This blog is paved with good intentions.

One of which, naturally, was to do an I <3 my body post on Valentine’s Day, which has, of course, come and gone. I will still put that one up, I think, although in my own time. I hadn’t read much on FA and HAES in a while, but it struck me that the one love letter I could truly write (well, semi-publicly) was one to myself.

As it is, life happens, and my energy isn’t what it once was. For good reason, of course. The first trimester does that to a woman, I understand; and I’m understanding firsthand these days.

That’s right, I’m going to be a Mommy-Blogger.

One of the reasons that FA and HAES are so important to me right now is for that very reason: that my body is about to undergo some massive changes, and that if I don’t start out from a place of acceptance, I’m just going to drive myself crazy. What energy I have left that isn’t being sucked away to support the Plus Sign (as I have affectionately termed the growing embryo/fetus) is being devoted to keeping me sane and happy, generally taking care of myself, and resisting the years of self-criticism and self-judgment based on my physical form.

I mean, seriously. I was embarrassed by how ‘fat’ I was when I had to buy a size 10 swimsuit, even though I’m much bigger now. I have stretch marks already, and have had for years. I’m going to do some of the things that mothers everywhere recommend (lotion daily, exercise, prenatal vitamins, yoga, etc.) but they have to be for my health and well-being, and not for those pesky niggling ideas from the outside world that basically boil down to “I’m not good enough”. (I am extremely grateful not to have cable right now, thereby cutting down on said messages a bit.)

So. I have to do the lotion thing so my skin will feel good/better, and not because I’m afraid of getting More Stretchmarks ZOMG! (TM). I have to exercise because it might help me fight lethargy, and not so I will Lose Weight (TM).

This, to me, is the essence of Fat Acceptance: caring for the body because it’s my body and it deserves to be cared for, and letting the results be what they will be. I want to be strong, and flexible, and active. Thin is no longer important. If I have to buy new pants, whether larger or smaller, it does not matter. What matters is that I’m improving my health and enjoying my life.

Courage

Declaration: I am a feminist.

I. Am. A. Feminist.

I am a radical feminist. I believe with all my being that all women are human beings, inherently worthy of all the rights and dignities that other human beings (men) enjoy.

I have been hesitant to ‘out’ myself to certain people I know; mostly conservative men, all of whom have no actual authority over me, some of whom are relatives, all of whom I consider to be friends. I have been afraid of losing their friendships and love because of my beliefs.

No more.

If I can remain friends with them, despite having serious objections to some of their beliefs, then they can remain my friends, if they don’t agree with me. If they can’t they were never friends to begin with. If they can’t love me and know I believe these things, they cannot really love me.

We women are asked, every day, to be silent about disagreeing with others so that we don’t upset them, so we don’t ‘rock the boat’, so we ‘aren’t a bother’.

No more.

Listen up: I am a radical feminist.

I don’t believe in limiting a woman’s control over her own body; I don’t believe any man has any right to exercise any control over a woman’s body, mind, speech or actions; I don’t believe any woman has any right to control other women either, whether of her own choosing or in the name of a man.

I believe anyone who attempts to control women’s bodies, minds, speech or actions are misogynist: including rape apologists, rape celebrants, Men’s Rights Activists, promoters or supporters of pornography, promoters or supporters of prostitution, people who seek to limit or obstruct women’s access to health care, contraception, safe and legal abortion, STD prevention, higher education, a living wage, food for her children, her choice of partner(s), her choice of clothing, her choice of sexuality and sexual expression, her bodily autonomy.

If any of these terms or concepts are confusing to you, or if you aren’t sure what I mean by any of them, you may read for yourself at any of the sources listed below. I will be happy to have a civil conversation with any of you about any of these things, where ‘civil conversation’ means you listen to what I have to say, and I listen to what you have to say, and we respond to each others’ concerns. Basically, all the caveats of this blog apply.

If you cannot understand, that is fine. If you will not try to understand, or will not read those things which I suggest that might help you understand, I will have neither sympathy nor time for you. If you cannot treat me like a human being, I will not stay around for the abuse.

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Places to Learn:
Finally, a Feminism 101 Blog
Official Shrub dot com Blog (right hand menu)
Andrea Dworkin, I Want Twenty-Four-Hour Truce In Which There Is No Rape

Something more to think about… Identity

This post, via Thinking Girl, is from thefreeslave.

Who are you?
I am Jo, Jocelyn, Jo-chan.

What are you?
I am a scholar, singer, wife, sister, daughter, friend. Creative, passionate, fiercely loyal, hesitant, reserved, outlandish, capable. Tall, emotional, spendthrift, language connoisseur. I sing out loud in public and

What is your primary identity?
Ooh, a nebulous thing. I want it to be ME, but most often it is Student, Academic, or Geek.

What ethnic, racial, nation-state do you identify with? Or do you identify with none at all?
Anglo-American is probably the closest. I don’t always feel like I’m anything at all, especially when I’m not feeling particularly “American”.

How did you learn who you are/how to categorize yourself?
In comparison to other people, starting with my sister and mother.

How does having/maintaining an identity detract/support one being their authentic self?

If I am only one thing, then I cannot be all things that I am. If I am all things that I am, then I cannot be easily classified.

When we confront people as labels or categories, how does that affect our ability to see them for who they are?

I am blinded by the category, so that I miss all of who that person is.

Is having a simplistic, hand-me-down identity a form of ’security,’ and a strength or an ‘escape’ from the anxiety of growing into something beyond the flowerbox you were planted in? Or both?

I have used identity for security, but this was also to my harm. I was constantly watching that other person for cues as to who I needed to be. By trusting in the identity instead of myself, I lost who I was while I was being somebody’s girlfriend.

When I allow myself to be fully who I am, there is no anxiety anymore, but a much more reliable strength from a much more stable source. When I am truly myself, then I realize that the flowerbox doesn’t exist.

Do you ever ask yourself who and what you are, who and what you are supposed to be and whether you are being your truest self?

Often, but I am easily distracted from it. My greatest downfall is getting caught up with what other people think of me, and letting judgments rule my decisions, that may be phantoms in my perception only, instead of listening to what my truest self has to say.

Krishnamurti says that the drawing of lines, of distinctions in one’s mind has and does create all of the conflict, all of the war on the planet.

What say you?

He’s a wise man. It’s the divisions that I perceive to be there that keep me from participating fully in humanity, and that keep me focusing on the differences rather than the commonalities.

Back in gear… again

Considering it’s been two months since I last posted, I suppose I shouldn’t be congratulating myself just yet. But then, I had a break of six months due to planning a wedding: maybe this actually signifies my official return to bloggerdom.

Despite not having a real plan for my future after graduation (much like the last time), I haven’t been panicking about what comes next, besides the obvious “let’s get studying for the M.A. Exam” thing, which is what I *should* be doing, since the exam is coming up in just under four months. Still, the workload this semester is virtually negligible, at least in comparison to the spring’s madness, and my side projects haven’t completely fallen by the wayside yet. I’m beginning to live what might be considered a balanced life, and that in graduate school. Too bad it’s not 100% guaranteed to last, but at least I know what it’s like.

In my short second-term as Engel librarian I have more of an agenda than I might have thought possible when I was a GRA my first year, and that with less monetary motivation than I had then. (Of course, it makes a somewhat satisfactory second income, but that could be largely irrelevant, if I think less positively.) Still, I want to leave this place in good shape, with only the tiniest shimmer of a hope that the department might keep me on in the spring, turning this into a part-time but permanent position. That I’d be willing to take on, if only to make sure this place remains servicable and well-kept for future students. I’m not going to depend on this rather improbable outcome, however. There is just enough room for hope, not for expectation.

Still, I’m calmly considering what comes next… or rather, I’m calmly waiting for the appropriate time to begin considerations, since it’s obviously not time yet. Staying in the moment has been a challenge for me before, and living in the future the most natural modus. I suppose I’m growing up?

impending redesign, and possible organization

It’s time again for my semi-annual redesign, and I’m going to go both brighter and simpler than this one. I’m going to base it off an old site, which is inexplicably still online, more than three years after I quit working at the university that hosts it.

We’ll see if it’ll translate to Blogger well enough.

Also, I’ve begun taking stock. I have so much random web presence, and so little actual use for it. I’m going to at least make an attempt at collecting all the designs that I have created myself, and perhaps build a bit of a portfolio out of it.

Kit was here this weekend, and was asked if she had a site to show off her design work — something I’d promised to help her build, with what little HTML skills I had at the time (which was probably something like five years ago). I’m still committed to that promise.

With those thoughts come these: “What about your sites? What about getting your work together?” Not that I have ever been a web designer in a vocational sense, but even in avocational interest I have offered my help to various people, and have so far not come through. It’s high time I made the commitment to myself that I have made to others, and keep it.

So, I might actually have a site sometime in the future, not just full of links to my various sites with nothing in them, but with a bit of purpose as well.

It’s time to start taking myself seriously, and, as Alice says, just DO something.

needs & reminders

“Love is nourishing; it allows each of us to be more fully ourselves.”

“I am never diminished by loving anyone.”

These two things I must remember. They will keep my path lit and my purpose clear. I have forgotten lately that my purpose, as Marianne says above, is to love, and that every opportunity is an opportunity to do so. I have been focusing on my fear, and not my confidence.

But in love, there is all confidence. Anything that is fearful is not loving.

May I strive to be more loving, in more ways, to more people, than I thought possible.

It is not our purpose to become each other; it is …

It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is.

– Hermann Hesse

i keep getting little reminders.. things i need to…

i keep getting little reminders.. things i need to hear about me, things that i forget. talked with cory the other night, and he called me right back and left me a voice mail… thanking me for being a good friend and all-around spiffy person… and i had just talked to him, the normal, everyday sort of conversation… how your day went, that sort of thing.

that was monday.

today, it was tracey’s turn. she thinks i’m perky and ‘bright-sunshiny’…. two things i *never* thought i would be… right up there with ‘cute’. (trust me, 5′ 10″ does not immediately bring the word “cute” to mind, but apparently i fit the bill).

but you know, all those things we admire in other people we value in ourselves. i have learned that i am quiet from jonathan, honest from iain, perky from tracey, companionable from cory, compassionate from amy, dignified from nancy, calm from sylvia. everyone i know has taught me, not only how to see these things, but how to be them.

… and today, i learned that i have always been r…

… and today, i learned that i have always been rather exuberant, even as a child. i found an old tape, from christmas 1982. on it, i heard my mother:

“jocelyn, be careful… don’t knock the tree over.”

cooking is theraputic. yes, i admit it… it’s …

cooking is theraputic.

yes, i admit it… it’s true. independent woman has a domestic side.

i have been a tomboy, loud and rowdy, for most of my life. i am still coming to terms with the fact that i, by some force of nature or hormones or what you will, have an inner need to do matronly things, like hold babies, and clean house.

and cook.

cooking has been the easiest for me to face: after all, my mother wasn’t the only cook in our house. i have been baking danish kringles with my dad every christmas since i was two and precocious enough to say “can i help?” (i even have a picture to prove it, as soon as i find it, and scan it in).

last night i came home from work feeling pretty bad, so i laid down and took about a 30 minute nap. jon and i went to the store, and i started to cook dinner.

and i kept cooking.

i ended up making taco stuff, fruit salad, a cake, and a huge pot of jambalaya with just about everything in it. none of it was fancy cooking, but i was energized by it. it felt very ‘home’ to prepare a meal, and then sit down and enjoy it. i realized last night that it had been a very long time since i had cooked for somebody besides me, and really made something.

it felt very good to bustle about the kitchen.

now, if i can just let myself coo over babies, without feeling like such a girl.