Social Justice Butterfly

Food & Mood

2012-01-31T18:07:00.003-05:00

When I was a Peer Health Advocate at University of Louisville, I was fortunate to meet Elizabeth Somer, the author of, "Food & Mood: The Complete Guide to Eating Well and Feeling Your Best."

She was a vivacious almost 60 year-old woman and I thought, She must be practicing what she is preaching. I´ve taken tips from her reference style book and it definitely help me eat better and boost my eating food-conscious.

Today I received a book regarding food consumption again. The ROC National Diner´s Guide 2012: A Consumer Guide on the Working Conditions of American Restaurants. What you don´t know is hurting both those who prepare and deliver the food to your table, the counter or to your door. For example, the federal minimum wage for tipped workers is $2.13 an hour, and in Chicago 96 percent of restaurant workers receive no paid sick leave.

These grim circumstances are issues patrons forget about or just don´t think about at all. Just like your brain signals hunger, conscious should be raised to how you are able to enjoy each delicious bite. By the time ordered food gets to your kitchen table or to the booth shared with friends, it has seen various hands. The guide shares which restaurants treat their "food handlers" well.

The guide was revealed today by Restaurant Opportunities Center (ROC) in three cities: Chicago, Los Angeles and New York City.

We take food for granted, especially those with the privilege of choosing where to eat out or buy for home consumption. Outside of restaurants, when we pick up that corn in a can, we are not aware of those who got the corn in there: the farmer, the pickers and Shuckers, the can factory worker, etc.

As an activist and a former server , I know all too well of these unfair conditions within food establishments and it makes me bitter. However this guide with it´s selection, will assist in making me a little more sweet.

Oh those few days!

2011-12-20T21:11:00.001-05:00

A week without devouring Doritos and Twinkies in the same setting would be so nice.

One that doesn't involve crying spells and wrong interpretation: "Good morning," someone says and I hear "Fuck you!"

What happens during this time and that wonderful time before called PMS? It is like you're transformed into some kind of raging distorted maniac. Or like Michael Jackson in front of Ola Ray in the "Thriller" video. Forget about cookie monster, it's more like Cookie Godzilla-screaming and shrieking and no one has any idea what the hell you are saying. Just that your arms are swinging back and forth in slow motion and that your making giant steps crushing everything in sight with no apology. You're just angry for no apparent reason and all you want is mass destruction.

You're like Cruella de Vil and just can't wait to get those Dalmatian puppies, all 101 of them! Forget Wicked Witch of the West, more like Bitch of the Midwest.

So here are things not to do during this time of rage:

Do not call your ex, because it will surely lead to a restraining order against you.
Do not apply for a job. If a manager tells you were not taking applications, that may be the last time he sees daylight.
Cancel all public outings. Even a compliment with a genuine smile will lead you straight to the restroom in tears.

The best thing to do is to watch as many comedies as possible and only talk to friends who always have something nice to say.

You and the world will be much safer.

Breakfast with Bill

2011-12-19T20:43:00.001-05:00

You do not know me, if you do not know that I am a huge fan of Bernardine Dohrn. And you really don't know me if you do not know I reside in Chicago now.

This morning I was fortunate to have breakfast with Bill Ayers. Well it was before noon and I had a tuna sandwich. You get the point.

Last week I saw Bernardine at an event, I wrote an email and told her how great it was to see her and I copied her husband Bill Ayers on that email.

"Since you are both are authors, how do you write a book? Really, how do you do it?" I wrote.

Bill wrote me back and said let's have coffee and talk about this.

So we did.

It's so amazing to me what this man had to offer. Not so much what books to read, what writing retreats to look into, what magazines to submit stories to or just the advice of joining a writing group.

He actually offered me more than that.

Don't give up on your dream. He didn't say those words at all, but my brain did. And those who really, really, really know me, know that I want to be a writer.

I wonder what happened to that dream? Aside from writing here and there, oh I am still very very happy about being in Huffington Post...maybe we need to see our wishes not as dreams, but realities.

I met Bernardine Dohrn the same week I fell in love with her, when I saw her in the documentary "Weather Underground". It was definitely a reality. I guess I didn't scare her to much, because we are "peeps."

In fact, she had a sofa to get rid of and guess who needed furniture and guess who got it?

To get that sofa took some work:

A beautiful friend told me the sofa needed a home, but had to be picked up.
She was leaving out of town, so her and I arranged for me to get a key to get into her house.
My landlord let my roommates and I borrow his father's truck to pick up the sofa.
Then three more friends met us there to get the sofa.

It was teamwork at it's best, actually it was family at work.

When I look at my decision to move to Chicago, I got tired of it being a dream and made it a reality.

So here is a story I started sharing with Bill and hope to elaborate more, but here is the very beginning.

I grew up until the age of eight in New Albany, Indiana. It was my mother, my big sister (10 years my senior) and myself living in government housing.

My mother was very ill fighting breast cancer and unfortunately she lost that battle and died at age 39. I was eight and my sister was 18.

I was cared for by my father and his wife, my other mother.

One of the first differences I can remember is differences in churches. My mother, sister and I were all members of an all black Baptist church that was fully equipped with a tiny but mighty band and a choir whose sleeves of their robes would swing back and forth like a fast moving pendulum, back and forth, back and forth they would go with hands clapping!

With that was loud voices, very very loud but beautiful voices. It was true Gospel.

Then when I crossed the bridge to Louisville, Kentucky I began to go to an all white Catholic church. My other mother was Catholic, we lived in a predominately white suburb and that's how I ended up there!

In the bore of all boring churches-how sad, this was pathetic. If I hear one more guitar strumming, I am going to puke and if I get up and down another time, I will lose 10 pounds just being here.

Hosanna in the highest, Hosanna in the highest, Hosanna in the highest with the dragging voices of alto and baritone going on and on.

Then the priest singing over the bread and wine in such a low tone, he sounded like he was humming, but he was saying something:

“Through him, with him, and in him in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory is yours, Almighty Father, for ever and ever.”
What the fuck? I can say that now that I am 38, but I have no idea what I said or thought at the age of eight.

Check it out! Made it to HuffPo

2010-12-03T14:35:00.002-05:00

Not even a week yet and it's been fabulous

2010-11-21T16:04:00.004-05:00

Dear Chicago,

I have been trying to become a resident of yours for 19 months and I'm finally here! I arrived Tuesday, five days ago and my friends and acquaintances here have been just that: friends and acquaintances. And fabulous at it!

Thursday evening, my "Jewish sister" invited me out and we went to this great restaurant that had the best gourmet thin crust pizza and a great ambiance. Afterward we went to this cool bar and had fancy drinks. She said this is a gift to welcome me. I love her. Not only for this, but she is just awesome, great and beautiful.

Another friend invited me as her guest to this breakfast Friday morning.

I went and it was very posh.

It was held at this really nice theatre, in honor of some of the theater's board members.  In the lobby of this beautiful ruby color carpeted venue, SugarStrings was playing, a trio of African American girls, who were dressed in these beautiful red formal dresses.

My friend and I chatted after the breakfast to catch up. Then she said, you know so and so?  I was like yeah. And she said, well she's having a birthday party tonight and you should come.

I went to the birthday party which was held at this great art gallery. The party was awesome and I felt officially welcomed to Chicago and that I really did make the right decision to move here and that I know the coolest people ever, nationwide.   Touché!

Finding the art gallery confirmed some things for me about Chicago, finding a building with an address is difficult and never judge a book by its cover. There's these old brick buildings here or these old warehouses that look vacant, then you walk in them and either there's these renovated living spaces, showcased art work or a fabulous bar with equally good looking people inside.

The next morning I attended an all-day conference held at a local school: The 10th Annual Teaching for Social Justice Curriculum Fair! It was not only a gathering of teachers, but of activists of all sorts of issues: women's rights, media reform, art and much more.

I attended the workshop entitled: Not Waiting for Superman: The Money Behind the Movie and What We Should Do About It. This was an excellent, eye-opening and surprising workshop. I had only heard of this movie in a positive light and fell for the, "if it's popular and Oprah had it on her show, it must be great" belief.

I went to another workshop regarding heterosexism and went on a tour of the school's garden. I didn't last very long, got too cold.

That early evening I  went to check out my roommate's art show, but it was too crowded for me to stay.

Later that evening I went to one of the best house parties ever! It was the unofficial party for the fair. It was packed and had some off-the-hook performances including a performance by one-women powerhouse Una Aya Osato and a musical performance by Bagwis Collective, who were incredible and had everyone on their feet and clapping. People continued to stay on their feet as the People's DJ Collective played records that kept the party jumping!

Now it's Sunday and I slept in.

There are people and places that I refer to vaguely intentionally, because I did not get permission to publish their names on the Internet. Please don't take offense if I did not acknowledge someone or you fully.

2010-11-05T03:44:00.002-04:00

The social justice butterfly is resting her wings.

"Do you have a blog?"

2010-10-09T20:19:00.004-04:00

Yes I do, but I need to blog much more often. After all, I love writing. So I'm back to it and I've been recommended to track my "action" online. So here is what I did this week as of 7:10 PM, Saturday, October 9, 2010.

Sunday, October 3

Missed the Voter Empowerment event in Louisville. :-(
Caught a Greyhound bus to Chicago for a job interview Wednesday...

Text my sister to let her know I have a lay over of 45 minutes in her town. She can't make it, she has to visit her son (my nephew) in college.
Arrive in Chi at 3 pm, meet my friend at the BP gas station to pick me up :-) Within 2 hours of being there, I run into a woman I met at a conference over a year ago at the gas station, had fantastic veggie burgers and cheesecake at a really cute coffee shop with my friend and run into another person I met over a year ago at a potluck in Chicago. :-)
Dropped off my stuff and chilled a moment at my friend's fantastic "crib", then headed to a neighborhood art show with them. Part of the art show included live performances. The performance we went to had this very charismatic Mariachi who loved to pose for the camera. :-)
Since we were out, we decided to head to a potluck of a mutual friend of ours. It was fabulous: a Vegan breakfast for dinner with great company. :-) Met another Chicago hopeful who just arrived from Brooklyn and needs a roommate :-)
Returned back to the "crib"...chilled...got a email from the potluck host. He shared the contact information with me of others looking for a place to live.
Met my friend's cool roommate. :-)
Oh, I told him: " People tell me I snore." He said: "That's okay, as long as you snore with a Kentucky accent." he he

Monday, October 4

Had an interview in Chicago scheduled for Wednesday...caught the train to be sure I knew where it was and how long it would take to get there.
In the elevator with me, I see a guy in a suit and think, is he interviewing for the job too? Picked up an annual report in the hallway and on the front cover is the guy I was in the elevator with: he's the president. :-/ Should I've spoke to him? Well I did give him eye contact and told him thank you for letting me know the elevator was open. :-/
Applied at all the hotels I could, since I have lots of hospitality experience.
Met up with one of the woman looking for a roommate, she's cool! :-)
Oh, I went to the Harold Washington Library, which is very very nice. :-)
Bought a bag of Garret's caramel popcorn, which is the equivalent to hot n' fresh Krispy Kremes to the 10th degree.
Returned to the "crib" and the roommate let me know that I can watch a movie and that they have a projector and I can watch a movie. Cool.
I watched...

Tuesday, October 5

Met with my potential roommate to look at some places.

                       "What did you do last night?" She said.
                   "I watched my one of my favorite movies, 'Silence of Lambs'"

          Her face was like, "who the !@*! am I moving in with?"
          I was like, I think it shows one of the strongest female characters in film.
          (I'll write about that in another blog)

Looked at a place I adore and hope to move there. Looked at another place and have no desire to move there.
Applied at more hotels. Sent out more resumes.
Back to the "crib" and the roommate is making dinner for friends and I get to meet them. Got to meet the other roommate, who just got back in town and he is real cool too. :-)
Fell asleep in my clothes.

Wednesday, October 6

Today is the big day, got up really early
That was okay, because my friend and the roommate I just met the night before were headed on a very long road trip. Hugs. "Knock em' dead." Hugs. "Good luck." Hugs. :-) :-(
No comment about the interview, because employers do look up people online these days. I'm not saying this in a bad way.
Finished packing my stuff to catch the Greyhound back. Oops, almost left my earrings. Got em'
Out the back door I go and I realize I can't get out! WTF???? The front and back gates are locked and need to be unlocked from the inside.
I see a male and female couple with a newborn next door in the backyard and I'm like, can you get me out of here? So I had to pass my stuff over the fence to the male and then jump their fence. Then they had to unlock their front gate door to get me out. :-/
50 minutes until the Greyhound I need to catch leaves.
I arrived at the exact time and I was able get on. :-)

Thursday, October 7

Return to work!
Great news! A check from a foundation arrived. :-)
Attended a luncheon for those being honored for local environment work.
Attended a cocktail party for a fundraiser for reproductive health access.

Friday, October 8

Work.
Planned going away party.
Attended a fundraiser for the LGBTQ local community.

Saturday, October 9

Clinic escorted.
Volunteered at a yard sale and open house for Women In Transition.
Decided I really needed to express myself via writing. I miss it!

I want to say thanks to everyone, especially my friend in Chi, for just being so great and sharing what they have! I'm so grateful!

Nancy revisited

2010-09-07T13:01:00.001-04:00

The following was published November 21, 2009 as a Facebook note:

First time clinic escorting (REVISION 1)

"Just write," is what the ABC teacher told Precious.

This morning I got up to start my planned weekly commitment to clinic escorting. I went as a U.S. woman who sees that her government chooses to abuse their patriarchal privileges. I went there as a woman to support girls and women.

But one thing I can never peel off; is that my skin is dark, my eyes are wide set, I have a non-thin nose and that I have full lips: I'm Black!

And was I ever reminded of that today.

I walked toward the clinic door with another escort, who wanted to show me where to get an orange vest. As I was walking, a White middle-aged lady said, "Don't kill your baby, it's [abortion] used to kill off the black race! This is killing your race!"

First of all, I didn't know I had a race (my mind spoke to me). Then I grumbled not directly to her, but said, "what about the number of cops who kill Black male youths and.... (I can't remember all I said).

The other escort I was with, said, "What about high blood pressure." "Yeah! We don't even have access to healthy food!" (My mind is pondering the "we" label and the fact I live in St. Matthews (recently moved from Okolona) and there's a kosher section in the Kroger I go to and a Whole Foods near me too.)

Then I was reminded by some other White protesters that the Black Panthers were against abortion and something about the Dred Scott case.

Mmmm, I came here to escort, not for bad history lessons or to hear from someone who's non-Black about what my so-called race is going through.

Then here came the Mama of Mayhem, let's just call her Nancy.

I just stepped off the curb to walk toward a co-escort's car, when I hear, "Excuse me, you shouldn't even be here!" in full blast.

I say, "What?"

I turned around and saw a pair of fake eyelashes and weave with about my complexion black woman. Pretty, but not as pretty as me. (I'm just being catty.)

She gave me a publication from a pro-life group (which I already have at home) about how abortion is being used to kill the black race and that 35 percent of abortions happen to Black women.

She told me again, again, that I shouldn't be here. "Look, all the escorts around you are Caucasian!"
I tried to get a word in, which was like squeezing water out of a cactus.

And before she turned her back and walked away, she said something to the fact that I was through!

Walking away, I yelled, "YOU GOT A BAD WEAVE!"

What better way to get back at another "sistah" than to talk about her hair. That's what she gets for not letting me talk and talking at me, instead of with me.

Just as I was about to open the car door, I heard, "You got something to say?"

I looked up.

She said, "My hair is real!"

"Then take your hat off," I said.

She did and displayed her relaxed head of hair. Then she asked me to pull it. "I will," a co-escort said.

And I told her, well you're wearing your oppression on your head. She said, «I don't care what movie you just saw." Of course she was referring to "Good Hair."

Then I came at her with thoughts just coming out sporadically:

-"Can you tell me the gender of your pastor?"
-"You're participating in misogyny!"
-"And by the way, most of the protesters out here are white and you're the only Black person."

Of course, she was yelling the whole time I was saying these things.

My friend said, "Toma, it's no use."

Then out of no where fake eyelash lady starts jumping up and down and saying something like, "we got to beat the devil."

I was a little ashamed of this; because two black people arguing in public is just not right, in a whole lot of ways.

But I had to speak up for myself.

Oh, and the middle aged [white] lady asked me, "Do you have a computer?" She suggested for me to look up Margaret Sanger and eugenics. Then she pulled off in her white Mercedes with a "choose life" license plate.

Present day:

Nancy will just not leave me alone! Nancy has admitted to complete strangers by yelling at the window of the patient lobby that she has had two abortions and how the girls/women inside will regret their decision just like she did. I believe Nancy to be a women that needs psychiatric therapy. I mean she paces back and forth speaking in tongues, calls me the Devil and the statistics she spouts out about the number of black babies that die from abortion each day are false.

Well this Saturday, this man was walking back to his car after he assisted a companion into the clinic and Nancy quickly walked aside him and forced her pro-life literature on to him. I walked on his other side and started talking to him about the U of L and UK football game. (I use this tactic, because it lightens the situation just a tad). But, it also irritates the hell out of Nancy. Oh, did I use the word hell? Sorry Nancy!

When she walked away, I asked the man if he would like for me to take that literature from him? He gave it to me. I walked straight to Nancy and stuck the literature in the bible she was holding and walked away from her.

This set Nancy on fire! And apparently I was suppose to feel the heat, because she raised and waved her hand and ask Jesus to save this Devil (referring to me). She also couldn't believe the Devil was wearing a cross, she shouted! (Referring to me, again).

I'm sure this will not be the last I see of Nancy.

Video: (The following is not the title of the published Internet video and this was not filmed at the clinic.)
Source: YouTube

I wish she would talk to me like this, instead of yelling at me!

Just one of them days

2010-09-07T12:19:00.002-04:00

"You need anything from the store?" My roommate says.

"Yeah I do, can you get me five cups of Vanilla yogurt?"

The roommate returns with my yogurt and I say, "Did they have 5?"

They say, "Yes." "Your change is on the table."

(Great!)

I snuggle on the couch with my blanket, the remote control in hand and oh I need to get my yogurt.

I reach in the fridge, open my yogurt and notice that it is really white for Vanilla, which normally has a beige tone to it.

I look at the container and it is clearly marked: "Plain," along with all the other four yogurts.

I say to the roommate, you got me plain, I asked for vanilla.

They say: "Oh, I thought vanilla was the same as plain."

(Ugh!)

Editor's note: I love my roommate and I think we all can find humor when a little miscommunication happens. :-)

Letter to the editor: Fancy Farm lacks diversity-PUBLISHED!

2010-08-08T12:54:00.003-04:00

Yea! My letter was posted in the The Lexington Herald-Leader, August 15, 2010. Click on the link below to check it out:

Not welcoming to diversity

A magazine cover and American pride

2010-08-05T19:18:00.004-04:00

"Bibi Aisha, a young Afghan wife whose ears and nose were cut off by her husband, is heading to the United States on Wednesday for reconstructive surgery," CNN reported.

Aisha's mutilation received national attention when she appeared on the cover of Time magazine this month.

As some may cheer and think that the U.S. is doing this great deed of "helping" this woman, a Facebook friend of mine said it best on their status update:

"TIME magazine has [a] cover pic of a woman w/ her nose cut off, by the Taliban. Why doesn't TIME show photos of the hundreds of Afghan women who've had their heads ripped from their bodies by U.S. HellFire Missles, and 2,000 pound bombs."

I would like to add to that, what about all the children, particularly sons that mothers in both Afghanistan and the U.S. are losing due to war?

Although Bibi's story should not be overlooked, I think that America uses media to make our country look so saintly, when really we are often the devil in disguise.

Sources:
Afghan woman whose nose, ears cut off travels to U.S.
What Happens if We Leave Afghanistan

I heart activism

2010-07-30T09:45:00.001-04:00

"Toma, where you on TV today," my Aunt Polly said. Then my big sister said, "A star is born!"

Both very flattering, but I don't do what I do for fame or flattery. I do it because this world has got to change.

What I love doing most is issue awareness raising and I do it often via Facebook!

And one "success story" that comes to mind is when the KY legislation tried to get the ultrasound bill passed. This bill would have required for pregnant females prior to getting an abortion to watch an ultrasound of their fetus, but the bill says the patient can "avert" their eyes.

When I posted on my Facebook that there is only two abortion providers in Kentucky (which I feel the mainstream media conveniently left out), one of my feminist friends was like, "Really!" I just found it very odd for our government to spend all this time and money making a law that only two entities would have to follow.

I had just found out for myself a few years ago, that not just any GYN can do this procedure.

I like activism (although it can be hard), because I am always always learning! And I've came to the conclusion recently, I am making a difference.

Godfather III

2010-07-01T21:45:00.000-04:00

"Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in!"

This line is the only thing that came out good in Godfather III.

This is how I feel sometime when I get overwhelmed.

Each time I think I'm going to move or let go of the things I'm committed too, it just doesn't want to let me go. And maybe part of me doesn't really want to let go.

I recently quit as the Treasurer of an organization I belonged to and said I would stick around as a member.

Well tonight, I arrived at the meeting and those who are in the only two leadership positions were either late or couldn't show up all. With very good reason: one got locked out of their apartment and the other got two flat tires from a minor accident. As a result, I end up taking lead of the meeting, until one of them was able to show up.

Today I also called this man that has been trying to get me to do some grant writing work for him to tell him I just do not have time to take part in this.

He said o.k..

Then he preceded to tell me one of his relatives may need a business partner in the near future. I politely told him my interest lies in the communication field and that would not be a match for me.

Learning to set boundaries is like a work of art, you know you're overworked and just need to let go, but you can't.

So I decided I will cutback and be honest with those who asked of my time.

Blogging soon...

2010-04-02T20:54:00.001-04:00

Taking a bit of a break. Got many projects going on, but, "I'll be back!"

'Get your butt out on the street and protest!"

2010-03-22T00:26:00.110-04:00

Swarms of yellow and black surrounded the streets of the White House. In the form of a few pestering bumble bees and bouncing bright yellow and black picket signs held by many anti-war protesters that read: We Need Jobs and Schools NOT WAR:AnswerCoalition.org. D.C. was abuzz.

Guest speaker among several other guest speakers, Debra Sweet, national director of The World Can't Wait exclaimed to the crowd: "Get your butt out on the street and protest!" Along side her was a person dressed in a orange jumpsuit with a black cloth bag over their head.

The rally for the March 20th D.C. Anti-War Protest was held after the "Coffin Making" was done. The coffins were made of sealed cardboard boxes wrapped in the flags of the following countries: Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Pakistan, Palestine, Somalia, United States and Yemen. Then they were carried by various participants during the march.

Some of the coffins were laid outside the barricades of the White House, which lead to a few people being arrested.
The atmosphere was very similar to that of a war veteran movie, think "Born on the Fourth of July" starring Tom Cruise.

The star of this movie was activist Cindy Sheehan, whose, "21-year-old son Casey was killed in Iraq in April 2004." Her and Ralph Nader were among the many activists who spoke out.

After Sheehan shouted at the rally, marched with thousands of others, she and seven other people were arrested in front of the White House lawn. The first person pulled off in handcuffs yelled: "Strip for peace! Strip for Peace!" All he got was giggles from the crowd. Sheehan was, "charged with crossing a police line," reported Maryland AP News.

Self -proclaimed war resister and honorably discharged Army photojournalist Matthis Chiroux was also arrested and earlier that day he burned a U.S. flag while speaking at the rally.

To be continued....

What I learned from my laptop and a vagina that wears a pink boa

2010-03-19T16:09:00.000-04:00

One by one, a young woman walks across stage and shouts out the words:

A red bow!
Sweatpants!
cotton panties!
A leather jacket!
Eye glasses!

I was among these women and I shouted: "Silk stockings, a pink boa."

This was the cast of the University of Louisville's production of "Vagina Monologues", answering the question, "If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?"

After this, the question was, '"If your vagina could talk, what would it say, two words":

Slow down! (entire cast)

How true these words are.

Living in a microwave society of were TV advertises a college degree in 18 months and instant hair removal, sometimes doing things so quickly can do more harm than good.

This often happens with what I would like to call my "technical boyfriend," my laptop.

Often times I'll start writing and researching with Word open and several Internet pages open and eventually, my computer stops more frequently and doesn't respond so quick to key commands.

It lets me know to: "Slow down!"

Like life, or should I say my life, I can take on too much. And realize I got to let some things go, prioritize, say no and be honest!

That's a lot to do, but like Erykah Badu's song "Bag Lady" says, "You can't hurry up, 'cause you got too much stuff."

So I am glad to put down a bag or two, so I can be much more productive.

Embracing opportunity

2010-03-14T12:17:00.002-04:00

As I muddle through all the jobs I've had the past 18 months to apply for unemployment, I think: How can I be unemployed?

I had a history of holding multiple jobs at one time. My former supervisor told me, "You don't want to be a professional volunteer." And currently that's what I am. Rather it's being in The Vagina Monologues last month at my Alma Mater University of Louisville or this month:

Sending out letters for the Carl Braden Memorial Center
Addressing and sending thank you letters for the A Fund
Protesting in D.C. against U.S. funded wars (March20.org)

I do these things because I want to and this world has got to change, even if it's one person at a time.

And I firmly believe I will find a job or create a job for myself that will employ my values and talents. I do not feel sorry for myself or disillusioned. I believe with any "crisis" or should I say transition creates many opportunities.

In this downtime, I have looked into what others are doing that I want to do and they did it and are doing it!

Those women who have combined social change with journalism include Donna Brazile and Farai Chideya. I'm happy they exist, because that means I exist.

Why do we take off our clothes?

2010-02-16T15:35:00.002-05:00

Lately something has been bothering me. Naked women are everywhere, rather it be an owl's eyes in a Hooters billboard (their breast shaped) or Nia Long appearing in a PETA magazine ad:

I understand that we live in a world surrounded in penises, from neckties to skyscrapers, but it so rare that men appear in the nude. Or should I say resort to taking their clothes off to pay bills or because they seek fame (i.e. Levi Johnston: Sarah Palin's daughter's baby daddy). So what is driving us to be naked in plainsight?

My only answer is patriarchy. And of course, there is the "of your own freewill" argument. Too many women seek the approval of men, even if that means losing a part of themselves.

Despite strides of women making just a little more money in the workplace over the years, a female stripper can make a lot more cash on a pole than she can typing away as a secretary. In some cases, like a "call girl" in Las Vegas, can make more money in one week than what a recent college grad can make in the first year of post-graduate employment.

So what can be done about this? First boys and men could stop buying Hustler and going to strip clubs and for girls and women to realize that they are more than just a server to men, what's between your ears is just as important as the lumps on your chests and the "whateveryouwanttocallit" between your thighs.

Yes women have appeared nude for centuries in art, but like it "was then," the degradation continues, leaving women and girls to believe that revealing their skin for cash or for boys/men's satisfaction is OK and it is not.

Why advocate for women's human rights?

2010-02-05T15:43:00.007-05:00

There needs to be more information out there about how girls and women are still not equal, a friend told me. She is right. It seems like when you mention that you are a feminist or fight for girls and women's equality, you get many puzzled looks.

It's as if everything is "all gravy" for the female gender. It is not.

Here are some headlines from the New York Times:

Ohio: Sentencing in Corpse Abuse: '...Mr. Douglas is serving for having sex with the body of a 1982 female murder victim.'

Religion and Women
"'Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths, creating an environment in which violations against women are justified,' former President Jimmy Carter noted."

However many strides were made for women in 2009:

For the first time, a woman won the Nobel Peace Prize in Economics
Women were found to be better lawmakers than men
Sonia Sotomayor was appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court

But many more strides need to be made, especially for girls and women of color:

"Women overall still make only 78¢ for every dollar earned by men - and for women of color, the numbers are even worse. African-American women earn 62¢ and Latinas earn 53¢ for every dollar earned by white, non-Hispanic men," reported National Women's Law Center in April 2009.

There are many health care disparities when it comes to the comparison of black and white women's health, too, For example, "the five-year survival rate for breast cancer among Black women is 77 percent compared to 90 percent for white women, " according to Black Women's Health Imperative.

So next time when someone ask me, "why are you advocating human rights for women?" I will have to say: "Have you read the news lately?"