tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-187517842024-03-23T11:36:56.306-07:00Girl's Gone ChildGIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.comBlogger2496125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-932257672821545102018-11-12T15:26:00.001-08:002018-11-12T16:47:45.094-08:00Speaking of my husband, Hal Isaacson; 7/1/74 - 10/27/18 - Forever <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>It's been almost a year since I've posted here and while I feel like a stranger in a strange land sitting down to type in this old familiar box, I wanted to share the speech I wrote for Hal <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BqF5fXZjrz8/" target="_blank">at his memorial service yesterday</a>, and this seemed like the best place to share it. If you don't follow me on social or have any idea what I'm talking about, you can read about the last four months, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rebeccawooolf/?hl=en" target="_blank">here.</a> Full disclosure, I wrote this speech the day/night before the service and it wasn't intended for publication so excuse all typos...</i><br />
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<i>Sending love, light and gratitude to all of you for your support these last few months... It has and continues to blow my mind + fill my heart. </i><br />
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<i>Always, </i><br />
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<i>Rebecca</i><br />
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<i>***</i></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dearest friends, family....<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I want to start by thanking you all for being here. And not
just in this room but like HERE here – energetically, emotionally, communally… From the bottom of my heart and on
behalf of Hal and our children, I will never forget the love you’ve blanketed
us with these last four months. You? Have carried us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Full disclosure, this was intended to be a quick thank you
speech but when I started writing Friday night I couldn’t really stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Earlier that evening, Revi had asked me to tell her the story
of how Hal and I’d met and suddenly I was back in my old pageboy hat with my
dial up modem, trying to impress Hal with clever one-liners on AOL. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s fitting that we turn the clocks back when we find
ourselves limited in time. Almost every conversation over the last several
months has been about the past.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Endings call for beginnings. Perhaps they cannot help
themselves. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal used to roll his eyes whenever I referenced the various
circles of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“uh oh, here she
goes!” he would say, “Bec and her “full circles.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">And, yes, babe, okay, here I go… </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Hal and I met in April of 2004. Our mutual
friend Cory Clay arranged for us to meet at Stir Crazy on Melrose, to
potentially partner on a scripted project Hal wanted to write called Tracts. It
was a teen drama about wayward kids in a suburban community. Lots of metal…
football. When Hal talked to Cory about finding a writing partner, he
recommended Hal meet his friend, Becca. Because, obviously metal and football
were totally my thing. (ha!) <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I showed up to our meeting early. Hal was fashionably late. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He flung the door open with both hands and pointed to the
ceiling. Van Halen’s JUMP had just come on the radio and Hal couldn’t help but sing
along. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Days later we got together again to break ground on our new project.
We lasted four whole hours before we started full on screaming at each other
and made a pact to never work on anything together ever again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still,
I couldn’t NOT be around him. He was living in the pantry of a two-story house
at the time with friends from college. Hal had zero dollars to his name and
while actively looking for a job, was currently unemployed. But none of that
mattered. He made me laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">About a
month after we met (and two days after I broke up with my boyfriend-at-the-time)
Hal called me at 2am to come over. I assumed I was coming over to do what one
would assume I was coming over to do… but when I got there, Hal had his guitar
slung over his shoulder and grinning with raised eyebrows asked if I wanted to
join him for a cup of tea. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Spoiler
alert. I totally did. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our
first night together Hal and I spent in his garage flicking teag bags at each
other while singing Misfits and The Smiths, Prince and Brittney Spears. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From
there we started dating although we never went on any “dates.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal
couldn’t afford to take me out so I cooked for him every night and on a special
occasion, he would take me to the 99 cent store and buy two bottles of captain
morgan malt liquor and a DVD with english-ish subtitles. We did this regularly and
over a series of weeks had created our own Criterion Collection but, like, the
unwatchable version. We slept in Hal’s bed-sized bedroom with our feet sticking
out the window. (It was summer so it felt almost nice.) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We
spent our weekends on impromptu road trips with absolutely zero idea where we’d
end up. We once spent a weekend on the mission to find the BEST gas station.
(Hal LOVED gas stations and had a selection of “favorites” where e’re we went.)
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Another
weekend we made it to Santa Cruz only to find we couldn’t afford anything save
for the only available room at the most disgusting motel of all time. We were
convinced it was available because someone died in there months ago and the body
was only recently discovered. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When we
were unable to change rooms we bought a million candles and turned the room
into a Guns n Roses video. That was essentially our MO from then on. Life was
full of blessings, of course, but it was also full of stinky hotel rooms we had
to do our best to make the best of. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And we
did. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We lit
candles when things were unexpectedly stinky. We blasted music and jumped on
the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Weeks
after our G&R motel room adventure, and after only four months of dating, I
was pregnant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the
time it was not good news. We were weird and broke and young. We smoked
cigarettes in bed and slept with our feet out a literal window. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were
irresponsible, highly emotional artists trying to make it in our respective
fields. We were punk ass kids. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I
showed up at his house hysterical, pregnancy tests in hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was unable to speak but I didn’t need to. Hal had all of
the right words. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">We sat on his driveway and planned for a future neither of us
knew we wanted and t</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">wo months later we were in Vegas getting married in pants. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everyone
thought we were crazy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everyone
was right. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But we
were crazy about each other, too. And that felt like enough. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Besides,
a baby seemed almost rebellious at the time. Or maybe we knew he wouldn’t be
just any baby. Maybe we knew that together we were capable of something better
than perfect. (Four somethings better than perfect, it so happened.) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Archer
was born in May of 2005. One floor away from the room Hal would die in 13 years
later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“you
and your full circles, Bec.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">As many of you know, Hal’s diagnosis was sudden
and blindsiding. On June 30th, Hal went to the ER with shooting stomach pains.
Twelve hours later, we were in a hospital room with doctors handing us a folder
of “advanced care” paperwork -- an “introductory brochure” for the terminally
ill. </span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">The days that followed Hal’s initial diagnosis
were a blur. They were also full of Hal’s profound clarity. At a time when most
would be full of anger and blame, regret and sadness, Hal completely let go. He
was full of love for everyone. Hal, we had learned, had been sick for many
years with ZERO symptoms. Pancreatic Cancer is shitty like that. Hal was as
ALIVE on the outside as a person could possibly be. The Cancer, tho, had other
plans. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still, Hal refused to look backwards. He refused to look
forwards, too. He was alive for now and that was his focal point. The moment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal and I left the hospital on the day of his 44<sup>th</sup>
birthday – coming home to our four children to break the news that Hal had
stage 4 cancer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal called to the kids as soon as we walked through the door.
He was the epitome of grace under fire. He was calm, cool, steadfast, eloquent…
The six of us gathered around the dining room table, hand in hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“You guys?” Hal said, smiling through tears, “I’m dying.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">This time it was Hal who made the “full circle” comments. My
love language. I sobbed. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">It was the most visceral human moment outside of
the births of our children that I had ever experienced. It was a soul framer.
We all felt it. Hal’s heart was broken but bigger than that, he was gracious.
And suddenly, we couldn’t help but feel gracious too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We all cried of course. We cried lot. Because that’s what
people do when they love each other. That’s what people do when they recognize
how finite all of this is. We were so lucky! Even if only for a moment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the days that followed we would find out that NOT ONLY did
we have each other, we had an army.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Friends and family came running with food and go fund me’s and furniture
and appliances and most importantly, gigantic hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">We were blown away. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Days later, Hal broke the news of his illness publically on
Facebook and immediately</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> <span style="background: white;">people starting calling and
writing... commenting and texting with words like “unfair” and “tragic” and
“I’m so sorry this is the worst possible news.” </span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">To which Hal responded over and over AND OVER
again. “How can you say that, when I’ve never in my whole life felt so lucky.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From the outside things appeared tragic, and yes they
absolutely were. They still are. We will NEVER get over this loss. But after
fourteen years of lighting candles and blasting music – we continued to do
exactly that. And, as exhibited by our incredible children, we were able to
pass those same life skills on to them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ARCHER, FABLE, BO AND REVI – YOU ARE THE BEST OF BOTH OF US
AND WE ARE SO INCREDIBLY PROUD OF YOU. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal and my last night together wasn’t so far off from our
first one. Except this time it was me playing him Prince and The Smiths and
yes, even The Misfits from the speaker of my cell phone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was unable to speak but didn’t need to. I had all the
right songs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It took me sitting down to write this speech to realize that
the story Hal and I were destined to write was the one we actually lived. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">An adventure with every possible scenario – We did not have
an easy marriage. It was hard and it was messy and it was complicated. But it
was also an adventure. Full of surprise pregnancies and surprise tax bills and
a surprise cancer diagnosis… and while we really struggled with the day to day
life stuff, in a crisis we were amazing. When shit got real, we joined forces
with military-like precision. We became conjoined generals. A harmonized
orchestra on a sinking ship. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From the day we met to the day we married to the day we
became parents to the day Hal died, we had ourselves a great fucking story. We
defied genre. We were a bad hallmark special crossed with a greek tragedy
thrown against a romantic comedy suspense thriller after school special
feminist coming of age story rock opera <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We lived a lifetime in fourteen and a half years. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were lucky. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">We are
lucky.</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yesterday, the kids and I buried Hal’s ashes and instead of
crying we danced. The kids dug their shovels in the soil and we blasted
Prince’s Let’s Go Crazy and gathered to get through this thing called life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOmeeIGU-WblUWSEWOGYEL1scIrSFnug4o1654KWjMVgG_9c7Z-erUSHGfixPUQx7ia1OxQiTda9NbCNC54VaycnGqr26TIB9KE562maOjco_owKinJwWy1DUbmS7ahM8uaUyLQ/s1600/IMG_6070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOmeeIGU-WblUWSEWOGYEL1scIrSFnug4o1654KWjMVgG_9c7Z-erUSHGfixPUQx7ia1OxQiTda9NbCNC54VaycnGqr26TIB9KE562maOjco_owKinJwWy1DUbmS7ahM8uaUyLQ/s640/IMG_6070.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUXeSg0dcfXComuRVI1guY8AdZoUD7PK-j9n2PvdCJ8txoySgT7VgojZYwg6VCBxNwB5hcxtGa97OdrzlibuzIYEnwHMHxUadm_t9MiPBLmERs32mHRjeVqYvLi2ORqQg0l2IZQ/s1600/IMG_6071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUXeSg0dcfXComuRVI1guY8AdZoUD7PK-j9n2PvdCJ8txoySgT7VgojZYwg6VCBxNwB5hcxtGa97OdrzlibuzIYEnwHMHxUadm_t9MiPBLmERs32mHRjeVqYvLi2ORqQg0l2IZQ/s640/IMG_6071.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just like we always had. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like we always will. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And it was painful and joyful in the same way everything that
matters always is…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWq4d7XkrAJysL0B9avXzdaBecUzvFWDlelDPLwjSXcD5wrAi4dGaSsBUIL3t8DslhxEOS_7NZwAlMd-DSGjVcFP_YQ2BGa_q9oChqg7p5tdr1A66o8Z3b90iE9lA2AChRmqPQEA/s1600/IMG_6072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWq4d7XkrAJysL0B9avXzdaBecUzvFWDlelDPLwjSXcD5wrAi4dGaSsBUIL3t8DslhxEOS_7NZwAlMd-DSGjVcFP_YQ2BGa_q9oChqg7p5tdr1A66o8Z3b90iE9lA2AChRmqPQEA/s640/IMG_6072.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I immediately thought of the hotel room – smelling of
death and dirt – and Hal lighting a hundred candles around the bed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs96QAmmqnlmqiyRgqaLsM5eCli-GT9oxejwaYxwP-NYR3BR8Xs95hf5ampXWFU2-ofzV6bwdGlqAHNYiMlHV1ehDtfIACZMZIlwt14tA0C6CCGO_VFCsxGRl-hWrWmFp5nhxjXg/s1600/IMG_5952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs96QAmmqnlmqiyRgqaLsM5eCli-GT9oxejwaYxwP-NYR3BR8Xs95hf5ampXWFU2-ofzV6bwdGlqAHNYiMlHV1ehDtfIACZMZIlwt14tA0C6CCGO_VFCsxGRl-hWrWmFp5nhxjXg/s640/IMG_5952.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m not going to lie -- the last four months were
excruciating. But they were also BURSTING with love. Because of all of you.
Your hearts were an elevator for his spirit. TRULY. He read your texts and
burst into tears. He said I love you to strangers. And he meant it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hal died knowing he was loved. He died knowing that his
children would be taken care of – that I would NEVER be alone when it came to
caring for them. He died knowing, Halbino style, that he gave it all he had and
received, in the end, even more. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He died feeling lucky. Finger to the sky. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And in spite of our tremendous loss. As a family. A
community. The world… I think we can all agree that <i>THAT</i>? IS SUCH A WIN. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, thank you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I love you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">WE LOVE YOU. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14pt;">Forever. </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo5LZzpqZetFyV8c1oxzAf-BOzw9_2rb84sYx1b6Gs6ZxnASJucdLadCsNGong5Lt6a_4BdUit4bF60cArrp0FLIRM79sBdWxBw9ZIzeSnbbPjPtC4VQ0n-ZRsUdYVpCOyX-wwg/s1600/IMG_6073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo5LZzpqZetFyV8c1oxzAf-BOzw9_2rb84sYx1b6Gs6ZxnASJucdLadCsNGong5Lt6a_4BdUit4bF60cArrp0FLIRM79sBdWxBw9ZIzeSnbbPjPtC4VQ0n-ZRsUdYVpCOyX-wwg/s640/IMG_6073.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-72883741299286171102017-09-18T13:15:00.000-07:002017-09-21T10:37:44.532-07:00the grass cannot be greener on the side it will not grow <div class="gmail_quote" style="background-color: white;">
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/q45qSn" nbsp="" title="642452DD-64EF-41F6-A4D5-0C27173150A6"><img alt="642452DD-64EF-41F6-A4D5-0C27173150A6" height="377" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4336/36460668104_16f9f5c872.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My daughter is wearing her "the future is female" t-shirt. It's stained but she doesn't care. She wears it every week and when people ask her what it says she tells them that WE NEED MORE GIRLS TO LEAD. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">A man stops her brother, who is by her side, and asks him where </span><i style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">his</i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"> shirt is...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"What do you mean?" her brother answers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"That's your sister, right? Shouldn't you be wearing a shirt that says the FUTURE IS MALE? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">Aren't you offended?" the man asks.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Why would I be offended?" </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Yeah? Well, I'm offended. I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">T SHOULD SAY THE FUTURE IS EQUAL," he explains. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;">This isn't the first time someone has said this. To me. To him. To others. To anyone who dares to take a strong stance against the imbalance of patriarchy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;">And so I MOMsplain.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">"Do you remember being on a teeter when you were little? Do you remember being on a teeter totter with someone a lot heavier than you? An older sibling, maybe. A parent. Do you remember how hard you had to push your body down in order to move the damn thing? How there was no other way to get the teeter totter to move except to bear down with all of your might? Equality doesn't happen with polite gestures. Throughout history, people have had to scream and push and pull in order be heard and seen and recognized. If the other side of the teeter totter is 10 times heavier than you are, you have to push 11 times as hard. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">One cannot fight for equality in a lopsided world without PUSHING DOWN on the teeter totter. One cannot talk about fairness when status quo is unfair. The only way to CREATE a more EQUAL future is to strive for a more female one. And the only way to strive for a more female one is to DEMAND IT."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">He doesn't want to hear me, which is fine. I used to care what "he" thought of me and I don't anymore. The man -- this stranger -- who I have crossed paths with a thousand times only knows how to be on top. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">How to look down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent;">How to weigh the heaviest on his side of the teeter totter. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><b>"Don't you see? The ocean would never feel threatened by the stream."</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">But the man's levels are low and he feels exposed. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">He does not see himself as an ocean.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">There is a drought and he wants the water in his body. There is a drought and he demands long showers, says with his eyes that he deserves a green lawn for the neighbors to see.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I have worked very hard to raise my children in a household that upholds femininity as strong. And kind. Empathetic. Nourishing. Fiesty. Fierce. Flawed. Important. We would all be so lucky to live in a world that was more female. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i>And yet, some men feel threatened by words that exclude patriarchy. As if it isn't our default setting. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">This is how I explain our interaction with my children in the car on the way home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">Girl power is designed to elevate girls to the status of boys but men can’t help but wonder where they are supposed to go. Like standing on a ship that is filling up with people who SHOULD HAVE ALWAYS been allowed to board.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/yoj35b" title="IMG_0714"><img alt="IMG_0714" height="376" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4425/36484021353_f613d4356a.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">It would make sense that these individuals would feel threatened. It would make sense that these individuals would lash out in ways even THEY couldn’t fully understand. EVERYWHERE they look they are told that THIS IS THEIR SHIP.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">That EVE was God's gift to ADAM. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile, the ship captains try to put laws into place to put their safety first. Because NO ONE WANTS TO BE REPLACED.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Jews will not replace us." </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></strike><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Blacks will not replace us."</strike><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"> "ALL LIVES MATTER."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></strike><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Latinos will not replace us."</strike><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"> "DOWN WITH DACA!"</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050;"></span><span class="im" style="color: #500050;"></span><span class="im" style="color: #500050;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"><br /></strike><strike style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;">"Humans who are not white and male and straight will not replace us."</strike><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222;"> "MAGA!"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If my body is made of water, what happens in a drought?"</span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Those were her words, not mine. She is six years old and knows her body is made of water. She is six years old and knows her body is vulnerable. That water is not an endless resource and sometimes we feel dry inside. She mentions one day, in passing, that she is concerned her body will run out of water -- that it will become dry like grass. Because "what if there isn't enough water to go around?" She is worried that if she drinks too much, she will be taking from someone else. </span><span style="background-color: white;">I am worried by what she says -- I don't want her to ever think she is taking from someone else what is rightfully hers. I do not want her to be afraid to quench her thirst. I want her to drink all of the water she needs..</span></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;">Her sister is different. She does not know her body is anything other than hers. She slams her face against walls and doesn't cry. She falls down and gets up without checking her knees for wounds. Sometimes she takes things from other people and doesn't give them back. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">
<b style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes people take things from her and she body slams them.</span></b></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't want her to ever think it's ok to take from someone else what is rightfully theirs. I want her to know when to share and when to give and when to listen. I want her to know to keep her hands to herself. I tell her these things, over and over. We sit down and hold hands and I tell her to look into my eyes and she does. <span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We don't talk about those kinds of things," says the father with his hands over his son's ears... a boy I once saw flip up the skirt of a friend's daughter while the parents pretended not to notice.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;">"We don't talk about those kinds of things." </span><span style="color: #500050;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For every parent who is unwilling to talk about those kinds of things, another teenage girl is raped. I know for a fact that my first experience with sexual assault was by a boy whose parents DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THOSE KINDS OF THINGS, and I often wonder what he would and wouldn't have done to me in my "sleep" if they were willing to talk openly and candidly about respect and consent and the importance of <b>NOT putting your hands on the body of a sleeping girl.</b></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">***</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">I'm reading through the comments on a post about Black Lives Matter. The very first comment calls the article racist against white people. She claims that being black is no different from being white. She claims that all lives matter -- that no one's life matters more than anyone else's. She tells the author she is creating a division where there isn't one. She is telling a black mother that her story is invalid, that her perspective is wrong, that her fears are unwarranted.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;">Her comment has the most likes.</span><span style="color: #222222;"> </span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't you see? The ocean would never feel threatened by the stream."</span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But she does not see herself as an ocean. How could she with such unwillingness to realize her depth? There is a drought and she wants the water in her body. There is a drought and she demands long showers. She deserves a green lawn for the neighbors to see.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"White lives matter, too," she says again in the comment section. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And again. And again. And again.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"All lives matter," says the ocean to the stream.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: right;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: right;">Says the river to the creek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
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<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #500050; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #500050; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't talk to my children about politics. I want to keep them out of it as long as possible. I want to keep them innocent. Let them be young. And wild. And free."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile, a third grader, just like mine, went to school today, afraid that she will be taken from class and deported. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Another river bed dry.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Let them be young and wild and free."</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">(Like the ocean.)</span></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*** </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When last year LA was in a drought, there were signs all over LA saying, "We are so sorry for our appearance." We are so sorry we aren't beautiful and green -- growing unnaturally. We are so sorry we cannot thrive in an environment we were never supposed to thrive in in the first place. We are so sorry. Grass. The signs were apologizing for grass. Grass that grows unnaturally. Like the palm trees California wants you to believe were here first. They were not here first. And now they are dying. They are dying because they are old and didn't come from here. Neither did we.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I often wonder what it would have been like had we been taught that they were here first. That America was kidnapped and painted white.</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">White House.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">White Monuments.</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">White picket fences.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In high school, all of the Mexican kids were on one side of the school and the rest of us were on the other. We had PE class together but that was it. We would laugh at Jesus' name because it was Jesus. Hey, Jesus, we would say, mispronouncing it on purpose. We were cruel without meaning to be. We were cruel because we believed we were better. We were taught every time we turned on a TV, walked out the door, rolled up our windows at the sight of brown-skinned people on the corner looking for work, that we were better.</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are guilty.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That is why we feel guilty.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That is why Trump makes us sick.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He is us. He is all of the things we pretend we are not. We hate him because we recognize the worst of our humanity in his words. He is the monster we pretend we don't have in our closet. He is the ego we think no one can see when we post for likes and retweets. He is the part of every human being that wants power without having earned it -- who wants to win first.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He is the monster we deny we constructed out of years of assignments drawing him at the helm of the Santa Maria. Or was it the Nina. Or eating turkey in a pilgrim hat.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or when we stand for the pledge of allegiance without knowing what the fuck we're even saying when the teacher says, "repeat after me."</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;">He is the god we have been told to worship in the pockets of the designer bags we saved for when we pretended we didn't see the homeless teenager asking for a dollar. When we bought houses behind hedges to ensure our safety. When we pulled our kids from public schools that weren't good enough. </span><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And he will reappear in a new skin if we don't recognize that we all have come of age in the same garden, our stamen from the same seed.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0H91XM" title="IMG_1329"><img alt="IMG_1329" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4374/36460673294_6dbbc91a16_z.jpg" width="479" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That what we hate in him is what we see in ourselves. We are guilty. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Guilt will not absolve us of our crimes, of course. We must work together to change the narrative. We must fight against our own implicit bias. We must recognize our shadows and face them head on. We must be willing to break our children of their innocence so that across town, children in REAL DANGER can be safe. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">We must be willing to call ourselves out... </span></b></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*** </span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At back-to-school night everyone seems to ask the same questions.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"How do we raise them...?" we ask. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">...Except we aren't asking about how to raise better, more empathetic, outspoken, interesting, engaged children. We are talking about grades.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The world is on fire and we are talking about how to improve test scores.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I raise my hand and ask about current events. I want to know whether they are being addressed, discussed... and how.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"This is a public school. You can't talk about politics here."</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Since when did "politics" become the word we use for DECENCY? </span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What happens when all that matters is grades and how to get good ones?</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">How to excel in spite of traumatized classmates?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222; text-align: right;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">Can we switch out politics with "ethics?" </span><span style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">How do we teach history without acknowledging that it is happening all around us? How do we send our children to school and expect GRADES without LESSONS?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">How do we reshape what is systemically wrong with text books and TIME'S UP. PUT DOWN YOUR PENCIL. STOP WHAT IT IS YOU ARE WORKING ON. STOP THINKING. STOP. ????</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If our children are forced to stand for the pledge of allegiance, shouldn't they understand what they are pledging TO and FOR and AGAINST?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>***</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">Last month, an "anti-feminist" Instagram account got ahold of one of my photos of my daughter and turned it into a meme. This particular photo went viral during the election last year and is of my daughter, at four years old, wearing the same Future is Female shirt her sisters have. In the photo she's flexing and growling and looking strong as hell. Because that's what she is.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<div style="color: black; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because that's what we have to be -- what we've always been, yes, but now we have to OWN it -- and because of the women who have come before us WE CAN.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The meme of my then four-year-old was tagged with the word #rape below it. My daughter. FOUR YEARS OLD. It was also hashtagged #feminismiscancer. I reported it (and it was taken down) but not before calling out the couple who thought it okay to manipulate and post what they did of my child. From there it was a pile on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It's your fault for posting photos online." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I have every right to post this photo of your daughter." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It's your fault."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's your fault. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">It's your fault. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the years, I've heard this a lot: when you put yourself and your family out there publicly you DESERVE to be attacked. You deserve to be reposted with despicable hashtags. You deserve threats. Violent memes depicting your daughters. You were asking for it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rape culture and writing personally in a public forum, go hand in hand. And it isn't just perpetuated by men, either. Women, in my experience, are just as ruthless -- if not worse. The meme of Revi was made by a couple. A man and a woman. More white women voted for Trump. In the words of the late, great Kate Millett, "Many women do not recognize themselves as discriminated against: no better truth could be found in the totality of their conditioning."</span><br />
<b style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All of this to say that I WASN'T ASKING FOR IT and NEITHER WERE YOU.</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: right;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: right;">By sharing what I share, I am not asking to be assaulted. With words. And with memes. I didn't DO anything wrong by speaking openly and honestly and telling stories that I felt were and are worthwhile to tell. Vulnerable. Human. Real. </span><br />
<br />
Personal blogging is dead, they say. <span style="font-family: inherit;">And they're probably right. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But it didn't die innocuously. We politely stood by as it was executed. We lurked in comment sections when we could have been calling out abuse. We felt guilty for blocking people. We gave our trolls the keys to our houses until we couldn't take it anymore and moved away. Brought our truths with us. Stood back as they were replaced by lies. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because we didn’t <i>engage the trolls.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead we let them win. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We didn’t fight back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We didn't do anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kind of like with Hillary and the election and how everyone was SO AFRAID to publicly support her they created private Facebook groups as not to be hated or threatened or unfollowed. When I was writing pro-Hillary posts on Mom.me, I was called EVERY AWFUL thing that existed. And when I write about her now? People still attack me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EASY to speak up. To hold our heads up high after they've been bitten off...</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/kJ4062" title="IMG_1371"><img alt="IMG_1371" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4358/36460674084_95cb0851bf_z.jpg" width="514" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I tell my children to prepare to be disliked for being themselves. For having ideas that are different. For having the willpower to speak their truths. To defend what is right. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Kindness only matters if you're brave enough to fight for it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Protagonists exist in spite of antagonists, not because of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But a protagonist can only take so much before she learns to fight back. Before she hits her breaking point and finds her fists. </span><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/YX1901" nbsp="" title="FB6446EE-3D0E-44CA-934D-8444F4F0CDCB"><img alt="FB6446EE-3D0E-44CA-934D-8444F4F0CDCB" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4345/36460667774_3c2b664213.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">We have to fight back.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></b></div>
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<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="m_8813541887521937074gmail-m_2731158270823836008gmail-im" style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="color: #222222;">Every day I try to balance my desire to fight back and keep walking. Can one do both at once? Every day I try. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">I want to LOVE and I want to FIGHT. I want to push forward and I want to pull this fucking car over and do something about all of the ways we are backward. And I know I'm not alone because more and more cars are gathering on the shoulder.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Does it help to scream against the windshields of parked cars?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't know.</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And maybe that's the point. I'm not supposed to know. I'm supposed to do. To use less water. To give what I can to relieve the flood. To teach my children that in order to prevent forest fires, they must recognize that they exist and why. </span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The grass cannot be greener on the side it will not grow. </span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I must find ways to fight all of the systems that uphold my privilege while simultaneously standing up for myself when I am pushed down. I'm supposed to empower my children when necessary while also asking them to question the power they demand.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How do we become our BEST without depriving others? How do we satiate our thirst without siphoning from an almost empty glass?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There will always be enough water to go around, they say.</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But that only is true if we're willing to share -- to part with what we have more of -- to sacrifice our own reserves sometimes -- to turn off our sprinklers and let the grass go brown in certain places...to help our daughters draw swords on their paper. Give our wives the space to be angry. Teach our sons that A FEMALE FUTURE MEANS A MORE EQUAL ONE. That BLACK LIVES MATTERing is a plea for those who refuse to see beyond their own white fences to turn around and take a look outside.</span></span></div>
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<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That WE (the white people) WERE NOT HERE FIRST. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And neither was Adam. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/605eic" title="IMG_1936"><img alt="IMG_1936" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4422/37120657756_8415d2281e_z.jpg" width="514" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-7014357136684117472017-09-17T11:01:00.000-07:002018-11-05T17:01:12.623-08:00 11 Gifts that Empower Women and Girls<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The following post was written in partnership with my incredible friends at <a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/" target="_blank">To The Market</a> -- one of my favorite online destinations for year-round gift-giving.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>***</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">This holiday season, it is increasingly important to me that the majority of the money I spend goes to help empower women and girls. As I reflect on the true cost of what we all normally buy, it feels imperative to spotlight products that give back. My friend Jane started </span><a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">TO THE MARKET</a><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to create economic empowerment by connecting artisan groups employing vulnerable communities with US-based consumers. The socially-inspired company has a mission focused on sustainability, ethical living, and GIRL POWER... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her partners include artisan groups that employ human trafficking survivors, HIV+ women, and young moms, to name a few. When I think about some of the challenges her producers have overcome - and see the beautiful products they create - it’s a reflection of the world I want to see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I rarely share products and I am blogging not so much these days, but each of the below empowers women and girls and would make meaningful AND BEAUTIFUL holiday gifts. As Jane likes to say, we can all #buythechange we want to see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so. Here are 11 gifts I LOVE that empower women and girls. (And MANY more you can browse, </span><a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/" style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Repurposed </span><a href="https://goo.gl/cvPC3Y" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: blue; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yellow</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or </span><a href="https://goo.gl/unMD6u" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: blue; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flower Print</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Sari Blankets $81.20</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Made by female human trafficking survivors in Kolkata, India. Available in various colors.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="416" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/20FcsWpydr8pKUD8bcTRV5umA5djlxzo3cSn-1LQ8nrXAJTgzddR40e7eR2UrvvtYIWqAp8sx9fPCV-yw6dleIY_vXGEtpPYIybTfyCEYoKBnCLRSyFEbDIoVcFEHxCqY2TB38_S" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="624" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Overdyed Throw in </span><a href="https://goo.gl/FNFcTy" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Teal</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/home-goods/indigo-throw.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indigo</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> or </span><a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/home-goods/bias-throw.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fuschia</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Throws $225</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Handcrafted from layers of overdyed vintage cotton saris and held together by a kantha stitch. Made by vulnerable women in India. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="486" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Y-iLHtsoeTk7T8nZ9SB8ua9mfY4xs7icHEwJnWJat1GqMBPuYgD3IJyVAAmsvOFQH7Gym_WXzvEfnK1yJg76jB8U5zDLkUg65IRFgWaP7SEkVQD-Cy6Kvzjq6lsUNUZhJw_N2-Qi" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="399" /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/NV66UF" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spanish</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a href="https://goo.gl/Ni3DNb" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">English</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Mail Bags $21</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Made by refugee and low-income women in the West Bank.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="391" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/fkBUdPPojLwtE0-V9nhol4ZezK38ET96MmkIkKwBBjW0z-Xv29aYbowhqQ3ZPPeJhRnuZy0iqK_5djYdM94gHHF0BVYM3QlGlsv8YmuCpil6pYbyigAQZDw12-OdQHXtnoI7mcBT" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="254" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="390" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/N636QeEpA5ptIExrNCTVribZYh3pCQnPVvGwcyAZ7TfKpI_2tpVYWRjoKczHoxMAbWinvZdRvb83dAxuRLw083Dpr6PH_KxV8oQL0Zm64ucVUtbeGb0D9_nYE3sHLdzFHVY8Jdiy" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="252" /></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/e4mT6n" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Laney Necklace</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">$48</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Handcarved and painted wood made by women in Haiti. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="369" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/BQGAtiLzLEoJi_x-YwcRSGHmUk67j7oItJ83VDTaoP7zUcOwfhWlu5-Et7_XI6PctS12J35KbpEkQH8CI37Nqu2h6g9eerG_s79Xy-qSTbXjk4KZpQpWpRA-Dnwo0Wc5l4cz4W9Y" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="369" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/HR7bLs" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heart Shaped Wooden Cutting Board</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> $40 </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Handcarved in Guatemala by local craftspersons. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="374" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/0AXhu02uAYucC32roIQR_yzKoaEVoiY_9tlbxuc6kZUrj2osEQUwGxu60fTXE5a5vJI32LUorPxt7h0pk0gbC0VWjHzjn5AuotkFADAeBCkcxXOVttwxvQzyEd2A_FHe4BnuC0Oq" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="356" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/kr1zcu" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This Passport Bag</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> $24</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Woven in Nepal by craftswomen. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="390" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xESD2_EoMaDkya7-96b4bFr52IzhNYAfOlNwOXvaq9fgncvEc0FGCUqfsWMdRxCEgJdpT12nESZBPFNf8nFuRLL8gsAOzEfordFVC_suoi1JQW7PAT-59P5QHEKzkio7LqhAM_7" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="367" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/ZYpRwb" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nerio Bracelet</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> $35</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ethically sourced horn shaped by artisans in Haiti. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="298" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/s3JccX5TlcI9cAGgBqyYbTBmlTm7yT14W7rl8boWzRuH1TVB_AYCjUmTtt6c8yIFcY98zii2PBI7pmmvMJf0jrDwJrwKg5JRmXl0iquR1hkKDy4rn0BKLEgb4t293ZzcXYtZhZva" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="298" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://goo.gl/KcrSxz" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sterling Silver Half Moon Earrings</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> $21 and</span><a href="https://goo.gl/HfYbXs" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sterling Silver V Necklace</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ($76)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sustainably handcrafted by women in Bali, Indonesia. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="352" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/fw2xC75G5LMQfAACX_PGzbPeQbNZFMiitRTOYWOD2IRgMVCq9zhEhVg7m6XnH9WKGWWocGI8c5PCZeE8rurh62x0uaVhenDRp8INCc6xJKRr4sE9D6lz8rziyaKW4auLATsczs8k" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="352" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="352" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/yA7R3VUeT8VDDEaKOTXIPqh5zczm_qV8EPPjvlpBtz9FTcc-cz-dNjtVPlOfBNvHAOtkoL50XmbvAo5rrm_MKO74aACXcu7jZi_QfM9PIhkyLOKa852dNM5_yU0itWYBa3p-fsu7" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="352" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Katoi Wayuu Bags in </span><a href="https://goo.gl/w3xGep" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Orange</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a href="https://goo.gl/mi2DJ2" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yellow</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (</span><a href="https://goo.gl/jLLu92" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">other colors here</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) $185 each</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each bag takes weeks to weave by the Colombian-based Wayuu tribe. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="196" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/dms5jyWslrQmfDhE87iIBR78cokEpXIEEoj2bigYvTmNYHvEycPM-JWO-ZX8mG92ydwc-MDTKPGfqnVMGaWBFzxhfHBrMXoi64uLxzdqhrzlMmiJyI5nCrWnodt7SCT7z-r58YtN" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="295" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img height="191" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/FgOerq8C3MSjBbsjKTv6UjsKX0GjsAfAD9CKNXpD-zePOFd6R-c6IL0gRJF7TyJR3vwxJG4LAMwF5AbaX4seuWzAJfAB09qWmqvNVvJS3TwWkgN2OiPluG4QtiSFT8KyN3IIgxwh" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="286" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">May we all continue to invest in change and put our money where it matters most. SUPPORT WOMEN this holiday season. (And also every season!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Let's go to the market, shall we? Ready and </span><a href="https://www.tothemarket.com/" style="white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">GO! </a></span></div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-25010783999170315662017-08-08T17:49:00.002-07:002017-08-08T20:55:02.338-07:00when to howl back <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/811rEo" nbsp="" title="IMG_1512"><img alt="IMG_1512" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4409/36037339610_b64315593e_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I used to call out to her frantically. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">"Bo, come back! WAIT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?" </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I didn't want to lose her so I would dress her in bright colors or wild prints that were easy to spot against crowds. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">In those days I could barely make out her silhouette down the beach. She would just... run. Away. Without looking back. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I had to make a choice. Would I chase her down the beach or stay with her sister?Sometimes I would chase her with a child in my arms and one holding my hand but she would outrun me and over time, I stopped running after her. L</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">earned to trust that she would be okay. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">That she was running<i> toward something.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">When I'd ask her why she felt the need to suddenly run away she would tell me that her body told her to... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Her body told her to flip upside down into the water. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Hold her breath under the waves. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Run as fast as she could towards the end of the world.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/92bA89" title="IMG_1511"><img alt="IMG_1511" height="375" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4412/36265561752_3de5181192.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">She says the same thing when she "accidentally" breaks a window or locks the bathroom door from the inside and no one can open it and I have to break in through the window or call the locksmith and she tells us she's so sorry <i>her body told her to...</i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Her wild is the feral kind. She keeps crickets in her backpack and hides fireworks under her pillow and climbs over fences just to see what's on the other side. She disappears and reappears on the top of a tree, draws on the walls and then vanishes into the basement where I find her giggling behind the DANGER DO NOT TOUCH sign. She (regularly) winds up in the principal's office. She crosses streets by herself even as I shout for her to stop please wait for me my hand please hold my hand...</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0571PN" nbsp="" title="IMG_1515"><img alt="IMG_1515" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4343/36265563992_29e3398e86_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/T3Hi1h" nbsp="" title="IMG_1516"><img alt="IMG_1516" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4390/36037342520_4b9253a8e3_z.jpg" width="479" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">This child reminds me of why we are so afraid of wild girls. Why we keep them in castles and corsets and clip their wings and call it protection.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Why we, as a culture sexualize feminine "wildness" as something that is done for the approval of men and boys... Because nobody knows what the fuck to do when they see a girl launch her body into the air. Not even me. Everyone gasps and tries to catch her. Even when she tells us all NO. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">NO MEANS NO. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Even when she's about to land face first. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/9JbKab" nbsp="" title="IMG_1514"><img alt="IMG_1514" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4435/36037340880_b0ca603cc6_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I have to keep myself from interfering. From chasing her down. I have learned the best way of dealing with her is to let her fall. That's what she wants s</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">o I stock up on bandaids and hold my own hands and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">seek out fields for her to run through. Hills for her to roll down. Sand for her to comb. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">So the windows don't break as often. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">So we have less</span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> incidents. </i><br />
<i style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></i>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We are all of us animals. (Some of us more than others.)</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/c373A7" title="IMG_1543"><img alt="IMG_1543" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4342/36265776652_d0a0c243ac_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It's hard to explain this to anyone who doesn't understand. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">(I didn't used to understand.) </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I do now and am humbled. </span><br />
<br />
I am humbled and challenged and exhausted. But I am also inspired. Because people who are challenging and exhausting are inspiring, too.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Her torch is the necessary light from which to guide herself. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">It is also used to fend off wolves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">When it doesn't burn off three layers of skin it reminds me to look alive -- to BE alive -- to run and draw and break and scream and LIVE without the constraints of pre-conception. To say the thing that needs to be said, even if it sends you to the principal's office. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">To get on the board and ride. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">And to find my own way(s) to light shit on fire.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">For some of us, danger is what makes us feel safe. And we need more of that right now. We need risk takers to take on the hall monitors and the caution tape and the cones -- to challenge the threatening with thick skin and ideas that cannot be contained.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I often say I have aged decades as her mother and it's totally true. But it's equally true my purse would feel empty without an extra change of clothes and a Swiss Army knife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">This child. This EPIC little girl -- has made me a better human. She has held up a mirror to my fears and helped me dismantle them shard by shard. She has reminded me to listen to my body. To trust my gut. To write on the walls and feel LIFE in my body, to accept the cold of the tide against my feet. To welcome it even. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i>Dare it. </i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Y91Wg4" nbsp="" title="IMG_1517"><img alt="IMG_1517" height="640" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4370/36265565482_e64f6b9f97_z.jpg" width="479" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">....To leave and come back when I'm ready.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">To learn when to let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">And when to hold on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">And when to howl back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">And keep howling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">The true muses are the ones who don't want to be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I watch her and <strike>burn</strike></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> learn.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-49336402289950110612017-06-05T12:40:00.000-07:002017-06-05T12:42:37.822-07:00The Month(s) in Moments: April & May <div style="text-align: center;">
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Some incredible things that happened over the last two months, in no particular order: my brother-in-law got married to someone we all adore and the girls wore flowers in their hair. Archer turned twelve years old. Our couch (and bed) finally came after several months of waiting. We danced in a flower field and saw things we've never seen before, and I'm gearing up to make something I've wanted to make, seemingly, all my life. Thank you, all, again for being amazing. Here's to June and a love + light filled summer.<br />
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-85006623957423939892017-05-31T10:50:00.000-07:002017-06-02T09:41:59.181-07:00In defense of complicated coffee orders<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following post is sponsored by<a href="http://www.jamespatterson.com/books/penguins-of-america#.WS8CLSMrL-a" target="_blank"> Little, Brown and Co and the new book Penguins of America -- written by bestselling author, James Patterson and his son, Jack, </a>who came up with the idea for<a href="http://www.jamespatterson.com/books/penguins-of-america#.WS8CLSMrL-a" target="_blank"> this book </a>when he was five years old. Congrats, Jack and James! </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/UeBjq5" nbsp="" title="IMG_5912"><img alt="IMG_5912" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4227/34051051724_0f9aa5ac36_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't always one of those high maintenance complicated coffee order types. When I started drinking coffee in my early teens, my drink of choice was a cafe mocha (AKA gateway coffee). I, like most beginner coffee drinkers, transitioned rather seamlessly from hot chocolate to... hot chocolate coffee and stayed with that for a beat until... I went ICED. An iced mocha turned into a coffee Frappuccino.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It wasn't until late in high school that I started experimenting with lattes and cappuccinos. I liked SAYING cappuccino aloud because the foam made me feel sophisticated.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hi, yeah. I'd love a cappuccino, thanks," I'd say, in a slight accent.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">It wasn't until I dated a Vegan barista that my orders started to change... I went from milk-based coffee drinks to RICE MILK based coffee drinks (which were disgusting but impressive to my fellow vegan coffee-going peers). I hoped to acquire a taste for RICE DREAM but sadly, never did. So, after pretending to be someone I was not, I stopped faking and started getting real. </span></span><br />
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<i style="color: #500050;">With soy milk. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">The "soy latte" was my drink for at least a decade before it became too weak for my blood. As a mother of four children, I needed an extra shot of espresso to make it through weeks/months/years of sleeplessness, so my "soy latte" became a "soy latte" with an extra shot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And then, about two years ago, I discovered whole milk -- and my coffee-drinking life suddenly changed. WHERE HAD WHOLE MILK BEEN ALL MY LIFE AND HOW HAD I DEPRIVED MYSELF OF SUCH LUXURIES? Certainly, I could at the very least have some whole milk with my coffee, no? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">YES. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The whole milk latte with an extra shot was delicious for a week or two before it started feeling too rich... I'm not big on dairy but also the soy milk was just so... soy-y... I didn't want to go back. SO? I COMPROMISED! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One day, while making my own coffee at home (which is what I do 99% of the time), I came up with the genius idea of MIXING the two. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">YOU GUYS? IT WAS MY GOLDILOCKS MOMENT. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">The soy was too soy-y, the milk was too milk-y, but the soy + whole milk? WAS JUSSSSSST RIGHT.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">I rejoiced. Soy + whole milk in my coffee was EVERYTHING I had hoped it would be and more. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent;">And just like that, I became the lady with the complicated coffee order. </span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">The first few times I felt like a jerk ordering said beverage. I didn't want to be "one of those people" who's like, "can I get a skinny frappy no-whip extra-foam extra-hot extra-shot two-cup no-straw decaf half-caf knee-cap..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">But then, something changed... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I realized, after apologizing profusely the first few times I ordered my complicated coffee drink, that nobody really cared. And beyond that, it made for interesting conversation with strangers about the nature of humans and our various complexities and compromises. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was always someone who liked to make things my own, so I learned to embrace my "weird" order and in time, to OWN it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah, I'll take a latte, extra hot with an extra shot of espresso and for the milk can you mix the soy with the whole milk, please?" - except this time, I don't care that I don't sound sophisticated. I'm NOT sophisticated and that's okay.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the joys of growing up is finding WHAT WORKS for you and then OWNING it. And while this post is really just about coffee, it's also about so much more. </span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">Because EVERYTHING is. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">For so many years, when I ordered something and the wrong thing came, I would eat it. Or I wouldn't eat it and starve and say nothing... because "I DON'T WANT TO START DRAMA, YOU KNOW? I want to be liked. I want to be EASY GOING and V. CHILL about all of the things." </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">I don't feel that way anymore. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">Now, I just want to be myself. My half whole/half soy/extra hot/with an extra shot SELF.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because finding something that works for you and then ASKING FOR IT is life-changing stuff. And I feel like, in this weird way, learning to (unapologetically!) ask for what I want instead of going along with what I'm given has become my mantra, not only at the local Starbucks, but EVERYWHERE.</span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><i>To passivity being a thing of the past... </i>(Cheers!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: "times"; font-size: small;"><br /></span><span class="im" style="color: #500050;"><i style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.jamespatterson.com/books/penguins-of-america#.WS8CLSMrL-a" target="_blank"><span class="il">Penguins</span> of <span class="il">America</span> is an elaborately illustrated book that features penguins doing absurd yet necessary human things</a> such as... placing complicated coffee orders. If you would like to enter to win a copy AS WELL AS a $50 Starbucks gift card... </span></i></span></span></div>
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<i style="color: #500050;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/273Kzx" nbsp="" title="PenguinsOfAmerica_Cover"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="PenguinsOfAmerica_Cover" height="390" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4228/34083301903_f0dd753c7a.jpg" width="500" /></span></a></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-style: italic;">... Comment below with YOUR complicated (or not so complicated) coffee order. I'll choose one winner at random next Wednesday</span><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1242593487" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204 , 204 , 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #500050; font-style: italic; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;"> June 7th</span></span><span style="color: #500050; font-style: italic;">. Good luck! </span></span></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-30611687062235176462017-05-30T14:44:00.000-07:002017-05-30T14:58:05.930-07:00We did it! Because of you. THANK YOU. <div style="text-align: center;">
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A few hours ago, <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">our Pans kickstarter campaign came to an end.</a> I watched the clock as it ticked down and had one last <strike>ugly</strike> battle cry -- of which there have been many -- over the last four weeks.<br />
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Over the course of 28 days, 21 hours and eighteen minutes and with the love of 1501 backers, we made it to $117,579 which is just so beyond incredible. YOU GUYS. </div>
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BUuf1kygasa/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">We did it. 🙏😭😍✊️ #im_not_sorry #rewritethefairytale #imwithheroines #pansfilm #foundgirls #thankyouallsoincrediblymuch</a></div>
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A post shared by PANS Film (@pansfilm) on <time datetime="2017-05-30T18:27:23+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">May 30, 2017 at 11:27am PDT</time></div>
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There are so many people I want to thank -- so many of my heroes and idols, mentors and guides, friends and family that have not only backed this project but reached out to me personally with support. To my sisters and brothers who elevated this campaign REPEATEDLY -- who stood cheering as we pushed past each percentage point.... <b><span style="font-size: large;">THANK YOU. </span></b><br />
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For every tweet and Facebook post and email -- for every Instagram comment. For EVERY. HARD-EARNED dollar donated to help us make this movie... <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I am so grateful.</b> </span><br />
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Please know that <b>Pans WILL move forward BECAUSE OF YOU. </b>That this project is no longer MINE but OURS. I feel like I have the MOST all-star team behind me and I keep turning around like holy shit is this for real? And then I see YOU ALL and YES, IT<i> IS </i>FOR REAL. YOU ARE HERE. And you were <i>there. </i>And I am tackling you all with gratitude... now, always... forever. </div>
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Because of your generosity, your spirit, your belief and willingness to invest in this project and in ME as a filmmaker... PANS will exist. Together we will put the <b><i>Belle</i></b> in Rebel(le) and the <i><b>Wynne</b></i> in <i>GO, FIGHT... </i>and release Pans out and into the world.<br />
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Over the next several months, I'll be updating everyone on our progress whenever possible -- both here and across Pans' social platforms and of course, through our Kickstarter updates. </div>
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I will also be posting monthly round-ups of creative, female-led crowdfunding projects so if you are planning on crowdfunding <u><b>your </b></u>creative endeavor, please drop me an email at rebeccawoolf @ gmail with the HELP ME CROWDFUND in your subject line. I hope the success of our campaign motivates anyone out there with a dream to ASK FOR HELP and MAKE IT GO. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">In the meantime, thank you ALL for allowing/encouraging Pans to happen. </span></div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/FZz514" nbsp="" title="unnamed-6"><img alt="unnamed-6" height="286" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4248/34953847596_21a0b704ee.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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Thank you for holding us up with love and solidarity. Thank you for putting FOUND GIRLS on <i>the stage. </i>Thank you for helping me rise.</div>
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I love you all so much,<br />
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Rebecca </div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-7010208188176520032017-05-25T13:14:00.001-07:002017-05-25T13:24:37.004-07:00sprinting toward the finish line... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<figure style="border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="fit" src="https://ksr-ugc.imgix.net/assets/016/821/126/ca070577ce7a87f79993b100eb3952cd_original.gif?w=639&fit=max&v=1495731074&auto=format&gif-q=50&q=92&s=4d265a0898e7667b3530ed35cb534ba6" style="border: 0px; display: block; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; height: auto; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /></figure><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;">We are in the home-stretch with just over four days to go of our <a href="http://pansmovie.com/" target="_blank">Kickstarter campaign </a>and as of this morning we have TWO angel backers who are EACH coming through with 5k if we can get 250 more backers by Saturday, 9:30am PST. So! I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;">f you haven't backed PANS, please </span><a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;" target="_blank">consider doing so today for as low as $1</a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;">. Or ask a friend!? We also have some really incredible rewards for those of you who want to chip in more. </span><br />
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<figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">Here are a few items we have available for the next four days:</span></figure><figure style="border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535;"><br /><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535; line-height: 21px;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/7d139i" nbsp="" title="unnamed-1 copy"><img alt="unnamed-1 copy" height="234" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4221/34727889632_a10dc8cb80.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Z24k6X" nbsp="" title="unnamed-2"><img alt="unnamed-2" height="680" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4270/34851207696_e688f90786_z.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/q1E9n3" nbsp="" title="unnamed-3"><img alt="unnamed-3" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4249/34851204306_e37d811fb6.jpg" width="488" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank"><i>click here for ALL available rewards! </i></a></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/8ZVnWf" nbsp="" title="NOTSORRY"><img alt="NOTSORRY" height="249" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4269/34851212966_842a9458aa.jpg" width="500" /></a></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">Massive thanks to my amazing friends and teammates who have contributed their time, art and expertise to our backer rewards, including <a href="http://www.angelaboatwright.com/" target="_blank">Angela Boatwright</a>, Danielle Hull, <a href="http://www.desireefalcon.com/" target="_blank">Desiree Falcon,</a><a href="https://becomingjolie.com/" target="_blank"> Jolie Ankrom </a>and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2193008/" target="_blank">Sydney Park.</a>
Every dollar raised goes directly to the production of our film and the employment of actors, crew, designers, music supervisor and so on... I have been working on this project for ten years, with the goal to employ as close to an all-female crew as possible, to cast inclusively so that girls can SEE THEMSELVES and recognize their stories on screen. I believe that we ALL have the power within us to change the narrative, to flip the script and these last few weeks have been life-changing and inspiring and exhausting and motivating and <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">WE ARE SO CLOSE to making this story come true, thanks to you. </a></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">THANK YOU for giving me the space and support to ASK and receive assistance in making this movie.
Thank you for standing with me with love and solidarity. I am so grateful for this community, the love you have so generously offered me and my family through the years. Thank you for rooting me on as I pursue this next chapter. I am so humbled. So excited to make this film. So grateful to have your support and solidarity.
Here's to the generosity of 1105 backers so far. Here's to an additional 300 backers by Saturday!
Here's to our generous angel donors who have come through for me and my team these past few weeks.
Here's to YOU for cheering me on with your kind words and messages and reposts and art. I'm so incredibly grateful. </span></figure><figure style="border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #353535;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/dg1R56" nbsp="" title="GREWUPSLIDE"><img alt="GREWUPSLIDE" height="636" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4203/34851217616_5009bba1b2_z.jpg" width="490" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">With Love and Gratitude,</figure><figure style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #353535; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">Rebecca </figure><br />
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-26536462507175484602017-05-22T10:52:00.000-07:002017-05-22T11:40:01.078-07:00in transit the scenery blurs <div style="text-align: center;">
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1. He turns twelve tomorrow. An age that is as <i>between</i> as it gets. <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2015/06/ten-years-from-now-we-used-to-say.html" target="_blank">I remember when he turned ten</a>, feeling like, here we go... and now, here we are, pushing through space between months and years and numbers that mean more than they did, even last year.<br />
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It is a strange feeling when you look at your baby and see a man. It wasn't that long ago when I counted his lifetime in days and then weeks and months... even after his first year, <i>he was still twelve months old. </i>When you're a new parent, months hold so many new milestones you feel the need to include them all.<br />
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"My son is about to be 144 months old."<br />
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The last year of his boyhood. Next summer he will have his Bar Mitzvah. That is legit man stuff right there. How did we get here so fast. That is not a question. I know how it all went down. I was there. It feels like it blurred but it didn't. And I'm so glad I wrote it down. Even the hard parts.<br />
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2. I had to stop reading the news. I am reading it again -- now -- after weeks of pulling myself away. Nothing made sense any more. Maybe it's always been like that but I had to take care of myself. I had to focus -- eye on the prize -- on something hopeful. My children give me hope. I read the stories on the wall of our school -- the politically charged eight year olds in my daughter's class whose heroes are women who dissent. </div>
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Fable wrote a scathing letter to the man we call president. She wrote one to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BTsTeOklt-P/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">her hero</a>, too. She started a blog of her own. It's about politics and girl power. It's private for now, but we've already talked about her taking over mine. <i>Girl's Gone Riled. </i><br />
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I found Archer in the adult section of the book store the other day -- after polishing off Animal Farm he wanted to read 1984 on the plane. We read the same kinds of books now. It's amazing, actually, to have a child who isn't really one at all anymore.<br />
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Everything is falling apart but our children are learning what to do with the pieces. They are learning and caring and working on strengthening their minds and voices -- they are sharpening their words and finding ways to use them and I am so proud.<br />
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What will we call this time in ten years? I feel like I'm staring out the window, somewhere between THEN and SOMEDAY. </div>
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3. I drove by our old house last week. The buyers knocked down every interior wall but left the outside in tact. I knew it was coming. Our house was broken and nobody wanted to live in it the way it was. The property was too valuable for a structure that could no longer sustain. It still broke me -- seeing the backyard through the front door. The archways gone. The bedrooms non-existent. A hollowed-out shell of our former lives.<br />
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<i><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BRyk4QzF_yO/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">You cannot cross a bridge without recognizing there will be many things you leave behind.</a></i><br />
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I say this myself as I fix my eyes on a different path. I say this as I take my son shopping in the men's section. I say this as I put all of my eggs in one basket. As I refresh the Internet and then tell myself to walk away. The harder you push, the closer one gets to falling over but the alternative is what: standing still? I always pick the window seat in the airplane even though I don't know what I'm looking at when I look down. I only see clouds. Or squares in the distance. Specs of neighborhoods I could never guess by name.<br />
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4. She isn't real but she wants to be. She's on paper and she's in my head and I know her in myself but she isn't real. I can feel her on one side of me, like an imaginary friend pushing through the wall that keeps her invisible. I can feel her everywhere I go. Wynne. As in GO, FIGHT, WYNNE. Wynne as in the opposite of LOSE. We are so close to reaching our goal, I can FEEL it. But there's still a week to go and I am nervous. It took me months to garner the strength to ASK in such a BIG WAY like this. And even more time than that to believe we could DO THIS THING.<br />
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5. In transit, the scenery blurs. You are on the train because <i>you know where you want to end up </i>but when that <i>where</i> is new, nothing out the window looks familiar. You know you are on a train but when you're not driving, you just have to trust. You have to sit down and say OKAY. WE ARE GOING SOMEWHERE. PLEASE LET US ARRIVE. Faith, some would call that. For others it's just knowing when to pull back and breathe.<br />
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And to recognize that even in breath, there is a moment between inhale and exhale that is just...<br />
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6. Tomorrow I will have been a mother for twelve years. I celebrate my children's birthdays with more self-reflection than I do my own. I don't remember being born but I remember May 23rd, 2005 -- what it felt like to hold a tiny boy in my arms and search for the future in his eyes... and then my own.<br />
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Twelve years later, there is no sign of the baby -- instead a young man, about my size calls me mom. Tells me to sit three rows back at the school concert, to park down the street when I pick him up from school.<br />
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It hurt at first -- and then I remembered what it felt like to have a mom in front of my friends at his age. I remember what it's like, I tell him. <i>It's cool. I'll be across the street when you need me. </i><br />
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Growing pains are for parents, too. I am learning how not to take it personally when he pushes me away -- working to better understand his signals so I can flash mine in response from across the tracks. <i>Detachment parenting. </i><br />
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"I'm here. Do you see me?"<br />
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He tells me he does.<br />
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We are <strike>both</strike> all growing up.<br />
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7. <i>You are all amazing. I'm sorry it's been so quiet here, especially after I wrote about my big plans to continue blogging through the month but, oof, I just... it's been impossible for me to keep up and sustain a Kickstarter campaign all at once. </i><br />
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<i>Today, I'm taking a breather. This post is my breath. </i><br />
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Thank you all for your patience and support. Thank you for posting about Pans and sharing and giving and asking friends to do the same. Thank you for being my posse. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. THANK YOU FOR BELIEVING IN ME. Thank you for rallying around me and this project. Thank you for helping us get up the mountain.<br />
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We are currently 84% there with 8 days to go... If you haven't backed us yet, please consider doing so today. We are <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">SO CLOSE. </a><br />
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<i>... THANK YOU. </i></div>
<br />GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-24415834334114448312017-05-02T14:57:00.000-07:002017-05-02T21:13:52.759-07:00PANS on Kickstarter is Now Live! Thank you so much for your support! <div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/9zN04S" nbsp="" title="AngelaBoatwright_-1172"><img alt="AngelaBoatwright_-1172" height="427" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4165/34027080410_24ddfc1739_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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<i>photo by <a href="http://www.angelaboatwright.com/" target="_blank">Angela Boatwright</a> after our tease shoot in January </i><br />
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Yesterday, a little after 9am, <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">our Pans Kickstarter campaign went live. </a><br />
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<a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" nbsp="" title="about"><img alt="about" height="283" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4176/34281586121_003e318f82.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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ED: I meant to post this yesterday but in typical<i> HA HA OH, YOU fashion, </i>I had to pick a "sick" child up from school early and then came home to no Internet access for 8 hours. SO! I am now posting this 24-ish hours later. Also, I barely slept last night. Or the night before. (Or the night before that.)<br />
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The last 24 hours have been AMAZING. I am blown away by the support and kindness you have shown me and this project. We made over 11k in our first 24 hours which was completely beyond expectation and I am trying to thread words together in a sentence to convey my gratitude and then I keep deleting those words and now I'm just... I wish there were emojis I could use, here, because words don't seem like enough. Please know that I am just so very grateful.<br />
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I also want to thank a few amazing people who I did NOT thank in the Kickstarter page and those people are <a href="https://twitter.com/steadyhappy" target="_blank">Christina Soletti</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/PattySchemel" target="_blank">Patty Schemel </a>and her band <a href="https://www.facebook.com/weareUPSET/?hc_location=ufi" target="_blank">Upset</a> for so generously allowing us to use their music in our Kickstarter trailer. Endless gratitude to Kathleen Hanna as well for giving us permission to use Le Tigre's song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EU1CDSP7FRk" target="_blank">Deceptacon</a> <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">in our tease.</a> Which happens to be one of my all-time favorite favorites.)<br />
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I am also so grateful for those of you who have not only donated thus far, but who have posted the campaign on their Facebook pages and Instagram pages and on Twitter. We cannot fund this film without your help and are so grateful for anything you can do to help us get the word out.<br />
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THANK YOU. </div>
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I promise I will do my best to post things in the next month that aren't purely Pans related, but I also will be posting things that are. As someone who is bombarded on a daily basis with marketing and promotional asks, I TOTALLY understand the fatigue. However. My #1 goal in life right now is to make this movie and for the month of May I will be doing everything in my power to raise as much money as we possibly can to make Pans possible.<br />
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I've gone ahead and embedded our project page in the upper right corner of the sidebar for easy access. You can also go <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys?ref=user_menu" target="_blank">here!</a><br />
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Please think of this Kickstarter as my tip jar. My patreon and/or Amaz0n wish list. Except instead of the money going to me it goes to the many dozens of creative people it will take to make this small but mighty movie... AMAZING people -- many of whom have already donated hundreds of hours, unpaid because they believe in this story in the same way I do.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/ey2UF3" nbsp="" style="text-align: center;" title="AngelaBoatwright_-1159"><img alt="AngelaBoatwright_-1159" height="427" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2807/33569992094_1519cc309c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>more photos by Angela who is AMAZING and whose photography <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">is one of our rewards! </a></i></div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/y0iA4e" nbsp="" style="text-align: center;" title="AngelaBoatwright_-1222"><img alt="AngelaBoatwright_-1222" height="427" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4180/33569992274_148a678742_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
Anyway, this was a very long-winded introduction to our Kickstarter page so apparently words do not fail me completely. Thank you all so very much for supporting this project and for helping me spread the word like dandelion fluff into the ether. Thank you for having my back. Thank you for helping bring Pans to life...<br />
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We are humbled and grateful for <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys?ref=user_menu" target="_blank">your contributions and support</a>.<br />
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With love and gratitude,</div>
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Rebecca and<br />
<a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2016281320/pans-a-film-about-found-girls-and-lost-boys" target="_blank">Team Pans </a></div>
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*she wasn't<i> really </i>sick. She's just really good at pretending to be sick so she gets one-on-one time with me. This is a thing that twins do, you see. They FIND A WAY to get the attention they need and <i>also </i>deserve. Which, I mean... <i>respect. </i><br />
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-27297394485413618122017-04-28T11:26:00.000-07:002017-04-28T11:29:13.799-07:00It's a Girl (and an Update) #PansFilm <i>I know it's been very quiet around here for the last several months and you will see why on Monday, May 1st (three days from now!) when, with the help of my incredible team, I will be launching our Kickstarter campaign for my first film, (and fifth child) PANS. Creating, planning and curating a crowdfunding campaign is an immense amount of work and I haven't been able to get to much else in the last few <strike>weeks </strike>months. There was also that whole spontaneous <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/03/and-keep-sailing.html" target="_blank">OH-I-GUESS-WE'RE-MOVING-NOW</a> thing which... you know... life is kind of an EVERYTHING MUST HAPPEN AT ONCE proposition. That said, I wanted to <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/01/its-girl-pansfilm.html" target="_blank">repost something I wrote and published here back in January,</a> for those of you who missed it and also just because it just feels right to do so. </i><br />
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<i>Big love to all and thank you for your support and patience as I continue to navigate all of the things. Also, please come back Monday and support our PANS campaign! Oh, and please follow us on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/pansfilm/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PansFilm/" target="_blank">Facebook </a>and <a href="https://twitter.com/pansfilm" target="_blank">Twitter</a> as well! Thank you, thank you in advance!</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ten years ago I started a script. Or, wait…it wasn't a script at first. It was a novel, actually. <i>Ten years ago I started a novel.<o:p></o:p></i></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Archer was a toddler and I had just finished my second unpublished book and was determined three times would be the charm. I was a force of fiction-writing nature in those days, determined to write one novel a year, which I did, until I gave birth to my first child. I kept writing, of course, hundreds of thousands of words a year… but most of those words ended up here, on this website.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, I was determined to write fiction. I was still young and had an unflinching amount of chutzpah when it came to rejection. Each rejection was a branch, I told myself. And I couldn't get to the top of thee tree without branches. So I climbed. And I climbed. And I kept climbing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The original title of my third novel was <i>Wendy and the Lost—</i>a modern take on <i>Peter Pan</i> but from Wendy's POV. The book was my first for a "YA audience," although I never saw it as such. Adults do not suddenly grow out of reading stories. Old readers need young heroines, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had spent much of my childhood LOVING Peter and the lost boys while despising Wendy and Tinker Bell, who were depicted in the book, as well as the Disney adaptation, as overly protective/maternal-to-a-fault/wet blanket (Wendy) and jealous/vindictive/mean spirited/mean girl (Tinker Bell).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Peter’s world, as well as in my learned experience, boys were curious adventure-seekers who slouched and got dirty and had all kinds of fun being irresponsible and boyish. They were allowed to do stupid shit a <i>la boys will be boys.</i> They were curfew-less mischief-makers, digging their tools into trees and their heels onto gas pedals. They crashed into each other with their bodies and everyone applauded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the years I drew parallels between the story of <i>Peter Pan</i> and my own adolescence. I grew up, in the way Wendys do, and in doing so realized there was much more to this story—to MY story—but also to hers… that in so many ways, <i>Peter Pan</i> represented what was lacking in fairy tales and bedtime stories and ALL WORKS OF ART WRITTEN, DIRECTED AND CONCEIVED BY MEN. There was another story, here—<i>about a girl</i>—whose narrative was never included in the book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I read Barrie's <i>Peter Pan</i> several times through the years, always looking for a Wendy I couldn’t find. It became clear to me that while Wendy was intended to be the heroine all along—the protagonist—she remained practically invisible. Ubiquitous, yes, but also unnecessary—a girl transported into a world of boys only to be used as a sort of tool for contrast. Wendy's practicality and realism gave Peter and the boys <i>that much more</i> appeal. As for Wendy, we never got a chance to see, or even realize, <b>her magic</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I found myself in many situations where I realized I was the same. I was living my story within the pages of other people's manuscripts and taking care of people who never bothered to ask me about my day. I said YES instead of NO to appease the stories of others, at the risk of losing my own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I came to this and about 787897 other realizations when outlining the book. I began drawing more and more parallels between the story of<i> Peter Pan</i> and the stories of almost every woman I knew -- girls who wanted to get lost in <i>Neverland,</i> too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After an early draft of <i>Wendy and the Lost</i>, it became clear to me that this wasn't a book—this was a movie. I was already feeling frustrated by the lack of female driven films and stories told realistically for young people when my first daughter, Fable, was born. Fable’s birth turned me in a completely different direction as a mother and woman, thrusting me full-on into a creative and political <i>femaissance</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fable became my muse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Q969bi" nbsp="" title="DFD0FA08-9C44-442E-AA29-012758653235"><img alt="DFD0FA08-9C44-442E-AA29-012758653235" height="500" src="https://c7.staticflickr.com/1/358/31914898126_01e415ec52.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My first draft of "Wendy and the Lost" (which was essentially about high schools kids and drug use) was atrocious and I hated every minute I spent writing it. I knew it sucked from page one, but for whatever reason, I kept on writing, kept on sucking, kept on despising everything about every word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />This is a first draft, I told myself. JUST. KEEP. WRITING. GO, GO GOGOGOGO!!!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wrote a second draft after that. And a third after that, polishing my piece of shit as best I could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, after much hand-wringing and tears, I scrapped the entire draft (and months of work) and started from scratch. Same name. Same story. This time, though, "Wendy" wasn't just any high school student, she was THE KICKER ON THE SCHOOL FOOTBALL TEAM!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent months on this new version of my story. I stalked high school football playing girls on twitter—became obsessed with female athletes who competed against boys and men, and once again, wrote a very mediocre draft. I spent about a year with this version before once again scrapping and starting fresh— this time with a new title and a new (and also OLD) direction. This time, I would do what I had always done best: write a story inspired by <i>MY </i>experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so, ten drafts and almost three years later, I started <i>again.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">New draft.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Page one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fade in...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes it takes a minute or an hour or a year or ten years to realize what you really, truly want to write about. It happens to me when I sit down to write a post. every. single. time. Most posts start out in completely different directions before I realize they are <i>actually about</i> something else. I've sat down to write about marriage only to end up writing about potty training. I've sat down to write about the politics of preschool etiquette only to realize halfway through I am actually writing about my own insecurity in large groups. Some posts take me months to finish. Hell, I have posts in drafts I started years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Writing is a transportation vehicle, and sometimes when we least expect it, we end up in a field we could have only arrived at had we taken a Mack truck to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is what happened to me. I knew I had something important to say. I knew I had a personal story to tell. I knew <i>Peter Pan</i> was how I wanted to tell it. But it took many years and many failed drafts before I recognized <i>what, when, why and how... </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I met <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0326150/" target="_blank">Linda</a>, my now producer, mentor, guide and friend, Archer was in kindergarten. I was working on my newest draft of PANS, and over coffee mentioned it to her in passing. It was a mess, I explained, but it was getting somewhere...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I told her about Wendy's many incarnations and that in this new draft I was taking a far more daring approach to the character, basing her, instead, on<i> me </i>and my experience as a (gulp) teenage girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In short, I pitched her my movie. And in doing realized <i>I had something. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've said this to Linda before, but I want to say it here, too. Sometimes we cannot see ourselves through our own mirrors—sometimes it takes meeting someone to say, "here, look this way..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Linda heard me that afternoon and because of that, I was able to keep writing. And while it would take me another five years of rewrites to get PANS into its current state, Linda was there for all of it. She still is. Her voice—<i>Field of Dreams</i> style—perpetually hums in my ear when I feel overwhelmed by the scope of what we're doing and what still needs to be done. "If you write this, we will make it. Just keep writing. Keep pitching. Keep meeting. Keep keeping."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Do you want to direct this yourself?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Without hesitation I said <i><b><u>yes.</u></b></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two summers ago, on my 34th birthday, we had our first pre-pre-production meeting. The script was done (I’m laughing because it has been rewritten AT LEAST ten more times since then) and with it, my first glimpse of the light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel. Months later, I met <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0067585/" target="_blank">with our now casting director</a>, and by January of last year, we were casting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/7FV958" nbsp="" title="IMG_5746"><img alt="IMG_5746" height="373" src="https://c7.staticflickr.com/1/526/31917496342_5261dfe56e.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I took a picture that day of the empty chair before our first actor came to read for the starring role (Wynne/Wendy), and on the way home, I cried. I had never experienced anything like that before. One by one, INCREDIBLY talented teenage girls came into the casting room and became a character I had conceived. They dressed like her. They walked like her. They spoke her truth as if it were their own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/mqB913" nbsp="" title="CDCB8F6A-21A6-45CB-ACCC-A8670D81E5FF"><img alt="CDCB8F6A-21A6-45CB-ACCC-A8670D81E5FF" height="640" src="https://c7.staticflickr.com/1/382/31112088414_8e86cd5ec6_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At first, I tried to cover my scared-shitlessness with a false sense of “I got this,” but over the course of the first round of auditions, it became clear that separating my professional self from my personal self was not an option. And so I just went with it. My voice cracked. My hands shook. My sweat… was everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I recognized my inexperience, fully acknowledging that these young women, some as young as 14, had far more experience than I did at castings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet, I had 34 years of experience being myself and, in that moment, and every moment that has come next – in rooms where I have been a novice amongst old pros – <i>that’s</i> what has mattered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so I let myself cry when I felt moved to cry. I became emotionally involved with every aspect of every moment. I made it personal, got attached, hugged everyone, and realized my strength as a director was my strength as a mother—that in the same way I wrote PANS for my teenage past, I was directing as a mother, present—that this project, more than anything I had ever creatively done, allowed me to be both my THEN and NOW selves. The mother <i>and</i> the child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the course of the next several months, I spent Friday mornings with my casting team, reading young women and young men for the parts we would eventually cast. I watched audition tapes from actors from all over the world. I fell in love with MANY performers and performances -- mainly teenage girls and young women who blew me away with their REAL. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have more respect for teenage girls and young women now than I ever did before—for young actors who get a bad rap, specifically young female actors who in my experience have been INCREDIBLE and brilliant and warm and REAL and collaborative —every. single. one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am floored and in awe by the support of women in this business, <a href="http://www.divideconquer.us/about/" target="_blank">as well as three incredible men who joined our team last year as producers</a>, KNOWING and RESPECTING and HELPING me realize my goal of an inclusive, female-centric crew—turning <i>Neverland</i> on its ass in order to recreate a better, more lasting land that includes <i>EVERyone</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It feels strange and also scary to finally publish this post. Outside of close friends and family, I have kept this project mostly to myself—folded up in my back pocket for the better part of a decade. Meanwhile, I have spent thousands of hours on this project. Hell, THOUSANDS OF DAYS. But I’m ready. I’m exited. And I’m proud of the work I have done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are times – like this one right now – when you find yourself at the top of your tree with ten years of branches below you and realize, holy shit, I'm really getting somewhere... look at this view, man! LOOK AT THIS VIEW! Which is what I’m allowing myself to do – today – with this post.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the years, there have been many times when I’ve thought, “what the fuck am I even doing?” There have been times when people have asked me the same thing. There have been multiple occasions of people trying to talk me out of directing my own movie…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Why don’t you just sell the script and work on something else?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“You’re still working on the Peter Pan thing? Don’t you want to sell it and start something new?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">… But that was never an option. I had spent too many years raising this project not to see her into adulthood…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pans was my fifth child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pans IS my fifth child. A child I have raised and loved and learned A THOUSAND THINGS from.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/j614BZ" nbsp="" title="IMG_4533"><img alt="IMG_4533" height="640" src="https://c5.staticflickr.com/1/352/31914605676_11903e2423_z.jpg" width="481" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Which is why I’m writing this post – to introduce you, finally, to this project, which has lived with me for as long as I’ve kept this blog… I have honed characters, re-written plot lines, redesigned characters based on conversations I have had with you… and I’m so grateful for that. I’m so grateful to have a community of women who challenge and open me up – who make me feel safe, even fearless…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you for helping me build a platform from which to share and speak and exist truthfully and explicitly, not just as a mother, but as a woman – ever-evolving, changing, fucking up, making it work, trying my best to fight forward, love deeply, speak my truth. Thank you for supporting me and each other; I am a better mother, a better writer, a better woman because of you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And from here on out, I will be including you in this new <i>mothering </i>journey (and yes, it feels very much like a very long, very drawn out labor.) Because this project isn’t just for me -- it’s for my girls. It’s for my friends and family, sisters, strangers, <i>you</i>. It’s for every young woman who has ever been made to feel less than because of her <i>Wendyness</i>. <i> </i>It's for survivors of sexual assault, most importantly teenaged survivors and those</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> currently in the throes of adolescence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pans is about strength and solidarity, vulnerability and dissent -- it's about speaking up and SAYING NO with ACTION and ART. It's about RESISTANCE and VOICE and what it means to stand with each other in solidarity. It's about young women who realize their power and raise themselves. </span>It's about creating SISTERHOOD within the brotherhood.<br />
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It's about <strike>lost boys</strike> FOUND GIRLS. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Will it be an uphill battle from here? Hell fucking yes. As I type this, we continue to climb what is now an enormous, branch-filled, treacherous-ass tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We still need a pretty massive sum of money to get us into production. (Yes, there will be crowdfunding campaign. Soon. Very soon. More on that in a few days.) And after that, there will be MANY MORE BRANCHES before we get to the top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet…here we are...</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/uN5166" title="IMG_5744"><img alt="IMG_5744" height="375" src="https://c5.staticflickr.com/1/443/31917496932_a9cac34719.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<i>First day of casting, January 2016</i><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/74xhbp" nbsp="" title="IMG_5743"><img alt="IMG_5743" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/385/31690789360_dbc15d7ff8.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Here I am—</i>exhausted, excited, scared shitless and, yes, I'm going to say it, REALLY fucking proud.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm making a movie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt5773544/?ref_=nm_knf_t1" target="_blank">PANS</a>. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">And </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">it's a girl. </i><br />
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</i>GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-52539862866039793692017-04-24T12:24:00.001-07:002017-04-24T12:29:00.776-07:008 Sanity Saving(ish) Tips for Moving with Kids<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/ei3k9i" nbsp="" title="IMG_0821"><img alt="IMG_0821" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2898/33439921200_554a56cec7.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
<a href="https://mom.me/kids/64810-8-sanity-saving-tips-moving-kids/" target="_blank">If there is one thing in this world I feel like I can competently give advice about, it's moving. I've lived in Los Angeles my entire adult life (coming up on 18 years this summer) and in those 18 years have moved 11 times. 4 of those 11 times I had kid(s) with me and 2 of the last 4 moves, I had FOUR kids with me, along with a husband who is AMAZING at helping in certain areas (Hal does all the grocery shopping in our house, for example) but NOT SO GREAT at moving.</a><br />
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ED: Hal didn't pack A SINGLE BOX. He also didn't unpack a SINGLE BOX. Literally. Not one. Not even half of one box.<br />
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Anyway, I just want to make it crystal clear that in one weekend, I unpacked 140 boxes all on my own and put everything away while also wrangling kids, which is PRETTTTTTTY damn superheroic if I do say so myself and yes, I am saying so myself. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BR1pxR0Fc5b/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">I AM SAYING SO MYSELF.</a><br />
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Of course, it has taken me years of trial and error to nail down the formula for moving (somewhat) seamlessly from one house to another and while I don't think I will ever master the EMOTIONAL ability to PACK and GO (I spent the two weeks leading up to our move sobbing uncontrollably which is probably what caused my "stress stye" which I had for two weeks as I was packing up the house, so FYI, this shit is HARD AF. Even when it looks, from the outside, to be easy.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/a9gr57" nbsp="" title="unnamed"><img alt="unnamed" height="800" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2937/33552494210_5306c91d7a_c.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
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(NOTHING IS EASY.)</div>
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That said, I am quite certain I have some unsolicited advice to offer when it comes to moving with children. And some, if not all of it, is worth sharing -- so here goes:<br />
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1. <b>GO THROUGH EVERYTHING FIRST</b></div>
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If you want to unpack quickly, you have to commit to spending A LOT OF TIME packing. Perhaps this isn't rocket science, but I'll tell you what, more people have been like, "JUST THROW STUFF IN A BOX AND GO" to me so I'm just going to come right out and disagree wholeheartedly with that statement because, "THAT IS A TERRIBLE IDEA, ACTUALLY!"<br />
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Here's the thing: The whole point of packing is to make UNPACKING as seamless as possible. The more junk you bring with you to your next home, the more junk you will have to unpack and sort through. The ONLY silver lining to moving is the inevitable PURGE that you wouldn't otherwise spend the time and energy doing. (I got rid of close to 100 trash bags of unnecessary stuff -- most of which was kids' stuff they no longer needed... cribs/strollers/old toys/clothes... and I wouldn't have been so meticulous about going through everything had we NOT been moving.)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0967W2" nbsp="" title="IMG_0150"><img alt="IMG_0150" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2828/33011575613_4b5b746427_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<b>My advice:</b> Commit to packing/sorting ONE ROOM A DAY before you move and go through EVERYTHING... sorting KEEP/TOSS/DONATE in neat little piles. (Give yourself TWO DAYS for the kitchen. The kitchen seems to become a catch-all of strange objects in drawers... it does for me, anyway.)<br />
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ED: We used to live on a VERY busy street, so we were able to get rid of A LOT of our stuff by putting it on our front lawn. (We did this with furniture, old kids' stuff, etc.) We also were able to give lots of stuff away to friends and friends of friends who needed stuff so HOORAY for that. </div>
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2. <b>DISCARD THINGS WHEN KIDS ARE NOT AROUND </b></div>
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Every time we move I make THE SAME MISTAKE of ASKING my kids if the ENORMOUS box of build-your-own-laser-labratory-set is something they would like to bring them to the new house. And EVERY TIME they decide that the GIANT build-your-own-laser-labratory-set is ACTUALLY THE ONLY THING THEY CARE ABOUT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD even though they have, in five years, never touched the thing.<br />
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In short, almost EVERY SINGLE thing I put in the "donate" pile ended up back in my kids' bedrooms. Even the clothes they had LONG outgrown, so do yourself a favor and do the sorting when kids are either sleeping, at school, at friends' houses, all of the above...<br />
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<i style="text-align: center;"><b>You can read the rest of my post, here,<a href="https://mom.me/kids/64810-8-sanity-saving-tips-moving-kids/" target="_blank"> on Mom.me</a>. Godspeed, parents on the move! Godspeed. </b></i></div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-50370749454964185512017-04-04T10:56:00.001-07:002017-04-04T11:13:27.916-07:00The Month in Moments: March <div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/9d0MJ8" nbsp="" title="IMG_0674"><img alt="IMG_0674" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3942/33668686652_020de91799_z.jpg" width="512" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<i>our last day in the old house</i><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/TV678B" nbsp="" title="IMG_0704"><img alt="IMG_0704" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2841/33824983305_b547f45fe9_z.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
I haven't done one of these in a while but this month was easily seventeen months long so I'm posting some photos... some workshopped, some not... some cropped and filtered, others unfiltered and raw as they should be.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Y342HX" nbsp="" title="IMG_9509"><img alt="IMG_9509" height="333" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2940/33668671252_8a6da96f29.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/43BrM4" title="IMG_9432"><img alt="IMG_9432" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2805/33011844153_6405a4c363.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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This month put us through the ringer but coming out the other side has been glorious. Thank you all for your love and kind words. Here's to new adventures and pushing through the holes in our hearts with string.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/076N47" nbsp="" title="IMG_0023"><img alt="IMG_0023" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2833/32981767954_bdb4d26d3f_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/sv2m1i" nbsp="" title="IMG_0611"><img alt="IMG_0611" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2835/33668688092_dd26416298_z.jpg" width="479" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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Here's to starting somewhere and ending up somewhere else...</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/1y2bz2" nbsp="" title="IMG_0751"><img alt="IMG_0751" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2887/33668668232_6a16340657.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
(a common theme as per all the time.)</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/022bk5" nbsp="" title="IMG_0349"><img alt="IMG_0349" height="376" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3932/33695566411_202ce077ab.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/B65r04" nbsp="" title="IMG_0306-1"><img alt="IMG_0306-1" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2822/32981755564_1213a46bb2.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/c81oY6" title="IMG_0821"><img alt="IMG_0821" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2898/33439921200_554a56cec7.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/VxhZf4" nbsp="" title="IMG_0990"><img alt="IMG_0990" height="502" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3849/32981762814_56d089509c.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Y5kv38" title="unnamed-1"><img alt="unnamed-1" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2883/33711475711_6b8439b524.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Psx0PH" nbsp="" title="IMG_0971"><img alt="IMG_0971" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2927/33710533711_eefb4a4d29.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/wb6834" nbsp="" title="IMG_1522"><img alt="IMG_1522" height="400" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3836/33439915810_ba57a36631.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
P.S. This happened.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6y65N5" nbsp="" title="unnamed"><img alt="unnamed" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2871/33784398816_e07a5aaca7_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
(Of course.)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/wV39v2" nbsp="" title="IMG_1285"><img alt="IMG_1285" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2818/33439917690_1c66de30ec.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0BHs6Z" nbsp="" title="IMG_1154"><img alt="IMG_1154" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3934/33668677442_9176a3e398.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
***<br />
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<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-78969682824414423712017-03-14T09:34:00.001-07:002017-03-14T09:46:23.068-07:00And keep sailing...<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3F5yuN" nbsp="" title="IMG_8441"><img alt="IMG_8441" height="740" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3892/33022232570_37dcf82a7d_c.jpg" width="550" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was only a little over a month ago when in a heap of laundry and tears, we realized we had to sell our house. </span>After two years of financial hardship, acquired debt and a tax lien on our mortgage care of THAT ONE REALLY GOOD YEAR we had back in 2012 (we got taxed up the ass that year and were never able to get in front of what we owed) we realized, after much hand-wringing, that we really didn't have a choice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We could either...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A. Stay in a broken house which we were unable to financially fix while continuing to charge credit cards/live paycheck to paycheck/borrow money we may/may not be able to repay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
Or:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">B. Sell our house. Make a substantial profit. Pay off our tax lien and every. single. dollar we owe and live completely debt free FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OUR MARRIAGE <i>AND </i>have</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> some money in the bank.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, yeah. Not a very </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">choice-y </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">choice.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="color: black;">
<div style="color: black;">
<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2011/03/three.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I found out I was pregnant with Bo and Revi, my first thought was </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">how the fuck are we going to afford four kids in Los Angeles? </i></a> <span style="font-family: inherit;">LOL because we couldn't. Okay, we could for ONE year and then... that was kind of it. ED: Childcare alone was 2500 a month until Bo and Revi started school this past fall. Multiply childcare with not-so-low mortgage, bills, insurance, healthy food, cars... infinity things that children/families/humans need... and holy shit, you guys. It's a lot. And even when Hal and I were doing really well for ourselves financially, we were only ever able to get in the black once. And that </span></span><span style="color: #500050;">was the year we bought our house. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2011/09/home-less-coming.html&source=gmail&ust=1489534005826000&usg=AFQjCNEwS2Ke7hE6bks0MsMp2_-PpvsOHA" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2011/09/home-less-coming.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">THE DAY we came home from the NICU with Bo and Revi, we were given notice that we had 9 months to move out of our house as our landlords were moving back in. (Happy homecoming</a>!) </span>The rents in our neighborhood were astronomical so it made sense for us to look into buying. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">The market was down and our house was hundreds of thousands of dollars less than every other house in the neighborhood. Still, it was a fixer. Everything was original and needed to be replaced. The windows were caving in. The roof needed to be redone... etc, etc, etc. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">We applied for a loan, and miraculously, after being denied by two different lenders, were approved by the third. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050;">This house became the metaphor that, by the grace of some miraculous something, we could MAKE IT HAPPEN. We could afford a life in Los Angeles with four children. We could become homeowners in a neighborhood we never thought we could become homeowners in. We could support ourselves AGAINST the odds. <i>FUCK YEAH, WE COULD.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">That was our SURPRISE PERIOD. </span><span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">First, my pregnancy with Bo and Revi, then home ownership. Followed by... months later... a tax bill that was 4x what we expected it would be.</span></span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<div style="color: black;">
<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was the same good year that gave us the money we needed to purchase a house that also, in the end, forced us to sell. We set up a payment plan but were only able to afford the bare minimum after childcare and other bills. We were house-poor, seemingly overnight. And every time something broke, we were fucked. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/aperture.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNFcNLgEF4zGhw3Zzj9wrC-oYS4abg" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/aperture.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">We bought our house, expecting our ONE good year was the first of many.</a> </span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was not.</span></span><br />
<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/07/introducing-estaban-informally.html&source=gmail&ust=1489534005826000&usg=AFQjCNFLHjnxlxRVAme6x1Gzf8hOKMjPtA" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/07/introducing-estaban-informally.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">We had big plans when we moved in</a> -- of remodeling the kitchen and repairing the broken windows, redoing the roof, the wiring, the bathrooms. <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/07/esteban-javier-loobo-birth-story.html&source=gmail&ust=1489534005826000&usg=AFQjCNHiELX8JACVzPTGvxh2GUnfgiQ3_Q" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/07/esteban-javier-loobo-birth-story.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Our house was considered a pretty major fixer when we bought it and we were up for the challenge!</a> But after years of barely making ends meet -- of not using the shower when it broke because we couldn't afford to fix it and paying to have the roof patched every time it rained because replacing the entire roof was impossible for us to pull off financially--we started to lose hope. And then, in the last few months, shit got increasingly dire.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050;"><br />In early February, Hal and I had $400 dollars in our joint savings account. I had to borrow cash from Archer to pay for guitar lessons. </span><span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;">The world felt like it was ending in a thousand different ways. And the thing about having kids? You kind of have to pretend like it's not. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You have to hold it together. YOU HAVE TO SMILE AND WAVE when you want to break down and throw things and run away and be like AHHHHHHHH. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/h6K936" nbsp="" title="IMG_0222"><img alt="IMG_0222" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/712/33408228085_f92e8f58a5_z.jpg" width="512" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We sold our house within 48 hours</span><span style="background-color: white;">. We had ONE Open House, a week of private showings for back-up offers and that was it. Last Thursday, after a two week escrow, we closed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It was ONE MONTH almost to the day after we decided to sell.</span></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One month. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I still haven't had time to emotionally process what actually went down but that's sort of recurring theme as of late sooooo.... "Hello feelings, come on in. Take a number. I'll be with you shortly." </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">I do know that selling our house was was the right thing to do and I'm grateful for the seamlessness of the sale. The process, thanks to our agents, has been a breeze. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">This house was a gift dressed up as a promise. </span><i style="background-color: white;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2014/02/old-houses-are-like-this.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNESQbN5Zm7SbX00j7426_hR5xoAUg" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2014/02/old-houses-are-like-this.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Old houses are like that. </a></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Ours was, anyway.</span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3h4003&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNHdKV8ArQtJvMu7hzOt97QiRYTZIg" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3h4003" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank" title="IMG_0070"><img alt="IMG_0070" class="CToWUd" height="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhwMgYWzcQmrZm-bsyDpvjpoduLh1hrtN1qgM3wDxbn8d1-sRsUjUMpx2vY6uodGvL-UXowcgNT1Lg0Fwwj83ZHwy4RS6V3Dn2Y7S-pIK-BVy7qpdl16pgxbmuvKFzS5_RU5CgqErxLqElXGAzd_ASSfBhnpYA7P6Fv=s0-d-e1-ft" width="533" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050;">We applied to rent the first house we saw. It was empty save for an old Steinway piano in the middle of the living room--warped and completely out of tune. The grand piano felt like a sign (a Signway?) </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html&source=gmail&ust=1489534005826000&usg=AFQjCNHIlBn92Jqx3jTfsUQ-Uxsb_8VW4A" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">just like the ship with six sails was a sign the day we first came to see our current house.</a><span style="color: #500050;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #500050;">I</span><span style="color: #500050;"> used to think I went looking for signs. Now I feel like it must be mutual.</span></span></div>
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<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br />The VERY FIRST thing Hal and I procured as a couple when we moved in together was a piano. It was a gift from Hal's parents and I will never forget the day my newly pregnant self sat in the piano store watching Hal take our Clavanova for a spin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">Our new/old piano isn't OUR piano, of course. We don't own it in the same way we don't own our new place. But ownership is meaningless in the end... what matters is how we inhabit new spaces and what we do to improve them once we're there. What matters is <i>the music</i></span></span><span style="text-align: center;">... however long it lasts.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">The jasmine on the side of our house blooms once ever year. In the Spring. For one week. When we moved into this house it was the summer of 2012 and I had no idea the jasmine would be so fragrant. </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2013/03/liner-notes-35.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNFU2xfk9MMFhJMwDkxukqyfbubXXg" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2013/03/liner-notes-35.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; text-align: center;" target="_blank">I even wrote a post about how-- how it was like a surprise gift to wake up one day and smell the overwhelming sweetness.</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And for the last several years I have looked forward to this time -- opening up every window of the house so that the scent could waft through the halls (which is exactly what it's doing as I write this post, cross-legged between boxes and trash bags stacked for Goodwill.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It feels extra meaningful for this week to be THE WEEK the jasmine came to bloom. It feels like a wave goodbye.</span></span></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6P4E6Z&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNFTBzPHJojIkPwJ50xJMt46rilW8w" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6P4E6Z" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank" title="IMG_8653"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_8653" class="CToWUd" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiRGxM7ywh0cDPOXAxSl5YXMmgX_cppX7MkyT3yXUPwYuNEHbyzWUkFXmVPTalnFbkUuxGbZBpyI_VKg9dd1DPuQ8Q7NWkGLEM7gNURsLrI0fEawhmbgvRkL24bAyBgdI_81tFp1ok91EPHhdhS2BLD-qI_eM5t9pA=s0-d-e1-ft" width="500" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">We're only moving a mile and a half away -- blocks away from the apartment Hal and I shared when Archer was born -- in the old neighborhood where it all began... We'll be in a walking neighborhood like we are now. Next to museums, closer to Archer's school...</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Our new rental house is beautiful. It's bigger than our house -- with an extra bedroom so Archer and Fable can have their own space -- a first for both of them and one that is quite necessary at this time. Our new place was built the same year "Esteban" was and is full of original details from that period. Our new yard is full of water fountains and vines cover the windows. It has a converted garage with what the kids assume is a tiny stage for putting on theatrical productions. It even has a wishing well in the backyard. (The owners raised <i>their </i>four children in the house -- another signway to add to the list.)</span></span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">See? Chin up, Charlie, </i><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">I keep singing to myself, as I wade through the last five years of memories... EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE AMAZING. THIS IS A GOOD THING!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Still, I cannot help feeling the way I do. </span></span><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I am heartbroken to leave this house we have made our home. T</span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2013/07/paint-fence-red-and-other-colors.html?m%3D1&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNGBbI3ect-TKA8mf9Yw8KLJA-8o3Q" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2013/07/paint-fence-red-and-other-colors.html?m=1" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">he fence we painted, covered with our names.</a><span style="background-color: white;"> The walls stained in sharpies. The floors scratched from dragged chairs. We laughed and we cried and we mourned and we fought and we chased rats down the hallways in this house. My twins learned to walk here. The sidewalks are stained with the blood from their scraped knees. Everything here is a reflection of how we've grown and t</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; text-align: center;">his is a death I have to mourn.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Nostalgia is where I fall apart. I crumble at the sight of old pictures -- which is what happens when you're clearing out a home after five years. When we moved in, Fable was four and Bo and Revi were only nine-months old and I had forgotten about those early days -- how hard they were in ways that I no longer recognize.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;">The potty training and the sleepless nights and the outdoor summer concerts. The birthday parties and hanging of signs on our busy street to HONK IF YOU'RE WITH HER.</span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">When we bought this house, </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-618.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNEV4QaYJ2eKVKych2-K5acRXHV5yg" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-618.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; text-align: center;" target="_blank">we pictured ourselves staying here forever</a><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">, but I guess that's normal. Humans don't put down roots while simultaneously planning to uproot them. Still, I have spent the last several weeks mourning the childhood I assumed would take place right here.</span></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/v6q1u3" nbsp="" title="IMG_0216"><img alt="IMG_0216" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/648/33025235820_006ac4384a_z.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></div>
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<span class="im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Mine was like that. We moved once when I was six years old and that was it. My parents still live in my childhood home and all of my memories exist between the same walls.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">This will be the fourth move we've made as a family -- a reminder that, indeed we can do this, we've done it before... and before that. And before that. And while this is a different move because this house was SUPPOSED to be our forever house, it's also just a house.</span></span></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: white;">We</i><span style="background-color: white;"> are the home.</span></span></div>
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<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br />The night we accepted an offer on our house, we bought a couch that we can all comfortably sit on. We had been planning on doing that when we moved in here, as well, but we were so house poor that we couldn't. We also bought ourselves our first real bed, something we ALSO had been planning to do since we got married. Over twelve years ago.</span></div>
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<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br />"We can say goodbye and hello all at once."</span></div>
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<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br />Aloha.</span></div>
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<span class="m_-1883616045309097117gmail-m_-2729395812328628313gmail-im" style="color: #500050; font-family: inherit;"><br />Shalom.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Salut.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The ship was originally what brought us here. When we first came to look at our house, I noticed the ship on the roof and how it had six sails...</span></span></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNFdsU37u_-5tzPVynjGBgysR_J3aw" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And in that moment, I KNEW this was our house.</span></a></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html&source=gmail&ust=1489451376216000&usg=AFQjCNFdsU37u_-5tzPVynjGBgysR_J3aw" href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/06/liner-notes-625.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hal did, too.</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">And we were right. It </span><i style="background-color: white;">was</i><span style="background-color: white;"> our house. It was our house SO MUCH in SO MANY ways... It was our house for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, till DEBT did us part...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_0119" height="750" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3853/32590648973_93f372d459_c.jpg" style="color: #0000ee;" width="560" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As per our lease, we plan to be in our new house for at least three years. Ideally, longer than that, but I know better now than to hold my breath or make plans or set anything in any kind of stone. We've signed leases in the past, only to see them broken. We've made pacts, plans, promises... editing mostly everything over time. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That's okay. Nobody ever really knows what's coming next. I do know what's come and I know what is going and I know </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that <i>this</i> house will always be a part of our lives even when it isn't. That there's actually something kind of beautiful about transitioning from one habitat to the next -- growing into new homes, taking the essence of yesterday with us into tomorrow </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/416h91" nbsp="" title="IMG_0223"><img alt="IMG_0223" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2902/33025652920_ea90016011_z.jpg" width="511" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">....while simultaneously learning to accept, adapt, move forward... </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">I know that every day is part of an adventure I couldn't plan if I tried. That we are SO incredibly lucky to have had a house to sell in the first place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">Everything is temporary... even decisions that seem permanent... commitments, careers... </span><span style="background-color: white;">Ships dock at harbors for five years only to sail on...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: inherit;"><u><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/602Wm1" nbsp="" title="IMG_2259"><img alt="IMG_2259" height="750" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/743/32562903974_423ae2d9a6_c.jpg" width="566" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></u></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #500050; font-family: inherit;">...And keep sailing.</span></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-88496404812639243202017-03-09T09:57:00.001-08:002017-03-10T10:50:09.687-08:00#ProtectTransKids by educating Cis Children<div style="background-color: white;">
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<a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/43176-protecttranskids-educating-cis-children/" target="_blank">This week on Mom.me, it was my honor to put together a round-up of books for various ages featuring trans and non-binary characters that educate and enlighten young audiences. </a> As a cis woman with four children who (currently) identify with their assigned gender, I feel it is my responsibility to educate my children so that they can be allies and instigators for anyone at any time, <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/education/trump-administration-rolls-back-protections-for-transgender-students/2017/02/22/550a83b4-f913-11e6-bf01-d47f8cf9b643_story.html" target="_blank">specifically those who are disparaged by our current administration.</a></div>
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Books are such powerful tools when it comes to communicating to our children about human rights issues -- specifically issues we don't ourselves have the experience from which to speak. I can TELL my kids what's right and wrong and urge them to HEAR me, but if/when I cannot speak from experience myself, I must turn to those who can.</div>
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And so, with much thanks to friends on Facebook who recommended the majority of the books listed in today's post, here is a selection of 12 books for all children about what it's like growing up trans, non-binary and/or non gender-conforming.</div>
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1.<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.amazon.com/I-Am-Jazz-Jessica-Herthel/dp/0803741073&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNG1x8jxG78K-LyJB_YXnapM2sNQOA" href="https://www.amazon.com/I-Am-Jazz-Jessica-Herthel/dp/0803741073" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><b> I Am Jazz</b></a></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/U2p8aX&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNG39Q10hX_lGMpThPm3SE8pjyzuzA" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/U2p8aX" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="0"><img alt="0" class="CToWUd" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEggW2VjKeHR451HmA8w_et9QZyoA5QMkD9pIx8iBoo0U-JKL2gaocjGLxbwZNw44iAZiVLmX-DebTjf18fnocdAvAmYa6CnTDfZvAljKunfljjWVx0jPe1GlbTGPKOKn56q-nq92XkCDD0kZ7DQ3axT0dVOF_vg54I=s0-d-e1-ft" width="500" /></a></div>
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Written by Jessica Herthel, director of the Stonewall National Education Project and Jazz Jennings (who co-wrote the book at age 12 in 2014), I am Jazz tells the true story of a transgender girl who, from the age of two, identified female. This book not only explains to kids what it means to be transgender, it also empowers young readers to be true to themselves. (4+)</div>
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2. <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.amazon.com/Who-Are-You-Gender-Identity/dp/1785927280/ref%3Dpd_sim_14_8?_encoding%3DUTF8%26psc%3D1%26refRID%3DYVBRAW2M69DX0PC83CJH&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNExmxfagc9kFjGOyIwGAwFWrnFO3g" href="https://www.amazon.com/Who-Are-You-Gender-Identity/dp/1785927280/ref=pd_sim_14_8?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=YVBRAW2M69DX0PC83CJH" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><b>Who Are You? The kid's guide to gender identity</b></a></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/7P59G5&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNERjDM_sebgeFGUEb6YTNbTQWV_Aw" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/7P59G5" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="51EFaG8MT6L._SY498_BO1,204,203,200_"><img alt="51EFaG8MT6L._SY498_BO1,204,203,200_" class="CToWUd" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgBz81gxzA5qZ149Cwri7X4qSwZ-R-j2U66WN6H0YZzk058HZhPZfnnOZsuHvUTb3MG3Bx9bdPc8BsifOWz2mlSKZAPPi1P5bVDN6j_1xSw12-FCSq0qTrgQfl2uM0u7qdrNUZuIrci0yOUdzzvpnN7QORl44C7vT0=s0-d-e1-ft" width="500" /></a></div>
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Written specifically for small children (ages 3+), Who Are You explores and celebrates gender diversity with direct language, introducing important discussion points. A go-to resource for parents and educators alike. (Written by Brook Pessin-Whedbee, illustrated by Naomi Bardoff.)</div>
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3. <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.amazon.com/Introducing-Teddy-gentle-gender-friendship/dp/1681192101/ref%3Dsr_1_1?s%3Dbooks%26ie%3DUTF8%26qid%3D1488908578%26sr%3D1-1%26keywords%3Dintroducing%2Bteddy&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNHpQVOeFn9UfRXWBYkq40CTCKVqhw" href="https://www.amazon.com/Introducing-Teddy-gentle-gender-friendship/dp/1681192101/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1488908578&sr=1-1&keywords=introducing+teddy" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><b>Introducing Teddy: A gentle story about gender and friendship. </b></a></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/5vV823&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNHRFpRBLUbS4pQBl9G7q1fdguD9sQ" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/5vV823" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="51UE1Eio2dL._SY498_BO1,204,203,200_"><img alt="51UE1Eio2dL._SY498_BO1,204,203,200_" class="CToWUd" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgAtnvs2cNARUvNrtzDaiDfZpmp7uY8rYCLA-uFGWQaVMv_2KAX56a8pE1PoqthqzK7u4DPB5OJfjQKRi70Khv9xhlyLvq7nM9siizQcqrpodzzl_hHpfpbN2wPXQlf9vhbtc9l9XfJMxjAT2n6baEgwnxIppnhFQ=s0-d-e1-ft" width="500" /></a></div>
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"Thomas" is Errol's Teddy Bear who doesn't identify as being a "boy teddy," but as a "girl teddy" named Tilly! Errol doesn't mind. He just wants his Teddy to be happy. And now that she can be her true self? She absolutely is.</div>
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Written by Jess Walton who was inspired to write "Introducing Teddy" after her father transitioned into the woman she had always identified with, this book provides an empathetic introduction to gender identity and what it means to transition. (3+)</div>
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<b>4. <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.amazon.com/Red-Crayons-Story-Michael-Hall/dp/0062252070&source=gmail&ust=1489040147395000&usg=AFQjCNGwb7IMYRMYZnjYDgy5mesdYWNyZQ" href="https://www.amazon.com/Red-Crayons-Story-Michael-Hall/dp/0062252070" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">RED: A Crayon's story </a></b></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3299xg&source=gmail&ust=1489040147396000&usg=AFQjCNFjP9QSc5v3XGtB7m39MJl8fFNFBw" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3299xg" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="51LKwkYBZIL._SX375_BO1,204,203,200_"><img alt="51LKwkYBZIL._SX375_BO1,204,203,200_" class="CToWUd" height="499" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgcdmjzM96fAoO1EsthUxuKuRgW5-1ucTyj3LzKPVueu7mNd12pm_7FL82CiNdV6tiRmDWKt0OofObb3UstqT6aHRtLy-Z65KrLw6crQjRSZ_TeRF6PWWOzKdcrnZoKIS5d-vMwL2-rgkgyPgwOWh7ao-gN3qpVWg=s0-d-e1-ft" width="377" /></a></div>
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Red has a RED label on his crayon body but inside he is BLUE and even when he tries to be red, he cannot. It's impossible. Red, a crayon's story is about finding the courage to STAY TRUE TO YOUR INNER SELF no matter how hard the outside world tries to convince you to conform to their standards -- a WONDERFUL book that is as much about gender identity as it is IDENTITY identity. Gorgeous. Written and illustrated by: Michael Hall (3+)</div>
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5. <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.amazon.com/George-Alex-Gino/dp/0545812542/ref%3Dsr_1_1?s%3Dbooks%26ie%3DUTF8%26qid%3D1488910001%26sr%3D1-1%26keywords%3DGEORGE&source=gmail&ust=1489040147396000&usg=AFQjCNEF11l_ZBhAViYL5savWQr6E0niPg" href="https://www.amazon.com/George-Alex-Gino/dp/0545812542/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1488910001&sr=1-1&keywords=GEORGE" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"><b>GEORGE</b></a></div>
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<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/41fCN9&source=gmail&ust=1489040147396000&usg=AFQjCNHopS2QdujQc3ZWKf4kKewq5demXw" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/41fCN9" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="31ff9QjnbnL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_"><img alt="31ff9QjnbnL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_" class="CToWUd" height="499" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhVKJYsF0DP6LrrDdFUkgLewvo1sK1GZfSlaYmbPC6lfxkSQvH0pB7lCYgvz6p7bthYxyd3_2KGrzLEr9q0HqqNFvw_JxvPveEZnjY5OQ3jwlEXWeTQqDFvo9ZNOsAgQZTtLyniSHRQJZpg4Lj8gzkjP6uQxJSCxDY=s0-d-e1-ft" width="331" /></a></div>
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George is a girl. But the rest of her class doesn't know that. It takes a theatrical production of Charlotte's Web for George to show the world who she truly is. Written by genderqueer author, <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.theguardian.com/childrens-books-site/2015/sep/09/alex-gino-george-transgender-protagonist-interview&source=gmail&ust=1489040147396000&usg=AFQjCNEjHVeWKlYLTSCOUCJNaiCZH1gN5Q" href="https://www.theguardian.com/childrens-books-site/2015/sep/09/alex-gino-george-transgender-protagonist-interview" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Alex Gino</a>, George is a must-read for all middle-school aged children.</div>
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<i>You can read my post in its entirety,<a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/43176-protecttranskids-educating-cis-children/" target="_blank"> here.</a> And if </i><i>you have a few bucks to spare this week, please consider donating to <a href="https://www.translifeline.org/donate" target="_blank">Trans Lifeline</a>, a </i><span style="font-family: "raleway"; line-height: 22.08px; text-align: center;"><i>non-profit dedicated to the well being of transgender people. For more information, go <a href="https://www.translifeline.org/" target="_blank">here.</a> </i></span></div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-12147091980197487782017-03-01T10:43:00.000-08:002017-03-01T10:43:14.117-08:00A day in the life in an alternative reality <div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="text-align: start;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sD_9EZDgxzgxUG0Fhdf6ZlOerQInlHvuv6xh3f14pkcLZ0I-DYdWtHxJH5O_TFKFEUcvxIIRjTZyDJtQUYdxmajf7PDLvVkA3EFdy9Zn2Ze4_mD9dtDPOLeOdoaKlIWm2_B4VA/s1600/C5poyg2UoAAyGpx.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sD_9EZDgxzgxUG0Fhdf6ZlOerQInlHvuv6xh3f14pkcLZ0I-DYdWtHxJH5O_TFKFEUcvxIIRjTZyDJtQUYdxmajf7PDLvVkA3EFdy9Zn2Ze4_mD9dtDPOLeOdoaKlIWm2_B4VA/s640/C5poyg2UoAAyGpx.jpg" width="640" /></a></i></div>
<a href="https://mom.me/kids/40068-day-life-alt-2017/" target="_blank">This week on Mom.me...</a><br />
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<i><a href="https://mom.me/kids/40068-day-life-alt-2017/" target="_blank">I am having a hard time coming up with things to write about at the moment that aren't intrinsically tied to resistance, protest and panic attacks. And so. I'm going to just, for the moment drift into surreality and pretend that what happened never did. Here's what today looked like in my Alt-Reality 2017... </a></i><br />
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6:15 - Alarm goes off. I am well rested considering I spent the better part of the night kicked in the face by two five-year-olds. I don't mind being kicked in the face... I mean, I do, but at least I don't have to worry about the crumbling of humanity. I can sleep through an elbow to the chest. Nightmares of our president-elect grabbing our entire nation "by the pussy," not so much.<br />
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6:30 - Arms + Abs class is officially in session. My friend Chelsea and I are joking about falling off our futuristic vibrating plates, instead of talking about the fall of our society. I make jokes about our pelvic floors as we do jumping jacks and pee our pants a little.<br />
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7:30 - The kids are eating breakfast and (WHAT THE WHAT!?) so am I. I eat TWO WHOLE PIECES of toast with the appetite of a person normally going about her business. My stomach feels fine. I help my kids tie their shoes. Everything is fine.<br />
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7:50 -- On the way to school, we listen to the Hamilton soundtrack without making references to our forefathers turning in their graves.<br />
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<i>You can read my post in its entirety,<a href="https://mom.me/kids/40068-day-life-alt-2017/" target="_blank"> here. </a></i>GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-14303106959734164212017-02-23T10:49:00.001-08:002017-02-23T12:12:02.945-08:00The Art of Partnering Part 2: Bomp Chicka Woo-Woo<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The following post was sponsored by <a href="http://www.doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">Plum Organic's new Do Your Part(ner) campaign. </a></i></div>
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First off, let me just start by saying that I had <i>very serious</i> plans <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/02/the-art-of-partnering.html" target="_blank">when writing my first post Do Your Part(new) post two weeks ago.</a> Hal and I had a date night in the books, an agreement to unplug every night at 8pm and do ALL THE THINGS I mentioned in my previous post and I'm just going to be perfectly honest with you guys. None of those things <i>really</i> happened. At least not in the way(s) I envisioned them.<br />
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THAT SAID, a lot of romantic couple-y-priority-type things DID happen. And I am POSITIVE they would not have happened had I not made it a priority to be a better partner. (ED: The premise of <a href="http://www.doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">Plum's Do Your Part(ner) campaign </a>is to encourage couples to make love... a priority, because for many of us, prioritizing "married time" over "family time" isn't even a thing.)<br />
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Here was my PLEDGE list two weeks ago vs what actually happened (in red):<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">-Prioritize alone time, specifically NAKED alone time.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: red;">Okay, so this ACTUALLY happened. Naked time was 100% had. And alone time was, too. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BQhEZJeF1_U/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">We made a real effort to get the kids down at an earlier-than-usual time</a> and succeeded... some of the time! But like MOST of the time. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">- Plan TWO date nights in two weeks. (The last time we had a date night just the two of us was literally last summer I'm not even kidding. WE ARE THE WORST.)</span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20.8px;">Okay so this TOTALLY happened. Except they weren't the "go out" type of date nights. They were the "stay in" type of date nights which consist of picking up dinner to-go (or dessert) and eating/drinking said dinner/dessert on the couch while finishing up Season 1 of Atlanta. Officially, we went on THREE of these such dates. And they were all super romantic/didn't cost $17 an hour (which is the going rate of sitters these days smh.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="background-color: white; color: red; line-height: 20.8px;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/b485W2" nbsp="" title="IMG_8766"><img alt="IMG_8766" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3883/33042596795_145c321d87.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></span>
<i>milkshake for him/root beer float for her*</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">- Unplug at 8pm every night in order to french kiss underneath the proverbial bleachers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: red;">Thought that counts? How about unplugging at 11pm and reading in bed until we pass out? Because we did that! Most nights, anyway. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">- Resistance as foreplay because LITERALLY nothing makes me hotter for my man than political action.</span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;"> LET'S CALL OUR REPS TONIGHT, WANT TO? YEAH. OHHHHH, YEAH. </i></span><span style="color: red;">Well, the good news is that AFTER having a complete and total panic attack/meltdown, Hal and I totally spooned and sang "this land is your land" softly in each other's ears until I calmed down. Which... I mean... that's love, man. That's intimacy.</span><br />
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And that's not all... a lot of very romantic #DoYourPartner(esque) things happened in the last two weeks including:<br />
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- <b>Flowers and Candles in the bedroom</b>:<br />
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Okay so the flowers and candles weren't officially for the bedroom, they were for the Open House. HOWEVER. We also benefited from wiping the dresser clean and replacing piles of clutter with a bouquet of red roses and candles everywhere. Because feeling like you're living in a Guns N Roses video is CLEARLY an aphrodisiac. (I used to ALWAYS put flowers in our bedroom. Candles, too. And then... for whatever reason... I forgot that flowers and candles were nice things to have in bedrooms?) Anyway. The flowers and the candles ARE BACK! And they're here to stay! Even during CLOSED houses.<br />
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- <b>Spontaneous Road Trip:</b><br />
<br />
When Hal and I first met, we were ALL ABOUT packing our bags and getting in the car with zero plans re: where we would end up. AND SO. Over the weekend, we decided to go for a drive...<br />
And, yeah, we had four kids with us but STILL! We had no idea where we would end up! (Spoiler alert: We ended up at Kidpsace.) And, yeah, I know what you're thinking: handcrafting DIY "poop" at Kidspace isn't the sexiest, but spontaneity with kids is still spontaneity, you know what I mean? I mean, <i>you get what you get and you don't get upset. </i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0eWgt2" nbsp="" title="IMG_8892"><img alt="IMG_8892" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2398/32916833711_0ba4048a54.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/1nK78M" nbsp="" title="IMG_8893"><img alt="IMG_8893" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3888/32887423332_df916249d3.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6d7up6" nbsp="" title="IMG_8894"><img alt="IMG_8894" height="376" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2679/32916833971_3887459b0a.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
- <b>The purchase of a new (king sized! bomp chicka woo-woo!) bed</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
OH YES WE DID. The silver lining of selling our house = having a few extra dollars (for THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS) to buy a REAL BED. Like, for adults. Since the day we GOT MARRIED, we have been talking about getting a new bed. (Our bed is literally from the mesozoic period and it's TINY. It's no wonder we have so many kids. We have no choice but to sleep inside each other because we have no room to have our own space. JK. Kind of.) Anyway, after twelve years of marriage, we finally bought ourself a REAL-LIFE KING SIZED BED. AND AN ACTUAL BEDFRAME, TOO. I WILL SHOW IT TO YOU IN SIX WEEKS WHEN IT ARRIVES.) In the meantime, this might be the most romantic gesture we have ever shown one another. Having a queen sized-bed with four kids, two of whom crawl into bed with us nearly every night, (with ten stuffed animals per child) does not a beauty rest make. Not to mention the fact that THIS is currently our bed:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/z862R1" nbsp="" title="IMG_8923"><img alt="IMG_8923" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2484/32210538704_066879b99a_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/0qV247" nbsp="" title="IMG_8924"><img alt="IMG_8924" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2636/32900096492_c0f92905e5_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/sf8m6q" nbsp="" title="IMG_8925"><img alt="IMG_8925" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2386/32210538294_d0126ed896_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<i>And speaking of sex... </i></div>
<br />
- <b>Sex:</b><br />
<br />
I mean. WE ARE NOT MESSING AROUND when it comes to MESSING AROUND.<br />
<br />
"I'd like to thank the 6798 candles I bought at Target for the Open House, red roses, orchids, daisies, our exciting purchase of a king-sized bed, spontaneous road trips, root beer floats to-go, 'this land is your land,' and all of you at home for your support."<br />
<br />
Seriously, though.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/05/nothing-but-time-can-be-done-to-stop.html" target="_blank">I have been writing </a>about <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2012/11/142100.html" target="_blank">the</a> ups<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2010/08/all-things-repaired-were-once-broken.html" target="_blank"> and downs</a> <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2014/02/old-houses-are-like-this.html" target="_blank">of my marriage</a> since 2005 and I am extremely grateful for the support and solidarity. Marriage has NEVER been an easy road (for either of us) and I know we're not alone in working our asses off to keep this ship afloat.<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">How about you guys? Did you take the pledge to Do Your Part(ner) yet? How's it holding up? </span><span style="text-align: center;">Comment below with A FULL PROGRESS REPORT (just kidding. You can totally be brief) for a chance to win one of the (2) #DoYourPartner kits Plum and I have left to give away. <span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">(All gift boxes include: truffles, a $50 gift card, </span><a class="gmail-skimwords-link" href="http://skimlinks.pgpartner.com/mrdr.php?url=http%3A%2F%2Fskimlinks.pgpartner.com%2Fsearch.php%2Fform_keyword%3Dmassage%2Boil" style="color: #cc6666; line-height: 20.8px; text-decoration: none;" title="Shopping Link Added by SkimWords">massage oil</a><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">, lube, </span><span class="gmail-skimwords-potential" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">wine glasses</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mating-Captivity-Unlocking-Erotic-Intelligence/dp/0060753641" style="color: #cc6666; line-height: 20.8px; text-decoration: none;">Esther Perel's Mating in Captivity,</a><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;"> snacks, snacks and more snacks because #makelovenotsnacks.) Good luck and love to all!</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.8px;">*</span></span><i style="text-align: center;">I don't usually wear (prescription) sunglasses at night it's just that I</i><i style="text-align: center;"> lost my original glasses and have yet to make time to #SeeMyOptometrist to get a new pair. One of these days I will make time for my eyeballs. </i></span></div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-7911362952530697832017-02-17T23:04:00.000-08:002017-02-17T23:04:25.311-08:00Notes from the Woman's March... ish<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6REwi9" title="IMG_6809"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_6809" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/311/31713192924_70bf37be09_z.jpg" width="479" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I almost didn't write this. It feels silly to write about something that happened almost a month ago... like I should be looking forward instead of backwards. But<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/01/motherdaughterself-notes-from-womens.html" target="_blank"> my mother wrote her post</a>. And<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/02/notes-from-womans-march-on-washinton.html" target="_blank"> Fable did, too.</a> And I had this whole plan where we would write these posts about our different experiences and put them all in one place and remember what it was like to join hands and represent different points of time moving in the same direction. But that was yesterday when I was stronger -- high on the adrenaline of middle fingers and girl power and #RESIST. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, I am struggling. The road ahead feels arduous. My muscles are sore. My heart is broken. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow will come and there will be new fights to begin even though the old fights were never resolved, like cleaning out one closet only to seek another one in which to store the same shit -- packed tightly in boxes to make room for more.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am packing. And I am throwing things away. And I am putting things in closets to deal with later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Does this get thrown away?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kept?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One more in the maybe pile... I'll save this for later. Oh, wait. This post is about The Women's March. Did I march? <i>Yes. </i>Am I still marching?<i> Of course.</i> And yet...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't get <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCRZZC-DH7M" target="_blank">this song </a>out of my head. The kids are playing music in the other room and I rock and sway like a person who doesn't know where she is. Fable started taking piano lessons and Archer is playing Bowie's Changes and Revi is dancing with a Brio train track as a microphone and Bo balances on the back of the couch with a drum in her hands. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i>
<i>If that's all there is, my friend, then let's keep dancing... </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am two women since November 8th.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Woman A is ready to fight. Willing and able to do whatever it takes to say NO and RESIST. Hopeful and excited to raise children during a time when complacency is not an option. LOOK ALIVE, KIDS. WE MUST ACT. STAND UP. STAY STRONG. BELIEVE THAT HUMANS ARE INHERENTLY GOOD! SOLIDARITY!</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Woman B is paralyzed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I keep nudging her. "Wake up!" I say.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Remember how we marched?" I ask her.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Remember how we surrounded a city with our voices and our signs and our power? We're still doing that! Look at us go! We are fire!"</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<i>We are fire. </i></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She throws pillows at me in the night. Tells me I'm pathetic -- a cheerleader for the losing team.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"But there are so many more of us than them," I tell her.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"But I'm so tired," she says, reaching for a cigarette. "And it feels so hopeless sometimes, you know?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am shaking and silent, unable to respond when a Tr*mp supporter talks about killing protestors -- his body touching mine as we're squished together on the same shuttle leaving LAX.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I wish I could run them all over with my car," he says kicking my sign.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I'd flatten the faces of libtards if given the chance," he explains loudly to his son. "Target practice...You and me. Shooting them all down in a line. Melt them with my blowtorch... "</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His son laughs. He's not much older than mine. The sound of his laughter scares the shit out of me. Even the me that claims to be fearless.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"...Snowflakes melt fast," his son chimes in.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They both laugh as I hold my hands together to keep them from shaking.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't listen to the press conferences. I know I should because THIS IS HAPPENING AND WE ALL NEED TO BEAR WITNESS but he makes me fucking puke. Literally, he makes me throw up. I haven't had sex in months because I feel like America just got into bed with an abusive sociopath and his abusive sociopathic friends and my entire body has sealed itself shut.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to fight with all that is in me and curl up into a ball all at once.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I do both.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />"We are at war," she whispers to me as we're sleeping. She is myself and I tell her that everything is going to be okay.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We will fight this. There are more of us than them. Resist. Persist. Insist. EXIST.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"But we're at war..."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Large groups of women used to scare me. Now they are the place I feel most safe. I hadn't expected to feel SAFE in D.C... Not like THAT. I assumed I would be claustrophobic and overwhelmed. Instead, I wanted to live in that crowd. I wanted to swim in a sea of pink -- surrounded by both female and male voices... and the safety of being amongst people who believe in autonomy -- who refuse a white-male patriarchal standard. Who believe in FREE CHOICES and FEMALE VOICES.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/5b5Mey" nbsp="" title="IMG_7075"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_7075" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/470/32404366492_7151de2753_z.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I remember first learning about the Washington Monument as a child. I thought it was beautiful. I was impressed that it was the tallest building in D.C. -- that by law, nothing could extend higher than the tower pointing to the sky. But as I marched in its shadow, it became something else...</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/q9A53N" nbsp="" title="IMG_7073"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_7073" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/327/32404372512_cb745754ab_z.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagined it coming down. Not physically... but metaphorically. I imagined all of these women lifting one another up so high, the monument disappeared. The phallus. The patriarchal symbol of white male power in this country.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What would replace the symbol of WHITE MEN? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;">Certainly it wouldn't look like a giant dick, erect and pointed like an arrow to the sky...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6U31U5" nbsp="" title="IMG_7077"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_7077" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/457/32404366022_ba0b3a24e2_z.jpg" width="481" /></span></a></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We are at war," I think. "This is a war."</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We must draft one another to speak up, to lift and love and elevate one another--build new symbols while resisting the old.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am a white woman and I am new to this fight. I look around and I see men and women who have been fighting this war since they were born. Who will fight this war until they die. How do I use my privilege to stand guard so that they can sleep, I ask myself.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They deserve rest. We need to STEP IN THE RING, white sisters, so that they can rest.</span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am working on it and I am doing my best to raise my children to do the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I get out of bed -- pull myself by the hair if I must. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Look alive. YOU WANT CHANGE? DO SOMETHING... GET UP. There is so much work to do..."</span></div>
<div style="color: black; text-align: center;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="color: black; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile, my inbox is full of pitches for "tips for staying cool this summer" and I wonder how it feels not to feel like the whole world is coming undone. I look at people on Facebook--with their business as usual posts about restaurants and baby gear--and wonder which one of us is crazy. I try to understand the other side.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Tell me how you think what is happening is okay?"</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I cannot understand. Not even in the slightest.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"...Snowflakes melt fast..."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I will never understand.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To march in D.C. with my family was an honor and a privilege. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BPgenDOBDUQ/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">To march covered in the names of women unable to attend their local marches... </a> It took two weeks for everyone's names to wash off my arms and my hand and my shoulders.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I purposefully avoided showers because I didn't want the names to go. Because </span><i style="background-color: white;">we are at war</i><span style="background-color: white;"> and women feel like armor. I want to wrap my body with every name of every woman who has ever lived -- who has ever dared fight back, say no, stand up... RESIST.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to be with women and listen to their words and hold their hands. I want to lift them and be lifted. I want to form an army of mothers and sisters and daughters. I want to sacrifice it all for them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Remember what it felt like in that crowd," I whisper back to the voice... It's late at night and neither of us can sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It felt like a war, then, too. But we were many. And we were fearless. And we were PEACE and LOVE and SOLIDARITY."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It felt like a war we could win.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="im" style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"></span><span class="im" style="background-color: white; color: #500050;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It still does."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was my mother's first time marching. And you should see her now. She leads groups. Challenges strangers. She's devoting her every free moment to resistance. She sends letters to her elected officials. Calls for town hall meetings. SHE IS FIGHTING like never before and I am so proud to be her daughter.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was my sister's first time marching, too. She lives in Texas where she now hosts gatherings in her house -- writes letters, makes calls, demands change. SHE IS FIGHTING like never before and I am so proud to be her sister.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fable has always been fighting. She is the future. In her I see who I want to become. I see in all three of my daughters the women I wish to become and I am so proud to be their mother. They are the tissue holding me together right now. They are my eye on the prize. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I want to end this post on a high note. I want to be the woman who pulls her sister out of bed and tells her to GET THE FUCK UP. WE HAVE WORK TO DO. WE ARE AT WAR, GODDAMNIT, but today I can't. Today I have a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. Today I haven't showered and my hair is askew and I'm not even wearing pants and I'm dancing like someone who feels like she's losing her mind. Today I am Peggy Lee's </span><i style="background-color: white;">Is That All There Is.</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And today I want to reach out to everyone who may be feeling the same. For we can be warriors and worriers all at once. We can FIGHT LIKE HELL and FALL APART and still move forward. We can channel Peggy Lee today and MILCK tomorrow... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can march in silence. Talk in our sleep. Pack our yeses. Revisit our maybes. Do whatever it takes to move forward... We are in this together. And it's okay to want to fucking scream and cry and DANCE LIKE THE WORLD IS ON FIRE. <b>Don't let anyone tell you that you can't be ANGRY and HAPPY and FEARLESS and AFRAID all at once. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So long as we keep showing up, we can carry each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can make each other strong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can get each other out of bed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can stammer around the house in our bathrobe like wtf is happening.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We can fight like hell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And cry like hell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And win.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;">We can keep going. Rain or shine. And we will. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;">"We will." </span></span><br />
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-27070683294528979072017-02-10T08:04:00.000-08:002017-02-10T08:05:17.553-08:00Parenting in the time of Resistance<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/39369-parenting-time-resistance/" target="_blank">I literally don't know what day it is. Is it Tuesday? I think it's Tuesday. These last three weeks have felt like seventeen years and I know I'm not alone in feeling that way. I have stared at many a blank page feeling overwhelmed -- log-jammed with things I want to write about, paralyzed by an inability to know where to even start. The last two weeks have felt like... longer than two weeks. I am currently behind on absolutely everything, losing focus on work, trying my best to be present with my children, to maintain a sense of normalcy in their day-today lives while refusing political (if you can even call what's happening politics) normalcy and doing everything I can to fight the good fight</a>.<br />
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You, too? I know. I FEEL it. I see you. Shit is REAL real right now. Fighting the good fight is hard enough when you don't have kids to take care of and a life to maintain... It is very hard to be all of the things right now. Before November we were ALREADY tapped out. Now we must make room in an already INSANE schedule to stand up to a tyrannical autocracy while simultaneously holding ourselves back from running off to join the resistance.<br />
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We can RESIST and PARENT and LIFE all at once. Because, well, we<i> hav</i>e to. <br />
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Here are a few tips for<b> Parenting in the time of Resistance. (</b>And, yes. I am writing this as much for myself as for anyone else because I am a fucking MESS right now. On the outside I'm like FIST TO THE SKY/EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY! ONWARD! But on the inside? Disasterville.)<br />
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1. <b>Make time. Start small. Join a group. We need you. </b><br />
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What is happening in our country right now DIRECTLY AFFECTS our children as well as ALL children so consider it another parenting duty to involve yourself (and your family) in whatever daily (or weekly!) action that calls to you. Phone calls to reps? Postcards? Setting up monthly donations? Participating in peaceful protest? Organizing local resistance groups and/or joining them? Hosting fundraising events? Bake sales? There are so many ways to get involved in action right now.<br />
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ED: If you don't think your children will be impacted by what this admin has planned, PLEASE think again. If parenting is about showing up for our kids, than resistance to an administration that caters to white supremacy, fear-mongering, Islamophobia, denounces scientific fact, environmental laws and FIRES those who are disagreeable (amongst like 797897 other things) <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times";">is imperative and it's our responsibility to PROTECT and DEFEND</span> each other. If five minutes a day is all you have? Great! You can make two calls in five minutes. Here is a list of <a href="http://www.dailykos.com/story/2017/2/2/1629046/-Call-your-senator-Phone-numbers-for-every-office-of-every-U-S-senator" target="_blank">ALL senators and their phone number</a>s. Tell them how you feel!<br />
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Everyone can commit to one at-home/in-office action a day (phone calls typically take 1-2 minutes) and one out-of-the-home action a month. (Community meeting/protest/volunteer work.)<br />
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The following is a list of groups to join and services that make it easy to take daily action.<br />
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- <a href="https://www.indivisibleguide.com/" target="_blank">IndivisibleGuide.com</a> - <i>a practical guide for resisting the Trump agenda</i><br />
- <a href="http://dailyaction.org/">Dailyaction.org</a> - <i>sign up for mobile alerts that will direct you to daily action.</i><br />
- <a href="http://actiongroups.net/">actiongroups.net</a> - <i>connects you with likeminded activists in your area. </i><br />
- <a href="https://5calls.org/" target="_blank">5Calls.org </a>- <i>spend 5 minutes, make 5 calls. </i><br />
- <a href="http://swingleft.org/">Swingleft.org</a>: <i>find your closest swing district and join the team to learn about actionable opportunities as they become available. </i><br />
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You can also download the Call Your Reps app, <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/call-your-reps/id1182169306?mt=8" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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2. <b>Divide and Conquer -- for our children's future </b><br />
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If you haven't already, sit down with your spouse/partner/co-parent and create a calendar of events you can attend separately AS WELL AS as a family. Hal and I are not participating in any of the same groups/action items (save for making phone calls) but we are covering for each other when, say, Hal has to attend a local meeting or I want to attend a protest, etc. Our goal is to work the system from both sides. His -- participating in local politics. Mine -- getting as loud as I can where I feel it necessary and important.<br />
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3. <b>Include children in your activism. Invite them to come up with their own ways to actively engage in any/all GOOD fights. Bring them to marches. Invite them to make posters, give them the option to donate their money to charity. Include them in conversations about racism and Islamaphobia in age-appropriate ways. Model the importance of STANDING UP and SPEAKING OUT. </b><br />
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If we are going to make change, we have to start at home. Racism is something white parents need to be talking to their white children about. Islamophobia is something non-Muslim families need to talk to their children about.<br />
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I've read a lot from parents saying, "I want my kids to stay innocent for as long as possible! I'm not ready to talk to them about this stuff... It's too scary/hard/upsetting..." Copy that. I totally understand. But PLEASE also recognize that white people "not wanting to talk to their kids about what's going on" is part of the problem. Because here's the thing -- parents of black and brown children HAVE to talk to their children about "what's going on" because "what's going on" directly effects THEM.<br />
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"Protecting our kids and keeping them innocent," is what white privilege looks like.<b> Let's not put white children's "innocence" before black and brown children's lives. </b><br />
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4. <b>That said, do not fear monger.</b><br />
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It is important to be hyper-aware of what you're listening to (and watching) in front of your kids. Save NPR for times when you do not have small children in the car. Ask MANY questions about what THEY think is happening and what THEY can do to contribute positively... There are so many ways for children to participate whether its making posters to put in the windows, raising money a la lemonade stands/jewelry making/participating in marches/etc.<br />
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You can read my post in its entirety on <a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/39369-parenting-time-resistance/" target="_blank">Mom.me, here.</a> xoxo to all. </div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-26118231475872784222017-02-07T15:58:00.000-08:002017-02-08T09:45:59.557-08:00The Art of Partnering<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>The following post was sponsored by<a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank"> Plum Organics' Do Your Part(ner) Campaign.</a> Bomp chicka wow wow. </i></div>
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Years ago, when Hal and I were at our lowest marital moment, I read a Modern Love essay that has since become a returning entry-point for us during tumultuous times in our marriage.<br />
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The essay was about a couple who were planning to divorce when a new neighbor moved in next door. This neighbor was ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE. She was a NIGHTMARE. She drove the almost-divorced couple CRAZY by doing unspeakable things that caused irrefutable anguish and overwhelming strife. And in doing so, brought them totally back together.<br />
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In short -- the awful neighbor saved the couple's marriage by giving them a reason to unite. Similarly, Hal and I have found that our marriage is always at its strongest when we find good fights to replace our bad ones. Because linking arms for the good of the kids can only take you so far in a marriage. Becoming passionate about things TOGETHER is what inevitably unites us.<br />
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<i>case in point, our mutual love of the show, Broad City!</i><br />
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The last few years have been really tough on our marriage. We have been emotionally tapped out, financially strapped and completely out of sync as partners. We have always been great co-parents but for the last year or so, we kind of... let everything else go. I take full responsibility for that -- feeling like there isn't enough of me to be all of the things to all the people. I have been perpetually tired since Bo and Revi were born, overwhelmed and very EVERYTHING IS FINE externally while my insides are like <i>help help no no help what is happening how did I get here no. </i><br />
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I have always prioritized my children/being a mother before my marriage/being a wife. I think that's incredibly common and I don't think it's a a bad thing. However, in order to make a marriage work, a conscious decision to remove the kids from the equation from time to time is imperative. Intimacy does not always go hand-in-hand with child-rearing, ahem.<br />
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But in recent months as we have become more determined to fight<i> something </i>other than each other, there has been an undeniable shift in our bond.<br />
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When Plum and I first discussed partnering on this campaign I warned them that I was basically a case study for the cliched married person in unsexy-survival mode.<i> Couple time? What is that? Sex? Lol! </i>The whole point of<i> </i><a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">Plum's Do Your Part(ner)</a> campaign is to encourage couples to make love... a priority (zing!) because for many of us, prioritizing "married time" over "family time" is... not happening. And it totally should be.<br />
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Hal and I were never married without ALSO having children, so "alone time" has always seemed like a mythical thing. It doesn't help that we have always majorly sucked at making time for each other because UGH, LET'S JUST STAY IN, WANT TO?<br />
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ED: We are notorious for planning date nights and then canceling with our babysitter last minute because it's just too much work to GET DRESSED UP and SIT IN CHAIRS somewhere else.<br />
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Very often I underestimate the importance of getting up off my ass and maintaining a healthy, happy marriage. I tend to think, "well! If my kids are doing well, that's what matters!" But the truth is, THAT IS NOT ALL THAT MATTERS AT ALL.<br />
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By putting "family first" we so often put our relationships... well, last. By saying, "Ugh! I'm too tired to do sex things," we are too often depriving ourselves AND our relationship, which leads to... not actually putting our families first at all. Because "family" isn't JUST about parenting, it's also about partnering... about nurturing the foundation of our partnerships, openly communicating, prioritizing, fornicating....<br />
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Which brings me to sex, an awesome thing people do with each other when they can <strike>find </strike>make time to actually do it. Because, spoiler alert, when you have kids and jobs and life and feel very unstable in the world, LIFE IS VERY TIRING and VERY STRESSFUL and, well... it can be quite the challenge to get in the sex-mas spirit. I am currently feeling about as sexual as a fart. (No offense to those who find farts sexual.)<br />
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I don't think there has ever been a more stressful time for Hal and me as a couple. We are in the process of putting our house on the market (I know it's sad -- It's also happy, though and I'll write more about it later) and that's just like 15% of life's current (work/life/family/children/money/politics) stresses. In short, this is not a sexy time for us. This is a <i>motivated to make change </i>time. A <i>trying-to-find-a-new-place-to-live</i> time. A <i>please-unplug-before-you-have-another-panic-attack</i> time, but not so much a "let me sext you a photo of my boobs" time.<br />
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Womp womp wommmmmp.<br />
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Regardless of what might be keeping you and your partner from going at it like newlyweds, open and honest conversation about WHO NEEDS WHAT and WHY is imperative. Intimacy is HARD to maintain for a host of different reasons, ESPECIALLY when babies (children of all ages, too, really) are involved. Couple parenthood with the whole been-married-for-many-years situation and, well... sex drives have a tendency to wane. (ED: There are only SO MANY ways you can spice up your sex life when you have literally DONE IT ALL sexually with the same person.) </div>
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The point of <a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">Plum's Do your Part(ner) campaign </a>isn't to become overnight sex freaks, but to reclaim the part of your relationship that, for whatever reason, has been... MIA.<br />
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For me, this campaign is about acknowledging my marriage as a living, breathing thing BEYOND my children, and nurturing it in new ways so that we can GROW together and be our best possible selves for each other AND our family.<br />
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Plum has ALWAYS made it their mission to initiate unfiltered dialogue when it comes to the realities of parenting and it has been <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2015/12/2015-in-unfiltered-review.html" target="_blank">my honor to partner with them</a> and their <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/05/dear-mom-who-maybe-doesnt-want-to-have.html" target="_blank">#parentingunfiltered </a>campaign <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/05/dear-mom-who-maybe-doesnt-want-to-have.html" target="_blank">several times over the years</a>. YOU ARE NOT ALONE, PARENTS. WE ARE IN THIS THING TOGETHER. LET'S KEEP SHARING THIS STUFF AND SUPPORTING ONE ANOTHER WHEN WE DO.<br />
<br />
And so, for the next two weeks, I will be pledging to prioritize intimacy and to do the necessary work to be a better partner.<br />
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That will include:<br />
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- Prioritizing alone time, specifically NAKED alone time.<br />
- Planning TWO date nights in two weeks. (The last time we had a date night just the two of us was literally last summer I'm not even kidding. WE ARE THE WORST.)<br />
- Challenging myself to unplug at 8pm every night in order to french kiss underneath the proverbial bleachers.<br />
- Resistance as foreplay because LITERALLY nothing makes me hotter for my man than political action.<i> LET'S CALL OUR REPS TONIGHT, WANT TO? YEAH. OHHHHH, YEAH. </i><br />
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I don't know that taking a <a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">pledge </a>will turn me into a master of intimacy but I do intend to give it my all (and hope you will, too) because, let's be honest, WE CAN ALL USE MORE LOVE IN OUR LIVES RIGHT NOW.<br />
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<i>Here's to fighting the good fight, friends. READY BREAK. </i><br />
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<i>***</i></div>
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Plum is hooking me up with FOUR "<a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">Do Your Part(ner)</a>" kits ($175 value) for those who want to <a href="http://doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">join me in taking the pledge </a>to spark some fires a la bomp chicka wow-wow.<br />
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To enter to win, take the #doyourpartner pledge, <a href="http://www.doyourpartner.com/" target="_blank">here </a>and write about how you take time for <i>your </i>relationship below. I'll be giving away 2 boxes of goodies this week and 2 boxes of goodies when I write my follow-up post two weeks from now. (All gift boxes include: truffles, a $50 gift card, massage oil, lube, wine glasses, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mating-Captivity-Unlocking-Erotic-Intelligence/dp/0060753641" target="_blank">Esther Perel's Mating in Captivity,</a> snacks, snacks and more snacks because #makelovenotsnacks.)<br />
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Good luck and happy pledging! <i>sexosexosexo </i></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-19686148157372516842017-02-03T08:35:00.000-08:002017-02-03T13:24:03.114-08:00Notes from the Woman's March on Washington: Fable's Story<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>The following post was written by my daughter, Fable, age 8. I thought it would be interesting to post three perspectives as grandmother, mother and child participating in the <a href="http://www.vox.com/2017/1/22/14350808/womens-marches-largest-demonstration-us-history-map" target="_blank">largest inaugural protest in history,</a> and am so grateful for Fable for sharing her (unedited!) story today on GGC. Thank you, Fable. </i></div>
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On January 21st I went to the Women's March in Washington D.C. When the day arrived I was just amazed! How did this day come so quickly? Why am I here? I paused when I woke up. I really asked myself again. Why was I here? I sat there frozen like a statue. Every time I thought about it I got deeper and deeper in my mind. A few minutes later, as I got deeper into my thoughts I finally knew what it was. </div>
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Before I tell you let me tell you how I got it. In my second grade class we were learning about Martin Luther King Jr. My teacher passed out papers. They said: what is your dream? I'm like this is an easy one. What I basically said is: I dream that women can still be heroes and treated the same as men do. Our sad tragedy with our so-called "president" is that he won even though he said terrible things about people, including girls. He made me angry and sad and my mom was also angry and sad and pretty much everyone else. So that was my flashback. I was like, oh yeah! I'm here for the right of equality for ALL. </div>
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So after that, my mom woke me up. </div>
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"Hi, Fable," said my mom. After that I read her mind and got dressed. </div>
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"How did you know that?" asked my mom.</div>
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"Some things people just know," I replied. </div>
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After that I went downstairs with my mom. I saw my aunt and grandma were there and cousin Marilyn. I asked Marilyn, "Can I have a yogurt?" </div>
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"Sure," she said, "now what kind would you like?"<br />
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"Vanilla," I replied.<br />
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Once everyone was done with breakfast we got our coats on.<br />
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"Bye," we said to Marilyn and Mike. (Mike is Marilyn's husband.) We walked a few blocks to go to the Metro. When we got on the escalator, I was terrified. It was like 20 feet long. It also went straight down like a rollercoaster. The worst part is that it went as slow as a snail. After we got off, I was relieved. When we finally got on the subway we saw many, many people with pink hats. I was like WOW. Once we got off the metro there was a sea full of people.<br />
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"Wow!" I said, "Can I have your phone, Mom?"<br />
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"Sure," she replied.<br />
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I took her phone and put it on video. I started a video.<br />
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"As you can see there are tons and tons of people at this march," I said.<br />
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Here is the video:<br />
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Here's what happened when the march started: Everybody started chanting,"Say it loud, say it clear, Immigrants are welcome here!" Also "We are women, don't mess with us. We can hear, loud and clear!" Also, "show me what America looks like, this is what America looks like!" And, "what do we want? Equal rights. When do we want it? Now!"<br />
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There were many more chants. It was hard to believe I was actually there. It felt weird and cool at the same time. It felt great like okay this is a girl party. Boys were there too though. Boys also disagree with what's happening which I'm really happy about. I think it's important to march for my rights so that I can do what I want to do and be what I want to be when I grow up which is President. It was important for us to march because it matters to be involved. America chose someone who isn't the best guy so we need to be involved because who knows what will happen if we don't speak our minds and do something. It could be crazy.<br />
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I will always remember the women who were chanting and holding hands. They had signs said that women are sacred. I will never forget the feeling I had when I was watching them. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were singing in their language and it was like wow.<br />
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By the way, if you have never been to a march, I think you might want to try it. It's a really good feeling when you're surrounded by people who are cheering. You will definitely smile. It feels really good.<br />
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Oh and one more thing: The Future is Female.<br />
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-49459555106213706332017-01-28T15:04:00.001-08:002017-01-28T15:05:45.042-08:00Notes from The Women's March on Washington c/o Three Generations<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following post was written by my mom, Wendy Woolf, who participated in her first ever march in Washington on Jan 21st. I thought it would be interesting to post our three perspectives as grandmother, mother and child participating in the largest inaugural protest in history, and am grateful for my mom for sharing her perspective below. I love you, mom and I'm proud to be your daughter. </span></i>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When Rebecca called me the day after the Women’s March on
Washington was announced to see if I wanted to go with her and Fable—3
generations marching—I said “Hell, yes!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I felt exhilarated at the thought of doing something with other
like-minded women to express my horror at the thought of this ugly white
(orange?), misogynistic, racist, homophobic, xenophobic, anti-intellectual liar
who would be our president, sworn in on my 61<sup>st</sup> birthday. I think it
was the first time that my stomach relaxed a little from the knots I was
becoming familiar with every morning when I awoke. I immediately texted Rachel
to see if she wanted to join us, and she, too, was 100% on board. “YES, YES,
YES!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eight years earlier, on my 53<sup>rd</sup> birthday, I sat
in my PJ’s in front of the TV, watching the inauguration of Barack Obama, my
face stained from tears of joy. I never thought in a million years that I would
live to see the day that an African American would be president.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think it was possible because of the
deep seeded racism still seeping through the cracks in our democracy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote in my diary that day, “What an honor
to be born on this day—a day of rebirth for our nation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first African American president!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, Obama begins his journey and with it,
creates a NEW WORLD!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believed it with
all my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was euphoric and proud
and brimming with gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also
on that day I decided to go back to my authentic self <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2011/01/gray-area.html" target="_blank">and let my hair go gray</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>January 20<sup>th</sup>, 2008 was a
touchstone in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As wonderful as 2008’s birthday was, I knew that this
January 20<sup>th</sup> would be the antithesis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The black cloud of his looming presidency
would descend upon us like a thick miasma, oozing through our cities, our
neighborhoods, our homes. Suddenly going to Washington felt like the only
possible way for me to face the desperation I felt. I was beyond grateful for
Rebecca’s invitation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Soon, however, Doubt crept in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Fear—two long-time acquaintances of mine.
By this time, local marches had been organized, and some family members
suggested it might be better to stay at home and march here. “I’m afraid for
your safety,” said one. “The city will be teaming with Trump supporters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if they have guns?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if they attack the crowd?” another asked.
“Isn’t it dangerous to take Fable? How will she stand all that time? What if
she gets tired?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if she has to go to
the bathroom?” Friends on Facebook warned of possible arrests, tear gas, rubber
bullets, water cannons, and tear gas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
started to be afraid. I called Rebecca and asked her what she thought about
marching at home instead, not admitting why I was asking her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It might be really powerful to be with our
friends and family here,” I suggested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She agreed that it might be, but immediately said, “No, I think we
should still go to Washington.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know I am an idealist and a person who has strong ethical
and social convictions. I stand up for them verbally, sometimes too strongly,
because I feel everything on such a deep level, but I have never marched. I am
a non-partisan voter and not a member of any organized religion because I don’t
want to be labeled or associated with any dogma of any kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That being said, I am extremely liberal and
strongly spiritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I also have fears
that are sometimes overwhelming, which do not feel like they are authentic to
whom I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And sometimes they can be
debilitating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my life I have
thought about what I personally would have done if I had been born in Nazi
occupied Europe during WWII. Would I have been brave enough to fight in the
resistance, hide Jews, risk my family to fight fascism?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or would I have hidden my own Jewish ancestry
and closed my eyes to the Nazi horrors to save my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been troubled by the uncertainty of these
hypothetical questions—aware of the fact that until we are confronted with a
situation, we have no way of knowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And not knowing has been a lifetime burden. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This would be my first march ever, so I didn’t know what to
expect and I would be lying if I told you that I was more and more excited as
the day of our departure grew closer. I actually started to get more and more
nervous, but I know that this often happens to me, even before I go on big
vacations or even before my theater company puts on our plays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I hid those feelings and ignored the
Facebook posts best I could and tried to calm myself down in the middle of the
night when I woke up afraid, knowing that although I often am nervous <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i> an event, I never actually am
when it happens. I also ‘checked in’ to my intuition, which always guides me,
and nothing told me we shouldn’t go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My
friends and husband were all supportive, cheering me on and telling me they would
be with me in spirit, and I realized I wanted to bring something physical with
me so<span style="background-color: white;"> all of my loved ones would be with me</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to bring a handful of tiny pebbles I had collected the year
before from a high-action beach in Northern California. On high-action beaches,
the fine sand is dragged out to sea by the constant pounding of violent waves,
and the larger, polished pebbles remain. There was something about these
resilient pebbles that I fell in love with, each one a different color,
individual and unique, and I kept them in my jacket pocket for months before
putting them safely in a box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/TDE45v" nbsp="" title="IMG_7251"><img alt="IMG_7251" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/546/32177900750_0c142a7201_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I decided
they would be the perfect symbols of my friends and family to carry with me to
D.C.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The night before we left, I barely slept. I thought about
our plane and that it might be filled with Trump supporters—and that made me
uneasy. Southwest Airlines sent me a weather alert, so I added that to my list
of worries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel was joining us in
Atlanta on our second flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if we
missed our connection?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that morning,
as Fable, Rebecca and I started on our journey, all of my fears disappeared.
Fable’s excitement and calm resolve was infectious. And then there was Rebecca,
who is always fearless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it was
raining, the storm hadn’t hit its peak yet and departure was on time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All was well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We were met at our gate by a sea of pink hats and only one
red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart leapt. Of course, this was
LA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have realized. Atlanta
might be different, but at least we would start out on a good foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met Rachel in Atlanta and the four of us
approached our gate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more pink
hats! And not ONE RED HAT! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>THE DAY
BEFORE THE INAUGURATION!!! Everyone was smiling, full of anticipation, full of
conviction and fire and fight—men and women from all over the United
States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talked to teachers, to poets,
secretaries and students. There were a few Trump supporters with garment bags,
but 90% of the passengers were marchers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were thrilled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/Qh01P3" nbsp="" title="IMG_7241"><img alt="IMG_7241" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/313/32404363882_9f8a62f622_z.jpg" width="481" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We were lucky to be able to stay with Larry’s cousins,
Marilyn and Mike, in D.C. We got to their house around 7 pm and more cousins
arrived for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fable, who like us
had been up since 5:15, was in high spirits and played happily with Marilyn and
Mike’s grandchildren’s Legos while we all caught up and discussed the political
events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We still hadn’t figured out what
we would do on my birthday. All we knew was that we wanted to be nowhere near
the capital building and the inauguration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Marilyn suggested we go to the National Portrait Gallery and the
American Art Museum, which was on the other end of the mall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided that art would be the perfect antidote
to the depressing day, so after sleeping in and buying supplies to make our
signs later on, we set off on a pink-hat filled metro to The Smithsonian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/1oeyV7" nbsp="" title="IMG_6660"><img alt="IMG_6660" height="500" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/613/32404369632_8189943e6e.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our time at the Portrait gallery was amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fable wanted to see Alexander Hamilton, since
she is obsessed with the music from the play. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/16Buo5" nbsp="" title="IMG_7236"><img alt="IMG_7236" height="374" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/688/32404364712_845f0dc8e5.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We then found all of the heroes of feminism
and civil rights, and we swelled with inspiration and gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We read the inscription by each of their
portrait, realizing we are once again in the midst of the same struggles of
misogyny and racism that has plagued this country from its inception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/1gG96t" nbsp="" title="IMG_7237"><img alt="IMG_7237" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/498/32404364142_ee51ca06e2_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/mUL9s7" nbsp="" title="IMG_7240"><img alt="IMG_7240" height="680" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/296/32177902820_9707eaa557_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/98mbov" nbsp="" title="IMG_7239"><img alt="IMG_7239" height="365" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/728/32404362272_e61b0895bf.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That night, we made our signs for the march.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inspired
by my pebbles, Rebecca decided to write the names of her friends’ and reader’s
names all over her body, so they, too, could be at the march. I finished my
poster first and while the others finished theirs, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BPg4AgkhW5B/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" target="_blank">I wrote over 200 names on her arms, chest, and back.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
powerful act and couldn’t have been a better way for us to prepare for the next
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fable was with us the entire time,
working on her poster, and we all finally fell into bed at midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In spite of the pall of the day, I was filled
with gratitude for my family and excited for the march.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We left the house at 8:30, cheered on by Marilyn and Mike,
clad with our clear backpacks, pussy hats, and signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rubbed my stones gently and then zipped
them in my pocket. The sidewalk was already filled with other marchers, filing
towards the metro, and as we walked, more and more people stepped out of their
houses, joining the mass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/6o9AF8" nbsp="" title="IMG_7083"><img alt="IMG_7083" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/480/32404370622_e560ea627b_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cars honked in
support as we waved our signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot
express the powerful feeling that started growing inside of me, and by the time
we were in the metro station with thousands of others wearing pink hats and
carrying signs, I knew that I would fearlessly meet anything that happened that
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took several trains before we
were able to find one that had room for us, and since Rebecca gets
claustrophobic, we decided to get off earlier than we had planned and walk the
rest of the way. As we exited the station, we were met by thousands of marchers
waving their signs, walking towards the meeting point. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never seen so many people, mostly
women, in one place, all smiling, filled with both love and fire, and committed
to all people, no matter their color, creed, nationality, or sexual preference. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/4261q7" nbsp="" title="IMG_7244"><img alt="IMG_7244" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/736/31745318733_6deb6268af_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/qU56ih" nbsp="" title="IMG_7073"><img alt="IMG_7073" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/327/32404372512_cb745754ab_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We unfortunately couldn’t get near where the speakers were, and it was too wet
to sit down, but the hours flew by because of the excitement of the day and we
talked to people who had flown in from all over the country. When we all
started the march, the numbers had swelled and the crowd had grown thick. We chanted
and cheered and waved our signs and marched, together with people from all over
the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We chanted “My body, my choice”
as the men responded, “Your body, your choice.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We cried as a group of indigenous women, men and children walked past us singing, carrying
signs with a simple request for clean water, something we shouldn’t have to
fight for in a democratic society. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/26TKAu" nbsp="" title="IMG_7249"><img alt="IMG_7249" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/634/32177901260_dc1a893e90_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We answered the question, “Tell me what
democracy looks like,” with “THIS is what democracy looks like,” and every time
I chanted those words, I felt more and more power more and more love for my
country, a country where dissent is not only a patriotic act, it is imperative
when a demagogue has come into power. Fable was our mascot, smiling and waving
her sign, happy the entire time, never complaining, even when we were standing
around for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She never told us her
feet hurt, or that she was cold, or that she was hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was our beacon of positive energy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/t7DD89" nbsp="" title="IMG_7248"><img alt="IMG_7248" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/518/31745322393_afd3a05be9_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/xP5vNs" nbsp="" title="IMG_7047"><img alt="IMG_7047" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/390/31713204484_028aeaeb1a_z.jpg" width="479" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After the march, the subway was so crowded that we had to go
the wrong direction to get on, but we finally made it back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More cousins who had marched joined us for
dinner, and we all buzzed with the energy of the day, fired up to continue the
fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning as we sat on our
plane filled with marchers, ready to take off, the flight attendant thanked all
of us on the loud speaker for marching and the plane exploded in cheers. It
felt like the world was behind us and with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once again, I reached my hand in my pocket and lovingly rubbed my
stones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/RpeD0q" nbsp="" title="IMG_6577"><img alt="IMG_6577" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/286/31713194134_82d6c6bd53_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Marching was life changing for me. We stood against a
government that threatens to take away everything that we have accomplished in
the last 40 years, peacefully and without incident—a women-led march so full of
positive energy that even though we didn’t know until after the march how many people
were marching worldwide, we knew we were at the epicenter of something big and
important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I truly understood for the
first time the power of one…and one and one and one times 1,000,000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One woman’s vision created the march and each
person made an individual choice to show up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is why we vote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why
we show up to town halls, write letters, make phone calls, because when
everyone does, it makes a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our voice makes a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WE
have the power. And although it feels like the bully in charge does, with every horrible
appointment and abhorrent decision he has already made in his first few days of
office, he really doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>We do.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just need to join forces and work. The
march was a call to <span style="background: white; color: #222222;">ACTION by millions of Americans who wish to live in an ethical America,
a place where we take care of our marginalized citizens, protect everyone’s
rights and our environment, and work together. This march affected each of us,
and we have gone home to fight at the local level. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/27vit7" nbsp="" title="IMG_7057"><img alt="IMG_7057" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/429/32404365612_62c7008629.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I still don’t know what I would have done had I been in Europe during
the Nazi occupation, but I have a better insight into how good it feels to
stand up against tyranny, and although I never was in any danger and we still
live in a democracy, I felt a new fire after the march to fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept thinking, what if the women of Germany
had held a march like this at the beginning of Hitler’s reign?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if the women had stood up against hatred
and fear?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a feeling if they had
and I had lived then, I would have joined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We can do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just need to
show up. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/q155NX" nbsp="" title="IMG_7066"><img alt="IMG_7066" height="375" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/341/32404367842_0248412600.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/VkDe8r" nbsp="" title="IMG_7079"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="IMG_7079" height="334" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/735/31713198054_2746fc2a18.jpg" width="500" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b><u>THIS is what democracy looks like.</u></b></i><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></div>
</div>
GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-11880203412673735062017-01-18T18:03:00.000-08:002017-01-18T18:05:51.911-08:00why I march... with my 8-year-old. <div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/3ksW17" nbsp="" title="IMG_6509"><img alt="IMG_6509" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/629/32210623992_8c643ddc8d_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When the <a href="https://www.womensmarch.com/" target="_blank">Women's March on Washington</a> was first announced, I knew I wanted to go. I called my mother first, whose birthday is Inauguration Day (sad! No, but like REALLY SAD) and proposed we go together. My sister was soon on board, <span style="font-family: "times";">and then I sat down with my oldest kids, Archer (11) and Fable (8),</span> and asked if either of them wanted to attend. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/38874-why-im-taking-my-8-year-old-dc-march/" target="_blank">I explained to them what the Women's march on Washington was about, what it represented and why it was important to me. Archer was wholly supportive that we were all going but felt that it wasn't for him... Fable was adamant and wholly certain that she wanted to go. </a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/38874-why-im-taking-my-8-year-old-dc-march/" target="_blank">OF COURSE she wanted to go. </a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/38874-why-im-taking-my-8-year-old-dc-march/" target="_blank">"I HAVE TO GO," she said....</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #FFF; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.5),0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: -webkit-calc(100% - 2px); width: 99.375%; width: calc(100% - 2px);">
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BOk0INMhC7C/" style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On January 21st, in Washington DC, the four of us will march for the autonomy, freedom and equality of women. We will march in solidarity with survivors, in resistance to rape culture as well as misogyny, homophobia, racism, bigotry, Islamophobia, white supremacy and toxic masculinity. We will march as an act of resistance to an incoming administration that threatens the freedoms and livelihood of marginalized communities, and undermines female worth while simultaneously politicizing our bodies. We will march as an example to each other and ourselves that saying NO to what we disagree with is often the only way to say YES to WHO WE ARE. We will march because we BELIEVE in the power of women and girls -- that together we can and will rise. We will march because we LOVE our country fiercely and disagree WHOLEHEARTEDLY with everything the president-elect and his administration represents. We will march as grandmothers, and mothers, sisters and daughters who motivate each other to be brave, outspoken and unwavering in our dissent. We will march with LOVE and FIGHT, and FEMININITY, arms linked, indivisible and with great hope for a future that TRULY MEANS liberty and justice for all. - @rachelwoolf (28) @wendywoolf1 (60) @girlsgonechild (35) and Fable (age 8) #whywemarch #whyimarch #threegenerations #notmypresident #stillwithher #resist #normalizedissent #womensmarch #imarchfor @womensmarch</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A photo posted by Rebecca Woolf (@girlsgonechild) on <time datetime="2016-12-28T21:03:56+00:00" style="line-height: 17px;">Dec 28, 2016 at 1:03pm PST</time></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">...I have received understandable criticism from friends and family about bringing a child to a march -- specifically the one in Washington DC. I imagine that criticism will continue as it did when we marched in LA's Pride Parade last year, hours after </span><a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/06/sunday-at-parade.html" target="_blank">the horrific shooting at Pulse in Florida</a>, and though many people warned against our marching, worried for our safety (most notably the safety of our children), <span style="background-color: white;">we went anyway--for many reasons, one of them being that Hal and I felt that SHOWING UP was even more important than ever.</span> As a family of non-marginalized privileged people, we felt that of all times to show up, THIS WAS IT...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">...There have been several articles written about marching with children that are fantastic resources for those considering taking their kid(s) and you can find them <a href="http://atonceonline.tumblr.com/post/155542677947/should-i-take-my-kids-to-the-womens-march-on" target="_blank">here </a>and <a href="http://www.alternet.org/activism/even-little-kids-are-protesting-trump-heres-how-keep-them-safe-frontlines" target="_blank">here.</a> There is also a Women's March youth initiative, which you can read about/sign up for notifications, <a href="https://www.womensmarch.com/youth-initiative/" target="_blank">here. </a></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">In the meantime... </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I am overwhelmed with gratitude</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> to feel such solidarity with the women in my life. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I am grateful for </span><a href="https://www.womensmarch.com/sisters/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">all the amazing people who will be marching locally, nationally and ALL OVER THE WORLD.</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> I am grateful for our ability to stand strong together. I am grateful that my daughter will be able to look back on this moment and say, "YES, I WAS THERE." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"With my mother...</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"And my grandmother.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And my aunt. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And thousands (hundreds of thousands? millions?) of others..."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And she will know, in case it isn't already clear, </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">that just as her age didn't stop her from </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">wanting</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> to participate, it also didn't stop me from including her.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>And s</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">he will know that my need to protect her will never come before my desire to support her. To empower her. To allow her to make her own decisions when it comes to her heart, her body, her FIGHT. </span></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">And she will KNOW that no matter how dangerous the world may seem, that STANDING UP and SPEAKING OUT and UNITING WITH OTHERS in support of HUMAN DECENCY, EQUALITY AND LOVE will ALWAYS BE the right call. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">She will know that NO ONE is too young, too </span><i style="color: #222222;">girl,</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> to get out there and resist what feels WRONG with what feels RIGHT. </span></span><br />
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<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #FFF; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.5),0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: -webkit-calc(100% - 2px); width: 99.375%; width: calc(100% - 2px);">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BNkTiU8B1l2/" style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">I was cleaning out the backseat of my car, grabbing errant paper, dried out markers, balling up discarded pages that I assumed were discardable... I was cleaning so fast I didn't notice the crumpled page covered in stars. I shoved the "trash" in a plastic bag and just as I was closing the bin, caught eye of the words, "...hands girl." I retrieved the trash bag, opened the crumpled paper and there, staring back at me was a little girl holding the world, surrounded by stars. I burst into tears. How could I have crumpled up such a treasure? How was I *this* close to throwing it away!? When I asked Fable about the picture, she explained that she made it last week, while we were driving to my parents house for thanksgiving. "I made it for us as a reminder... I made it for all the girls." "I love it so much," I told her. "And I'm so sorry I almost threw it away." "Yeah, but mama," she smiled, "you didn't... See? You can still read the words. You can still see all the stars..." She was right, of course. The paper was crumpled but the words didn't change. The girl was still holding the world. Fable and I flattened the paper with our hands and taped it on the back of our front door. Because crumpled or not, we can still read the words. We can still see all the stars.</a></span></div>
<div style="color: #c9c8cd; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0px 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">A photo posted by Rebecca Woolf (@girlsgonechild) on <time datetime="2016-12-03T19:47:44+00:00" style="line-height: 17px;">Dec 3, 2016 at 11:47am PST</time></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">She will know that her steps<i> matter</i>. That we cannot push the needle forward by standing still. That we have to <i>push</i>. We have to <i>strain.</i> We have to march. Not just on the 21st but CONSISTENTLY. We must march hand in hand, with clear eyes and open ears, fearless, hopeful, strong. We must march</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times";"> for a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times";">future that ensures everyone is given equal chance to find their power. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times";">And she will know that she's a part of that. She's part of THIS. She's part of EVERYTHING. </span></div>
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<i style="color: #222222;"><br /></i></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><b>We all are. </b></span><br />
<i style="color: #222222; text-align: center;"><br /></i>
<i style="color: #222222; text-align: center;">You can read <a href="https://mom.me/lifestyle/38874-why-im-taking-my-8-year-old-dc-march/" target="_blank">my post in its entirety on Mom.me, here</a>. </i></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><i>***</i></span></div>
<span style="color: #222222;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">ED: when I picked Fable up from school today, I found this hanging in the hallway outsider her classroom:<i> </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/gp/girlsgonechild/FFW6yt" nbsp="" title="IMG_6556"><img alt="IMG_6556" height="640" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/451/32245464322_094133b1d9_z.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Not that I ever had doubts about bringing her, but whoa, am I glad she's coming. Fight forward, friends. March safe and big love to all<i>. </i></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-73375574723476978392017-01-14T14:35:00.000-08:002017-01-14T20:28:44.871-08:00"...strong is what we make each other..." a repost in preparation for The Women's March<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following post is <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/03/strong-is-what-we-make-each-other.html" target="_blank">a repost from last year's International Women's Day which</a>. It felt apropos to post today, the week before the Women's March. Photos individually credited, <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/03/strong-is-what-we-make-each-other.html" target="_blank">here.</a> </span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/24989507034/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="line-height: 24px;" title="56c79a051e00002200702737"><img alt="56c79a051e00002200702737" height="334" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1465/24989507034_23f0f59ece.jpg" width="500" /></a></span><i style="font-size: x-small; letter-spacing: 0.33px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">Jose CABEZAS/AFP/Getty Images</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">One of the first articles I clicked on this morning -- on this International Women's Day <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/stunning-photos-of-women-protesting-around-the-world_us_56cb837ae4b041136f17f37a?ir=Women&section=us_women&utm_hp_ref=women&ncid=tweetlnkushpmg00000050" target="_blank">was this extraordinary collection of photos/stories of female protest worldwide</a>, and as I scrolled through and read the stories of these women, all of whom REFUSED to accept status quo -- who <i>continue to </i>REFUSE... </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">who fight EVERY DAY for their lives and livelihood,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"> I thought of </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BCORFbhrARV/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" style="line-height: 24px;" target="_blank">another</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"> </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BCdwnwaLARw/?taken-by=girlsgonechild" style="line-height: 24px;" target="_blank">poem </a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">by the remarkable Marge Piercy... about strength in the face of weakness and the power of vulnerability, about what it means today to be a woman and what it has ALWAYS meant to be a girl, about solidarity and </span></span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">camaraderie and the harmony of female voices whose megaphones were pulled from the ribs of every Eve who ever dared refuse an Adam.... </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">About the GLOBAL village and <i>who</i> is doing <i>what</i> to raise <i>whom</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">Because in the same way it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to embolden her -- to empower her and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">elevate her world.</span><i style="color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"> And so. </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;">Today, and every other day, I salute our international community of women and girls with love and gratitude -- for teaching and raising and risking, and pushing and powering on. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;">I salute</span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;"> you. </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 24px;"><b>For Strong Women</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><b>by:<a href="http://margepiercy.com/" target="_blank"> Marge Piercy</a></b></span></span><br />
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A strong woman is a woman who is straining
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/24989508684/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;" title="56c79a041500002b000b065a"><img alt="56c79a041500002b000b065a" height="332" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1480/24989508684_67024fd273.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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A strong woman is a woman standing</div>
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on tiptoe and lifting a barbell</div>
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while trying to sing “Boris Godunov.”<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25501377152/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;" title="56c79a001500002b000b0656"><img alt="56c79a001500002b000b0656" height="329" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1658/25501377152_7c1e1e4e85.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/24989508254/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="56c799f41500002a000b0651"><img alt="56c799f41500002a000b0651" height="356" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1676/24989508254_23c106b79c.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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A strong woman is a woman at work</div>
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cleaning out the cesspool of the ages,</div>
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and while she shovels, she talks about</div>
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how she doesn’t mind crying, it opens</div>
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the ducts of the eyes, and throwing up</div>
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develops the stomach muscles, and</div>
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she goes on shoveling with tears in her nose.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25252459179/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;" title="56c799fe1e00002100702732"><img alt="56c799fe1e00002100702732" height="340" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1475/25252459179_5954c6a760.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25501379772/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;" title="56c799f61500002b000b0652"><img alt="56c799f61500002b000b0652" height="309" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1523/25501379772_a5ee5b2505.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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A strong woman is a woman in whose head</div>
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a voice is repeating, I told you so,</div>
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ugly, bad girl, bitch, nag, shrill, witch,</div>
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ballbuster, nobody will ever love you back,</div>
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why aren’t you feminine, why aren’t</div>
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you soft, why aren’t you quiet, why aren’t you dead?<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/24989514164/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;" title="56c79a021e00002200702735"><img alt="56c79a021e00002200702735" height="335" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1527/24989514164_e2140b53a5.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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A strong woman is a woman determined</div>
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to do something others are determined</div>
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not be done. She is pushing up on the bottom</div>
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of a lead coffin lid. She is trying to raise</div>
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a manhole cover with her head, she is trying</div>
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to butt her way through a steel wall.<br />
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Her head hurts. People waiting for the hole</div>
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to be made say, hurry, you’re so strong.</div>
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A strong woman is a woman bleeding</div>
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inside. A strong woman is a woman making</div>
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herself strong every morning while her teeth</div>
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loosen and her back throbs. Every baby,</div>
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a tooth, midwives used to say, and now</div>
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every battle a scar.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25324398110/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;" title="56c799f31e0000230070e6a7"><img alt="56c799f31e0000230070e6a7" height="277" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1604/25324398110_80633452da.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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A strong woman</div>
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is a mass of scar tissue that aches</div>
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when it rains and wounds that bleed</div>
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when you bump them and memories that get up</div>
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in the night and pace in boots to and fro.</div>
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A strong woman is a woman who craves love</div>
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like oxygen or she turns blue choking.<br />
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A strong woman is a woman who loves</div>
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strongly and weeps strongly and is strongly</div>
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terrified and has strong needs. A strong woman is strong</div>
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in words, in action, in connection, in feeling;</div>
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she is not strong as a stone but as a wolf</div>
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suckling her young. Strength is not in her, but she</div>
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enacts it as the wind fills a sail.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25620021435/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="line-height: 24px;" title="56c799fb1e0000220070e6aa"><img alt="56c799fb1e0000220070e6aa" height="327" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1640/25620021435_54f2152635.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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What comforts her is others loving</div>
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her equally for the strength and for the weakness</div>
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from which it issues, lightning from a cloud.</div>
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Lightning stuns. In rain, the clouds disperse.</div>
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Only water of connection remains,</div>
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flowing through us. Strong is what we make</div>
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each other. Until we are all strong together,</div>
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a strong woman is a woman strongly afraid.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25620031535/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="56c799f21500002a000b0650"><img alt="56c799f21500002a000b0650" height="333" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1470/25620031535_d1d634505f.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25324402290/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" style="line-height: 24px;" title="56c79a111e0000210070273d"><img alt="56c79a111e0000210070273d" height="333" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1495/25324402290_bcdb9ebaaf.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/girlsgonechild/25501373052/in/dateposted/" nbsp="" title="56c79a121e0000220070273e"><img alt="56c79a121e0000220070273e" height="334" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1596/25501373052_558fa077bd.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18751784.post-16763818562546224062017-01-11T09:47:00.000-08:002017-01-11T10:03:24.088-08:00Thank you. <div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, thank you for your loving comments, support, personal notes and all around kindness these last few days. I have been working up the courage<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2017/01/its-girl-pansfilm.html" target="_blank"> to post last week's post for... a while</a>, but since the election felt tempered in my enthusiasm and began to question, more than usual, absolutely everything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Raising money to make a movie suddenly felt petty considering everything that was going on – being an advocate for my project (and myself) felt inappropriate -- like setting up a lemonade stand in the middle of a funeral. I have never raised money for anything before, nor have I been this invested in a creative project, so putting it all out there knowing that the risks are as high as the rewards is somewhat (x 789789718923) petrifying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was CERTAIN that 2017 was going to be the year of the woman. That we would be celebrating our female power like never before. I was CERTAIN that, inspired by HRC and women like her, I would watch and learn -- and feel more empowered than ever before to FIGHT AND WIN. Because in 2017, that would be possible. I had this grandiose picture in my head that 2017 would be the female future we all rallied for. I thought that on November 8th, the glass ceiling would smash and we would all dance upon the pieces like YES. SHE DID IT! AND NOW WE CAN, TOO.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead, something else happened. And I spent many days and nights thinking about how that something was affecting me, my family, friends, our entire country... Hillary's loss was personal for many of us but not as personal as her opponent's win... I have known men like him all my life. I have been afraid to stand up to them -- unable to say no... disgusted with my inability to fight back because "it won't be worth it," or worse...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The election triggered something in me that resonates with the core of what PANS is about -- a girl who reclaims her power after feeling like her community has stripped her of it -- not just the boy who assaulted her but the girls who stand by him, refusing to believe her side of the story. And while Pans is, of course, based loosely on Peter Pan, it is also a deeply personal story about finding and creating alliances with people who HEAR YOU while refusing relationships with people who would <i>rather no</i>t. It's about the importance of SAYING NO and being UNAPOLOGETIC as advocates for our own bodies/minds/souls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the movie I wished I had as a teenage girl.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's also the movie I wish I had <i>now</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since November 9th, I have looked to myself and other women in my community to be my leaders. I have looked to my peers and a younger generation of outspoken young people who are unafraid and unapologetic in their dissent. Since the election, I have repeated ad nauseam to my children, to my family, to myself, that maybe it was never about one woman leading the free world but MILLIONS OF US leading ourselves and each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BNw0DGzhDUQ/?taken-by=pansfilm" target="_blank"><i>WE</i> ARE THE ONES WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Maybe there are thousands of other women who, like me, have been working on projects for years about ALL OF THE THINGS we must fight against NOW</span>. In trying to find a way to feel emboldened in this moment, I keep going back to that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If it wasn't for November 8th, I don't know if I'd have an 8 year old daughter signing her journal every night, <i>Your Future President... </i></span><br />
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Sometimes it takes the rise of a villain for us all to become superheroes. And sometimes it takes writing fictional stories for us to realize our truths. <span style="background-color: white;">If more women could tell the stories...if more women could cast more women, could hire more women, could explore more women’s stories, maybe we wouldn't have to</span> fight so fucking hard to be heard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My experience writing this script was parallel to that of my main character<a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2016/02/none-of-them-were-bad-guys-they-usually.html" target="_blank">. It took writing this script for me to realize the depth of my own experience in the same way Wynne realizes how profoundly she has been affected by her assault</a>. Perhaps this is why it's been so scary for me to write publicly about this project. My journey as a woman on this project parallels that of my heroine as she, too, finds HER power. Maybe that's always how it works but in my experience it has been revelatory.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Art heals. I don't think it knows how not to. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">So many things happened while working on PANS – reminders at every turn that making this movie </span><span style="background-color: white;">is not only important for me and for so many other women, but mostly for young girls</span><span style="background-color: white;"> who don’t have the opportunity to watch their stories on the big screen, </span><span style="background-color: white;">specifically those about what it means to rise up</span>, speak out against rape and resist the culture that supports it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hollywood prides itself on being a liberal mecca but <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/02/24/arts/hollywood-diversity-inclusion.html" target="_blank">pay attention and you'll</a> see that <a href="http://www.salon.com/2016/02/07/the_guys_who_wont_hear_no_movies_masculinity_and_the_toxic_myth_of_the_romantic_stalker/" target="_blank">toxic masculinity,</a> <a href="http://fusion.net/story/296986/doctor-strange-whitewashing-whitewashedout/">whitewashing</a>, <a href="http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2016/02/todd-boyd-oscars-so-white-racism-in-hollywood">racism</a>, <a href="http://www.salon.com/2015/05/12/hollywood_is_a_cesspool_of_misogyny_and_racism_bring_on_the_lawsuits_why_the_aclus_bold_action_is_so_necessary/">misogyny</a> and <a href="https://blog.womenandhollywood.com/kathleen-kennedy-doesnt-think-there-s-a-woman-director-ready-for-star-wars-c67efa621e0#.f5i46rokw">chauvinism.</a> (Showvanism?) are a Hollywood institution. Female directors STILL make up only 7% of the top 250 grossing films and to this day, the vast majority of films lack female representation behind the camera.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 25.5px;">ED: <a href="http://variety.com/2015/film/news/women-hollywood-inequality-directors-behind-the-camera-1201626691/" target="_blank">In 2014, 85% of films had no female directors, 80% had no female writers, 33% had no female producers, 78% had no female editors and 92% had no female cinematographers, according to the</a> </span><a data-tag="center-for-the-study-of-women-in-television-and-film" href="http://variety.com/t/center-for-the-study-of-women-in-television-and-film/" id="auto-tag_center-for-the-study-of-women-in-television-and-film" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0058a8; line-height: 25.5px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 25.5px;"> at San Diego State University.</span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On-set harassment,<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/dec/04/hollywoods-rape-culture-our-bernardo-bertolucci-marlon-brando-maria-schneider" target="_blank"> even rape, are not isolated instances</a>. And while, sexism is CLEARLY a problem behind the scenes, <a href="http://www.aauw.org/article/hollywoods-gender-bias/" target="_blank">on-screen storytelling ripples WORLDWIDE. </a>Exhibit A: Think about the favorite films our generation<a href="http://www.vocativ.com/culture/tvmovies/rape-80s-comedies/" target="_blank"> grew up with. </a>(WTF.) Meanwhile, articles like<a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/features/animation-roundtable-seth-rogen-6-more-avoiding-ethnic-stereotypes-creating-ugly-cute-princ" target="_blank"> this are published without irony.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Consumers have always been in control. We don't have to eat what is put on our plate. We can (and I believe we should) demand better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway. Now that the floodgates have opened, I have so much I want to talk about... when it's an appropriate time to do so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later this week, I will be directing a short tease that we will use to launch our crowdfunding campaign, which goes live next month. As of now, we are scheduled to shoot PANS this May on location in my hometown of Encinitas. We have already done one preliminary scout which was amazing. I am going to need a ton of help to get the word out for this project and will post about that more later as well. If you would like to reach me or my production team with any questions and/or investor/sponsorship inquiries you can do so at pansfilm@gmail.com.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you again for your kindness and support as I navigate this project.<span style="background-color: white;"> The next few weeks and months are going to be crucial, so it means everything to me to know you guys are behind me.</span> THANK YOU. We are putting together a really beautiful crowdfunding campaign that I'm really excited to share with you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;">In the meantime, t</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">hank you from the bottom of my heart for empowering me to be better at empowering myself. I am, like my project, a work under constant construction, which is why I'm so beyond grateful and consistently overwhelmed by this community.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">More soon + love and gratitude always. </span></div>
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GIRL'S GONE CHILDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07130764109593048451noreply@blogger.com0