Talk About Culture Shock...

I am currently stranded with my father in Holbrook, Arizona. This is so not okay.

Here's the story: On July 4th my grandfather passed away at his home in Honolulu, Hawaii, with his wife and three daughters by his side. I wish I could have gone to the memorial but unfortunately that just wasn't feasible. Shortly after his passing my grandmother decided to give me his car, a dark blue 2001 Saab 9-5. 'Great!' I thought. 'I finally have a reason to really learn to drive and since neither my grandfather nor my grandmother drove all that much the car should be in pretty good shape.' My mom subsequently shipped the vehicle from Honolulu to Long Beach, CA.

After my internship (sadly) ended on the 13th I flew out of JFK and met my dad at LAX. We spent about two days in LA and, naturally, went to Long Beach to pick up the car. Everything was going swimmingly. After a delightful 21st birthday with my dad (during the day) and Ali and her boyfriend Amer (at night) we left LA and headed for Vegas. I'll post pictures once this whole trip is resolved (somehow) but for now I'm just trying to fill you in on why on god's green earth I'm in Holbrook, Arizona, so please forgive my brevity. Vegas was crazy, kind of like adult Disneyland, and while I had a good time I don't how long I'd be able to deal with a place where money is openly regarded as a form of religion. Seeing people with glazed eyes cranking away at slot machines at 8 AM was a bit much for me.

ANYWAY

We only spent one night in Vegas and then left for the Grand Canyon the next morning. Did lots of tourist-y things, stayed at this cute little 'rustic' hotel, did a sunset tour of the canyon, waka waka. Now here's where it starts to fall apart (literally and figuratively): Just as we were about to leave the hotel we discover we have a flat tire. The AAA people come, we squeak along behind them, a few hours later it's patched and we're on our way. That whole thing took up a fair amount of time so we're going to have to skip the Petrified Forest and the Painted Desert which sucks but I can live with that. La la la, driving along, BOOM. 260 miles outside Albuquerque (27 miles from Holbrook, but who's counting) the SAME TIRE blows. We sat there waiting for AAA for . . . 5 or 6 hours on the side of the road. Finally this guy comes to tow us, this takes another hour or so, and then we discover we have an oil leak too. We don't know where this leak is coming from or if we'll be able to fix it, we don't know if we can even get the car to the dealership in Albuquerque, we don't even know if we can find the right size tire in Holbrook. Even if we can get the car to the dealership the likelihood they'll be able to do anything about the leak by the weekend is extremely slim.

I feel awful because this whole project has been a big fat money pit and this car is having problems left and right, not to mention the fact that I was a big proponent of this idea in the first place because who was I to pass up an opportunity for a car like this, right? Dad HAS to be back home in a week because classes at Marquette are starting. I also was planning to drive with Joe to Minnesota to visit Jess, Betsey and Dan, which I would still like to do but I don't know if it'll be possible if the car is a total bust. I suppose I'll just have to wait and see : /

Kisses and contraception,
Naomi

How to Be Alone

Figuring out how to be alone was one of my goals this summer. It's certainly been a struggle and I've not yet reached a state of complete comfort in being alone, but I've definitely made progress. I take myself out on dates a few times a week and sit in coffee shops or book stores by myself. I've always been a highly social creature but I think remembering how to enjoy those moments of silence is important for my own sanity.

Proud Mama Intern

This past Friday we went to a ropes course and I was so proud of how much they accomplished. They worked as a team to solve problems and seeing some learn how to listen rather than talk or talk rather than listen was awe-inspiring. I also finally took a bunch of pictures!


Problem-solving. They managed to complete the task in under 15 minutes, completely shocking both the ropes course staff member (who happens to be a former Interlaken counselor!), Faye, Maya and myself.


Teamwork. A beautiful sight to behold.






Giving me the stink eye.


Maya is spiderwoman.


I did it!




They were so committed to every activity, I was close to tears at the end of the day because I was so floored by their bravery.

Letting Go

In a moment of frustration a friend of mine recently distilled people into several types using the metaphor of a party. There's the person who has had a few too many and is out of control and throwing up, there's the person ignoring the person throwing up because it isn't their problem, and there's the person getting water for the person throwing up and cleaning up vomit. He felt he was always the person cleaning up and it was starting to wear on him a little. Obviously people and life are more complicated than that, but I'd be lying if I said that sometimes I feel like I don't know how to be anything other than the person cleaning up.

The trouble is, where do you draw the line? How many nights can you spend cleaning up after people who don't know their limits without starting to resent them (and your own cleaning-up compulsions)? One thing that we spend a fair amount of time talking about at TORCH is personal responsibility. We teach the youth that they need to be responsible for their own physical, emotional and mental health, that taking control of their lives and (reproductive) choices is important. We teach them that you can't save a person - they have to want to save themselves. In the context of reproductive justice, this sounds fairly straightforward. In the context of day-to-day life, however, I don't know how good I am at applying this.

I wish the line were clearer, that there was some marker or sign that a person is at the point where they can only grow and change if they decide that's what they want and that there's nothing I can do to help them make that change. It's something that I struggle with at TORCH and in general, learning when to stop devoting my time, energy and emotion.
Maybe that's a change I need to make.

Heart of the Matter

Both at work and on my other blog (the formatting is a little confusing, I'm sorry about that) domestic abuse has been a popular topic of conversation. My privilege is showing here, but yelling was rare in my house growing up, and hitting wasn't even in my realm of understanding. As a child it never dawned on me that a spouse or parent would actively perpetrate violence against another spouse or child.

Recently a presenter from Day One came to speak to the youth about dating violence. Day One "is the only organization in New York City solely devoted to the issue of teen dating violence," and they focus on helping teens to protect themselves and their peers. According to the U.S. Department of Justice 1 in 3 teenagers experiences abuse in a dating relationship, and this number simply blew me away. This means that every single teenager in the United States knows someone or is someone who is trapped in this vicious cycle of abuse. We are all responsible for the code of silence surrounding abuse.

Perhaps one of the most helpful pieces of knowledge our wonderful presenter Claudia imparted to us was what not to do when a friend or family member is a victim of abuse. Claudia asked each of us to respond to a few prompts, including - Who is the most important person in your life? What is your most treasured possession? Where do you get your information about the outside world? Who do you depend on for support? She then asked us to choose one of these responses that we would cut out of our life. Then another, and another. Eventually, all of our responses were crossed off and we were left with nothing. This, she said, is not only what happens in an abusive relationship, but what we're asking a victim to do when we say things like "Why don't you just break up with him?" We're asking that person to cut possibly vital people and things out of their life. When faced with a situation like this I know that (before this workshop) my gut reaction would have been to say something akin to "Get out! End it!" but now I see that this is not only not helpful, but possibly harmful to the other person.

This entire internship experience is forcing me to confront my own privilege and prejudices on a daily basis, which shouldn't surprise me but somehow wasn't what I was expecting when I embarked on this journey. It's difficult but I feel like I've already grown so much from this experience. I'm going to try to post more, keep an eye out!

Kisses and contraception,
Naomi

A Change

After a great deal of thought, I have decided to change the trajectory of this blog. While I will continue to post about general observations and experiences, the deeply personal nature of the discussions and interactions I have with the youth are based on a premise of confidentiality. While I certainly would never use their names, I feel the internet is too public a forum to specifically discuss information they divulge to us. I care deeply about these teenagers and would never want to put them in a position where they felt I was violating their trust.

Extremism

Recently a few readers have expressed concern about the extremist bent of my posts. To be honest, I was shocked, confused and upset about this perception about what I'm trying to do with this blog and about my beliefs about choice in general, and I'd like to clarify a few things.

Being actively pro-choice, especially on the internet, is very difficult. I am a rational person, and I am certainly aware that there are those who are critical of or opposed to abortion are evil misogynists trying to oppress women. Not even close. On the other hand however, coming across post after post about the antics 'pro-life' activists is frustrating. For example - cajoling men into feeling like abortion is a direct affront to their masculinity (that can and has lead to murder), promoting religious leaders who believe excommunication is a suitable punishment for 9-year-old rape victim who terminated her pregnancy (she was carrying twins, courtesy of her stepfather) or a nun who suggested a life-saving abortion, actively misleading women and lying to them about potential 'consequences' of abortion, attempting to bomb clinics, murdering of Dr. George Tiller, and shaming and blaming women who choose to have abortions. Over time, it becomes difficult to see the shades of gray. These stories go on and on, and it wears on a person. I let their fanaticism get to me and I recognize that this is my shortcoming, perhaps due to youth and inexperience.

I want to drive home, however, the idea that I am not like these people. I'm not about to go blow up a Crisis Pregnancy Center or shoot an anti-choice activist. I am not a radical, I am not an extremist. My writing here is not a manifesto. I'm just a girl with a blog who believes (to paraphrase) the radical notion that women are people who deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, and as autonomous human beings capable of making decisions about their bodies. I let myself get worked up by the extremism that plays out on blogs and news sites, which is again probably due to my young age.

I'm sad and frustrated that my posts were misconstrued. The image of scary baby-killing bra-burning feminists appears over and over in popular culture and I don't want to perpetuate this myth in any way. I don't really know what to say now, how to appropriately express my belief in choice and exasperation with those who will use any means necessary to prevent women from having a choice. I'm feeling a little defeated, to be honest. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Kisses and contraception,
Naomi