Rekia Boyd, say her name! Aiyana Jones, say her name! Sandra Bland, won't you say her name!
Do these names sound familiar? For me, the first two were unfamiliar. But they should not have been.
Last week, we discussed with Seattle King County YWCA's Patricia Hayden how race and gender overlap, especially how the feminist movement has handled race. This time, Patricia and I (Martha) talk about the reverse.
Race is always a tricky subject to talk about. But Seattle, we’ve got to talk about it. Because we've got a long history of racism in our beautiful city, beginning with how the land was taken from the still-unrecognized Duwamish people including chief Sealth (Seattle).
Even though we're progressive in many ways, we've got a hell of a lot of work to do when it comes to racial equality.
*Guest post by Dan Mahle, orginially published on wholeheartedmasculine.org*
I grew up never telling anyone that I loved them. Not even my parents. The word “love” used to feel too feminine, too emotional, too vulnerable.
As a young man impacted by old masculine norms, there was no room for love in my vocabulary. Even with my best friend, the closest I got to expressing my love and appreciation for having him in my life was to say “I love you, man.”
Sure, I told him I loved him. But why did I feel compelled to include “man” at the end? It always felt distant and passive. Why couldn’t I just tell him that I loved him – straight up? What was I afraid of?
*By Guest Author Meaghan Webster*
“Am I being oversensitive? Is this something that only I think is happening?”
I have thoughts like these frequently at work – particularly when a male colleague starts to explain a concept to me in great detail, such as the complexity of foreign policy, or the structural organization of the United Nations – not because I don’t want to hear about these things, but because my coworker has assumed I don’t know anything about them, and proceeded to “inform” me without considering that I might actually understand these subjects quite deeply, and maybe I had some insight to offer HIM. By the time he’s finished his “explanation,” I’m too frustrated and exhausted to correct him, so I silently wonder if I’m the only woman to feel this way in the professional world.
Imagine this. You just visited the doctor, and received a 3-month prescription for birth control. At Bartell's the next day, the pharmacist hands you the packet, then asks you to slide your card. Your eyes move down to the screen, and you jump at what you see. $150! “What? That’s way too high!” you exclaim. The pharmacist pulls up your information. “It appears your health insurance doesn’t cover birth control. Employers don’t have to include reproductive care if it goes against their religion now,” she explains, shaking her head. You slide the pills back across the counter with a sigh, as you can’t afford that.
Earlier this month, I interviewed David Ward about how the fight for gender equality and LGBT equality overlaps. After covering the main concepts, our conversation shifted to where we should work together.