Review: Homeward Bound: Why Women are Embracing the New Domesticity by Emily Matcher

I added this book to my Amazon Wishlist, which doubles as my To Read list, a couple of years ago and it's just been sitting there, staring at me. I admit, I was a reluctant to read it as I wasn't interested in a couple hundred pages on why liking to knit and bake makes me a bad feminist. If I want that, I can just post on some select forums.

But I have been going through a trend of challenging my comfort zones, so I bought it and read it. I'm really happy I did. My assumptions about Matcher's intentions were wrong, and given the tone she takes from the very beginning, I'm going to guess she expected my reaction...that or she's just a much more empathic writer than I ever will be. Her writing style is conversational without being sloppy and while her sources are repeated, they are current for the publication date and relevant to the topic.

A brief overview of the book -

Matcher introduces the concept of New Domesticity, then gives a very brief over view of domesticity in America, taking the time to explain that her summation is only America and only applies to white women of a certain class. She is very clear about the standards having been different for the poor and minorities. I appreciate that she clearly states the limits of her observations, rather than allow the reader to assume it applies universally.

She then delves into various aspects of the New Domesticity, profiling a variety of bloggers and writers who are known personalities in those various spheres, with some expected overlap. These range from the place of blogs in New Domesticity to Etsy to Foodies to Parenting to Homesteading to Feminism and back again. Whew.

She ends the book with her takeaways on the phenomenon, which I really loved. Her takeaways and my own conclusions were similar, which I liked, though a great deal of the details along the way was eye-opening. She asked a lot of questions about 'why' and 'where does this lead' that I hadn't really thought through or considered. It let me chew on a lot of ideas and question my own goals.

If I were to sum up my takeaway of Matcher's book in one sentance, it would be "extremists are crazy." Okay, that might be a little glib, but by the end of each chapter, I was asking myself if any of the people had heard of moderation and it's virtues. She wasn't critical so much as questioning (I was critical), so I never felt the need to defend them in my head (which I absolutely do when I read), allowing me to absorb first, consider second. Almost every practice listed was given the leniency of "if this works for you and your family/kid/life...", though the motives and long term effects were questioned. The exception was the anti-vaccine crowd, which I can't blame her for.

I highly recommend this to anyone and everyone. Even if you don't think this New Domesticity nonsense has any place in your life, you probably know someone who does (know anyone with an etsy store? who bakes their own bread? who homeschools their kid?) and it creates a framework for understanding. The reasons lists might not be their reasons, but it places the national trend into perspective.

Reluctantly, I Return

I've been a communication hiatus for awhile. I keep waiting for life to slow down, but it hasn't so I think I have to just accept it and come out of my cave. Something about the computer and phone has been particularly offensive, likely because they seem to give the outside world an expectation of access into my life. Funny words from someone who writes a blog, no matter how sporadically. But there's a difference between that which I chose to share and what people expect. My primary annoyance with Facebook* is the apparent assumption that we will share everything. People have been shocked, even offended, that I haven't put wedding pictures on Facebook. I have no intention to do so, though I know my sister and mother will likely do so once they get them. I simply dislike displaying my life. That's true in person as well, as I keep aspects of my life very private (such as religion). I'm not embarrassed by those parts, I just don't think they're anyone else's business.

Once upon a time (the mythical Good Ole Days), this sort of reticence to be available for public viewing was the mark of good breeding. The old adage of one's name appearing in the papers three times in one's life - when they're born, when they marry, and when they die - is laughably quaint in our all-access world. I actually found an issue of LIFE magazine (November 14, 1955) that has an article titled "Society's Switch to Publicity", discussing the rise of the celebrity socialite, so this isn't new, just relatively new for the general masses, where anyone can be someone online. The egalitarian (and American) in me likes that and rejoices at the rise of the marginalized who "make it" due to YouTube or a blog. The part of me that finds scrutiny and uninvited commentary distasteful cringes every time.

While being called "old-fashioned" wouldn't be unfamiliar for me or even unwelcome, this reluctance can come across as anti-social. I must learn how to mitigate the feeling that by dipping a toe into the internet social waters, I am not committing to dive in and certainly not a splash fight. Then again, moderation has always been my struggle.

All that said, the best way to talk to me regularly remains a letter, either handwritten or typed, since I will always answer. I am happily accepting penpals for any who are interested.

*If you want to follow me on social media, Facebook is useless except for the most basic changes, like marital status and location. Google + is your best bet.

Review: 30 for 30: The Price of Gold

I love sports, I love sports movies, and I love documentaries, so it's not a stretch that I'm a big fan of sports documentaries. The drive and focus that it takes to becomes a professional athlete, as well as the often myopic view of the world necessary to stay a professional athlete is intriguing to me. I also find the differences between team and individual sports, and how that translates to the individual fascinating. There is a part of me that considered Sports Psychology as a master, looking into exactly that.

Anyway, I digress. So tonight I watched 30 for 30's episode The Price of Gold. For those who aren't aware, 30 for 30 is an ESPN show that highlights people and events in the sports world that might not get as much attention. The Price of Gold, however, is about one of the most well known events in recent sports history - the attack on Nancy Kerrigan and Tony Harding's involvement.

The attack happened in 1994. I was 12. I have very distinct memories of this happening and I admit that it spiked my interest in figure skating, which has never died. It's one of my favorite sports to watch and the reason I bemoaned not having TV during the Winter Olympics (that and I come from a family that cheers on the US Team, so I missed not being able to do so). 

Watching information about the attack as an adult was interesting. The commentary on the expectations of the sport, the image the sport actively tries to convey for female skaters (the Ice Princess, as they called it) and where it came from (Sonja Henie is cited as the major influence on that expectation) lays out why it was so easy for Tonya Harding, who defied all of those expectations by being a power skater who didn't care about the princess image, to be reviled by the sport. She came from a rough background and a rough family. Skating was her life.

Unfortunately, it's hard to develop any sympathy for Harding, who appears in the documentary extensively (Kerrigan declined to comment, her husband and coaches appear on her behalf). She's abrasive and remorseless. She sees herself as a victim and tries to paint herself that way. One of the individuals being interviewed made the comment that skating judges on the whole package - jumps, spins, grace, appearance, music selection, costume choice - and while Harding was an incredibly powerful skater, she refused to acknowledge the importance of those other things, which she believed to be inferior to skill on the ice. Paul Wylie, who was a prominent male skater in the same era and one of my favorite on the ice, stated that the judges made it known what kind of music and costumes they liked. Harding's response to this was rebellious...which is fantastic if you don't care about winning and you just want to skate. It's not great if your goal is a gold medal.

Skating is a sport full of favorites, partiality, and non-standardized judging. No one understands why some people win (Oksana Baiul winning gold over Nancy Kerrigan at the 1994 Winter Olympics was huge drama) and others are openly shunned, but that's skating. It's not a fair sport. Harding was a phenomenal skater, incredibly powerful and driven. What she did to bring herself up to the level of a National champion is amazing. But her attitude towards what happened to her, towards the barring of her from skating and the stripping of her gold medal, seems to have left her a bitter, angry person. Watching the documentary, I feel I understand her better and the situation better, in a way I couldn't have at 12, but it doesn't make me like her more. But I suppose that's the point of a documentary - to present a situation and let the viewer decide how they feel about it. If you remember the controversy at all, it might be worth the hour and half of watching this to allow yourself to reexamine your views from an adult perspective.

30 for 30: The Price of Gold is available for streaming on Netflix.

I am Rogue

One of the challenges of fibromyalgia, for me, is that there are days when it hurts to touch anything. It's like all the protective coating on my hands has been stripped away and they are made of raw nerves. Every act is excruciating and most materials are painful. These are the days which are most frustrating. Whlile my brain is awake and alert, there's very little I can do - books hurt to touch, knitting needles and yarn are painful...even my phone causes shooting pain.

Quite by accident over the winter I learned that one pair of gloves that I own aren't painful to wear. More than that, they are thin enough that I have decent tactile response and I can use my phone while wearing them. They are vintage suede, black, and gauntlet-length and wide at the top, so they don't rub against my skin. If I wear them when my hands hurt, I get some relief from the pain. It's not complete and there are some things that are too painful no matter what I try, but I can function. And on those days, functioning is enough.

While experiencing one of those days while in the presence of the boyfriend, I commented that I was like Rogue - I needed gloves to touch anything. We both agreed this was funny and appropriate, so it has become shorthand for this kind of day.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm Rogue."

Much more empowering than "I can't touch anything without gloves" and always manages to make me smile. So if you ask how I'm doing, and I tell you I am Rogue, these are not delusions of comic book greatness. Just shorthand that amuses me and makes the oddity of me wearing gloves often funny.

The Lessons Disney Teaches Us

It seems to be the "in" thing now to hate Disney and refuse to show your daughters. I've encountered this a few times, each with the idea that "I don't want to raise her in a Princess culture." As someone raised on Disney films, both from the Golden Era at home and the Renaissance in theaters, my knee jerk reaction is one of indignation and annoyance. But it keeps coming up, so I stepped back to look at it.

I know what people are trying to say when this conversation happens. They're trying to say that they don't want to raise a daughter who waits around for a man to come along and save her from her life. I get that. But that seems to ignore a couple of points about Disney films. Since I can't tell someone how to parent their children (Being an Adult Rule #5), I can make some general points here so it will stop going over and over in my mind.

1. Disney films should not be raising your child. Your children will develop their ideas of gender roles and life goals based, in large part, on the example that the adults in their lives provide. Sure, the media plays some part, but I see this as a jumping off for discussion, rather than a lesson in itself. Watching the Golden Era, which is especially fraught with Beleaguered Princess Who Comes Across Terrible Circumstances (usually in the form of an older, jealous woman) And Must Be Saved By True Love's Kiss, I wonder why the response isn't to watch the movie and talk about it. A lot of movies made before our own have context that has to be explained (the black face numbers in musicals from Hollywood's Golden Age are a particular point). As a parent, you provide the context for everything your kid watches or reads.

2. Most Disney animated features are based on fairy tales, which aren't known for the "ladies take the lead" attitude. Some are (Mulan totally is) and Disney tends to follow through with that. But what a neat way to introduce classical fairy tales to young children and to discuss societal norms from different eras. It's a jumping off point that is accessible, and honestly, are fun to watch.

3. There are beautiful messages throughout Disney. Female empowerment isn't an obvious one until some of the Disney Renaissance and the post-Pixar era, but it's also not the only message worth looking for. I would love to see more people enter into tough situations with a joyful attitude (Snow White, Cinderella - this is a mainstay of Disney ladies) and that being yourself, even when others judge you for it,  is better than pretending to be someone you're not (Belle, Eugene from Tangled - boys get to teach us lessons to!). How many Disney characters have to push outside their comfort zone, either by choice or by circumstance, and grow because of it (Rapunzel, Snow White, Mulan)? And don't forget the importance of not judging people on appearance or social class (Dwarves, Merekat, Scary Guys in a Pub, Frogs).

4. Nature is beautiful. You will never think of the American outdoors the same way after you watch Pocahontas. The ocean goes from being a large, kinda scary thing to a stunning array of color and life in The Little Mermaid. And it's possible that The Lion King is as close to the Serengeti most people will ever get (or ever want to get). Walt loved nature, which is why there are so many Disney films (non-animated) about the glories of outdoors.

There are more, some broad concepts and some narrow ones, but the point stands - movies, Disney and otherwise, will be to your children what you make them. Such a vehemence against something designed for entertainment keeps you and your children from enjoying the beauty that comes from it. I'm not a parent yet, but it's something I'm preparing for and I know that Disney films, animated and non, will be a part of my children's lives. If nothing else, they remind you, film after film, that dreams are worth something.

And the family grows again

On Monday, my father's birthday, my sister gave him the most amazing birthday present...she gave him a second grandson.

Isn't he beautiful? I am happy to report that he has reddish hair and blue eyes. He might keep neither but I'm calling it a win. Dillan John was born at 7:13 pm CST in McAlester, Oklahoma. He's 7 lbs, 2 oz (my prediction) and 20 inches long. His mother is a champ - three pushes and he was out. Dad and I, exiled to the waiting room, barely got settled and I got the text from Mom "He's here!"

Kellie said "Dylan" didn't look right when she wrote it, so she went with "Dillan". John is our father's name. I think it's a wonderful tradition - Dalton's middle name is Glenn, his father's middle and paternal grandfather's first name, and now Dillon has his maternal grandfather's name. I guess they're going to have to go out another generation for other boys, but then we get into Odus and Olan....there is a George and Harry, so there's hope.

Our family has grown again, and it feels so much larger than one tiny baby. His brother thinks he's still inside and says "Baby" when pointing to my sister's stomach, while petting his brother the same way he pets his dog. He'll figure it out, and he gets to go through his life with a little brother, who will be the bane of his existence as well as the most amazing friend of his life. My relationship with my sister is the best thing my parents ever gave me. I hope the boys will feel the same way.

Five Women....Minus One

There are five women in my life who know me. They've seen me at my best and worst, they understand me. They are my friends and peers, and those closest to me.

Yesterday, one of those women died.

She taught me incredible lessons on how to be gracious while being sick, something she had copious practice with. She knew and understood me in ways no one else could and she was my example of who to be in areas of my life that are obscure and foreign to most people. I loved her for our unique bond, the fact that she knew the side effects I would experience with every medication since she had been through them and reacted the same way, and that she knew my dosages, just like I knew hers, just in case a doctor was called. We understood each other's stubborn refusal to accept help outside of a very small group of people assigned to such a task and our deep and prevalent fear of appearing weak.

Despite the chair, she was not a weak woman. She was one of the strongest people I've ever met. When we would talk and the pain would be especially bad, she would excuse herself, tell me she was on Dilaudid, then curse a blue streak. Never, though, when sober and never in public. A lady in every way, and one that expected the men around her to be gentlemen, especially those from the South who should know better.

She prepared us for this a hundred times. We talked about funeral arrangements and wills and all that. But when she comes out of it time after time, you begin to discount the reality of the fact. You forget that the odds tend to catch up with you. You begin to believe, as many of us did, that she would outlive us all.

One of my women has died. And I am hollow and empty without her. Grief will pass, the pain will fade. We will eventually say good-bye. But I will never forget my friend, my incredible, strong friend whose quiet strength and fiery spirit sang to me again and again of the kind of woman I strive to be.