Having Enough (In a Have-It-All World)

Thanks to Sharon for sending me this Salon.com article, which harkens back to the classic “Having Enough” discussion of how we define success and “enough” in an overachiever, uber-consumer culture.

The article is a Q&A with author Pamela Paul, as Salon describes:

“As the market for infant products grows ever more absurd, author Pamela Paul takes on $800 strollers, Gymboree and the bamboozle that is Baby Einstein.”

You get the idea. Challenging the “need” for all this crazy stuff (more, more, more) for our kids. Challenging the marketing machines and their “research” on what kids need. Challenging the values. Challenging the producers and consumers, and the choices we make.

Right on.

My dad sent me this article from today’s New York Times that really struck a chord. Barack Obama’s recent speech on race was met with cheers in our house. He finally talked to the American public “as if we are grown-ups” about the complexities of ethnicity, to borrow John Stewart’s phrase.

And this particular article focuses on Obama’s discussion of his mixed heritage, a familiar topic in our home as well. My husband identifies as “half-Japanese, half-Jewish”; and while I may be “all white,” coming from one parent raised Catholic and another raised Jewish, I also had similar issues and choices and judgments placed on “what I was” religiously/ethnically (if you believe Jewish to be an ethnicity, as some do), according to others and wondering myself.

Just last week I spoke for a few minutes to the congregation of our Unitarian Universalist fellowship (a place that celebrates  complexity in beliefs and identifications) about identity, and described how, as a child, when people asked me “What are you?” I would answer, “An Earthling. How about you?”  Trying to be funny, but also tired of the unanswerable question.  And, having known my husband for some 23 years now (gasp!), I’ve certainly seen him answer that question countless times, in various settings and countries, over the years.  Now thinking of our daughter trying to answer it simply someday is almost laughable.

Sure, there is some natural comfort in being able to “locate” someone in perceived categories — but, of course, this is also a slippery slope to stereotyping and, really, to simply just not listening to who people are in all of their complexity. Race, religion, sexual orientation, even “home” — many people’s answers aren’t a simple one-word answer, even though it would surely be easier if that were the case.

I just finished reading Eat, Pray, Love, in which author Elizabeth Gilbert describes the culture in Bali (one of her three destinations in her search for “everything” and herself).  It is so ingrained there to be able to locate everyone (where they are from, whether they are married) that outsiders have learned to answer locals’ questions about them in specific ways so as not to disturb the Balinese so deeply that they will not relate to you at all.  As a single woman, she learned to answer “not yet” to the oft-asked question of whether she is married, for being single in Bali after about age 20 is wholly unacceptable (imagine that?!).  Gilbert writes, “Even if you are eighty years old, or a lesbian, or a strident feminist, or an eighty-year-old strident feminist lesbian nun who has never been married and never intends to get married, the politest possible answer is still: ‘Not yet.’” 

I digress, but I loved this passage, and it reminded me that issues of identity run so deep in every culture, and have since the dawn of time.

The NYT article concludes that our culture’s goal should be to eliminate people from having to “check boxes” when it comes to personal identity.  And, that concept, as we have discussed many times in our home and in various grad school classes and such,  is one I also find questionable.  “Color-blind” can also be dangerous, and unwanted (”You erase my ethnicity, you erase me!” as my husband always says).  Forcing people to identify with nothing is as stifling as forcing us to identify with one thing. And I worry that many liberals think they are so color-blind, so “above” issues of racism (and sexism), that they actually do a real disservice.

This election is obviously bringing this identity politics issue up on every level.  As women, if we identify with Hilary, there is a nagging feeling that we are identifying “white.”  And so on — you’ve heard it all before. (The recent Newsweek issue on “Hilary, Gender, and Class” is worth picking up if you are interested in this topic, though.)

Why we loved Obama’s speech in our house was that he did not try for color-blind, but for complexity.  He didn’t try to erase the topic of race/ethnicity, but to dive into it on a level where we should be talking about it by now.

So, I’m not sure I’d advocate eliminating check-boxes altogether, but I like allowing multiple boxes to be checked — and some days allowing one box have more weight than others, and less weight another day.  In the end, I’d advocate simply listening to what someone is trying to say when they talk about their own identity or issues they face in that regard, without thinking we know their answer in advance, or that their answer should match our own.

Enough ignoring issues of race, gender, class and ethnicity.  Enough stereotyping.  While I still favor Hilary’s policy ideas (see this other NYT article on this topic!), I do like Obama’s oratory prowess, in that he seems to be getting people to actually hear his talk of cultural topics we often try to sweep under the rug or make “black and white.” (Hilary has spoken about gender in its complexity as well, by the way, although I’m not sure she’s been heard!  And both candidates shy away from really liberal positions and discussions on topics such as gay marriage. But I digress again…)

Enough bickering.  Let’s seize this Obama speech moment as the positive it is.  Let’s work together, in all our contradictions and identifications, and  bring the national conversation on who we are, and who we have the potential to be, to a higher level.

I admit it, I’ve been watching Celebrity Apprentice, on and off at least.

It’s not what you think. I’m really not a fan of Donald Trump. In fact, quite the opposite. However, one of the contestants on this show — celebrities playing to win big bucks for their favorite charity — is country singer Trace Adkins, who is playing for the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Network (FAAN).

Adkins, like us, has a daughter with life-threatening food allergies. Like us, he has had the experience of seeing his little girl go into anaphylactic shock, and like us his lifestyle has been changed by this terrifying result and risk from the previously ordinary activity of eating. (The link above to the show is actually to a clip of Adkins talking about his daughter and food allergies.)

Returning today from a week’s trip across the country to visit my family, we are acutely in tune with this fact of our daughter’s life and ours. We pre-board the planes so my husband can clean out every nook and cranny of the seats before we sit her down (we have found peanuts, one of her severe allergies, lodged between the seats on every flight we’ve taken her on). We have to cook and bring food to every house we visit (her other allergens — tree nuts, sesame seeds, and dairy — are hidden in so many foods) and ask that no one serve fish in her presence (the allergen that forced us to call 911 this fall after she ate just a few bites and went into full-blown anaphylactic shock).

Now, we are nothing but grateful for our daughter, that she survived the anaphylaxis and we have strategies to keep her safe. We know her, and our, fate could be much worse with any number of conditions, circumstances, etc. And we know this is just one part of her many wonderful facets. But, honestly, it’s stressful to deal with food, healthy, normal food, being a potentially lethal substance for your child. It’s everywhere, every social event focuses on it, every book and activity, everything almost, has something to do with eating.

And it is so disturbing to ponder why so many more kids are getting these kind of reactions from food — what has happened with our food supply, our immune systems, our environment? It’s a big issue in our family, and our daughter’s life literally depends on us, and doctors, finding answers to very tough questions.

So, we watch Celebrity Apprentice and root for Trace Adkins, for the big money to go to FAAN. We tear up when he does as he talks about how terrifying it was to see his daughter go into shock, and he will do anything to help her and kids (and adults) like her dealing with this serious condition (that many folks don’t understand is this serious for some people — as Trace says, this is not just allergies that itch, but allergies that can kill you).

We roll our eyes at the egos and consumer spin of the show. But we watch. For us, sometimes it’s just OK to pick our battles. And the battle to find a cure for anaphylactic food allergies is one we will fight, even if ole Trump is involved.

If you’re interested, the finale, with Adkins as one of the two celebrity finalists, is this Thursday night on NBC. His daughter will appear, and viewers will have a chance to donate to FAAN or the other finalist’s charity as well.

This isn’t something I write about too often, but it certainly is something that makes “Having Enough” such a powerful concept in my life. I’m so grateful for FAAN, and for the people who have helped us with our daughter’s condition. And we are literally thankful every day just to eat the simplest of foods and be healthy and OK and together.

(All right, yes, if you watch, you will have to stomach a zillion ads, melodrama, and Omorosa — but, hey, Marilu Henner is on there, too; she’s a peach!)

I had this odd dream the other night.

My DH and I were sitting at the foot of our bed watching one of my friends give us a “fashion show” of her new bathing suits. Only maybe she was actually modeling new plastic surgery for us, because my friend did not have her own body, she suddenly had a Victoria’s Secret body.

You know the one I’m talking about — large, perky breasts with just the right cleavage, then tiny, toned and fatless from the tummy down.  The body (with interchangeable heads) that prances in our faces in Victoria’s Secret commercials any time we turn on network television after 7 p.m.

So, in this dream, after a couple of my VS-bodied friend’s catwalks up and down our hallway-runway, I got annoyed at my husband for just being there, clear to both of us I was having issues with her body (and it’s potential appeal to my husband).

He said to me, smiling, “What’s the matter, Megan?  You’re comfortable with your body.”

And I snapped back, “Nobody’s that comfortable!”

I woke up, told him about the dream and had to laugh.  The exchange was oddly true-to-life.  And I had commented on those commercials the night before, in my usual feminist media studies teacher way, noting how often we see the ads even just watching a couple hours of TV a week.

Dream husband is right, I am generally comfortable with my body — but it was a long road getting here.  I went through high school in dance classes feeling fat and watching friends battle anorexia and bulimia, myself sometimes eating only an apple at school all day and then gorging when I got home, and even trying appetite suppresant pills a friend gave me (the only drugs I ever tried through high school and college!).  That was all with a rare mother who had a healthy body image, and being naturally thin myself.

It took years of talking and writing, finding friends with healthier body images, taking women’s studies classes in college, and intensely studying gender representations and media in graduate school to truly (almost completely) let go of those deep-seated body issues and feel really good in my skin.  I did my Master’s research on The Vagina Monologues, performed in the play three times (!), and I taught college classes in which we tore apart images of women in media.

And, still, I had this Victoria’s Secret dream.

The battle for healthy body image in this culture, for women and increasingly for men, is still raging as wildly as certain other undesirable wars.  Even young women (and not-so-young women) who are given every positive message at home must still deal with unrelenting media images of unrealistic, ridiculously seductive women’s bodies that supposedly define “perfection,” thus leaving us to simply buy more and more products in attempt to achieve an impossible look. (Airbrushing. Need I say more?)

I think often about how I will attempt to help my daughter through this inevitable fact of growing up now, female and American.

Then I come across a book like BODY DRAMA: Real Girls, Real Bodies, Real Issues, Real Answers by Nancy Redd and I get a breath of renewed hope for my dear little girl. Actually, I sing Hallelujah!!

When MotherTalk sent a call for reviewers of this new book, I emphatically pleaded my case to review it. I wanted to see what this twenty-something former Miss America swimsuit competition winner and Harvard women’s studies graduate had to say to all the young women out there about their bodies.

Bottom line, what Nancy Redd says, and shows, girls and women in this book is, in a word, revolutionary.

It’s not for the prim our faint-hearted, I warn you. Although I also think those are the ones who may need this book most. Nancy Redd leaves no taboo body topic undiscussed — or photographed — in this book, unlike any I’ve ever seen.  (Not at all shocking to this Vagina Monologues veteran, but I have no doubt this book will be burned in certain sectors, like many truth-telling tales before it.)

I actually worried a bit at first sight of chapters titled “Boobs” and “Down There” that she wasn’t going to deal with serious issues or take a feminist (read: woman-affirming) perspective.  But, in reading the book, I see that she uses these titles to ease girls into the chapters and make them more accessible.

Once inside, Nancy does the serious work of talking straight with her readers about real issues they may face, all the while underlying every discussion with a message to learn to embrace your body and respect yourself, and be healthy without striving for “perfect.”  She does an excellent job of tearing apart media images of women, in a comfortable “girlfriend” tone.

BODY DRAMA shows photos of (incredibly brave!) young women, and all their unmentionable body parts, to give the rest of us peace of mind that our bodies are “normal.”  (Seriously, I love these girls.)  And the book takes on airbrushing (hallelujah!) with a photo spread every person needs to see (page 240). 

This amazing young author set out to write the “book she wished she had” growing up female in America (and in the beauty pageant circuit) to help her deal with her body.  She uses important research (backed by a Dr. Angela Diaz, Director of the Mount Sinai Adolescent Health Center), and courageously reveals her own very personal experiences, to give young women the tools to embrace themselves and all of their uncomfortable bits.  

This book is a gift to everyone, really — teenage girls, teenage boys, their parents.  It makes women real again in this culture of highly unrealistic images of women.

And she even taught this teacher a few things!  

In an interview, Redd says she faced a lot of scrutiny while writing this book, and I sincerely applaud her bravery and faith for continuing on and getting it published as it is.  She says her most important advice to young women and their mothers is “to talk!” She explains that, as close as she and her mother were, they never had “the talk,” as she calls it, saying, “nor did she share any of her personal body dramas with me, which left me at a total disadvantage growing up.”

I can relate to this.  As mothers, we all try our best to equip our daughters for this complicated world, while also just being women navigating this complicated world ourselves.  

For me, I will take Nancy’s advice and talk with my daughter about body dramas as she grows, and I’m saving this book as a tool for later, when we need to discuss some of the most uncomfortable body dramas (and especially ones I didn’t have to deal with as a teen myself — the body piercing stuff? bikini waxing?).  She will have plenty of body dramas. I have them. (Even still in my dreams!)  And Nancy Redd takes them on with courage, knowledge, humility and compassion.

Thank you, Nancy Redd, for BODY DRAMA, and for sending the message to women young and old and everywhere that our bodies, as they are, are enough.   

In one of my former career chapters, I was on the road to becoming an academic scholar of media & cultural studies (particularly feminist media studies, which means studying images of women & gender on TV & film). One of several reasons I didn’t continue on that specific path was that I really couldn’t watch that much media and maintain my peace of mind. I also couldn’t really enjoy living in constant critic mode.

Now, I watch TV very selectively, and I do think my peace of mind is much better (for various reasons, but less media among them). Still, for all of my critical media studies and my current low-media intake, I’m not anti-TV — for us grown-ups at least. There is a lot of destructive, manipulative junk in the media and I can’t stomach much of it. And, yet, media still has incredible potential to make a powerful, positive impact.

I think Oprah has absolutely changed the world for the better with some of what that show has exposed and accomplished. I’m all for grown-up escapism with a heart (and witty reparte) in shows like Sex & the City. Although we no longer have cable, I can still say that PBS shows, History Channel documentaries, a well-written and -performed drama like Six Feet Under, the old Behind the Actor’s Studio, a classic Friends farce — shows that make us think or laugh or give us art have a place and value in my book.

And, tonight, I flipped on our 12-channel tube and tuned in to a show that really touched me, the 100th episode of ABC’s popular Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I’ve only glimpsed this show once or twice before, but tonight I got sucked in with a storyline of a domestic violence-affected family. Cynics may call the show cheesy or maudlin, and I, too, can see problems with corporate sponsorship, product placement, neighborhood equity, commercial excess, etc.

But, still, the point of this show really is to help people — 100 families so far. Yes, it pulls our heartstrings by showing us families in tragic situations and giving them the instant gratification of an over-the-top new house in seven days. But, well, so what? (I’m into heartstrings.)

These are real families, with real tragedies (as far as producers can verify, I’m sure), and this show brings communities together to help them. Hundreds of people turn out and get to work hammering nails and laying tiles. The show’s message is basically to work together as community to keep families together (yes, while validating mainstream American consumer values). So, at least within the mainstream paradigm, for whatever its faults, I say this is still successful TV, and much better than the bulk of misled garbage on the air.

Yes, I had to chuckle tonight at the thought that this well-intentioned show stemmed from a less-than-lovely predecessor, the old Extreme Makeover, in which a person (usually a woman) was “made over” with extensive plastic surgery each episode. I could take my feminist media studies red pen to that show all day long through next Tuesday (ugh).

And, yet, somehow out of that train wreck of a show came this community-builder. This show that has helped families through loss of parents, mobility, and stability by giving them a home that works and assists them in keeping their lives together.

Tonight, the episode focused on a family whose tragedy came from a widowed mother of four being shot and killed by her abusive ex-boyfriend. The woman’s sister and her husband took in the four orphaned and traumatized kids, with three kids of their own and another on the way. Along with the home rebuild to give the new family of ten more space, the show sent a message that laws must be changed to protect women and children from abusers (and the mom/aunt had already worked to change those laws in Minnesota).

OK, so the twins’ Elmo room was problematic. The house was way overdone for my taste, and practically a commercial for corporate brands and consumer excess. But, overall, seeing this torn family get the literal space to help them heal — I really can’t be too cynical about what they did tonight.

I’m always going to be critical of media, and I’ll teach my daughter to do the same, but I think a true critic also must look for positives, what works, not just what doesn’t. And I believe the makers of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition have something to be proud of. They are producing relatively clean, heart-warming TV in a sea of polluted media waters. Nothing is perfect, but in my book success is not perfection or flawlessness, it is purpose, meaning, connection. Consumerism aside, I saw that tonight, and I felt it.

It’s rare now that I spend an evening in front of the television, and I’m glad for that. But I’m also glad I let go of my critic a bit and let myself into the life of this healing family and its community tonight.