It's A Great Time to Speak Up

Sometimes, I look at my timeline on Twitter, and see authors, myself included, squeeing about new book covers, pleading with readers to buy/help promote books, discussing ways to hone one's skills and increase chances of getting published, etc. Usually, this is in the midst of tweets from other parts of the world where people are tweeting about the very real climate crisis, the very real revolutions going on in different parts of the planet, and the very real movements for social justice during one of the most critical times our collective human brain has witnessed to date. In case you missed it, we're teetering on a cusp right now. The decisions we make as a collective can really affect whether we survive. Seriously.

As I've written before, many, many voices and expressions are routinely muted while others are lifted in this society of ours. That's what the Occupy movement is all about. A handful of people make decisions about who gets to sit in the spotlight and how many thousands hold audience in the dark. A limited few perspectives get held up to the light, receive financial support, or are aggressively marketed and amplified. But you know what? We're not living in times where we can afford to wait for someone to give us the nod before we express our thoughts and opinions. One voice can and does make a difference. We've seen it time and again throughout history.

Things are changing--fast. There is access to new technology. Anyone can record and broadcast human rights violations and police brutality as they are happening. Thousands tweeted the eviction of the Occupy Wall Street protesters, despite Mayor Bloomberg's "media blackout." In fact, Occupy Wall Street has morphed into Occupy Our Homes -- taking back hundreds of thousands of empty, foreclosed homes in one of the highest periods of homelessness in this country, ever. Ebooks are widely accepted and read, and are available globally to anyone who has access to a reader, computer, or cell phone. Thoughts, ideas, and information are exchanged with lightning speed over the internet. The balance of power is totally shifting.

If ever there was a time it was more important for people to speak up, to not wait for someone else to provide validation, to throw their contribution into the ring to help shape the future of this little planet under siege, now is it.

Some of my friends have said to me, "Come on. It's not that bad. There are some really great publishers/filmmakers/singers, etc., doing great stuff, no?"

Yes, there are. But they're not the most visible or as widely publicized. And there are not enough of us to compensate for the tremendous imbalance in access and representation. I tell my friends, "If you think things are not 'really that bad,' you haven't been paying attention. Or you've been paying attention to the loudest, not necessarily the truest. Turn off mainstream media for a week and seek out other sources of news and information, then let's talk." Because guess what? We're not supposed to know how bad things are. If we did, we'd all be dropping everything to make it right. We'd unplug from the buying machine, and demand something different -- create something different.

Things are that bad. But the good news is that there is time for change. The U.N. Summit for Climate Change just took place in Durban, South Africa. There are scientists pleading with nations to take responsibility, to implement policies that will reverse some of the damage we've done to the planet, to reduce greenhouse emissions and help steer us toward another path -- a less destructive path. But the most powerful nations on the planet are, at best, not listening. At worse, they are flat out denying that climate change is even real, or even worser, putting the blame/responsibility squarely on the shoulders of poorer nations.

The message is: We don't have to change anything. Things are working fine the way they are. Don't worry your pretty little heads, we got this.

The problem is that things are not working fine for a huge majority of the planet. And that huge majority just happens to be mostly PoC, mostly women and children, and mostly working class.

So, yeah. Now is the time to speak up. Artists/writers/storytellers/musicians have, historically, helped shape the cultures and societies they've lived in. They've served as a voice and mirror for the people. They've entertained, educated, and enlightened.

Folks in positions of power are not about to give their power up. But the rest of us are not completely power-less. If someone won't help you put your book out, you can put it out yourself. These days, the production quality of independently published books is right on par with corporate publishers. Just make your book the very best piece of art you've ever created. Put your expression as an artist, a world citizen, as someone with something valuable to contribute, out there. Release your voice into the world, so that more and more perspectives are heard. Until there is a strong chorus, challenging the same tunes we keep hearing over and over again. Art that supports the status quo is akin to propaganda. Art that challenges and throws the status quo into a new light is creativity. It's dynamic love.

The audience always outnumbers the performers. Participate. And totally squee about books and promote them and buy them. But let's help get more voices out in the mix. It'll completely change the landscape. More people speaking up and putting their perspectives out there is the only thing that will create the kind of change we need right now.


"I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves. We've been taught that silence would save us, but it won't." -- Audre Lorde

"Life is very short and what we have to do must be done in the now." -- Audre Lorde

"Say something!" -- Bob Marley

Still On Representation

From BBC.co.uk

This past weekend, I saw Stick Fly, a play produced by Alicia Keys, featuring Dule Hill, Mekhi Phifer, and Tracie Thoms. I can't say that I loved it, or that I even thought it was *good*, but I am absolutely glad I got to see it. Out of the literally hundreds of shows on Broadway, there are about *three* featuring (or written by) PoC.

As I mentioned, I wasn't crazy about some of the things in this play (for a show about family, I would have included mothers on the stage, and I would not have silenced a woman for speaking truth, but that's just me), but I truly appreciated this writer's humor, characterization, psychological depth, and frank dialogue on race dynamics, class, and colorism among the African-American elite. It's her perspective, her contribution, and I can respect that.

As I thought about it later, I wondered again, what it would be like to see more representations of PoC, in all our myriad expressions, on center screen, on the main stage, in the spotlight. How differently would we navigate life? What new possibilities would we conjure up? What new opportunities would we see that now elude us?

Even after multiple shining reviews in other cities, Stick Fly took almost six years to make it to Broadway for lack of funding and support. I thought about how many wonderful, brilliant stories there are out there that will never see the light of day because there is no financial backing for them. This story was not how I would have written a story about family, but it was a good story that deserved to be on stage -- on Broadway -- nonetheless. How many others are out there just like it, waiting for a producer's approval, an editor's nod, a bookstore's/reviewer's stamp? And how many will never get that nod because the person reading/viewing the story doesn't relate to it, or simply can't see themselves in it?

And then, this morning, I read this post on Zoetrope, about the "dead girl" look on some YA book covers, and I was reminded, once again, that the struggle for representation continues on all fronts.

But I was heartened by this BBC article about Indian youth wanting to see their own faces on stage. Whereas before, the preference was for white faces on the stage, young Indians now want to see their own images and values reflected back to them, in all their unique beauty and complexity. And the result is a uniquely Indian sound, exploding onto the Indie music scene.

History has shown us that independent thinkers/musicians/artists have paved the way for sweeping social and cultural change. I think we're in the midst of some of that same sweeping change here, too, with the balance of power shifting. It's exciting...like we're on the cusp of something very significant, very important. It's slow going, yes, but I'm in it for the long haul.

Class and Language

Here's a fascinating glimpse of how accents and language play into perceptions around class and privilege:

Links

If you haven't checked out John Scalzi's "Things I Don't Have To Think About Today" post, do that now. He totally gets it.

"Today I don't have to think about men who don't believe no means no . . . Today I don’t have to think about whether I’m married, depending on what state I’m in . . . Today I don’t have to think about whether I’m being pulled over for anything other than speeding . . . Today I don’t have to think about the people who’d consider torching my house of prayer a patriotic act . . ."

And this article, by Will Neville of Amplifyyourvoice.org, a project of Advocates for Youth, gives us a good idea of just how deeply ingrained misogyny is in contemporary US/North American culture. There is video footage of frat boys at Yale shouting "No means yes, yes means anal..." as part of an induction exercize for new pledges.

Back In A Groove

I finally feel like I'm getting back into a sort of rhythm again. The summer really threw off where I was going and what I had planned. It was like I was on a clear path for the first half of the year, and then everything just got knocked off the tracks. I'm trying to pull myself back on and adjusting the course as necessary, but still not sure where I'm going to end up.

I know that's all a bit convoluted, but that's because it's like that in my head - all muddled, with only a few sure things to lead the way.

In the meantime, a friend forwarded me this link to an interesting post by Amal El-Mohtar, which was in response to this post by author Elizabeth Moon. Just to sum up, Moon is to be honoured at Wiscon next year as an esteemed Guest of Honour. The issue at hand is that Wiscon is the "world's leading feminist science-fiction/fantasy convention." Moon's post, however, is very problematic, to put it mildly. The Wiscon conference committee released a statement that they did not intend to rescind Ms. Moon's Guest of Honour-ship, but that they hoped the conference would be a place for further dialogue on the issues.

I won't give additional credence to Moon's post by reproducing it here in any of its parts, but here's a bit from El-Mohtar's response:

"I can't help but wonder, if Moon had said that 'many Black people possess all the virtues of civilised persons,' there would have been any 'controversy' at all. Or, to forestall the 'race and religion are different!' arguments, if she had said 'many Jews possess all the virtues of civilised persons.' Basically, if she had expressed bigotry that can't masquerade as a political leaning or a concern for national security, would there be any soul-searching over what to do? Would the committee co-chairs still be 'committed to making WisCon a place where all may participate and be heard'?

For me, it's a tough call with regard to the conference because the other Guest of Honour next year is Nisi Shawl, whom I deeply respect and admire. At the same time, Wiscon is a feminist, progressive conference. It is one of the only spaces of its kind where people of like mind can gather and move dialogue forward. It is one of the few places where discussions around power and privilege are part of the programming and actually take place, front and center, in all their honesty, ugliness, mess and, at times, enlightenment.

Do read the posts if you get a chance. The comments after El-Mohtar's post are lengthy, but worth the read, too.

To Be Or Not To Be . . . Political, That Is

Fellow Deb, Sarah Ockler, put up this beautiful review of SHINE on the YA blog, The Contemps. It brought tears to my eyes because Sarah contextualized SHINE within the recent controversy surrounding the "Ground Zero Mosque" and Quran burning hoopla. And this resonated, especially, because I've been noticing, clearly stated on some agent sites, that those particular agents prefer not to work with authors who have "political" blogs, or who write "politically polarizing" posts on their blogs.

But here's the thing. For some people, being "political" is not a choice. Stating that racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, etc., exist - to some folks - is simply stating a reality, while others have the luxury (privilege) to choose not to address it, engage with it, or even acknowledge it. I'm not really sure what a polarizing political post is - maybe a call to action? But I do think it's good for agents to state their preferences, just as I think it's good for writers to continue stating their views. Because, really, there are no apolitical views.  The political runs through our day-to-day lives, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. Choosing not to write political posts IS a political act. Choosing not to see "colour" or race IS a political act. Choosing not to engage in discourse around power and privilege is exercizing that very privilege, and it is most definitely a political act.

Faith in Revisions

There is a great article in Poets & Writers, called Revision as Renovation, by Benjamin Percy. It's definitely worth a read. He draws parallels between revising and home renovation. And, while I knew the article was about the importance of revision, I couldn't help but focus on these paragraphs:

"I had sold my novel, The Wilding. My edi-
tor at Graywolf Press, Fiona McCrae, told me how excited
she was about the manuscript, but wondered if I might be
amenable to some changes. Of course, I said. What did
she have in mind? 'How about let’s start with the point of
view?' she said. 'Might we shift it from first to third? And
in doing so, with the freedom afforded to the characters,
perhaps we could add five interlocking plotlines all com-
ing to a head at once?' The book had good bones, in other
words, but it needed some renovation."

and then this:

"It took me a year to rewrite The Wilding, to change from first to third person, to free up those characters and braid together their stories. And when I handed it in to Fiona in March 2009, she said . . . 'Fantastic. Exactly what we wanted. Now, would you mind cutting several of these sub-plots? And maybe we could add another in a female perspective? And while we're at it, how about let's rethink the ending?' And, and, and."

All I could think was, "Wow! An editor acquired a book that needed ALL that revision? She waited a year for revisions, and then asked for more?" I was left shaking my head in wonder. As a writer, all I could think was how amazing, validating, affirming it is to know someone has that kind of faith in your work; that much love for just the idea of what you're writing! That's the kind of excitement and enthusiasm you want for your writing!

I'm grateful to articles like these because most authors don't know what it's like for other authors. We are an isolated bunch, but reading others' experiences gives us great insight into our own, and to the industry in which we are investing so much time, energy and heart, with no promise of any kind of return, save for our love of the craft.

Letter from An Afghan (American) Woman

I read this wonderfully enlightening note on a listserv I subscribe to and just *had* to get in touch with its author. I am reprinting it here, with permission from the writer, Zohra Saed.

Here is a bit about Zohra from her website:
Zohra Saed was born in Jalalabad, Afghanistan. She learned to walk in Tehran, Iran. Zohra spent her childhood first in Amman, Jordan and later in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia before her father brought his family to Brooklyn. She is a poet, academic, and editor.

And here is her very thought-provoking post . . .

Okay, I have to bring this up because I've gotten into too many conversations with women "writing for" Afghan women and referring to us as Afghani. What is this odd little "i" at the end?

Let me clarify why I feel tense whenever I hear the term "Afghani" used by well-meaning friends (okay, maybe they don't want to be friends with me. Maybe they just want me as their sounding board to fact-check their story that is about an "Afghan-I-" woman. They will usually not know that I think these things inside my little round head).

When you use the term "Afghani" it means that you do not really know us, Afghans, very well and that perhaps a few newspaper clippings have intrigued you. Perhaps you heard a few stories, but really when it comes down to it -- you really wouldn't know a Pashai from a Kandahari from a Mazari. etc. But you'll just ride the elevator with me telling me all about your Afghani experiences. (Please, please--this doesn't mean Afghans know themselves any better or each other for that, but please...at least we don't ride elevators telling one another how well we know what Afghans think or would do under so-and-so situation).

When you use the term "Afghani," it means that you do not know that our currency is the Afghani (well, I haven't used an Afghani since I chewed one up when I was a year old in Jalalabad, but you know, even if I grew up with dollars, I wouldn't refer to myself as the currency of the place I was born in).

I suppose us 'Ghans use the term Afghani as well, but we get dirty looks from each other just the same. Usually we use Afghani to describe things, not people. Like "Did you get some Afghani bread at the Afghani store with the Afghani carpets everywhere?" But we would never say, "Hi, I'm Afghani Zohra, how do you do?"

So, please, at least write more than newspaper headlines and understand our nuances.  This is not to boast that Afghans all know their nuances, we're so varied from one another, and so many years of war and scatterings have kept us from knowing ourselves. But at least we would never attach that gangly "I" at the end of Afghan because we are Afghan, not like-Afghan, which is what the "i" connotes.

I have made a big issue out of this, but I must share it with you, my sisters. Please . . . in the love of global sisterhood, at least name us properly. Give us some nuances, some texture.

Love
Zohra, the brutish/brooding Afghan(American)

Aesthetics

I've been thinking a lot about aesthetics lately.

It's not a secret that publishing is a highly subjective business. What gets bought, promoted, and sold has a lot to do with opinion. Someone, somewhere along the line, connects with a particular book, maybe thinks it's "big," and puts their heart and soul into convincing everyone else it's big, too. Plenty of editors and agents will accept manuscripts that need work, if there is something in the manuscript that they connect with. And what they connect with obviously has much to do with their personal experience, preferences, what they relate to, their values, what they consider funny or touching, and which characters they identify with.

So this is why I'm thinking about aesthetics. "Subjective" means it's all about what one likes. What one is drawn to, attracted by, and dazzled with enough to lay down money for it. I've seen the "color-blind" argument over and over again -- that it's not about the race/ethnicity/gender/sexuality of the author, but the story. That a good story and strong writing is what wins out in the end. While I agree with this in part, I also maintain that the race/ethnicity/gender/sexuality, etc. of the author affects the story and the writing.

The way we write, what we write about, how we write about it -- all of these are infused with the sensibility of the writer. And the sensibility of the writer is informed by who that writer is, the sum of their experiences, and how they respond to those experiences.

Let's take language, for instance. I grew up speaking and thinking in Punjabi. My writing has (and always has had) layers of Punjabi thought, fluidity, and lyricism underneath the English words because it's what I know. It's where I go when I ride those emotional currents because so much of my early life and formative years were in Punjabi. I see it in the work of other South Asian authors, as well. There is the thread of a faint, but recognizable tradition in the fiction of my fellow South Asian diasporic authors. I feel it, smell it, hear it in the words they lay on the page. It's something I know.

I also find it not surprising in the least that so many books written by Women of Colour incorporate themes of spirituality, both implicitly and explicitly. Octavia Butler, Nalo Hopkinson, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Amy Tan, Linda Hogan, Suheir Hamad, Maxine Hong Kingston, June Jordan, Isabelle Allende, Sandra Cisneros, and fellow South Asian women writers such as Mitali Perkins, Uma Krishnaswami, Arundhati Roy, and Shauna Singh Baldwin, among others, have all infused themes of spirituality throughout their texts at one point or another. My own novel, SHINE, COCONUT MOON, as well the two novels I've written since, JAZZ IN LOVE and INTO THE WISE DARK, have varying degrees of spiritual awakening, questioning, and/or understanding woven throughout. The fact that so many women of Colour have elements of spirituality or faith in their works is not a coincidence. It is a shared aesthetic. It is the aesthetic of struggle, born from the effects of colonization, imperialism, slavery, bearing witness to egregious injustices, and finding a way to break the silence; finding words to resurrect what is destroyed and bring back the dead beloved.

If we look at representations of women in the fashion industry, we see the "aesthetic discrepancy" clearly in terms of gender. The fashion industry is overwhelmingly dominated and controlled by men. The focus is not on what women value, but on what men value. Most women would choose comfort over pain; therefore, stilletoes and thongs would make a hasty exit. I, for one, would never go looking for a permanent wedgie and neither would any of the women I know. Stilletoes not only hurt, they do serious damage to the spine, heels, and feet. The women's fashion industry is a mega-gazillion-dollar industry based on the fostered insecurities of women. If women were dominating the fashion scene and shaping it to reflect their own aesthetic (one that has not been distorted by, or replaced with the aesthetic leanings of men), I am confident that what is produced would look drastically different from what is produced now.

Just as an experiment, I urge you to rent and watch several films written and directed by women, then compare them to several films written and directed by men. To make it even more relevant, you might try picking films that have similar themes and were released around the same time. Can you spot the differences in aesthetic? Is there a difference? I would argue that yes, there absolutely is.

Try these: Sunshine Cleaning, written by Megan Holley and directed by Christine Jeffs, The Piano, written and directed by Jane Campion, Daughters of the Dust by Julie Dash, Born in Flames by Lizzie Borden, The Waitress by Adrienne Shelly, Real Women Have Curves by Josefina Lopez and directed by Patricia Cardozo, or the films of Deepa Mehta, Mira Nair, and Gurinder Chadha. Keep in mind that I'm referring to films written by women, not just directed. But even the films based on books written by women, but directed by men, would work for this little experiment. Films like Fried Green Tomatoes (Fannie Flagg), Juno (Diablo Cody), Anywhere But Here (Mona Simpson), Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood and Thelma and Louise (Callie Khouri), and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares).*

Noticing any patterns? That's an aesthetic, or a sensibility. It takes exposure and effort to develop an appreciation for an aesthetic that is vastly different from what one is used to. It's like learning to appreciate a foreign food or music. Many people can't stand the high-pitched voices of some South or East Asian songstresses. But when you spend years listening to different songs, learning what the lyrics mean, and discovering just how much practice and talent goes into those voices, it's easier to appreciate the beauty in their melodies. I grew up in a household where western music was scoffed at, while at school Eastern music was made into a joke. Again, it's about an aesthetic we become accustomed to.

In terms of representations of People of Colour: An experiment by psychologist Kenneth Clark in 1954 revealed that black children preferred white dolls over black dolls, saying the white dolls were "nicer" and "better." When this experiment was recreated in 2005 by a teenager, the results hadn't changed much.

Beauty that resembles white, European ideals is what sells and is promoted in mass media. Images of PoC are habitually air-brushed to be lighter, with straighter, finer, more Europeanized features. Beauty outside of that accepted ideal takes more work to integrate, promote, and sell. This was the reason a Black Is Beautiful movement was necessary in the 1960s, and the Dark Is Beautiful campaign in India is necessary now. It is also the reason campaigns like Dove's widely publicized "Campaign for real beauty" are hugely popular. They strive to develop a new aesthetic. To pump images of a new way of seeing into the world. A new system which exalts what has previously been devalued, or under-valued.

Let's bring it back to the writing. We are not encouraged to be aware of our own privilege. In fact, it serves to keep the inequitable balance of power in place if we remain oblivious to what we have at the expense of others. If you've been following the recent discussions on race, representation, and equitable distribution of resources in the YA/children's lit blogosphere, and it is important to you to help shape a more just world for our children (and ourselves!), you'll have to do your own research.

Zetta's heartfelt post, Something Like An Open Letter To the Children's Publishing Industry, on the disparities inherent within the (children's) publishing industry and discussion threads on forums have me reaching deeper for reasons why PoC are not getting published and/or promoted. There are tons of writers of Colour out there who have been honing their craft, reading books on writing, and submitting work to agents and editors for years. And yet, there are disproportionately more books by and about White folks than there are books by and about PoC. I'm wondering now if part of this could be the lack of appreciation or understanding for an unfamiliar aesthetic.

And because the images of a dominant, all-pervasive aesthetic seep into our bones, we emulate its ideals (think: Michael Jackson). We become the strongest upholders of that which subjugates us. So it's not surprising when things like that now-forgotten case of plagiarism rise up to remind us that all is not perfect in YA/kidlit world. Writers are desperate to make our dreams a reality and many of us will (happily) sell family members to see it happen. We'll write whatever you want! And if that means catering to an aesthetic that is not in keeping with our histories, traditions and upbringings, so be it!

Let me just say here that every single one of us comes from and subscribes to some sort of tradition -- not just PoC. There are Nordic traditions, Celtic, and even feminist and LGBTQ traditions. The point is that the powers that be (TPTB) have historically favoured a particular set. And those of us writing outside of that have had a much tougher time being seen, appreciated, heard, and valued unless we, in some form, adhere to the dominant aesthetic. Sherman Alexie once said that any amount of mainstream success means you've had to compromise something, in some way. I think this is what he was referring to--bending yourself and your work to fit a tradition, ideology, or aesthetic that is not innate, or indigenous to who you are.

And until and unless there is exposure to different aesthetics and an effort to understand and appreciate what is unfamiliar by TPTB, OR, until and unless the ranks of TPTB more accurately represent the reading/consuming public, what we see on the shelves will continue to reflect the dominant ideals and currently upheld aesthetic.

*Just want to note that, although there have been some great strides in recent years, women directors and filmmakers are still few and far between in the field of filmmaking -- which remains overwhelmingly male-dominated.

Response to Comments on Justine's Blog

If you are here to express at length, your views on how not all men and White/straight/rich people are the same, you are wasting your time and ours. We know this. We are referring to systems of oppression. To read responses to your concerns and others you may not have thought up yet, the following sites have done a FAR better job addressing them than I ever could.

The first link is from Tim Wise's blog. He is a white man who says many of the same things I do about race, gender, class, and other forms of systemic oppression. Of particular interest might be his essays on color-blindness and the inconvenience of white privilege.

Peggy McIntosh's essay, as well as Laura Atkins' Reflections on White Privilege in the Publication of Children's Books are also important reads; comments for the latter are here.

Tim Wise
Peggy McIntosh's Essay on White Privilege
Anger Does Not Equal Hate
How Not to Be Insane When Accused of Racism (a guide for White people) 
How To Suppress Discussions of Racism (read this before weighing in).
White Privilege
Racism 101

There are many, many others, but we'll start with those. I'm glad you are taking the time to read my essays and posts. It shows one of two things: 1) you are truly interested in dialogue and changing the world for the better; or 2) you simply want to prove yourself right. If it is the former, I welcome your insights and support. If it is the latter, I suggest you find forums better suited to your efforts.

Complexities

My mother still uses the terms "light-skinned" and "beautiful" interchangeably. Even in spite of numerous discussions, arguments, and debates with me about how problematic this is, especially when she's talking to her darker-skinned daughter (me) :D. She did this just last week, in fact.

I think about this -- my mother's deep seated belief that light skin equals beauty, and at how strongly she clings to this belief. How important it is for her to hang on to this. And I think about how, when I was growing up, she was of course the most beautiful woman in the world to me. And that, then, I never understood where her light skin might have factored into my beauty equation.

It took me years to undo that equation. All the while, she stood solidly by me when my uncles and father thought I should be "handled" more firmly, else I might get a taste of freedom and be "hard to control." It was because of her that I became outspoken, feisty, challenging . . . proving in a way, that my uncles and my father were right.

And maybe because of this support, I was able to rescue myself from the demolition of the "beauty myth" that was so much a part of my growing up years.

Now when I visit home, I watch my mom do my father's and grown brother's laundry. She cooks for them, sweeps up behind them. All with her arthritic knees freezing in place when she stands in one place for too long. While her hands and fingers go numb from years of working on assembly lines. I tell her they're grown men -- I'm pretty sure they can figure out the art of Operating the Washing Machine. She sighs, agrees with me, then goes to turn on the stove for their dinner.

I read somewhere recently that part of our job in our own personal evolution is to birth our own savior. Metaphorically, of course. That we are the only ones who can "birth" the part of ourselves that can save us from ourselves.

My wish is that in 2009, we all birth our own saviors.