states that Bridget Kelly was emotional and in a vulnerable state because of her recent break up with Stepien. That she was nervous and weepy, looking for approval from men. Her judgment was off when she orchestrated this whole bridge shutdown.  

I told my husband about this little bit of tripe, and (bless his heart, this won't color him in a very good light, and that's unfair) he initially didn't even blink at it. I asked him to change the name of the deputy secretary to Brandon instead of Bridget, and he realized how ridiculous the characterization was. 

 Can you imagine a 42 year old single mother, a career woman at the highest levels of her profession being this kind of emotional, hysterical wreck over a breakup? Neither can I. Would it make sense she close a bridge because she's missing her boyfriend? No. Might her motivations to close the bridge be less about her hurt feelings and more about the political will of her employer, her party, or her own aspirations? More likely.

This is simply what male entitlement looks like. 

That this kind of statement about any woman can be considered kosher is unbelievable.

I got nothing more. Just anger. Don't get me started on the word hysterical. Go. Look it up if you don't know it's origin already. Yeah. That's this culture's roots. 

If I were a man, I would hope I'd have the sense to know better. 

Flirt

Like most people, I was an awkward adolescent. I was the nerdy girl growing up. Beyond that, I was also convinced that I was unattractive. But despite all of that, I've consistently tested as an extrovert on every one of those personality tests I've ever taken. For Girl Scouts they even have a personality classification test that characterizes you as a bird:  owl, eagle, dove, or peacock.

I'm a showy peacock.

Anyhow, recently my 13 year old daughter told me that I'm a flirt. And not with just random adult men, just with any men. Including her uncles and cousins. I told her that I may seem flirty but that is just my extroverted nature. I'm not flirting with my nephews. Ewww.... She disagreed. Then I asked what I'm like with women. She said that I'm outgoing with them. I think it's just perception then.

The point of this blog post is just to say that I had one of those moments with my daughter this morning and you needed the background to understand it.

Her:  Mom, being the way you are, when you were growing up, did you ever have a friend who is a boy and he got the wrong idea about you and liked you?

Me: Oh honey, yes. This is going to be a problem for you.

Her:  What do you do about it?

Me: You're just going to be straight with him.

Her: That's not helping.

Me:  Just tell him you're not into him. That you love him like  a brother. That you value his friendship.

Her: Are you still friends with those guys?

Me:  Some. Not at first, but later, yes.

Is it bad of me to be a little thrilled that this is starting for her? It's scary and exciting and fun. She's starting to flex those muscles that adult women don't remember ever not having. And at that age, you're just a bag of hormones and reaction. There's no easy way to navigate these waters.

I'm sure this will be the first of many conversations we'll have like this. But I do wonder if I'll want to flense the first boy to break her heart.

Probably.

Confucius say what?

Recently, I've been processing something that happened to me a couple of weeks ago. I was at a Girl Scout leader retreat; only adult leaders were invited from the entire region. Adult volunteers were there from several counties. However, we're in Washington and this is Girl Scouts.

I was the only Asian woman there.

I'm not saying that there are no other brownies (and by brownies, I mean non-caucasians) in the organization. Only that there weren't any at this retreat. And truth is, I don't know all their racial heritages. They all looked white to me -- but I'm not fool enough to accuse anybody of being white through and through. Especially here -- we've got lots of people who (to borrow a term from African American culture) pass as white but are actually mixed race. But to my quick assessment of the room, I was the only person who was Asian.

I had a wonderful time at the retreat. I didn't feel out of place and certainly felt welcomed by everybody there. Truly, truly, these are incredible women and they're all great volunteers. These functions are usually pretty free flowing. We teach each other new songs or crafts that we can share with the girls. We explore the different camps and take in a hike or two. We often discuss organizational changes or try to plan regional events. It sure is nice to be part of this group of women.

But then there was this one moment. The moment that I have kind of been processing for a few weeks now because I'm not sure how I could have handled it. All I know is that by every angle, I think I handled it wrong by everyone's standards. Except for my own.

I wish I could remember exactly what the conversation was. I wish I could remember why I even laughed after that first joke, but I think I did because it wasn't a joke completely out of the blue. It followed the course of the conversation so I didn't think it was strange. It was the following two or three jokes that didn't sit right with me.

In the natural course of the conversation, someone told a "Confucius say," joke. For the uninitiated, it's usually some clever turn of phrase in broken English  for example, "Confucius say man who cut self while shaving lose face." But as I said, that first joke I laughed. And then the next one was said -- in that same broken English and fake Chinese accent. And the next one. And I cannot remember if there was a fourth.

What I remember was how it made me feel.

Offended isn't the right word. It is too strong a word. I wasn't offended. But I was reminded abruptly that I wasn't part of them. That I wasn't white. That my family story & my racial heritage are not theirs.

Also interesting are the reactions I got when I told my friends about the incident.

My white husband (not meanly mind you) said, "are you looking for something to be upset about?" And I found myself questioning my motivations. I wasn't *trying* to get upset, but clearly something did not sit right with me. I was trying to process.

One of my best friends, also white, said, "I never think of you as non-white. I just think of you as a person." And yes, I am a person. But I am a person who happens to be Chinese. It's not like I can change the color of my skin or the shape of my eyes or the history of my people. That too is part of my personhood.

My friend who is African American scolded me for not stopping them in the moment. He said I should have made them stop making those jokes and reminded them that I was Chinese. That those jokes were offensive. He scolded me for having laughed at the first joke. That it made me complicit and that I've somehow done a disservice to all the people in the organization and society as a whole. But that too seems too extreme. It took me days to even put a word to the moment. It took me days to understand it in any way and to put it into context for myself. I know I wasn't ready right then to say a single word about it.

If I had spoken up and shamed these women, my newly made friends, told them that their jokes were racist, what exactly would that have accomplished? My "otherness" would have been even more extreme. My "otherness" would have been highlighted and I would not have been known simply as Tess, but instead Tess, the Chinese American girl. (Yes, I know I'm Filipina too but I'm trying to stay on point.)

But beyond that, the fact that these jokes are part of our culture still today, that they're not as horrifying and easily identifiable as racism as jokes against other races -- what exactly does that say about our culture? I've heard it said that we're the good minority because we don't make waves; that Asians study and work hard. But that stereotype is a disservice to Asian people too. Even if a stereotype is "good," it still diminishes you as an individual.

I wish I had a nice neat bow to finish up this little essay but I don't. I don't think I can figure all this out in one little essay. For my part, I think I'll try to say something next time. I'm not sure what I will say. There is only one thing I know for sure.

There will be a next time.

My Father-In-Law, the speech I gave at his memorial

Age often acts as a crucible. Shows us who we are at our core. The grouchy become grouchier. The joyful become more so. How lucky we were, that Dad was kind. It is exactly the one word I would choose to describe him. He was kind.

The first time I met him, I had just started dating that tall drink of water -- his younger son, the youngest of the four siblings. We had just started seeing each other's the end of spring quarter and I was madly in love. I recklessly came to visit him in SoCal, an impetuous thing, for sure. I cared nothing of what his or my family would think of it. I was so, so in love.

I arrived with a terrible cold and spent my first day with the people who would become my in laws holed up in a room upstairs. When I finally emerged, I had been left alone in their home as everybody was at work. I donned my swimsuit and sat by the pool out back assessing this poorly thought out trip to see a boy I had only been dating for three months. What had I done?

Dad came home. Maybe he sensed my disquiet. Maybe he remembered being a crazy young person ruled more by emotions than brains. He came outside and sat with me for a moment. Shared that ready smile and with that kind of friendship he handed out so willingly to every person who crossed his path. With a few words, in that quiet moment, he made me feel welcome, dispelled all those worries. 

That was his way.

These last few years, we've watched this man whose mind was alight with facts at his fingertips, his love and passion for history, news and current events, love of words and their etymology... Each light dimmed as his years advanced. And yet what remained constant was his smile, his humor, his masterful story telling. His hand outstretched in friendship and by natural extension, service. Yes, his kindness never dimmed. It was his how he kept his ship aright.

And while we grieve that Deane is gone from this earth, he isn't really because all you need do is look at his children, his legacies, and know that his light will be carried on. In his kids, you see the value of hard work, of dedication to family, the ability to set goals to attain them. Your boys took their cue on how to be men from you, Dad. They both work tirelessly to provide for their kids, they are conscientious fathers. My husband still looks to your example on how to be a good citizen. Lately he's been donating blood, just like you did on a regular basis. Each time he does so, he says how you always did that. He marveled at how you took on that responsibility. Your younger daughter, known for her grace and her voice, her confidence in singing came from you and your beautiful voice. In her, we see the kindness that was your magnetic north. And elder daughter, in every family there is the one person above all who keeps us all together. She knows the value of what you built, this magnificent family whose members are scattered far and wide. But Diane is our super glue. She forges relationships with the next generation too, and puts in the work to keep us all together. But your sense of humor and quick wit you imparted to all of them. Raucous laughter is always the norm when they're gathered together.

A few months before we married, Dad sent my fiancé a long heartfelt letter with a message that I imagine he would have delivered in person. It was full of wisdom. Told him to sit down with his future wife, make life goals and take a long hard look at where we wanted to be and do the work to get there, counseled him to look at setbacks as opportunities to change your method but not your goals. Told him to prioritize family, love your wife, that true contentedness comes from placing others first. That is success. So Dad, you won. You succeeded by your own metric. 

I will miss you greatly.