tv rant, what else is new?

it always surprises me how people of moderate to high intelligence and good morals can easily forfeit all of the above when it comes to their choices of entertainment. at the moment, i am specifically thinking of television and film.

i guess i should mention my "junk food" philosophy for my own viewing choices first. simply put, even the healthiest eaters/consumers on occasion like to indulge in a cheeseburger and milkshake... and the same can be said for any person who generally is choosy about what media and entertainment she consumes. on occasion i watch pointless shows, movies and random you tube videos because they're complete fluff, and then i go about my day hopefully choosing not to binge too long on "19 and Counting" or "LA Ink", to name a couple of my recently odd obsessions...

we all do it, i recognize that. here's what scares me, fellow americans: the obsession.

so, if you didn't know, abc's "lost" recently wrapped up - it sent eric into a binge, watching all of seasons 1- 5 in about oh, a month. he'd never watched it before, and i hadn't past season 3 (i gave up because i had a life at the time) as the end of season 5 approached, we were brain-sick. although it is a fairly good show, i can't imagine being a die-hard fan. i have friends who had parties for the final episode, and posted ridiculous statuses all over fb and the like about it afterwards... people - it's just a show!

that's not to say, however, that if there were a star trek series airing currently that i might not be a little bit obsessed myself - thanks to my dad and grandma, i am a die hard trekkie. BUT! that, of course, is different right?

but here's the really strange thing about current trends in tv that get me frustrated... the sheer gullibility, it seems, of the american public when it comes to these truly awful "reality shows". i know, this rant comes way late - i mean, people were going on about this ten years ago now.

it simply amazes me how intensely some people, who i find to be pleasant and intelligent in every way, choose to identify with the participants and "celebrity hosts" on shows such as "the bachelor", "dancing with the stars", "american idol" (maybe i could identify with dear simon), or my least favorite: "the biggest loser".

again, in my moments of junk food urge tv watching, i will confess to having watched these shows. i will even admit to having looked at the "biggest loser" website in a moment of emotional and existential misery and contemplated becoming a contestant - wow. but thank god - it passed! and the next day, i looked at my wasted hours of watching and cringed in shame.

you know the people i'm talking about. i'm thinking of a couple in their 50's right now who are devout christians, politically conservative, devoted to education and all things good - their favorite show? dancing with the stars. how? how can a person who would never think to wear anything made of lycra and rhinestones, and certainly not anything revealing cleavage or thigh, who would never sponsor a highschool dance or prom, spend a season wondering if the star football player will succeed in learning to do an authentic tango?

or the girls my age, who are certainly their own people, who are not shy to share their opinions and express their dreams of finding partners who respect them someday, who watch "the bachelor" in all its tacky glory, and seem riveted to shows like "sixteen and pregnant"? i am sick at heart when these shows come up in conversation. surely there is something better to spend your time on. surely these lovely and intelligent women can see how shows like this undermine the value of women at large and encourage negative and unhealthy attitudes toward sexual and emotional relationships... aaaagghhhh.

and finally, why i cannot stand "biggest loser" and shows of that ilk. they are marketed as self help, inspiration, and the like, as we see product after product spew from these franchises that are nothing more than sugar water saying it's a magic cure all. these shows take people who have obviously struggled with their physical and sometimes emotional well being, and break them down, exploiting them and putting them through extreme and sometimes life threatening "challenges", in order to produce what we all want: good tv. that's it.

as a woman who has struggled with self image, a bad relationship, and in the last few years - weight gain, i see most of these shows as pure poison. probably of the alcoholic variety - something that goes down smooth, makes you feel good, and then twists it all into pure misery in a very short amount of time. how does any one watch a show like this and not feel completely powerless and worthless? it is bottled false hope. and we ought to know by now, that this is what sells best in our world.

a first attempt

it is another unusually brilliant sunny day in northern italy. the roses and geraniums are profuse and embarassingly bright. it's humid, but not unbearably so. i've walked the dog, managed to take a shower and even prepare a meal. it's more than i've been able to do all week. the house is in disarray, beds unmade and trash piled up and begging to be taken out...

an argument errupts moments after he comes home. i think about it now, and can understand his perspective. he'd worked all day, i'd been home all day - why can't the house be clean? why can't i take care of it, it's not like i'm working?

these memories intrude on my every day life at times. sometimes i can simply push them back and say it's past... they are remnants of a struggle long ago set aside. there are times though, when this and other more searing images press into my heart and i cannot set them back in their place easily.

the prompt for recent remembrances:

an "exchange", as a friend termed it, on my preferred social networking site that stirred up a good question, old feelings, and a desire or prompting to share. although it's been my determination from day one of separation and then divorce from my ex-husband to be open about the difficulties and growth earned from it, i really do not relish sharing deeply. i don't think that i need to.

but it hit me this morning, as i said goodbye to my sweet eric as he left to job hunt once more, that i have reasons to rejoice, and reasons to share, and how will anyone know who i am if i don't tell them why i believe what i believe?

am i an evangelical or what?

so, to the good question:

"stefanie, why are you - the daughter of a couple devoted to christian ministry and fairly conservative and moderate in all respects - a feminist?"

okay, so this is something that i feel - in person or online - that i can never fully answer in one fell swoop. that may change over the years, as i hope age will teach me to be wiser and more concise, but in the meantime i wish to tackle this.

my first answer:

i identify myself as a feminist because it is the right thing for me as a Christian and a woman in my culture to do. like so many things that we come to realize about ourselves in early life, becoming comfortable with saying, "i am a feminist" has been a natural part of recognizing who i am as an individual and that it is something about me that has been there all along.

the old feelings:

are connected to the memories. they are so complex and tangled. many are connected to an attempted marriage that ended in heartbreak, some are connected to the naivete that my young sheltered self had ten years ago, some have been around me as long as i can remember.

- the gut reaction occurred when someone i respect said, "i want nothing to do with feminism... i am content to let my husband lead... and, i don't see the need to vote and don't value my right as a woman to do so..." (these are paraphrased)

- memory: being told that i am "the wife", and i should allow my husband to take care of all major decisions. that i had no right to spend money that was supposed to be "ours", and that because i wasn't working, the only thing i should do is maintain the household. i had no input, and was treated to an array of explosive and abusive remarks if i asked about my husbands whereabouts after work, how money was spent etc.

this experience was created by a legacy of teaching, in example and word, that is not Christ-like in any way and is the result of generations of a simple precedent set: women do not deserve the same rights as me. an implicit, subconscious message that is acted out far more than verbalized.

the abuses i dealt with came from a young angry and confused man who had never seen a healthy marriage of two Christian individuals... and i don't repeat this story to blacken his image, but to say that i have some strong feelings as to why it is important to continue reminding women of their worth. i believe that young men need to see their mothers own who they are, and to be respected and valued as individuals by their mates.

my prompting:

and desire is to explain my stance. i hope it is a stance of many other women with similar backgrounds to mine - those who were raised in a perceived "conservative Christian" atmosphere - and that others might join in the conversation.

so here it is. i believe that feminism is something that can and ought to be embraced by women from all walks. that it is a movement that should be open to all persuasions in the political, religious and lifestyle spectrums. until it is just that, we as women have not won our cause to create a world that is fair and equal for all.

as a Christian, while on this world i have an obligation to stand up for those who have no voice and to protect the sanctity of life around me. i cannot ignore an injustice that affects me so directly.

as the second wave coined it: the personal is political. and for me it intersects with this: the spiritual is personal. i cannot see how the son of God could teach anything that would encourage us to view half of the world as secondary in any way.

this is my start, there will be more. in the meantime, books:

the feminine mystique - betty friedan

faith and feminism: a holy alliance - helen lakelly hunt, Ph.D.

facebook doesn't need to know the minute details of my...

pregnancy.

it's a sunny windy warm kansas afternoon. eric is in wichita for class, and i've had the day off, excellently timed after an arduous but rewarding weekend with the kids we took to LTC. it's taken about 24 hours, but i am finally relaxing.

a decidedly not new observation i'm sure, but: nothing is made easier by being pregnant.

and this new mother to be is having a time adjusting. i suppose it's the whole thing i always come up against - i do not like having my self reliance questioned, taken away, or negated. i worked hard to become happily independent, and have gotten spoiled to the small amount i have.

so when you're not always sure whether you'll be able to stand without getting dizzy, or whether to eat what is put in front of you or run to the restroom politely, and it's just plain hard to "hear" anyone because you're so dang sick, doing things on your own without the awareness of others is out of the question.

yes, i know. my mother's nodding sagely and every person who has ever had a child is rolling out their encyclopedic knowledge of morning sickness cures and fatigue fixes. there is no way to do this quietly, or on your own. not if you have an adorable husband who has a list of baby names a mile long, and are going to the church where your father and mother are ministering. the chances of me holding on to this bit of news and being able to keep my mouth shut until that 20 week ultrasound are none to none.

having a child is one of the things i assumed i would have done long before now, when i was adorable, young and naive. well, it didn't happen that way, and i'm glad for many reasons... mainly because my child's father was meant to be eric and no one else, pretty sure ;) and that this is the first place in my life that i've found to fit any of this in.

despite the fact that i always assumed i'd be the child bearing kind, eventually, i am a basket case at times exhausted in an effort to avoid the unavoidable onslaught of parenthood.

there was a window of about three weeks where i knew i was expecting, and i started to do the research in to cloth diapers, organic cotton onesies, breastfeeding manuals and moses baskets... now i look at my copy of "America's Pregnancy Bible" and that familiar nausea rises. ugh... i can't even ponder baby names for more than 30 seconds without feeling sick.

yes, i am well aware that this will pass. i will reach the nesting, happy, glowy feeling stage and accept the inevitability of baby. i want that, mentally, but i'm not there emotionally. i am thankful beyond thankful that we have this little one with a strong heartbeat and growing popular by the minute nickname ("Peanut" Johnson) we had no idea this time last year that this would be coming so soon, and certainly after the heartbreak of losing our first young pregnancy, this seems unreal and miraculous...

but please, let me think that i am an individual for a little while longer, and insist on putting my own groceries away and getting my own dishes done (when i can) the picture of that little bean of a being with a heartbeat is displayed on my fridge to remind me: this body is not your own... there is an alien inside you... so let me put this together in my own time and wait a little while til you start pointing out every baby you see and asking if i want to know the sex, if we have names picked, whether i'll "stay home" or not...

some things we've known for a while, and some things are set in motion before you know it... like the fact that we will home school, our child will not wear lots of pink or lots of blue until he/she wants to, and that i have no interest in educational tv, store-bought baby food or licensed cartoon character pajamas (stay back sponge bob and disney)...

we'll get there, eventually. in the meantime i'm right here, getting another piece of string cheese and hoping peppermint tea will ward off another tide of seasick.

books of late

things that have gotten me writing and thinking of late:

third culture kids: the experience of growing up among worlds, pollack and van reken

this book is about me, my brothers, my mom, cousins, my husband... anyone who has grown up in a culture that is supposedly "other" to their native one, or has raised children in that atmosphere, should read this. missionary kids, military brats, expats... this book describes the experience of growing up cross culturally, and what blessings and challenges it can bring to your life.

a return to modesty: discovering the lost virtue, shalit

her first book, it's been on my list for ages... brought me lots to chew on. read it.

amazing grace: a vocabulary of faith, norris

you want this one your shelf. if you have ever struggled with the concept of faith and religion... read it, refer to it, it's a good one.

sex god: exploring the endless connections between spirituality and sexuality, bell

sensational title, no? a good easy read, still thought provoking and/or reaffirming.

good things, observations, books and resolutions

not going to lie, the first couple months of marriage have been hectic. not necessarily because of anything... horrible, but a lot of shifting has been going on. i have just completed my fourth "move" in a year's time, and there will be at least one more before the summer ends!

good things:

- eric has been accepted to the graduate program at Wichita State University
- mom and dad are letting us crash in their basement til we've saved up a bit
- i have a job again - JCP, again - and am thankful for employment, however mainstream ;)
- we're going to look at a farmhouse that we might rent tonight - i'm very excited
- in two weeks, we'll have been married 3 months!

oh! and in family news:

- eric's sister graduates high school next week
- we're visiting them in Arizona, and seeing the Grand Canyon (a first for me)
- eric's dad, paul, made general - wow.

mom and dad are busily winding up for summer. vbs and camps and all that stuff. it's good to be near them. i didn't quite imagine myself moving back to winfield after all the fuss moving to tennessee and then ohio etc. being back, and before we moved - the prospect of being back - has made me realize how much i connect to this part of the US. oklahoma, kansas, texas - my american growing up places - i've underestimated their value and place in my mind and memories. i love being somewhere where i can tell the stories, where i know a little history, where i have "roots".

allison gave me a book at christmas that i've slowly pawed through, rolling each word around in my mouth before chewing: "amazing grace: a vocabulary of faith" by kathleen norris... it's reminded me of a desire for simple life and a life connected to people, not things and ambitions, and a life more prone to spiritual development. of course this awesome book would come from allison. ;)

looking over my last few posts, i've been a little wearied by how "dramatic" i sound. i'm hoping to: a. write more often, in general and b. talk about what is going on in the world outside my head.

furthermore, it has occured to me that successful blogs have photos. alas, i don't own a camera or have any desire to at the moment, but i do have photos... lots. especially since i just got married and stuff. so, more to come in that area.

'til then, i shall go and dream of my life on a kansas farm and of all the pretty things i want to grow.

my family

recently "friended" a few cousins - well, second cousins - from my mom's side of the family, both paternal and maternal. growing up mostly away - until "high school" age anyway - i didn't know them. not much anyhow. their world seemed so different, so connected, and so... american. it still does, but in a different way now.

american. it used to connote more disgust than it does now. i was so afraid of being "it". when we came back to the states, there were nights too many that i cried myself to sleep because i felt i would never be happy, and i would definitely never fit in.

then the point came when, in some ways in order to cope, i distanced myself. i created a persona that was above the pointless pop culture and peer pressure, where i looked down on the waste and limited mindset of "my" generation. it was easier. i couldn't get in, so i made staying out a paradise.

it helped to homeschool, and it helped to already be a missionary's kid... i was weird, i was an outsider... so i simply embraced the label i felt placed on me. i was wise beyond my years, above the growing up phase and spiritually mature in a way most teens weren't

hah.

and it hurt when i hit the point one day where i realized, i had no coming of age. i had no time to rebel... i'm still not sure it's necessary, but since then it seems to have become so. when i realized i was no more mature than those around me, maybe even less so, i gave up in a grand way. and i'm not talking about "knowing" more - that i was more naiive than some ( i was)... but that there truly were people my age who could make better, wiser decisions than i could.

ouch.

on the other hand, there have been things that i've never wished away and never regretted. i love african childhood. i love my american childhood too. i am thankful for the family, both african and american who nurtured me and helped shape my unique identity.

it really does hurt sometimes, knowing i missed out, that there are "blood" relatives who missed out on knowing me, and i them. it is strange though, to even begin to imagine my life without the shade of the highland mountains... the beauty of the bvumba and the joy we felt when the rains returned to us... i cannot go back, but i can honor a time in my life that has moved me forward, knowing great joys and sorrows with great gain.

my family is all over. tennessee, oklahoma, estonia, zimbabwe, texas, italy... each place and each person hold a multitude of stories and memories that make up me.

homesick

i am homesick. grieving for losses i had not acknowledged before. 

loving the life i've lived, and hurting through the moments when no one knew me. 

home, africa, as i knew it - replete with love friends laughter music happiness and the smells and tastes i know best - is gone. 

what i had will never exist in quite the same way again. and since, i have struggled to find it once more, pushed and pulled to tearing the life i have lived so that i might eek out a semblance of what was. 

tonight i am a foreigner in the land i am bred from. this place, i am told, is home. i do not remember it. i do not know it. it does not know me. what i see hurts my heart, and fills me with sadness.

the waste. the anger. the selfishness. the silent secret gnawing and empty pain.

where am i from?

i am from my family's heart, i am from where i'm going to, i am from wherever i am.

but i'm weary, and tired of the going going going. the pushing pushing pushing. this world wearies me,

doesn't it weary you?