All posts filed under: Perspective

Thoughts on the safety pin

If you haven’t heard about why people are wearing safety pins out in public, let me point you here first. (By the way, if you have Amazon Prime, you can get a 6-month free trial of The Washington Post in digital form. After that, it’s $3.99 a month.) There’s been a lot of discussion about whether the safety pin is truly support for those under attack or merely a symbolic gesture. The question has been raised whether someone wearing a safety pin is really willing to stand up to attackers when push comes to shove. I think we all have in mind how we would like to respond in a scenario. In my head, I’m coming out swinging with insults and ready to lay down a good tongue lashing. In reality, I, like many others when faced with an IRL situation, would freeze for a moment as I realize that this is actually happening, then make my fastest escape. If you are a white majority ally, you may not know how you will react when you see someone …

I will not unfriend you

I’ve been on Facebook since 2003. It seemed every time I joined a group or switched jobs, I collected more “friends.” There was a point when I did a massive unfriending because I had a ton of acquaintances – not IRL friends. It had nothing to do with politics. Other than that, it’s been a very rare occasion when I’ve had to burn the Facebook friend bridge. I hear a lot of people saying they’re unfriending Trump supporters. While I understand the temptation to cut ties because of the horrible things Trump has said that then reflects on his supporters, this only makes our echo chambers tinier and echo louder. So I will not unfriend you just because you voted for him. I may hide you from my feed if you become extra hostile or ugly (as in I find out you really are racist, sexist and xenophobic even if you are unaware), but I will not cut you out of my life. I will try to help you overcome your -isms and -phobias. On the flip side, I ask that …

How to support your non-white, non-straight, non-Christian, non-male friends

I talk about compassion a lot. And I’ll admit that I didn’t start to fully grasp what that meant until these last few years as I’ve gotten deeper into yoga and experienced deep moments of darkness. To begin, let me throw some quick definitions out (pulled from Google), as there are similarities. Sympathy, noun 1. feelings of pity and sorrow for someone else’s misfortune 2. understanding between people; common feeling. Empathy, noun the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Compassion, noun sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others. Most of us tend to fall in the sympathy and empathy camp. We feel sorrow and sadness for someone when they’re going through something bad. When we empathize, we try to share in their feelings; we sense their anger and also feel anger ourselves. Compassion, though, speaks specifically to recognizing and having concern for others’ suffering, and the only way to get to that level of concern is to listen and let their suffering soak in and affect your heart. How many times have you witnessed …

Post-11/9 Are you ok? Yeah, I’m ok.

Thank you to the friends who have reached out to me to ask if I’m ok following the election. I’m surrounded by wonderful, compassionate people who I know have my back and validate my feelings as a woman, an immigrant, a person of color and as a citizen of the Unites States. I’ve managed to surround myself with people who love, are open minded and big hearted, so it was especially gutting to see the results roll in. This election was a hard one to swallow. I have always felt the undertones of racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia and every other -phobia and -ism in the U.S. Most of the blatant stuff I experienced was growing up in suburban Dallas. An elderly white man who came up to me in the grocery store, saying, “Thank God you’re not Japanese,” and making a gesture like slicing the throat. A friend and classmate who told me I was going to hell because my family isn’t Catholic. Too many instances of “Go back to China” uttered or yelled at me …

Raising boys in “wussified” America

I remember when my husband and I first started talking about having kids. We had been married a few years, and the pressure from family and friends was mounting all around us. Whether it was a realization of my age or our succumbing to pressure, we had a “sh*t or get off the pot” conversation before I turned 30. When we did get pregnant with our first, we talked about how we wanted to raise our kid(s) and how we would feel about having a boy or a girl. I knew immediately how I wanted to raise a girl. As a minority woman, I felt like everything was stacked against me. I had to fight so many stereotypes (and still do!),  and I knew how much harder I’d have to work at everything to achieve equality. So of course, I’d want a girl to feel empowered, equal, strong, smart, capable, self-motivated, etc. I would teach her sports and math and science and engineering and building and creating and to feel embodied. I was not going …

Bye, Dad. Been a hard year.

I wrote this post 5 months ago. I sat on it for a long time. Kept it in a folder on my computer. Didn’t dare to open it for a month or so. The few times I looked back at it, I’d cry for hours. The pain of grieving has softened to a dull ache most days. Today marks one year since he passed away, and we are now facing death’s door again with my grandmother on hospice. A warning to my siblings and mom that this will be a painful read. If you’re not ready to read it, don’t. But it’s here if it helps your healing process later on. I love a good birth story. Before I gave birth to the Big Kid and again before Bear Shark, I read as many stories of natural birth as I could find to prepare myself. I watched the Business of Being Born and found YouTube videos of water births, home births, hospital births, every kind of birth. Even in college, I watched The Baby Story on …

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