Recalibrating Identity

I just returned from a trip to Kelowna, BC where I was speaking at a teachers’ conference. In previous years, Jason has come with me on this work trip, but this year I decided to go alone. I listened to music, and some episodes of the Smartless podcast, but realised partway through the 5 hour drive that being alone in the car helped me to recalibrate a sense of my own personal identity.

As women, and mothers, so often our identity becomes intertwined with the identities of those we love and nurture. It can become challenging to separate out our individual needs and desires, because we exist in a context of our other relationships (and identities).

While driving to Kelowna, I found myself weeping for no apparent reason. I decided to let the storm of feeling pass through me, so I cried on and off while I drove. This continued even after I checked into my hotel room and ordered myself dinner.

As the evening progressed, I started to realise what was causing this storm of tears. I pulled out my journal and began to write. I worked through some things that had been building up during the summer. Questions about this new stage of life we’re about to enter as parents and as a family when William leaves for university in January.

I’m certain these feelings would’ve made themselves known whether I was at home or in Kelowna, but there’s something powerful about prioritising our own solitude from time to time. Over the two nights I was away, by myself, I could feel my identity recalibrating back into something I could recognise as my own.

Earlier this summer, we did a family driving trip down the coast to Los Angeles, one of my favourite places on planet earth. We had days of sun and soft sand and salty ocean air and palm trees and In-N-Out milkshakes. It was glorious. But it was a family trip, which meant all of our decisions were made together, with everyone’s needs and interests considered.

In the middle of August, I had a work trip to Alberta to speak at a writers’ conference and teach classes at a number of different libraries. For that trip, it was just Jason and I, which meant I left my Mom identity behind but remained in my Marriage identity. We had a wonderful trip, and I’m glad we went together, but I needed the alone time in Kelowna to understand the difference between solo trips and together trips.

When we give a lot of ourselves to others, it’s important to take time out for ourselves. I’ve been teaching this over the last six months in the form of nurture classes for writers and Nurture Starts with You sessions for teachers. But sometimes I fail to give it enough attention for myself.

It felt strange to say to Jason that I wanted to go to Kelowna on my own this time. He had loads of work to do and was happy to stay at home to look after Ted since William happened to be visiting his sister and some friends on the island when I was gone. But during my trip I realised how much it mattered that I listened to my own intuition. I gave myself time to feel things and a little bit of space and distance to better understand some relationship dynamics that were challenging to see up close.

This solo trip restored me to myself. It gave me time to reflect, and to cry, and to plan for the coming months. It helped me recalibrate my own sense of who I am.

How about you? As we say goodbye to summer and approach the brand new fall season, what steps could you take to recalibrate your own identity?

Hope and Rage

Hope and Rage

If hope is a balloon, light and airy and free, right now it’s firmly attached to an anchor of rage for me. I feel so fucking mad right now, angrier than I can ever recall being, at the state of our world and the sheer madness of what some people are thinking, doing and saying.

As a woman, I’m tired of staying quiet. Remaining calm, stable and gentle. NO. Not now. Not with this lunatic American president spewing hate, misogyny, racism and fear-mongering on a daily basis. Not with the evangelical Christian community I came from (and left in 2014) still supporting these dangerous rantings from a man unfit in every way to hold the office of president.

This tsunami of rage has threatened to take me over completely. I know I have to feel it, to let it have its way, for the purpose of anger is to cleanse and to prepare us for a new stage of positive action.

We are all in for a fight. It’s beyond time for the patriarchy to die, with its failed notions of male hierarchies grasping the power structures of the world. I’d love to believe that we can resist our way to a healthier society with no blood being shed or lives being destroyed, but history tells us this is not how the process works. The arc of social justice is long, messy and deadly.

Clearly, the time for wealth and race to dictate who holds authority is over. Finished. We are watching the death throes of the rich white man wielding power by blaming minorities, women and the poor for everything that goes wrong. It’s time for the evangelical church to perish right along with this male-centred structure of abuse, so something new and inclusive can form instead.

But the question remains, how violent is this clash between love and decency versus hate and supremacy going to get? How many lives will be lost? Exactly how brave are we going to have to be to stand up for what’s right?

Perhaps the fury I feel, together with many other women, people of colour and all who have been oppressed and humiliated for too long, is the fuel we need to move our resistance forward. To say “Hell no” and “Fuck you” with spirit and courage. To fight, but never to hate. To build the type of world that we’ve long believed was possible – not one with faulty top-down ideas of success that hinge on being male and white, but instead one that embraces everyone who has been marginalized and says, “Let’s work together.”

That’s where the hope comes in. And maybe, after a ton of work, time and acceptance, we can cut the string on the balloon and watch it soar into the sky, knowing that the future can be brighter than our distressing and unfair past.

The Future is Female

Since the U.S. election in November 2016, I’ve been saying some variation of “the future is female” to anyone who will listen (and to some who will not), so to hear Rob Bell use this phrase in his fantastic story A Goat for a Boat re-lit a fuse somewhere in my soul.

For huge global change to occur, the existing power structure must topple. This often involves life-and-death struggle, bloodshed, loss and pain. It’s a long, slow march with a high price tag for the leaders of the movement.

The patriarchy is a long-held institution and its destruction will be costly, ugly and difficult. But also necessary. If the future is female, then we are in for quite a ride before this prophecy unfolds.

It’s interesting that Wonder Woman has been such a smash hit, coming at a time when U.S. politics feel so dangerous and damaging to many of us. I think this is all part of the deconstruction of the patriarchy as we have long understood it. Of course those at the top of this power structure feel threatened. No one wants to lose their hold on power, but as history has shown us, eventually all systems implode when the pressures inside of them and outside of them become too strong.

We are living this out. It’s going to take a long time and be brutally awful before it’s through. But the process of change is stirring. Anyone paying attention can see that something is happening in our world.

As the plot of Wonder Woman so brilliantly demonstrated, compassion and truth are the keys to a future run by women. We are stronger when we lead as a team, with our arms linked, instead of from an outdated top-down hierarchical approach. Those days are behind us. Something new is unfolding. It’s time for love to take the lead.

My 14-year-old daughter gives me hope for the future. She has grown up believing that she is a leader. She promotes fairness, equality, gentleness. Nothing in her says that boys are better leaders. That cultural programming never had a chance with Ava and most of her friends. They simply don’t buy it, and why should they? It’s garbage and always has been.

The future is female. Thanks, Rob, for echoing this sentiment so beautifully in your clever children’s story. The time is now to recognize the obvious limitations of white men holding onto power at any cost. The way forward is to include everyone when the decisions are being made. We need many different voices at the table.

Women have a lot to say. We can contribute. We are leaders with a fresh perspective on local and global issues. It’s our time to shine, to collaborate, to offer up solutions with peace and kindness at their core instead of violence and competition. If the future is female, our outlook is bright and optimistic.

Cultural Beauty Standard Madness

Cultural Beauty Standard Madness

It’s time to change the way we think about women and weight in this culture. The entire fashion industry is built on the idea that being extremely thin is the gold standard. Our society literally encourages girls and women to starve in order to be considered attractive. Anything else is disappointing at best but more often disgusting and offensive.

I say NO MORE OF THIS MADNESS. All change starts with individuals, so I am no longer interested in allowing someone else to tell me what beauty looks like. I know for sure it’s not starving yourself so you can wear size 0 jeans.

What’s wrong with a nice, round tummy and thighs that jiggle a bit when you walk? This obsessive pursuit of a demanding beauty takes way too much of our collective mental energy and time, not to mention inciting a raging case of “not-good-enough-ism” in many women who are healthy and gorgeous at a size 12, 14 or 16 but feel gigantic and hideous because of the messaging in our unbalanced society.

I’ve been checking old movies out of the library on DVD to watch as a family, believing that classic cinema with its focus on character development and stellar writing can act as a balm for our cell-phone addicted, dumbed-down current media environment. Last week we watched Citizen Kane (okay, the first half of it before my attention wandered…not completely sure why this is AFI’s top movie of all time) and I was struck by the healthy appearance of the women dancing in one scene.

In 1941, apparently it was desirable and reasonable to have thighs bigger than delicate tree branches, gently flabby upper arms and soft bellies. It’s the polar opposite of what we see now on screen so it jumped out at me.

I’m determined to stop wishing for a flat stomach and perfectly toned arms and legs. It’s simply not worth it to me to put in that kind of time. But it’s not enough to make this decision – I also have to actively reassure myself that how my body looks is okay, DAMMIT. It’s more than okay. I’m strong and healthy and beautiful and thirty pounds over my doctor’s weight and I’m completely over feeling like shit about it.

A lot of this relates to the undercurrent of sexism still very present in our modern world. Most fashion magazines are not aimed at men. The expectation that women have to be beautiful, thin, expertly made-up at all times with their hair bouncy and freshly coloured at a salon is real and pervasive. And you better have a strong sense of self-esteem to go out of the house in anything other than a carefully-designed outfit because in sweat pants you run the risk of feeling marked, lazy and judged.

I really think it’s time for us to stand up against this tyranny. Nobody gets to make us feel inferior without our consent. I thought our cultural beauty standards didn’t bother me but it turns out that they really, really, really do. I’m going to work on actively loving myself through this by reassuring my own rounded body that I’m okay, exactly as I am.

My daughter just turned 14 and is pursuing a career in acting. The pressure to be so tiny that you almost fade out of existence is immense, but I want her to be confident in the body she has and the unique beauty that she possesses. The best way for me to help her love herself and refuse to compare herself to others is to walk this out in front of her.

Who’s with me?

Opting Out of Being Pretty

Opting Out of Being Pretty

Okay, ladies, I’ve got a challenge for you. It involves living as bravely as we can by daring to be our true, authentic selves. This includes saying what we mean, feeling all of our emotions, no matter how wild, showing up exactly as we are without feeling that we need to cover up with makeup, style our hair or dress up a certain way.

Did I have you right up until that last sentence?

Lately I’m longing to just be myself by opting out of the heavy societal pressure to be pretty. Actually, it’s more than opting out. I want to actively oppose the idea that I’m supposed to be made up, fashionable, presentable in some prescribed manner. This is a tax that men and boys do not have to pay to exist in the world. It’s time for women to get to do the same without being labelled as “letting themselves go.”

If I want to feel strong and confident and in control of who I am and what I look like, I get to make this decision myself. I don’t need anyone else’s permission and neither do you. But the tide of cultural expectations is a formidable entity to challenge, so it helps when we don’t feel too isolated or odd or strange. There’s safety in a few numbers, hence my challenge to join me in this revolutionary act.

I’ve been going out into the world without makeup now for about a year. Sometimes I wear it for special occasions or to boost my self-esteem when I know every other woman in the room will be beautifully made up, but more often than not, I have gone out into society without the armour of powder, liquid makeup, concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner or lipstick (even typing out this partial list feels exhausting to me).

Now, at the beginning of 2017, I want to take this experiment up a notch. I still don’t want to cover up my face in private or in public, but now I want to feel just as beautiful and desirable with a natural face as I would with one full of makeup. This may take me a bit of time. It’s far too easy to feel less-than.

And I totally understand that some women like putting on makeup and doing their hair. I’m not saying this is wrong. I just long to move away from the pressure I sense to look a certain way in order to feel beautiful, acceptable, worthy. I want those things to come from inside of me and not be hinged on any outside factor.

So I’m going forward from here, taking huge inspiration from Alicia Keys and Leith McHugh (Brave Beauty) and others. A group of us is out there already but we can always use more. Courage is contagious. It grows and spreads and helps us all to be better versions of our truest selves.

I’d love to hear from my readers and keep this conversation going. Anyone go out regularly without makeup and feel fantastic and brave? Drop me a line and let me know that we are in this together.