Neil GaimanAuthor, Graphic Novelist, "Stardust"
February 26, 2013
February 22, 2013
In Memory
I want to talk about domestic violence. I want to talk about it because I feel like no one is talking about it enough. But I also don't know what "enough" looks like.
What I have to say is messy. There will be information that could be a trigger topic for some people. If this is you, just watch this video and come back for my normal trigger-free writing on Monday. If you aren't going to have a trauma trigger based on today's topic, you should still watch the video; but wait until after, so that you can restore your faith in humanity and beautiful things.
There. Wasn't that beautiful?
I am thinking about domestic violence because of the most recent news out of South Africa about Oscar Pristorius. If you don't know the name, I will give you a bit of history, and you can learn more about his story here. Pristorius made history in the 2012 Olympics by being the first disabled athlete to compete in the able-bodied London games. His story is very compelling. A birth defect left him in prosthetics since toddler-hood. He is considered a national hero in South Africa. His nickname is "The Blade Runner," because of the appearance of this running prosthetics. As inspring as his history may be, on Valentine's Day he shot and killed his girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp, in his gated community home. He was granted bail today. Family and supporters cheered in the court room as the magistrate announced his decision. He swears it was an accident, although there have been some claims that there were issues with violence in their short relationship.
I don't know what happened. I wasn't in that room.
Family and friends claim that it seemed like Pristorius and Steenkamp were happy. Goodness knows that both of these young people were in the prime of their lives and beautiful. So, these two beautiful people, we say, can't possibly be living with this secret. I mean, every relationship has it's ups and downs. This is just was all a terrible mistake. It can't possibly be true.
And maybe it is. And maybe it isn't. Maybe, we just like the idea that this was something that was never supposed to happen to a happy, non-violent couple. People like Pristorius are heroes and heroes don't hurt anyone.
I don't know what happened. I wasn't in that room.
What I do know, is what we want to be true when it comes to domestic and relationship violence rarely is. There is no such things as a typical abuser. Chances are very good that if you were waiting in line behind an abuser at the Starbucks, you would still feel safe. You wouldn't think, "this guy is gonna hit me." The abuse, when it does occur, is behind closed doors. It happens in secret. It is not an accident. It doesn't happen because of stress or because the victim was in any way provoking. No one deserves it. No one is to blame but the perpetrator. The events happen in secret, and to anyone of any age, race, gender, or socio-economic level. Even beautiful and successful people can be abused. Most If Ms. Steenkamp was being abused, it is unlikely that she would have told anyone. At the heart of domestic violence is a dis-balance of power.
Yeah, dis-balance isn't a "real" word and I am supposed to use "unbalanced." Stick with me. I am using disbalance because, while the prefix "dis-" and "un-" both mean "not," "dis-" takes its origin from the Latin meaning for reversing. An unbalanced system can be righted, a disbalanced system exists to reverse the balance and can't be righted.
There is no mechanism by which a domestic violence situation can be either right, or righted. Some people who are in violent relationships manage to leave their abusers. Some don't. More than a fair share of them end much like Ms. Steenkamp's story. Someone in custody, someone dead, and with everyone wondering happening what happened in that room.
If you need helping leaving, check out these resources:
Love is Respect
A How-To Guide
What I have to say is messy. There will be information that could be a trigger topic for some people. If this is you, just watch this video and come back for my normal trigger-free writing on Monday. If you aren't going to have a trauma trigger based on today's topic, you should still watch the video; but wait until after, so that you can restore your faith in humanity and beautiful things.
There. Wasn't that beautiful?
I am thinking about domestic violence because of the most recent news out of South Africa about Oscar Pristorius. If you don't know the name, I will give you a bit of history, and you can learn more about his story here. Pristorius made history in the 2012 Olympics by being the first disabled athlete to compete in the able-bodied London games. His story is very compelling. A birth defect left him in prosthetics since toddler-hood. He is considered a national hero in South Africa. His nickname is "The Blade Runner," because of the appearance of this running prosthetics. As inspring as his history may be, on Valentine's Day he shot and killed his girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp, in his gated community home. He was granted bail today. Family and supporters cheered in the court room as the magistrate announced his decision. He swears it was an accident, although there have been some claims that there were issues with violence in their short relationship.
I don't know what happened. I wasn't in that room.
Family and friends claim that it seemed like Pristorius and Steenkamp were happy. Goodness knows that both of these young people were in the prime of their lives and beautiful. So, these two beautiful people, we say, can't possibly be living with this secret. I mean, every relationship has it's ups and downs. This is just was all a terrible mistake. It can't possibly be true.
And maybe it is. And maybe it isn't. Maybe, we just like the idea that this was something that was never supposed to happen to a happy, non-violent couple. People like Pristorius are heroes and heroes don't hurt anyone.
I don't know what happened. I wasn't in that room.
What I do know, is what we want to be true when it comes to domestic and relationship violence rarely is. There is no such things as a typical abuser. Chances are very good that if you were waiting in line behind an abuser at the Starbucks, you would still feel safe. You wouldn't think, "this guy is gonna hit me." The abuse, when it does occur, is behind closed doors. It happens in secret. It is not an accident. It doesn't happen because of stress or because the victim was in any way provoking. No one deserves it. No one is to blame but the perpetrator. The events happen in secret, and to anyone of any age, race, gender, or socio-economic level. Even beautiful and successful people can be abused. Most If Ms. Steenkamp was being abused, it is unlikely that she would have told anyone. At the heart of domestic violence is a dis-balance of power.
Yeah, dis-balance isn't a "real" word and I am supposed to use "unbalanced." Stick with me. I am using disbalance because, while the prefix "dis-" and "un-" both mean "not," "dis-" takes its origin from the Latin meaning for reversing. An unbalanced system can be righted, a disbalanced system exists to reverse the balance and can't be righted.
There is no mechanism by which a domestic violence situation can be either right, or righted. Some people who are in violent relationships manage to leave their abusers. Some don't. More than a fair share of them end much like Ms. Steenkamp's story. Someone in custody, someone dead, and with everyone wondering happening what happened in that room.
If you need helping leaving, check out these resources:
Love is Respect
A How-To Guide
February 20, 2013
You Can Leave Your Hat On
I am unorthodox in my teaching style. I admit it. I sing, I dance, I make horrible jokes and frequently at my own expense. Every now and again, I've pushed what is probably appropriate in a classroom. I teach a topic that is generally agreed upon to be a pretty dry subject. I teach technology and, typically, college aged students think they know all they need to know. It takes all of my singing and dancing and the occasional "did she just say that?" techniques to stop students in their tracks. I think that I am the kind of teacher that I wanted to have when I was a student: I'm odd.
Today, I take that all back. Clearly, I am not anywhere near in league with this guy.
This Columbia University professor, Emlyn Hughes, gave memorable lecture to his quantum mechanics students. It would seem that his logic was: "In order to learn quantum mechanics, you have to strip to your raw, erase all the garbage from your brain and start over again." I actually kind of understand this. It mostly reminds me of the often told story called "empty your cup." Usually, the names and dates and roles are confused and varried, but the basic story goes like this:
A Zen master received a [university professor] [scholar] [new monk] who came to inquire about Zen. As the master served tea, the young [smart ass] spoke at length about Zen. The master soon poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept pouring. The [know-it-all] watched the overflow and yelled "No more will go in! You're wasting it!" "Like this cup," the Master said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"
I have this conversation with my students at the beginning of the semester. I am not a Zen Master, but the sentiment is similar. You have to let go of what you think you know in order to understand computer science or, it would seem, quantum mechanics. I worry that what Professor Hughes was trying to do will be lost in the noise around HOW he said what he said. He told his class to empty their cups by taking off his clothes. I have told my students the same thing, in my own way. And my students have never seen my underpants. So, I guess I win.
Today, I take that all back. Clearly, I am not anywhere near in league with this guy.
This Columbia University professor, Emlyn Hughes, gave memorable lecture to his quantum mechanics students. It would seem that his logic was: "In order to learn quantum mechanics, you have to strip to your raw, erase all the garbage from your brain and start over again." I actually kind of understand this. It mostly reminds me of the often told story called "empty your cup." Usually, the names and dates and roles are confused and varried, but the basic story goes like this:
A Zen master received a [university professor] [scholar] [new monk] who came to inquire about Zen. As the master served tea, the young [smart ass] spoke at length about Zen. The master soon poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept pouring. The [know-it-all] watched the overflow and yelled "No more will go in! You're wasting it!" "Like this cup," the Master said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"
I have this conversation with my students at the beginning of the semester. I am not a Zen Master, but the sentiment is similar. You have to let go of what you think you know in order to understand computer science or, it would seem, quantum mechanics. I worry that what Professor Hughes was trying to do will be lost in the noise around HOW he said what he said. He told his class to empty their cups by taking off his clothes. I have told my students the same thing, in my own way. And my students have never seen my underpants. So, I guess I win.
February 15, 2013
Gay Parents Bashed: What Would You Do?
This pairs really well with the post about Valentine's Day. And it gives me hope for humanity.
Warning: may want Kleenex handy.
Warning: may want Kleenex handy.
February 13, 2013
Be Just, My Valentine
I have a 7 year old daughter. To call her "percocious" is an appropriate assessment. to be fair, I don't know if she's smarter than most 7 year olds, but she is much smarter than I was at 7, so I am sticking with it. My husband and I have a policy whereby we always answer her questions as truthfully as possilble. The secondary policy of only answering the question she asked, without embellishment, has saved us from many, many uncomfortable situations. Every question she asks is a near time-bomb for us, and a revelation about how much we take for granted, and without question.
Last week she asked me about the origins of Valentine's Day. I was doing the dishes, and a flood of half memories from a childhood lesson washed over me. It's about a saint, I think, I said. His birthday, maybe. I think he went to jail and was marytered there. Something about standing for love, or something like that. I tumbled the list out to my daughter, she listened and tried to keep up. "Hallmark makes a ton of money on it now." "How did he stand up for love?" My daughter, for all of her candor, is frequently also very litteral. I wasn't so lucky this time. She wanted to know what he did. Off to Google with me.
What I found a couple of trustworthy pages was the story of a monk named Valentinus. This is from Wikipedia:
Not all is lost. France decision about same sex marriage is a pretty good reason to celebrate Valentine's day, if you ask me. Let's do this too, America. The alternative is bleak, and not in the best interest of our spirit as a nation, or as a people. Anti-gay sentiment is the last socially exceptable form of prejudice. America, be my Valentine in the spirit of St. Valentine. Let's stand for love, too. Please don't give me one more difficult thing to explain to my 7 year old.
Last week she asked me about the origins of Valentine's Day. I was doing the dishes, and a flood of half memories from a childhood lesson washed over me. It's about a saint, I think, I said. His birthday, maybe. I think he went to jail and was marytered there. Something about standing for love, or something like that. I tumbled the list out to my daughter, she listened and tried to keep up. "Hallmark makes a ton of money on it now." "How did he stand up for love?" My daughter, for all of her candor, is frequently also very litteral. I wasn't so lucky this time. She wanted to know what he did. Off to Google with me.
What I found a couple of trustworthy pages was the story of a monk named Valentinus. This is from Wikipedia:
St. Valentine's Day began as a liturgical celebration of one or more early Christian saints named Valentinus. The most popular martyrology associated with Saint Valentine was that he was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry and for ministering to Christians, who were persecuted under the Roman Empire; during his imprisonment, he is said to have healed the daughter of his jailer Asterius.From the History Channel:
One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret.I added the italics. I love the idea that Valentine was martyred, in part, for seeing that the government should not interfere with love. It would seem that this particular bit of information is not just timely for the holiday, but also as we look around the word and directly into the faces of inequalty as it relates to gay marriage. In 2013, we have self professed educators jockeying for a straight only prom because of her religion. We have a possible pope successor who has defended anti-gay bills like Uganda's "Kill the Gays" bill. At this point, it is as though the origin of Valentine's Day has been lost. Remember when it was all about love? And that meant enough that you could be martyered for choosing it above state decree?
Not all is lost. France decision about same sex marriage is a pretty good reason to celebrate Valentine's day, if you ask me. Let's do this too, America. The alternative is bleak, and not in the best interest of our spirit as a nation, or as a people. Anti-gay sentiment is the last socially exceptable form of prejudice. America, be my Valentine in the spirit of St. Valentine. Let's stand for love, too. Please don't give me one more difficult thing to explain to my 7 year old.
February 12, 2013
Gone, Baby, Gone
“Just don't take any class where you have to read BEOWULF.” | |
~Woody Allen
I'm taking a class. And it's kicking my butt. It's true. If you came here right now, I would show you the dent marks. The few days off because of snow gave me a wonderful chance to catch up on some stuff, and starting tomorrow, I should be back on track.
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