Lemonade from a Monkey

Today was, by any standard of measurement, a beautiful summer day. Just over 80 degrees here in Minnie, low humidity, bright sunshine, a gentle breeze. And it was made even more perfect given the fact that I was enjoying a few stolen moments with my boyfriend at the fire station where he works. I was sitting out on the apron in front of the trucks, sneaking a few kisses when the other guys weren't looking, and letting sheer happiness settle inside of my heart.

Enter Jack Monkey, stage right. Because every story has an antagonist, right?

We had been watching the news and there was a story about a camp for kids to learn about the importance of bees. It filled with the usual gaggle of innocent children and cute sound bites, and to make conversation, I turned to the guy next to me (hereafter known as Jack Monkey) and jokingly asked him if he was next in line to go to Bee Camp. He smiled and replied that he had actually wanted to have an apiary and some chickens, but he and his wife have a small city lot and she said no. He smiled and described the scene at home: their 125-pound dog, two kids, and her trying to get everyone tucked into bed.

"I mean, she's a single mom right now since I'm at work, and she didn't even make any bad choices," Jack Monkey tells me, as if we're just talking about some as non-controversial as the color of the sky.

As I do when I'm caught completely off-guard, I tried to turn my hanging-open mouth into a semblance of a smile. "Oh," I replied sweetly, "well, I'm a single mom."

Of course, he stumbled and fumbled to recover his words, and I accepted his cover story about his sister who, evidently, made some "bad choices" and had kid(s?) out of wedlock. I smiled at his tall tale and swallowed the acid of his lies.

There are so many things wrong with his statement that, truly, I could write a book. But I'm going to settle for one single (see what I did there?!) point: stereotypes.

Jack Monkey has stereotype problems. Jack Monkey didn't know I was a single mom because I don't fit his mold: I'm suburban. For him, single moms are urban, impoverished, struggling. Single moms don't live in the suburbs, drive an SUV,  or date firefighters.

But the other piece is this: no one would ever, in a million years, look at a single dad and say, "Well there's a guy who made some bad choices in his life." Because single dads get high fives. They get a "thanks for being a stand-up guy" award. A single dad walking down the sidewalk, pushing a stroller, gets ogled by young women as we marvel over the kind of person he must be. Life is graded on a curve for single dads. And as with so many other areas of life, women have to work twice as hard to get the same reward.

All of this is on a very macro level; I don't want to disparage my friends who truly are stand-up guys. And I am always grateful to my friends that support my single mom journey. It's likely that Jack Monkey is a nice person to the single moms in his life - because the odds are such that he probably knows at least a handful. But it's the overall negative societal point of view that allows Jack Monkey to make his sexist, racist statement and feel okay doing so in mixed company.

Senator Rick Santorum (R-PA), a former candidate for president of the United States, had this to say about single mothers:

"We are seeing the fabric of this country fall apart, and it's falling apart because of single moms."

So should we even be surprised when Joe Citizen, just a regular guy working as a line firefighter in the Midwest, pops off with some equally repellent comment? Vitriol from our public officials is having a distinct trickle-down effect, and I saw it before my own eyes tonight.

And honestly, what does it say about me that I smiled and dropped the topic? I'm sitting here, hours later, struggling with what my response should have been. I wish I would've popped off with any number of sharp comments, but I couldn't - these are the boyfriend's coworkers. Keeping the peace is part of the long term plan. And at the end of it: Jack Monkey's comments weren't personally directed at me. He took a swipe at my people, and I will find a way to fight back against his kind. In some ways, I take it as a win that I managed to hold my temper and bite my tongue. Jack Monkey may have won the battle, but he won't win the war.

This world is changing faster than any of us could have imagined 20 years ago. It's more and more okay to talk about who we are, what we are, where we came from. For me: I carry no shame in being a single mom. I have struggled, I've cried, I've fallen and I've had to come back kicking. My kids know that I'm a fighter, that I'm passionate, and that I have a fire for what I know to be true and right. I wouldn't want to parent in any other way.

So...hey you - hey Jack Monkey: challenge accepted.

A Divided Nation is a Divided Bedroom

What happens when you combine romantic love and the divisive politics of 2016? Well, let's talk about that. Buckle yer seatbelts...this one's gonna take you for a bumpy ride!

A friend once told me that my politics are "just left of Castro." While not true in the least, it gave me a good laugh just the same! I'm a Democrat, folks. Let's just get that out right away.

I come by my brand of politics honestly: I was raised by a single mother who taught me to stand up to injustice and prejudice. She led by example: in 1968, she turned in her sorority pin and quit because her best friend (who was black) was not allowed to join the all-white group. As a young girl, I watched her campaign and door-knock for Paul Wellstone, Bill Clinton, and Al Gore because those candidates fought for the underdog. She taught me to value the common good and showed me that when people are united they can achieve so much more than they can alone.  To that end, the late Senator Paul Wellstone said it best: "When we all do better, we all do better."

If you know me in real life or on Facebook (same diff?!), you know in an instant that I am incredibly passionate about governance and politics. Over the years, I've gained friends and I've lost friends because of my political persuasions.  I still don't know quite how to feel about all that - there are some people whose friendship I truly miss and others whose absence is hardly felt. I maintain many online friendships with people who are truly 180 degrees politically different than I am and I generally enjoy our debates.

But what about when you've fallen in love with someone from The Other Side? This is where it gets tricky...

My last boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool Libertarian.  I'm not going to debate the merits of libertarianism but the important takeaway here is that, since there's no viable Libertarian Party candidate for most races, he typically ends up voting conservative.  In the past, he has campaigned hard for the uber-conservative Congressman John Kline (MN-R) and always voted Republican in the electoral events that happened while we were dating. His philosophy, like so many others that I talk to, is that of a social moderate/fiscal conservative.  My philosophy: there's no such thing because money talks. (That's another topic for another time...)

Let's go back to the idea of voting Republican while being a social moderate. In my relationship with this boyfriend, I was always floored by the notion that he could vote Republican while claiming to support women's rights--especially with regard to reproductive health. How can a person be pro-choice and yet vote for the very guys (and yes, they're mostly men) who repeatedly try to limit a woman's right to healthcare? This boyfriend has three daughters and yet campaigned for Congressman Kline who, among other things, supported legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. Kline's bandwagon support is in line with his previous votes on abortion-related legislation, including voting for so-called "personhood" bills.

The fight for access to women's health clinics and, yes--abortion, is very real and no longer abstract. Republican-led efforts across this nation have resulted in some very frightening results:

• Nearly 400 bills in 46 states were introduced that sought to limit abortion in 2015 alone - just that one single year! 
• At least 10 states require women to have an ultrasound before they can have an abortion--a clear attempt to intimidate women into changing their minds. A major study has revealed that this expensive and unnecessary practice has little to no effect on her decision to go through with the abortion. 
• 27 states have mandatory waiting periods for women seeking abortions (Minnesota is one of them).  The amount of time can range from 24 to 72 hours. Because abortion clinics have become scarce in many states, this can put quite a burden on women who have to travel hundreds of miles to get the healthcare they need.
• 53 abortion clinics were forced to close their doors to women in need during 2015 - about one per week. This anti-choice website crows about their success in cutting off women's access to health care.
• Perhaps most hideously, Indiana just passed a law that requires women to pay for funeral or cremation costs following an abortion. At eight weeks, the embryonic tissue is about the size of a kidney bean. I leave it to you to make the logical conclusion on this.  

In addition to women's health, Republicans have proven that their record on women is lacking:

• Only one male Republican Senator voted for the Equal Pay Act in 2009.
• In February 2016, presidential candidate John Kasich took a moment to thank women who "left their kitchens" to help get him elected as governor.  No, really.  He said that.  This year.
• Nebraska State Senator Mark Christensen introduced a bill in 2011 that would've provided legal justification for the murder of abortion providers - "justifiable homicide" under the color of his version of law. It didn't pass, but it had twin sister bills in two other states.
• And Donald Trump.  The guy is winning despite his open misogyny.  

Given all of this work done at the hands of Republican legislators, and much of it signed into law by Republican governors, how can a Republican like my then-boyfriend call himself pro-women?

The cognitive dissonance is astounding to me - and proved to be at least the partial cause of the end of our relationship. I simply could not - and still cannot - understand how his Republican voting record meshes with his belief in women's rights. To vote is to speak. All other political issues aside, how am I to love a man whose vote is speech against my well-being? The boyfriend and I went round and round about this: for him, it's no big thing. For me, it's a deal-breaker.

I see it in such black-and-white terms: I'm a woman and I want access to healthcare and equal pay. Elected Republicans evidently don't see that as valuable, and by extension, it's logical to assume that their electorate doesn't as well: Republican voters either don't care or else actively support these positions...and I can't be in an intimate relationship with someone who falls into either of those categories. It just doesn't align with how I was taught to stand up for injustice and prejudice.

The fine print here: I can be friends with Republicans! Friendships are, obviously, a different animal than relationships. Since the majority of tactics in the Republican War on Women (and yes, there is one!) are based on reproductive health rights...why would I invite a Republican into my bedroom?

Since our breakup, this has continued to be an issue for me when it comes to dating. As in...what's your name, where are you from, and how do you vote? Pretty much in that order. My belief in women's equality has driven away at least three guys in the last two months, and probably countless others who don't view feminism as a value-add when it's listed on my dating profile. *shrug*

What are your thoughts? Are there people out there who are in these "mixed" relationships of Dems/GOPers? I'd love to hear your experience and find out how it works for you.

To open the door or not...that is the question....

Chivalry.  Most of us commonly think of it as those small courtesies that men extend toward women during courtship: opening doors, bringing flowers, or pulling out a chair for her at the table.  In other words--that thing that most men don't do anymore.  I've been thinking a lot lately about why that might be.  Is chivalry really dead?  Did feminism kill it?

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of a truly fantastic first date.  As we made plans for our night out, I was truly thrilled at his offer to pick me up.  (For those of you who haven't been on the dating scene in the last five to ten years, you have no idea what a rarity this is.)  He arrived at my door clean and handsome in a pressed shirt and a nervous, boyish smile on his face.  I will never forget that moment, because it was the moment that my own nerves melted away and my heart started skipping beats.  As we left for dinner, I couldn't help but notice that as he gallantly opened the passenger door, making sure I was safely tucked in before he closed it behind me, his car was sparkling clean.  It's the details, I thought.

Even if the rest of the date had gone to hell after this (which, by the way, it didn't!), the small courtesies extended inside of the first ten minutes of our date showed me a great deal of respect.  Clearly, he had taken some time to prepare and to make sure that I knew he appreciated me and our time together.

So how does my sense of feminist equity interplay with my desire for a chivalrous man?  Can the two co-exist?  In a word, yes.  But that's a very loaded-up word.

Chivalry is really nothing more than polite behavior toward women.  I believe it's a time-honored tradition of recognizing the other and behaving with deference and decorum.  Just like we hold the door open behind us for total strangers out of a sense of good manners, a man opening the car door for me tells me that he is aware of me and wants to be respectful.  That doesn't mean that a man thinks of me as less.  And maybe it even means that he thinks more of me.

While it's true that men and women should be equal in many ways, this does not mean that they are the same or should be treated the same in all situations.  For instance, my bestie prefers to talk on the phone rather than text.  As her friend, I adapt to that and do my best to meet her preference because I value her needs and wants, even though I prefer to text message.  That doesn't make us unequal - it just makes us different.  The same is true with regard to chivalry: if I prefer that a man open my car door as a sign of respect, that doesn't automatically make our relationship unequal.

Feminism has impacted many parts of American society.  Since the 1970's, when women increasingly became employed outside the home, couples have had to work through how to divide household labor (see this NY Times article and this Wall Street Journal piece).  The 1990's saw the inclusion of paternity leave to fathers who want to stay home with newborns under the federal Family & Medical Leave Act (FMLA).  Today, we continue to debate how to meet the needs of our families when both parents work - and not just in jobs, but in careers where we are invested and fulfilled.  In the past few years, women are making bold statements about the state of feminism in America--important businesswomen like Facebook's chief operating officer, Sheryl Sandberg, and Yahoo's CEO, Marissa Mayer.  These conversations are important to all of us - men and women alike.

But while feminism has its role in our public policy debates, it may or may not have a role in our intimate relationships.  It's up to each of us to decide.  The most wonderful thing about people is that we are all unique beings, with our own set of wants, needs, and desires.  Where I want a man who behaves with chivalry, another woman may not.  To be sure, that makes for a confusing dating scene, but it's really just another part of the game of finding the person that you want to be with.  So take a deep breath and enjoy the ride!  This is life, and it's beautifully messy.