PROM TIME, Tis the season for Alcohol, Drugs and Sex

My 16 year old daughter is preparing for her Junior Prom. Almost daily she mentions something related to prom. She talks about looking for a dress. She talks about shoes and asks me what she might so with her hair. It is exciting stuff and frankly besides the ridiculous price of all the items that she intends to purchase for one night, I can’t help but think about the fact that she will almost undoubtedly be exposed to a few things like, alcohol, drugs and sex.

I admit it, I probably would not be as vigilant to these concerns if not for the well-publicized Steubenville rape case but I think it was a true to life example of how high school students party in small town USA. I also have to admit that it is not too terribly different from how small town USA partied when I was a teen except now kids have the Jersey Shore folks and The Kardashians as role models. 

As a parent I can convince myself that my kid is going to make the right choices.  I carried them in my body. They are the same little people whose soft skin brushed against my cheek and whose sweet breath I inhaled euphorically. The reality is that my teen is an individual who desperately wants to experience the world independently. If she weren’t, I’d be worried. As she prepares to enter into the world I can only provide her with candid information, failing to do so would be a disservice to her. I cannot control the decisions that my daughter will make but I can talk to my daughter early and often.

 These are the things I will discuss with her:

1.) Your father and I will be willing to pay for a portion of a limousine service on the night of the prom. This is not so that you and your friends can pretend that you are the Kardashians but because we want to know that the person that is driving for the evening will be safe and sober.  The limo service will not allow minors to consume alcohol while you are passengers. We can opt for a package that offers sparkling cider and unlimited soda if you like.

2.) I will assume that alcohol and drugs will be offered to you at some point in the evening. If you consume alcohol or drugs you are surrendering your control.  You will be compromising your decision making process. I promise you that no matter how much you trust your friends, if they drink they too make the decision to drink they will not be available to “look after you”.  They might even make drunken decisions that could harm you.

3.) Teenage boys want to have sex and they are usually not very good at it. They also are not very selective.  When boys have casual sex some people view it as normal. Unfortunately, when a young woman has casual sex she is viewed as cheap. It’s ridiculous but it’s true.  I would prefer that you abstain from having sex at this time but I would rather you were safe than sorry. If you make the decision to have sex at least use a condom.  I also want to remind you that, “NO” means “NO”.  You have the right to say, “No” in any circumstance. It doesn’t matter how much you have had to drink, if you have consumed drugs, what you are wearing or if you are completely naked. NO means NO!

4.) If you see someone who seems like they are too drunk or out of it, ask for help. Do not leave them, unless it places you in danger.  Unfortunately there are people who will take advantage of a person in that position. Find an adult that you trust or call the police. If you are unsure, call me.

5.) I am more concerned about your safety and well-being than any trouble that you might get in. If you make the decision to drink or take drugs I will not approve but it will not change my love for you. If you find yourself in a situation that makes you uncomfortable, out of control or afraid, call me. I’m there.

These are the things that I hope you will discuss with your son:

1.) Drinking and driving is unacceptable.  Drunk drivers can kill people.  If you drink and drive you are risking all of the lives in your car and those on the road.  If you ride with someone who has been drinking you are placing yourself in extreme danger.  Please call us (your parents) if you find yourself in a situation in which you cannot drive because you have been drinking or if you are a passenger in a car in which the driver has been drinking. I can deal with the knowledge that you drank illegally, I cannot deal with losing you to a senseless act.

2.) You will almost certainly be offered drugs or alcohol. I hope that you will have the sense to abstain. If you choose to drink or take drugs I want you to understand that decisions made under the influence are skewed. Sometimes people do things they might not normally do and those things can change your life forever. Please think about what I am saying to you and please remember that more than anything we love you and want you and your friends to be safe. If you need me, please call me.

3.) Having the desire to have sex is the most natural thing in the world but it really is something that should be respectful and should happen between two consenting, mature people. Expecting to have sex with someone that you barely know isn’t respectful of you or the other person.  Having sex with someone who is drunk, under the influence of drugs or who is unconscious is rape. Furthermore if a person says, “NO”, they mean, “NO”.  Having sex doesn’t make you a man.  The decision to have sex should be discussed, well thought out, safe and most importantly consensual. If you make the decision to have sex, please use a condom. Remember, NO means NO.

4.) If you see someone who is drunk or out of control find an adult you trust to help them. Do not leave them alone. If you see someone being sexually inappropriate with someone who is under the influence or who is rejecting the advances, intervene if it is safe to do so or get help. Do not walk away and pretend you didn’t see it. Do not take pictures. Do not take video and post it on the internet. It is against the law to do so.

5.) Your life is just beginning and there is so much in store for you. You truly have a lifetime to experience all of the things that seem so important right now. Many of the temptations that you are facing are really much more enjoyable as you experience them with more maturity. But please know that I love you and nothing will change that. If you make the wrong decision and find yourself in a situation that is dangerous, please call me.

 If your child is old enough to go to prom they are just short years away from entering into a world full of obstacles. If you aren’t having honest forthright conversations right now, your kid is starting their journey without any sort of map. Please, don’t assume that they know their way. 

 Undoubtedly playing at your nearest prom:

Could You Have Prevented The Steubenville Rape?

 Trent Mays and Ma'lik Richmond in the courtroom before their trial (AP/Pool Photo)

Today I read that 17 year old, Trent Mays and 16 year old Ma'lik Richmond were found guilty of raping a 16 year old drunk girl in Steubenville Ohio. Each boy was sentenced to the minimum sentence of one year in a youth facility. Mays was given an additional year for transmitting nude photos. For a few minutes as I looked over the photos of the sobbing boys I felt something that felt like sadness for the rapists. I realize that their victim will live with the disgusting way that she was violated for the rest of her life but these boys who brazenly carried out the revolting acts of abuse against an unconscious girl were victims too. They were victims of a society that demonstrates that such abuses go unpunished, a society that teaches young men that humiliating women is funny, that drunk girls are fair prey and that if you are an athlete there are coaches, school administrators and even entire towns that will rally behind you.

The details of the rape shared by the media offer me the perception that those boys carried out their crimes like little demigods, completely unafraid of any consequences even as photos and videos were taken and put on the internet. They stood before the court and tearfully made apologies to the victim, their parents and their coaches and I have to ask myself if they are really even capable of fully understanding the depth of the crime they committed against heir victim.

I wonder if after this sentencing, coaches will start having conversations with athletes about gender equality. I wonder if schools will implement zero tolerance policies for student athletes involved in sexual violence. I wonder if mothers and fathers will have conversations with their children about what to do if they see another child drinking, vomiting and vulnerable. I wonder if parents will start conversations about sex, rape and respect. I wonder if ministers and youth leaders will recognize their responsibility to talk to kids about the relationship between religion and equality. I wonder if people will realize that rape jokes, and stories that demean women lead young men like Trent Mays and Ma'lik Richmond to a lifetime on the sex offender registry. I know that no one wants to bear this responsibility but the truth is that Trent Mays and Ma'lik Richmond didn’t get where they did on their own, a lot of people helped them get there. The question is,"Who is going to protect other kids from the same fate?". Are you?

A Letter to The New Pope or Just Click Your Heals 3 Times

Most Holy Father, 

Yesterday when the white smoke signaled to the world that a New Pope had been chosen I allowed myself a few optimistic thoughts. I am not Catholic and frankly in the last 20 years or so I have turned my back to all religion. When that white smoke began to billow I felt hopeful for the influence that the Church has on today’s world. I felt hope for those who desire a community of faith. I felt optimism for those who want to believe in a divine and fatherly entity that connects themselves to you. For a moment I actually allowed myself to want a faith system that I can share with my family, one that binds us together in a foundation of love. I wanted that “something” to turn to when my child is troubled and when or if my marriage falters. For a brief few moments yesterday I allowed myself to believe that by some beautiful miracle, the Catholic Church might begin to represent something that I can believe in. 

 I’ve begun to see religion more as a tool of manipulation than as a guide for life. In my mind, the Catholic Church that my mother held so dear began to represent an old male dominated entity that refused to acknowledge a changing world and remained anchored to beliefs that holds me as a woman in a position that is less than a man. The Catholic Church seemingly has refused to recognize my gay brothers and sisters although homosexuality has existed since the beginning of civilization. Perhaps most repellant of all is that at the Papal level, the church has seemingly ignored and avoided discussion on the sexual abuses that that have taken place at the hands of priests. It is devastating to believe that the church has failed to protect the most vulnerable of us all, our children.

It is my understanding that the membership in the Catholic Church is in decline, Your Holiness. Certainly it is no secret that people feel a “disconnect” from the church. It appears that the “powers that be” that have chosen you for your new role have looked into what you bring to the Vatican. You are not a European Pope, you will ignite excitement in Latin America and perhaps the financially emerging Latin America offers another obvious benefit. Some might perceive this choice as opportunistic, a chess move to gain power, not an attempt to gain a more spiritual connection to its followers. 

I’ve asked myself if the rigid dogma held by the Catholic Church is maintained in the belief that any flexibility might weaken its foundations. Like an unyieldingly strict parent who censors information their child receives, the Church leaves its followers unprepared for the challenges of real life. Some of your children are floundering in a world for which they are not prepared because the guidance that the Church has offered doesn’t apply to the world in which they live. 

This morning as the curtains were pulled back and the daylight streamed in, those dewy fantasies that I’d had yesterday evaporated. I laughed at my own childish idealism that is rooted in my naïve rural Kansas girl beginnings. It’s funny how even as a cynical adult, I too can get pulled into the excitement and begin to believe that a golden kingdom so far away from the life I know has a powerful man who can implement change.

Yours Truly, 

Ingrid

A World Gone Mad

I’m back. I’ve avoided blogging for a more than a month. It wasn’t exactly a case of “writer’s block” as it was simply that my recent subject matter, violence against women and equality issues began to feel so heavy. I felt that every time I opened a news source I was confronted by media sources that indicate that the feat of fighting this war is insurmountable. Elie Weisel is quoted as saying, “I write to understand as much as to be understood.” I have learned that sometimes understanding is an excruciating process.

Typically, I choose a few articles a week that I read with my English language learners. I usually choose at least one article that is rather controversial because it tends to spur strong opinions and because in all honesty, I learn a great deal from the opinions shared. One of the articles that I chose recently regarded the attempted implementation of Laws in Afghanistan to protect women. The article discussed the challenges of implementing these laws because of the varying interpretations of Sharia Law. One of the laws discussed was the age at which girls may marry which naturally incited conversations about child brides. This subject baffles and enrages me on such vast levels that I can barely organize my thoughts. Maybe the single most difficult thing for me to understand is the idea that a man could desire a young girl sexually and that it could be considered acceptable in any culture or by any religion. This single issue leads me to question how we can ever hope to eradicate this practice when the act itself is devoid of all of the laws of nature. If the marriage of female children can be justified how can we ever hope to combat the epidemic of rape? How can we protect women from violence in a world that is so illogical? 

 In this month in which I have not written, Oscar Pistorius the South-African amputee fondly called “Blade Runner” was accused of murdering his beautiful, blond girlfriend, Reeva Steinkamp. This tragic news and gruesome details made international headlines. Meanwhile, nameless, faceless women throughout the world die at the hands of their husbands and boyfriends daily. Statistics indicate that as many as 70% of women murdered each year die at the hands of a domestic partner.

Included in my list of overwhelming factors were the whispers in the media surrounding the news of a resigning Pope.The rumors focus on the scandals concerning the sexual exploitation of children, young priest in training sexually abused by senior priests and even the rape of nuns committed by priests. I didn’t question the validity of the claims, I questioned the existence of a God. I wanted to be numb.

Perhaps part of my inability to write came from the incredulous fact that though these tragedies exists the resilience of human nature prevails and life trudges on.  Reality television defines the culture around me. Snooki is on the tips of tongues, The Kardashian’s maintain their ratings and a new American Idol will still be chosen. Most of us would rather have our children absorbed into a television screen than even begin to talk with them about inequality and abuse.

I began to feel to feel that the world had gone crazy. The word crazy seems so inadequate. It sometimes describes something comical and cute. Perhaps I want to say that I felt that the world had gone mad. I mean the sort of insanity that penetrates into the evil that is usually kept at bay, thinly encapsulated by self-control or at least a vague sense of what is right and wrong. I felt that the madness was a sort of bacteria that had infected a part of the population and spread to even the most holy of places while the rest of the population went on with life seemingly unknowing while the real victims suffer silently and hope that a cure will be found.

Fortunately for me, two strange things occurred for me. The first is difficult to explain. It was simply a photo. I was numbly scanning through photos posted by a Facebook friend when I saw an image captured in a black and white. It was a misty photo of a street tram traveling by what I later learned was an abandoned asylum. At the time I didn’t know it was an asylum but the photo somehow captured sorrow in an indescribable way. The image in some way stirred something inside me and awakened my desire to write.

The second occurrence was something even harder to explain. But strangely a part of my faith system became more defined. I am not speaking of a faith system represented by the ultimate pyramid scheme, amassing a financial fortune while its leaders shrug off abuse allegations. I am talking about my faith in a powerful and divine life-force that connects all of us equally in our journey through life. I realized that I have to believe that this madness that touches so many lives presents me with a choice. I can acknowledge my connection to the perpetrators and their victims and choose to continue to learn and offer help in the only way I know how, through my words, or I can let the knowledge numb me and do nothing.

A Happy Birthday

I celebrated a milestone birthday on February 2. My birthday tradition has been to go to my hometown of Lawrence, Kansas and serve food at LINK (Lawrence Interdenominational Nutrition Kitchen) which serves the homeless community as well as the working poor. My friend Greg is the coordinator of this facility. Once in high school he teased me so relentlessly about my haircut that I was practically cloaked in self-consciousness until it grew out.  Before we began serving food on Saturday he announced my birthday and age to the community, clearly little about him has changed. However, there is something incredibly humbling about having the homeless community sing happy birthday to you as they stand in a huge circle with the kitchen staff holding hands.  My birthday tradition is not my charitable act for the year nor is really an act of kindness on my part. I don’t help to prepare the meals and sometimes I don’t even help clean afterward. I participate because I need to remember who I am.

The Lawrence community is a sort of an oasis of liberalism in the red state of Kansas. Early settlers came from New England to get an anti-slavery foothold on what was then new territory. The people of the nearby state of Missouri wanted Kansas to be a slave state and because Lawrence was the headquarters for the Free State party the area became a hotbed of bloodshed. In 1864 Lawrence, Kansas became the home of the first university in the Free State. It is because of this strong historical foundation of liberty and equality that Lawrence maintains its liberal environment. LINK is able to provide meals 4 days a week almost entirely with the help of volunteer workers and food donations provided by the Lawrence community. Another Lawrence organization, The Jubilee Café provides some meals on opposite days.

LINK hosts some community characters that warm my heart. There is a man who might be 35 or could be 45. His face is a bit weathered by the elements. When he smiles, which is often, his face is covered in beautiful, craggy, lines. On Saturday he wore bright pink culottes but on occasion I have seen him wear the sort of blue coverall that one might see worn by a garage mechanic. He normally pushes a stroller with a large baby doll or sometimes pushes a shopping cart carrying a manikin that he call’s Cheryl sporting a sorority tee shirt and Jayhawk sweatpants. Although he is sometimes the victim of cruel jokes played by college kids, Cheryl was recently kidnapped and held ransom, the Lawrence community is a safe place for him.  

The first time I served at LINK I was surprised to see that some meal recipients were very much not what I expected. One recipient in particular wore a clean, black logod polo type shirt and khaki pants. His blond hair and sweet smile make it seem that he might have just popped in for lunch from an IT job. However, the third and fourth time I saw him he was wearing what was apparently the same khaki pants and black polo. Some of the recipients are what one would imagine. Their dull eyes indicate a complete loss of hope, their fingers are stained yellow and their clothes threadbare. One woman was clean and well groomed, her skin and hair healthy but completely toothless and without any prosthetic teeth to conceal that fact. Dentistry for the uninsured usually results in the removal of teeth that might otherwise be treated. 

I suppose that the most difficult to see are children who don’t make eye contact as they choose their entrée. They are old enough to know the social stigma of eating at a “soup kitchen” but hungry enough to find the warm food appealing and experienced enough to know that this could be their only meal of the day. I watched as those who served with me coaxed them using warm smiles to have some vegetables, some bread or two desserts. I try to imagine my own children’s faces in the same situation.

This morning as I clean out my refrigerator, I have an awareness of the waste. I scrape the remains of last week’s fish into the garbage, I find berries covered in a moldy fuzz in my produce drawer that were purchased weeks ago and forgotten. I guiltily tip them into the trash and toss their plastic container into recycling. I am surrounded by abundance, an abundance of love, of my basic needs, I have a warm house, a car, health insurance, a job that I love and that allows me to work from home and greet my children as they return home school. My children don’t have to take their meals with their eyes downcast, embarrassed to ask for just a “bit more”.

 

My birthday tradition helps me to remember what I think the early Lawrence, Kansas Settlers knew when they chose the life of abolitionists. I believe that they knew that regardless of our geography, our skin color or our place in life, we are all connected and we are all one. I want to remember that I am the man with the manikin named, “Cheryl”. I am the young woman with no teeth, I am the man with dull eyes who self-medicates with alcohol to numb out the pain, I am the single mother who sells sexual favors to make ends meet, my child is the hungry child who is embarrassed and uncomfortable. I don’t want to forget that.