Boys Will Be Boys - Why Masculinity Is Actually Heroic Not Toxic

Raising boys is not for the faint of heart.

I am the mother of two boys. The two of them are responsible for every single gray hair I have on my head. For those with no experience raising little ones, boys are generally loud and rambunctious. Like most young boys, mine toppled Christmas trees, wrestled in the dirt, and repeatedly tried to jump from the top of the playground slide. (Not the tame little toddler slide, either, but the giant, twisting one that the Parks and Rec department finally removed because it was dangerously tall. That thing was like 20 feet high and little boys kept trying to jump off it. )

My boys were wild. They ran with sticks. They tried to ride the dog. They would take running leaps down the hallway stairs. They rode bikes with no hands. They literally climbed the walls of my house like miniature versions of Spider-Man.

And I let them.

Attempting to rein in their excessive energy was futile. So, I let them run and climb and jump off things, constantly testing their courage and their physical boundaries.

I let them be boys.

And when my boys came to me with dirty faces and scraped knees I often uttered this horrific, four-word phrase:

“Boys will be boys.”

I know the Karens and Jennifers of the world, with their self-righteous views of what constitutes civilized behavior, are out there clutching their pearls and gasping in horror, but it’s true. I totally, 100 percent, unapologetically let my boys behave like boys.

I get it. “Boys will be boys” has often been a poor excuse for bad behavior. From bar fights to sexual assault, the bad behavior of some men has been swept aside, trivialized, and normalized as just something that is part of their nature. Something they can’t control. Boys will be boys.

However, typical male behavior isn’t all bad, and we shouldn’t be throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Even if that baby does have a Y chromosome and a penis.

Boys do have a natural tendency to be adventurous and active, to be risk takers and push limits. But it isn’t “uncivilized.” In fact, it is those very traits that created civilization in the first place.

If you’ve ever watched baby animals play, you’ve seen them actively working to hone skills they will need to be successful adults. The lion cub that pins his sibling to the ground is practicing how to make dinner. Twin fawns playing chase are practicing how to not become dinner.

Human boys are doing the same thing. They are perfecting the skills they need to be men.

Physical activity strengthens muscle and develops physical coordination. Taking risks helps develop courage in the face of fear. And even that aggression, when properly channeled, cultivates ambition and determination, not to mention the skills needed to defend themselves and their loved ones.

Lately, masculinity is being painted with broad negative brush strokes. The narrative is that masculinity is “toxic,” ultimately responsible for the ills of society, from wars to rape to a lack of seat space on public transit.

It has become popular opinion that limiting masculine behaviors, including rough and tumble boyhood play, is the answer to all Society’s problems. If men would just be less manly, the world would be a better place.

Wrong.

Masculinity isn’t intrinsically toxic. In spite of Gillette commercials and the new feminist diatribe, manhood is not dangerous or destructive to society. Yes, there are men who are those things. However, it isn’t because they are too masculine. Whether its pathology or poor home training, that causes individuals to be destructive, we can’t blame manhood for the deadly actions of a few.

Whenever there is danger, it is men who rush in. With strong muscles and brave hearts, they put aside concerns for their own well-being. They rush toward fires, and raging flood waters, and the sound of gunshots to save the weak and the innocent. The masculine traits of assertiveness, strength, aggression, dominance, and control save lives and prevent tragedy every single day of the year.

We can’t argue with hard facts and statistics. Most violent acts are committed by men. But so are most acts of valor and bravery. Masculinity isn't inherently toxic. Rather, it is virtuous and courageous. Masculinity isn't misogyny and homophobia, posturing and compensation. Masculinity is action and strength and bravery. It is using inherent power, not to harm, but to serve and protect.

There is an alarming trend in this country to emasculate our boys. Participation in once popular contact sports has seen a rapid decline. From 2009 to 2014, student participation in wrestling fell by 41.9%, while the number of kids playing tackle football decreased by almost 18%. While it may be mothers and school officials who are concerned about danger and injury that have spawned this decline, it could be a serious detriment to our young boys. This could be the beginning of generations of men who lack strength, physical skill, and a competitive edge.

Our public schools are formatted in ways that favor the learning style of girls while neglecting the way boys typically learn. In recent years, learning has become more language-based and less hands on. Recess has been shortened or altogether banned. We are expecting our boys to sit still and be quiet for longer and longer stretches of time. In short, we expect them to learn and behave like little girls. And when they can’t, we medicate them.

But boys like to be rough. They like to take things apart, climb to the top of the monkey bars, and roll in the dirt. It is in their nature. That is what we mean when we say, “Boys will be boys.”

If we constantly tell them that their very real needs to move and be physical and take risks are “bad”, Society is going to be in big trouble. When we convince men that their natural masculine inclinations are negative, we destroy masculinity as a whole. The good parts of masculinity far outweigh the negative, even if those aren’t the ones that make the evening news.

Men are pretty freakin’ awesome. We should be acknowledging that instead of tearing down boys, expecting them to behave like girls, and telling them that masculinity is toxic. As a modern Society, we cannot afford to eradicate masculinity.

If we destroy masculinity, who will rush in to save the suffering? Who will brave danger to help the innocent? Without aggression, courage, strength, and action we will be a society without heroes.

When all the heroes are gone, we’ll be left with a bunch of demure guys in skinny jeans, albeit with perfectly trimmed beards (thanks Gillette!). Those “men” will be too concerned with offending someone to take risks or speak their mind. They will lack the drive and courage to change the world. They will be too afraid of their “toxic masculinity” to pick up a suffering woman and carry her to safety.

After all, it is really hard to rush into a burning building or a dangerous war zone in skin tight jeans, especially when you’re concerned about spilling your latte...or breaking a nail.

Gillette did get one thing right in their new commercial.

The boys watching today will be the men of tomorrow.

Rather than making them feel guilty or inadequate for being intrinsically strong, strapping, and male, we should let them know it is okay to be men.

Heck. Maybe we should even encourage it.

(AFP/Getty Images)

(CNN)

(David J. Phillip/AP)

(Getty Images)

Just a Girl

On Monday and Wednesday afternoons, just before dinner, I teach a karate class. It is a small class of rambunctious 4 and 5 year-olds that keeps me on my toes and often stretches my patience. But it is usually the highlight of my week.

I've been teaching this class of small children for two years, and it has been overwhelmingly populated by boys. I don't know if it is because more boys want to learn to punch and kick with skill and authority, while maybe their female peers are wanting to dress in pink tutus and learn to pirouette. Maybe it's because the mothers of boys desperately want an activity that will burn off some of the excess energy that drives their sons to climb walls, knock over furniture, and ride the cat.

I don't know. But for whatever reason, until very recently, my class has been almost entirely boys.

And then in walked one little girl and like a dropped domino two more followed her. Now there are three girls forming a minority at the end of the class line-up.

I don't treat them any differently than I do the boys. They get high fives when they succeed, are encouraged when they don't, and told to "suck it up" when they get hurt. As far as I'm concerned, there is no gender on the training mat.

Last week, we were working on forward rolls, a skill that the little boys who've been around a while can mostly execute with an amount of clumsy confidence. But one of the little boys seemed concerned when it was the newest girl's turn.

"But she doesn't know how to do it," he said. Whether to me, or himself, or the boy next to him, I'm not sure. Then he added...

"Well...she's just a girl."

Just. A. Girl.

As if to dismiss her or excuse her potential failure. Do even small boys expect less of their female peers?

Three little words from a boy who has yet to reach 3 and 1/2 feet tall. And yet the weight of them fell heavy on my soul.

I reminded him that I was "just a girl." And that my younger daughter who helps with the class (and regularly mops the dojo floor with grown men when she spars) is also "just a girl." And then I told him that he was, in fact, "just a boy."

And then that new little girl executed an almost perfect forward roll in front of the entire class.

Thank you, Universe for your well-timed poetic justice.

She got a high five.

I know that little boy didn't have any feelings of ill will toward his female classmate. He didn't say those words to insult or demean or ridicule, at least not intentionally. It was likely an innocent observation. But his choice of words has hummed around like a swarm of angry irritated bees in my brain for days.

Because this sweet little baby-faced boy is only five. He has yet to be subjected to the mind scrub that is public school. Too young to understand sexist programming, or gender stereotypes, or to see women as mindless objects. He must still think his mother is a super hero.

And yet somehow, it seems to have already crept like some dark scourge into his young and impressionable mind. To so easily dismiss someone's ability to succeed because they are female seems like it could have long-reaching effects, like the creeping tendrils of a pesky choking weed. Who is to blame? Parents? The media? Other children? The evil marketers of children's toys? How is sexism passed on into the subconscious of nursery school children?

There is a good possibility that I am over-reacting. Preschool children are just beginning to understand their own gender identities. And since small children tend to think in rigid terms of black and white, it makes sense in their developing brains to compartmentalize males and females and what they are capable of doing.

As they mature, children's thinking tends to become more flexible. Chances are good that he will grow out of the strict stereotypical views that he now holds in an innocent attempt to make sense of a confusing world.

In the mean time, a karate class led by strong and capable female instructors is right where he needs to be Hopefully, it will also help those three little girls believe that they are capable, strong, and able. And when those capable, strong, able little girls in class start pushing his small 5 year-old body around the mat, well that's only going to bring home the message that women aren't weak and frail, that they aren't something to be dismissed, that they can command their own respect.

And just to be on the safe side, I think I'll kick the bag extra hard before class. Because that's how I plan to fight sexism. One powerful roundhouse kick at a time. Powerful role models are the only thing strong enough to combat both the subliminal and the overt messages our children are pummeled with relentlessly.

I'll do my best to be a good one.

Don't March for Me, Marge and Tina.

(If you sang that title to a tune from Evita, we should be friends.)

I knew I was going to upset a lot of people when I posted that "I Have a Uterus and My Rights are Just Fine." It's why my finger hovered nervously over the mouse before I finally clicked the post button and sent it out for all the world to see.

I knew there would be backlash. I knew that people were going to leave nasty comments and send me hateful messages. That's not really what made me nervous, though. I knew that I was going to upset some people that I actually care about. (Yes, I actually care about some people. Not many, but a few. I'm not entirely evil.)

I understand that passions are running high. People don't just march on Washington in droves unless they really, REALLY feel strongly about something. I knew there would be some panties in wads. And I was right. The hate mail and personal attacks have come flying in. But in the spirit of open discourse (Sorry to all of the people who unfriended, unfollowed, or unsubscribed. You didn't give me the chance to prove points or explain. I suppose it's easier to ignore dissenting opinions than to ponder them.), I thought I would clarify just a few points.

First: I never said I was ungrateful to the women who marched for my right to vote. In fact, I am incredibly and eternally grateful for the protests and arrests and hunger strikes. So grateful that I regularly exercise that hard-won right, probably far more frequently than the average apathetic American. So, please don't assume I need a history lesson.

Second: Don't shut down my opinion because of my perceived "privilege." I know that I am just a "college-educated, middle-class, white woman," but I am still entitled to form opinions, even when they disagree with yours. Also, you shouldn't assume my background, because you are probably wrong. I grew up in poverty, with no electricity or hot water, and I've experienced poverty as an adult, too. As a child, I watched my father punch holes in the drywall inches from my mother's face. As a teenager, I lived in a neighborhood that was infested with crime and drugs and gang violence. And I've worked at a job where it was "okay" for rich men to grab my butt and ask me if I was on the dessert menu. How's that for "privilege?"

But isn't that how we shut down dissenting opinions, now? By pointing out the other person's "privilege?" Oh, that's right ... I'm just a woman. I'm not supposed to have an independent thought. I'm not allowed to think for myself...unless that thinking for myself brings me to the proper conclusions.

Third: While so many of you have promised to "march for me anyway," ...Don't.

Because we apparently have very different ideas about what basic rights are.

The Women's March and its collective demands for equality and women's rights left me scratching my head wondering "What more rights do we need?" Because, in the United States, women have the right to vote, hold public office, pursue higher education, and own property. We can marry or divorce, have children or not. We have access to birth control (although perhaps too freely and without acknowledging the dangers and risks of long-time use) and other forms of reproductive care. There are laws against sexual assault and female genital mutilation.

But you answered the question. You marched for free birth control and easy unregulated abortions and mandatory maternity leave. You marched for single mothers living in poverty and for government health care.

I know this still makes me the enemy, but I don't think the government needs to swoop in and solve all of our First World problems. In fact, the more power we give "them," even in areas we think are good and noble and beneficial, the less power we have for ourselves. That's how we become victims.

It surprises me that so many people fear a Donald Trump brand of fascism, a form of government power run amok, and yet we just saw hundreds of thousands of women march down the streets of our nation's capitol asking government to do something (whatever form they expect that "something" to take)...No, demanding that government do something. Government control is government control... even when it takes a form you agree with. And once you hand over control to government, it is nearly impossible to get it back.

And fourth: Just because I don't think government intervention is the solution, doesn't mean I don't feel empathy for those women who are struggling.

I do realize that this country isn't quite where it needs to be, that sexism is alive and well, and that women aren't always treated with the respect they deserve. I realize the scarring effects of sexual assault. But all of the legislating and politicking in the world won't solve those problems... because they aren't political problems... they are cultural problems.

So in that sense, I'm glad that the women who marched felt feelings of love and unity and solidarity. There is far too little of that in the world. And I admire that so many people joined voices and demanded to be heard. However, that doesn't mean I need to think like them. I don't agree with all of their platforms (for many reasons) or demands or concepts of fundamental rights.

So Ladies, go ahead and march for yourselves.

Don't march for me.

I Have a Uterus and My Rights are Just Fine

Public Domain

I didn't march on Washington.

I know that's surprising considering I possess both a vagina and a fully functioning uterus. But I just couldn't bring myself to join my sistren with their pink pussy hats and expletive-riddled signage.

I mean, I kinda get it. I'm no fan of the Cheez Doodle with a bad combover currently masquerading as president of the United States. But the official Women's March on Washington website claims that this is a "women's rights" demonstration, not a protest against The Donald, at least not beyond his previous, admittedly vile, locker room banter.

I know that many will consider me a traitor to my sisters and a disgrace to my gender. They may call me brainwashed, a misogynist (It wouldn't be the first time), or worse... a Republican (although I'm not). But I couldn't, in good conscience, don a pink pussy beanie, grab a pithy ovary emblazoned sign, and march through the streets of the nation's capitol, because I don't think I am treated like a second class citizen.

Shocking right? That the media brainwashing hasn't penetrated my cranium? After all, we've been hearing about the republican "War on Women" for years now. And that inaccurate statistic about women making 77 cents to every dollar a man earns, well that's universal gospel, in spite of all of the refuting evidence.

But I am not a victim.

I have the right to vote, hold a job, inherit property. I have the right to bodily integrity and higher education and to show my hair in public. I can marry or not marry, divorce if I want, heck, I'm even likely to get custody of my kids. I can defend myself and my property. I can even drive a car... down public streets... in broad daylight.

It's sad to me that hundreds of thousands of women, who woke up in comfortable beds on Saturday morning, ate decent breakfasts, dressed in whatever clothes they chose, boarded public transportation without being escorted by a male, or actually drove their own vehicles to a legal protest, somehow believe that they are oppressed because they are women.

This is America, not the Democratic Republic of Congo where women cannot even sign legal documents. This isn't Pakistan, where women are gang-raped to pay for men's crimes, honor killings are widespread, and there are no laws against domestic violence. This isn't Somalia, where 95% of girls face barbaric genital mutilation, usually between the ages of four and eleven. This isn't Afghanistan, where girls are discouraged, sometimes violently, from seeking an education and where rape victims are often forced to marry their attackers. This isn't Chad where children as young as eleven are forced into arranged marriages.

This is America. Women have had the right to vote for almost a hundred years. We've sent women into Space, seen them appointed to the Supreme Court, run for Congress, anchor the evening news, break Olympic records, and lead billion dollar companies. Women even earn more undergraduate and graduate degrees than men. What rights are we missing?

As mothers, we tell our daughters that they can be anything, achieve anything, become anything they want, and because we live in America, that's basically true. So why are mothers dragging their daughters to huge political protests, railing and whining about a system they claim holds them down simply because they are women? Those are some pretty mixed up messages. I assure you, ladies, the government is not responsible for your successes or your failures in life. You are. Stop blaming the government. Stop accusing "the man" of holding you down. You are better than that. You are stronger than that. Take control of your own destiny.

We don't live in a Third World country. Sure not everyone gets free birth control or cheap abortions on demand, but are those really basic human rights?

If you think so, you probably need some perspective. Take a trip. Not a mini vacation to Washington D.C., either... take a jaunt to Chad or Afghanistan. Ask those women what they think fundamental women's rights are.

In comparison to those women, we're all just whining and throwing little spoiled temper tantrums in our silly pink hats.

And we should probably be ashamed.

Are My Sons Really Safe From Your Daughters?

It's back-to-school time. This means that over this past week, a lot of parents have dropped their offspring along with their boxes of stuff off on college campuses across the country. Lugging mini fridges and ramen noodles and boxes of crap up narrow residence hall stairways can be exhausting, but even more exhausting than the physical moving in, is the dropping off. Every parent already knows that college is often characterized by underage binge drinking and casual sex. It's an unfortunate part of the culture. When we add in the fear of sexual harassment and assault, it's enough to bring on a parental apoplexy of Biblical proportions. A lot of parents will need some seriously strong anti-anxiety medication after freshman drop off just to maintain a shred of sanity.

Of course, the college students don't make it any easier.

Last year, it was a bunch of dudes from Sigma Nu fraternity with snarky and inappropriate banners at Virginia's Old Dominion University. The white signs draped over the balconies of an off-campus house read "Rowdy and fun, hope your baby girl is ready for a good time," "Freshman Daughter Drop Off" and "Go ahead and Drop Off Mom Too."

Source: Twitter

Of course, everyone and their grandma was offended. ODU's Sigma Nu chapter was suspended. School administrators condemned the messages in two separate official statements, and ODU's Student Government Association called the signs in their own statement "unwelcoming, offensive, and unacceptable." And social media lit up with rants about rape culture and feminism and rampant acts of sexual assault on college campuses. 

The hammer came down hard on those boys. This sort of disrespect and objectification of women just will not be tolerated. I mean, we are supposed to be "teaching our boys to not rape" right? Signs like these are like the gateway drug to sexual abuse. Give them an inch and they're liable to violently take a mile.

Basically everyone was gasping and clutching their pearls (and rightly so). Fear for your daughters, everyone! Men just cannot be trusted!

This year, it's the women having their turn. A group of sorority girls at West Virginia University have taken paint to bedsheets to create their own snarky and inappropriate banners. "Freshman son drop-off," one sign reads. And right next to it, "You can drop off daddy too." And while those are more than slightly suggestive, these ladies (term very loosely applied) went even farther with some verbiage that is even more vulgar and crass than their frat boy counterparts. "We hope your son's pullout game is strong" and "We burned our couch so you can sit on our face" should be enough to leave the masses desperately clutching their pearls, right?

West Virginia University

We Love Move In Weekend pic.twitter.com/NgrJlhfDZE

— Real College Girls (@R_CollegeGirls) August 13, 2016

Wrong.

In perhaps the greatest example of the double standard the University scene has ever seen, not one person has been suspended or reprimanded or slapped on the wrist or even given a stern talking to. And social media is busy with their virtual high fives of congratulations to these tasteless young women.

Why? Because apparently strong sexually suggestive signs by men are considered "creepy" and "offensive" and blatant violations of zero tolerance policies regarding sexual harassment. However, if the same content is painted by people lacking a Y chromosome it's just "tongue in cheek" and "lighthearted" and even "truly inspirational". (If you don't believe me, check out these two very contradictory accounts of the two events that were published in Cosmopolitan almost exactly a year apart: West Virginia Sorority Trolls Sexist Fraternity Signs With Giant Daddy Posters versus College Bros Hang Creepy Banners at Off-Campus House)

I'm confused. If women throw around sexually crass vulgarities on a campus of higher learning they are somehow innocent, even inspirational, because they are sexually liberated. They aren't afraid to show the world that they are sexual creatures, that drunken uninhibited promiscuity is almost an act of gallantry for them. 

But when men throw around the same crass language, they are pigs and potential rapists and taking advantage of women (which is apparently a horrible, nasty, inexcusable thing even if the women really, really, really want to be taken advantage of).

I'm sorry, strange liberal media weirdos, if language like that isn't appropriate for our sons then it isn't appropriate for our daughters either. It cannot be acceptable to objectify men if it is beyond reprehensible to objectify women.

I know, I know. I should be afraid for my daughters. Some sketchy statistics tell me that they have a one in five chance of being raped while attending college. The media is constantly reminding me that we live in a culture of rape that is incredibly dangerous for young women. Men are just waiting for an opportunity to rape them and they must be constantly vigilant.

But truth be told, I am far more frightened for my boys than for my daughters. In today's culture, my sons must walk on eggshells around women, worrying that any vague pickup line might be interpreted as offensive or that any consent that isn't notarized and signed by witnesses might not be consent at all. While their female peers get carte blanche when it comes to promiscuity and changing their mind and overtly flirting but not really meaning it, my boys will likely need to give a breathalyzer test, a lie-detector test, and probably a drug test to any potential female partners. Just to be on the safe side. And if they don't have a good "pullout game" they could potentially have to raise a baby they didn't really consent to making and certainly had no say in whether it was carried to term. All because they were lured into a sexual act by a drunken scantily-clad strumpet, who certainly wasn't asking for it (although she repeatedly did ask for it).

Funny thing how that consent thing works these days.

We seem to expect our boys to behave like saints while we allow our girls to act like sluts. That's just not fair. We can't expect our boys to behave like gentlemen if our girls aren't behaving like ladies. This is supposed to be about equality, right? Even if feminism keeps screaming at us that women should be sexually liberated. Perhaps it is time to wake up to the fact that we are holding our sons to incredibly high standards while we allow our girls to wallow in swill. 

Sometimes I can't help but wonder if feminism isn't just an excuse for women to act like bitches and whores.

I'm not suggesting lowering the standards for boys. I've never liked the "boys will be boys" excuse for men behaving badly. But maybe it's time to make sure our girls are living by the same standards. 

Are We Dancing on the Grave of Freedom?

Just over two years ago, I walked with my oldest son to the local post office just a few blocks from our home. He could have registered for Selective Service online, but there is something about that solemn walk to the post office, the coming-of-age ritual that young men have participated in since 1940, that just seemed fitting. It was an act that somehow tied him to his father and grandfathers and great-grandfathers who had also made similar walks to similar post offices not long after their own eighteenth birthdays.

As a mother, the act was slightly disturbing. My kid, who barely needed to shave, was registering with the government, surrendering to its will, suddenly subject to its whims. He could be forced to kill and be killed just because he was male and a citizen and between the ages of 18 and 26. Go, America! Let freedom ring!

I am not so far removed from the Vietnam War and it's era of burning draft cards. I've heard stories from my parents about their friends who were drafted to "serve" in the War and then never came home. There is something about the idea, the possibility of your own child that you've nurtured and protected and invested an awful lot of energy in keeping alive, being forced by the powers that be to serve as a pawn in international affairs and government interests.

My daughter turns eighteen in January. Just a little over six months away.

Last week, the U.S. Senate overwhelmingly passed The National Defense Authorisation Act which includes an amendment that would require women to register for the draft.

I may soon be making that same walk to the post office with my young daughter.

It's only fair, right? With the pentagon recently dropping barriers to women serving in combat roles, it seems a requirement for women to register for the draft is the next, logical step to fairness and equality. That the bill passed so strongly with an 85-13 vote proves just how readily our lawmakers are willing to force the nation's girls into conscription.

In the name of fairness.

And equality.

Women have, after all fought tooth and nail for years to be treated like men. Our sisters struggled for centuries to serve as anything more than just nurses in our armed forces. And they've won. Even combat jobs are now open to females. There are women who actually don an Army Ranger tab on their uniforms. Inclusion in the draft is the next logical step in achieving gender equality, and one whose time has long since come.

There is nothing that Americans care about more than equality.

We certainly don't care so much about freedom, or we wouldn't be so quick and eager to throw it out in the name of equality.

Because Selective Service is kind of like a compulsory lottery for slavery (and perhaps imminent death). If not slavery, what label do you slap on a system that indentures individuals, tells them where they can go, what they can do, even what they can do to their bodies? They must do what they are told without hesitation and without regard to the whisperings of their conscience. Slavery is defined as involuntary servitude. And that is exactly what conscription is, involuntary service.  I concede that the meager paychecks our military servicemen and women receive does offer a significant perk over traditional slavery. But toss in the potential order to kill other human beings, or to have their life sacrificed for ideals the individual may not hold, and I think it almost evens out.

Remember how angry we all got over The Hunger Games? Remember how we couldn't believe that those parents would stand by and watch their children be sent off by an uncaring government to die? Remember how they didn't even do anything about it?

Dude, that's us!

For generations now we have knowingly allowed our sons to be registered and catalogued for possible sacrifice. We've even counted it as noble. We've handed over our sons' lives to the whims of an imperial government. And now we are lining up to hand over our daughters, too. All to the sound of thunderous applause. All to the celebratory chants of "Equality".

All because it is what's fair and right.

But it isn't fair or right. It isn't for our sons and it isn't any more for our daughters.

Instead of marching down the road to equality, and willingly placing our daughters' lives in possible jeopardy because it's what our men have to do, maybe we should just rethink the whole concept. Maybe Selective Service was never right in the first place. Maybe we are asking  the wrong questions. Maybe, for once, our country's men should be standing up and demanding the same freedoms that our women enjoy.

Or I could be wrong. Maybe equality is far more important than personal freedom. Maybe we've taken that "all men are created equal" phrase in the Declaration of Independence a little too literally. I'm not sure why those five words should seem more important than the words that follow, "that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness".

It seems some people think equality trumps their inalienable rights. Or maybe they are just willing to trade those rights for equality.

I'm not. And neither are my daughters.

Masculinity - Is it Toxic or Heroic?

If you haven't heard about the mass shooting that took place in Orlando, Florida this past weekend, the deadliest mass shooting by a lone gunman in U.S. history, then you must be living under a really nice rock. I wonder how you're getting any sort of decent internet connection under there. Might you be willing to scoot over just a pinch and make room for me?

Because I've pretty much had it.

As should probably be expected, the pro-gun/anti-gun debate commenced in full force before the 49 bodies even reached room temperature, their cell phones still buzzing from incoming desperate texts of "Where are you? Are you safe?" We haven't even been able to get through a single moment of silence in the House of Representatives without a political stampede.

In the days since the tragedy at Pulse nightclub, we've rushed to place blame. We've blamed ISIS, gun culture, mental illness, terrorism, Muslim extremists, bigotry, gun-free zones, Christians, assault rifles, immigration, men kissing, the NRA, a lack of security, gun show loopholes, and the FBI. I'm surprised that the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus have yet to make the media's list of causes.

In a desperate attempt to make sense out of a senseless massacre, we've been grasping at fragile straws, blaming everything and everyone except Omar Mateen.

Since none of those causes seem to stick, the newest cause du jour is masculinity.

Louis Staples writes in the Independent, "Since Sandy Hook, there have been an astonishing 998 mass shootings in America. Two of the perpetrators were Muslim, but all were men. Surely this suggests that this is a wider problem with masculinity." Similar sentiments have been shared in The Atlantic, Salon, and ThinkProgress. Planned Parenthood even jumped in with it's own masculinity-bashing tweet:

#Islam doesn't foment the violence alleged gunman Omar Mateen enacted, toxic masculinity & a global culture of imperialist homophobia does

— PP Black Community (@PPBlackComm) June 12, 2016

And one man's Facebook post that has been shared and shared and shared again claims that "if you or a loved one is murdered, chances are you will be murdered by some form of toxic masculinity."

Perhaps they have a point. It is hard to argue with statistics that show murder is an overwhelmingly male act (Ninety percent of murders in the United States, where the gender of the offender is known, are committed by men). And mass murder has even more damning stats with 98 percent of them perpetrated by men.

Perhaps it is the masculine traits of assertiveness, strength, aggression, dominance and control that combine to create so many grieving mothers. When viewed through such a constrictive lense, it is easy to conclude that masculinity is a deadly and destructive vice that needs to be systematically eradicated.

But here is something else I know to be true: those same masculine traits of assertiveness, strength, aggression, dominance, and control could perhaps have saved at least some of those victims in that Orlando nightclub. As the bodies began to hit the floor, desperate calls to 911 were being made. They were pleading for help.Those victims, bleeding out and fearing for their lives, wanted someone to dominate their attacker. The situation called for a virtuous act of masculinity. Help was desperately needed and expected, not in the form of feminine sensitivity or gentleness, but in the type of aggressive strength and control that a well-trained police force would bring, or even one person willing to risk danger to disarm a madman and save themselves and the people cowering in fear around him.

Interestingly enough, statistics prove that 70 percent of Emergency Medical Technicians, 87.3 percent of police officers, and 96 percent of firefighters, are male. These are the people that rush toward danger, that protect the weak, that help the helpless.

So yes, while most violent acts are committed by men and their "toxic masculinity", so are most acts of valor and bravery. Masculinity isn't always toxic and nasty. It is more often virtuous and courageous. Masculinity isn't misogyny and homophobia, posturing and compensation. Masculinity is action and strength and bravery. It is using inherent power, not to harm, but to serve and protect. That's what men do.

I know that I am just one person, separated from the Pulse incident by miles, my information filtered through media accounts, but I am baffled, angry, and distressed, that one man stood against 300 people and managed to kill 49 of them while wounding another 53, no matter how well armed that individual or how scary his weapon may have appeared. It may be too soon, the scars still too fresh, the hurt still too raw to say this, but I'm going to say it anyway. What was sorely lacking Saturday night was action and aggression and dominance by the revelers in that nightclub. By all accounts, not one person on the inside attempted to stop that psychopath. Not one person went down fighting. I know that people will holler and type strongly-worded responses about how I am victim blaming, but I hope that it happened, and we are just not privy. I hope that at least one person inside showed immeasurable bravery and decisive force. I hope at least one of those 49 victims went down swinging in an effort to save himself and his neighbors. I hope they didn't all run and hide and passively wait for someone else to save them.

While the masses are raising boys to be sensitive and empathetic and compassionate, let us not forget that we should also be raising them to be courageous and strong and self-reliant. The world needs men. We don't need more candlelight vigils and hugging-it-out and "holding space". We need people who stand up to injustice and hate, who swallow their own fears and muster their own courage. That is what saves people.

I know that it isn't politically correct, but maybe it is okay to tell our boys to "suck it up", to fight their bullies, and face their fears. Maybe it is okay to tell them to "man up", at least in the sense that they embrace the masculine qualities that dominate a desperate situation, that take action even in the face of fear, that don't blindly follow the masses fleeing in panic, or quietly wait with hands politely folded for someone else to do something.

Because the world needs more of the virtuous variety of masculinity. That's the only kind that will save us from the other.

There Are Still Good Men, The Heroes in the Stanford Rape Case

There are a lot of men in the news this week.

First, there is Brock Allen Turner, the Stanford frat boy/Olympic hopeful/rich white kid that raped an unconscious woman behind some dumpsters after a raucous party and a night of binge-drinking. He was convicted by a jury of his peers of three felony counts of sexual assault. This is a boy who was caught red-handed in the act of rape, but still cried "Not responsible". "Alcohol made me do it!" "It was consensual!"

Then there is Judge Aaron Persky, the presiding justice in the Brock Allen Turner case, who ignored the three year minimum jail sentence, and instead handed down a much more lenient sentence with his all-powerful magisterial hand. Judge Persky felt Brock's good grades, athletic prowess, and family status balanced out his brutal attack of an unconscious woman. Six months is apparently harsh enough if you flash your Stanford alumni card and ask pretty please. Remorse? Judges these days don't need to see no stinkin' remorse, I mean.... boys will be boys. Right? A longer sentence would have had a "severe impact" on the Stanford athlete turned rapist. We certainly wouldn't want his egregious actions to have too great an impact on him.

Then there is Dan Turner, Brock's father, who felt his baby boy had already suffered enough. He's a good kid. Just look at his grades and his athleticism and his family's social standing. In Daddy's eyes, Little Brocky shouldn't serve any prison time at all. "His life will never be the one he dreamed about and worked so hard to achieve," whined Daddy in his letter to the court. "That is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life."

Yes, this week has been one long string of men behaving badly. This story is enough to make even the manliest of men throw up their hands and scream "Men are pigs!"

Yes, Virginia, there is rape culture. Even the most skeptical among us kind of have to admit that after watching this dog and pony show.

But...

There are two other men in this story.

Carl-Fredrik Arndt and Peter Jonnson were riding their bicycles, on their way to their own Stanford party, when they saw Brock Turner behind a dumpster moving on top of his very still victim. They could have rolled their eyes, chalked it up to alcohol, minded their own business and biked away to their own party.

But they didn't.

They confronted Brock. When he tried to run, they tackled him and held him down until police arrived.

By all apparent measures, Arndt and Jonnson should have identified with Brock. Afterall, they were Stanford students on their way to their own party, both white and male and privileged. In a Society ruled by rape culture, they should have ridden on laughing together about how "she must have asked for it" or "look at how she's dressed" or "that's what she gets for drinking so much."

But instead they felt empathy for the victim, not Brock. They saw a human being in need, unconscious, covered in dirt and pine needles, mostly naked and vulnerable, and they set aside their own safety in order to help her. The scene was so disturbing to these two men that one of them actually cried as he gave his account of events to the police. It wasn't Brock, the promising young white male with whom they should have identified that caused them concern.  There were no slaps on the shoulder or high fives and fist bumps or "Go gettum, Bro" encouragement.

Instead they felt empathy for his victim. A woman they knew was a person and not a piece of meat.

There are still good men in this world.

Thank you, Carl-Fredrik Arndt and Peter Jonnson. Thank you for being an example of what men should be, an example of goodness for me to hold up for my sons in the midst of all of this disgusting lechery and horrible injustice. Thank you for being role models.

Because boys will be boys. And while some little boys do like to lurk behind dumpsters, more boys dream of superhero capes. I want my boys to be the kind that wear capes. Or at least the kind of boys that ride bicycles and aren't afraid to stop and help another human being in need.

Even when that human being is a drunk, unconscious woman.

Cheers! Here's to the CDC Stirring Up Your Conscience

Sometimes I am ashamed of my gender.

Not because of cultural stereotypes or men staring at my boobs. No... sometimes women are stupid (at least large portions of them). And sometimes those stupid women are pretty loud when it comes to shouting nonsensical outrage.

This week the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued a recommendation concerning alcohol consumption and pregnancy.  The CDC advised women who may plan to get pregnant, or who might accidentally get pregnant, about the dangers of alcohol for unborn babies. The CDC contends that there is no known safe level of alcohol use during pregnancy (safe levels aren't "known" because of ethics surrounding experiments on pregnant women). The CDC also discovered that 1 in 10 pregnant women and 1 in 4 women who would like to get pregnant admit to still consuming alcohol. Alcohol use during pregnancy has been linked to miscarriage, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (a disturbing and permanently disabling condition), and other developmental delays.

But women seemed to hear something else entirely, and created a shitstorm on Facebook accusing the government of trying to control their bodies.

"You should be ashamed of yourself for publishing this fear-mongering, women-bashing article."

"Yes, let's mandate that women show proof of birth control use with their ID when purchasing alcohol or before being admitted to a bar."

"That is horrifically sexist. Let's not trust women to know whether or not they are having safe sex and whether they plan to carry a pregnancy to term."

"I feel like this is just a move to control women."

The CDC's suggestion also caused bitter outrage on Twitter.

Next up: Ban reproductive age women from buying deli meat, entering sushi restaurants. https://t.co/WOZnWQJ7sP

— Jill Filipovic (@JillFilipovic) February 3, 2016

Even "news" sources jumped on the CDC-hating bandwagon.  Alexandra Petri headlined her piece for the Washington Post "The CDC's Incredibly Condescending Warning to Young Women". She apparently attempted to match condescension with condescension by asking, "Does the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention know how pregnancy works?" And the Atlantic ran a piece titled, "Protect Your Womb From the Devil Drink".

Relax, Ladies (term loosely applied). The CDC is not involved in some government conspiracy to control women's bodies. You still get to make choices (no matter how poor those choices may be). You can still binge-drink to your heart's desire and then sleep with whomever you want. No one is trying to pry martinis out of your cold, childbearing-age hands.

You see, the CDC has no regulatory power. It's not trying to control you. All it can do is issue advice. It can present information and make recommendations. That's it. The CDC is not going to issue any breathalyzer tests on young women exiting bars (That sort of thing is reserved for local police departments attempting to crack down on drunk driving. What an attack on bodily autonomy!).

I don't really think you ladies are upset with the CDC at all. I think you are upset that their recommendations reminded you that your actions have consequences. Sometimes really nasty consequences. A baby born with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder is more likely to be born small, to develop problems of the heart, kidneys, and brain. Damage to the brain can result in lower IQ and learning disabilities, attention problems, hyperactivity, poor reasoning and judgement, as well as hindered ability to communicate in social situations. And all of these problems can lead to mental illness, substance abuse, and a whole host of other lifelong problems. LIFELONG problems. Those problems don't go away. Quite a price to pay for a raucous night of partying.

The CDC isn't fear-mongering. It isn't woman-bashing. It's giving you facts. If you drink when you are pregnant, your child might suffer irreversible damage, and sometimes women don't realize they are pregnant until weeks into the pregnancy. If you think you might want to carry a child to term (even if you don't choose to raise the child) that kid is going to have to struggle through some really nasty stuff.

But you can still do what you want. That's a pretty healthy dose of freedom there, that even though your actions can be destructive... you can still choose to do them. Unfortunately, with freedom comes responsibility. That nasty hate-filled feeling you want to direct at the cold-hearted woman-hating CDC? That's your conscience bubbling up. Because you don't want information that questions sometimes selfish motives. You would rather the CDC kept quiet (perhaps causing thousands of children to suffer their entire lives) just so you can have freedom without responsibility. You don't want to feel guilty.

All the CDC can do is give you information and advice. You can still choose to ignore it. You still get to control your body. You still get to do what you want.

You can drink to that if you want to. Bottoms up.

The Olympics Have Fallen - Transgender Inclusion Kills Fairplay

Sometimes I feel like I'm living inside a South Park episode. One where there is some exaggerated politically correct conspiracy that has gotten so big it might consume all of us with its insanity.

This past Sunday, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) announced a change in policy regarding transgender athletes. Athletes that transition from female to male are now eligible to compete as males without restriction. However, athletes that transition from male to female must officially declare their identity as female and show that their testosterone levels measure below 10 nanomals for at least 12 months prior to competing. Basically, the changes in regulations free trans athletes from previously required genital reassignment surgeries.

Gone are the good ol' days when ancient Greek athletes competed nude. It was a simpler time with simpler ways of determining male versus female. But we are now smack dab in the middle of an era when we are so afraid of hurting people's feelings that we flush the tenets of fair play just so no one feels bullied or excluded.

It's obvious right there in the guidelines that transgender females could potentially have an athletic advantage over biological females. The fact that there is open eligibility for females who identify as men in competition kinda insinuates that the guys aren't particularly worried about their new competition. (That's because the women feeling like men are inherently disadvantaged in comparison to men who've lived their entire lives as biological men.) However, the monitoring of testosterone levels in female athletes screams of inequality. Already transgender men are being treated differently than transgender women. Where is the feminist outcry?

It seems ironic to me, that a sporting event that so strictly prohibits substances affecting athletic performance would so quickly embrace the use of substances that alter an athlete's hormone levels in such extreme ways. Perhaps the cocktail of pharmaceuticals required to inhibit trans athletes' hormones aren't "performance enhancing", but they are certainly "performance influencing". A subtle difference, but perhaps an important one. Using substances that radically change the way a competitor's body works should be suspect. Competition is only fair if athletes aren't radically altering their bodies in unnatural ways.

Feeling like a woman does not a woman make. I realize making such a statement probably proves I need some sort of sensitivity training, but the IOC admits it in their guidelines (hence the differences in requirements for trans women in comparison to those for trans men). The problem with their guidelines is that they don't at all level the female playing field. No amount of injected estrogen can make up for advantages in height, bone density, and reach. And medical data conflicts on just how long it takes to negate the testosterone advantages biological males are born with.

While it's easy to see this whole scenario as some strange ploy by South Park's women to thoroughly ruin the sport of beach volleyball for men everywhere (Imagine Jake Gibb bouncing around in a bikini. You're welcome for the visual), that can't be what's really going on here.

The IOC stated that the changes are "necessary to ensure in so far as possible that trans athletes are not excluded from the opportunity to participate in sporting competition."

I get it. They want to be fair. But by attempting to be fair to everyone. They've ended up being fair to no one.

Will this be the death of women's olympic weightlifting, boxing, wrestling? There are some sports where passing through male puberty could leave a long-lingering advantage over the more traditionally feminine competitors. There is no way to make this fair. The Olympics will never be the same.

And yet...

Maybe it won't change all that much. While it's easy to envision swarms of men switching teams (so to speak) in true South Park style for the sake of winning gold medals, that's not likely to happen. Putting your body through months of hormone therapy just to compete as a woman is extreme for everyone but the craziest of people, and statistically-speaking, "real" transgender people supposedly make up less than one percent of the population.

However, the possibility of even one unfair competition should be enough to make us protest. The spirit of the Olympics is about triumph and equity no matter a person's race, religion, or nationality. I'm just not sure where these trans athletes fit into this... or even if they should fit in at all. (Probably another sign that someone should sign me up for sensitivity training.)

Because I'm still not sure who I'm supposed to root for in a Judo match between a traditional woman and a transgender woman. Do I root for the trans woman? Because wouldn't that be the politically correct thing to do? To cheer on the minority, the historically oppressed, the poster child of progressive tolerance? Or do I support the biological woman? Because isn't that the politically correct thing? To pull for the historically oppressed, and breaking glass ceilings, and making progress toward gender equality? Because "Girl Power"!?!

The inner conflict might be enough to rip giant holes in Western Society's collective conscience.

One thing is for certain. The spirit of Olympic competition has definitely changed. I'm afraid the Olympics have fallen.

"Beat the Boys" - How Michelle Obama's Message Harms Our Boys AND Our Girls

The First Lady of the United States, Michelle Obama, took to the stage Tuesday in rock star fashion. The audience was comprised of screaming school girl fans taking part in an event sponsored by Glamour magazine. Sporting fashionable footwear and shrouded in pink-hued spotlights, Obama shared high fives with famous actress Charlize Theron and spouted plenty of Instagram-worthy life lesson quotables.

Women and young girls have been basing their life choices on Glamour magazine for generations, so we should obviously take an event they sponsor with every ounce of seriousness we can muster.

Michelle (and her stage buddies) gave plenty of valuable advice to the impressionable young girls in the audience on subjects like relationships and sex appeal. However, education was the main highlight of the event which was thrown to publicize Obama's "Let Girls Learn" campaign.

"Compete with the boys. Beat the boys."

While I can easily get behind FLOTUS's initiative to educate girls around the world who are regularly denied an education, this piece of advice given to United States school girls makes me shudder in disgust.

As the mother of two daughters, I cringe. Once again, we've set males at the gold standard level. We've waved an assumption at our daughters that boys are the ones succeeding, the ones who are capable, and that if they can just reach their level, they will have made it.  What if they are capable of more than the boys around them? Allowing our girls to set their own standards of achievement and success validates them as individuals. It puts the power of choice and the success of their education in their own hands... not the hands of their male peers.

I want my daughters to define themselves. I do not want their self-worth based on how they compare to boys.

As a mother of sons, I cringe even more. "Beat the boys" sets a generation of young men up as the enemy, a force to be subdued at all costs. Sure boys can be kind of stinky, but they aren't the bad guys. Boys are already trapped in an education system that all too often fails them. Statistically speaking, boys now lag behind girls on almost every academic measure. They are more likely to be drugged (for hyperactivity "disorders"), more likely to get in trouble, and more likely to drop out of school than their female peers. 70% of students in special education are male, and 25% fewer men than women graduate from college.

Really not very much of a gold standard when you think about it. When the statistics are laid out bare for everyone to see, it doesn't seem like "beating the boys" is all that difficult a task. Maybe it's the boys in this country who need the interventions and the Glamour magazine-sponsored pep talks.

Maybe it's our sons that we are failing, not our daughters. Here in America, it is our boys who are largely being denied an education.

But that doesn't fit the feminist narrative.

It doesn't sound like FLOTUS is all that concerned about girls succeeding in school. It sounds like she wants them to have bragging rights. "Beat the boys" isn't about equal rights. Now we want girls striving to be the ones succeeding and in power, that men by default should be inferior. This is why so many women (and men) can't stomach the feminism label. Our boys of today can't atone for the generations of misogyny of which their forefathers may be guilty. It doesn't work that way.

Ultimately, I'm upset that someone with such an audible platform chose to reduce education to a competition. Learning isn't all achievement. It isn't just staying in school, earning A's and being better than the kid in the desk next to you. Learning is an ongoing process of life-experiences and exposure to new ideas and concepts. It is interacting with one's environment and expanding consciousness. It's not excelling at standardized tests so you can bust through the mythical glass ceiling.

Perhaps Michelle's heart is in the right place. She doesn't want girls to be afraid of academic success. I get that. I certainly don't want my girls to hold themselves back from doing their personal best just because of what others might think of them. But there are so many other better messages she could have chosen, messages of hope, love, and positive encouragement.

"Follow your dreams."

"Do your best."

"You can be whatever you want to be if you work hard enough."

Instead she chose a negative message to promote a positive cause. Interestingly, I learned in school that a negative times a positive is still a negative... and I'm just a girl.

Michelle Obama is just another politician who chooses to divide the masses instead of uniting them in a worthy cause.

But at least she got a nifty hashtag out of it.

That Bloody Marathon Runner Is Weird. Period.

Kiran Gandhi ran the London Marathon while on her period and has gained international attention for it.

(Image: Kiran Gandhi website)

That should probably shock you.  Not that she ran a marathon while on her period; surely women have run marathons while on their periods in times past. There were probably at least few others running right alongside Kiran in the very same marathon. Interestingly enough, women go about their lives doing cool things all the time while menstruating like nothing unusual is happening. It's not an issue because they don't make it an issue.

Kiran (a professional drummer with some bands I've never heard of) made it an issue... a very visible issue. She ran the entire marathon - all 26.2 miles - without a tampon. There are plenty of pictures to document Kiran's issue, too. She bled all over herself... because empowerment.

And questionable hygiene.

All while gaining the attention of an international audience that, for whatever reason, is fascinated with Kiran's monthly discharge.

'Serious' news magazines like Cosmo and People picked up this socially relevant "news" story, running pictures of her bloody pants and calling her a shero (a corny feminist play on the word 'hero', I think). In her Cosmo interview she said, "I really can't think of anything that is the equivalent for men, and for this reason, I believe it's a sexist situation."

I'm almost speechless.

Almost.

This is why so many women can't bring themselves to wear the feminist label. When the images we see are bloody running pants and dyed armpit hair, it's difficult to see feminists as anything other than crazy. So a quick word of advice to third wave feminists: If you want to convince us that every woman needs feminism, you might want to change your poster children. Because free-bleeding man-haters with long blue armpit hair just aren't cutting it for me.

Kiran Gandhi wrote in her blog (titled Sisterhood, Blood, and Boobs... I guess you can't be much more stereotypically feminist than that, huh?), "On the marathon course, sexism can be beaten. Where the stigma of a woman's period is irrelevant."

Wait a minute. If the stigma of a woman's period is irrelevant, why does she feel the need to bring so much attention to it? Most women know that their periods are fairly irrelevant, although admittedly often inconvenient. Most of us carry on with our daily lives like nothing is wrong. We just pop a couple of Midol, maybe binge on some Hershey's chocolate, and deal. It's irrelevant because we are women. Menstruation might be a fact of our biology, but it doesn't define who we are, and it doesn't define what we are capable of achieving.

For the record, I've done some pretty amazing things while menstruating... like overnight hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains and testing for my black belt in karate (both very physically grueling tasks that didn't afford me frequent bathroom breaks). And you know what? Nobody else knew that I was menstruating. No one (except my husband because he has to deal with my whining. I'm pretty sure that was part of the marriage contract). I didn't want or need the attention.

There isn't a stigma (at least not in this country) with a woman's period. We aren't shuffling our women and girls into the isolation of dark tents for 5-7 days every month. Women aren't treated as unclean beasts and forbidden to break bread with men while they menstruate. Women still go to work and school and carry on with their daily lives. Shocking, isn't it? That we could do so much while actively bleeding and most of the time nobody even knows?

"I ran with blood dripping down my legs for sisters who despite cramping and pain, hide it away and pretend like it doesn't exist."

Really? Maybe we aren't pretending that it doesn't exist. Maybe we just continue to live our lives like nothing out-of-the-ordinary is happening because... I know it's shocking... but nothing out-of-the-ordinary is happening. We just go on with life. We just do what needs to be done. We live our lives like nothing is happening. Because it ISN'T A BIG DEAL.

Of course, I haven't run a marathon while free-bleeding (thankfully). Kiran Gandhi thought that it would have been "uncomfortable to worry about a tampon for 26.2 miles." Maybe Kiran is just using her tampons wrong. I personally think running with blood flowing down my legs seems pretty uncomfortable, not to mention sticky and gross. (Who am I kidding? Running farther than half way down the street sounds incredibly uncomfortable... but I'm not a runner.) Still, I think I'd rather wear a tampon. Call me crazy.

Kiran also claims to have run the marathon tampon-less to "to encourage women to not be embarrassed about their periods".

Sorry, what? Are we still in middle school? Most fully mature adults are over the awkwardness of adolescence, when we are just learning about the human body and how it functions. Most of us aren't giggling ridiculously anymore like we did in the back of 8th grade health class. Most of us understand the differences between men and women and are okay with them (except for feminists, who seem to think there are no differences... except when there are, and then they want to shove them in our collective faces screaming about gender equality).

The majority of us aren't okay with bodily fluids streaming down people's legs in public. Mostly because it's kind of gross and at least slightly unsanitary. But it mostly makes us uncomfortable, because the person so visibly proud of their visible bloody flow, seems more than a little mentally disturbed.

Women have managed their monthly period without tampons since the beginning of time (some women still have to), and they've done it while maintaining a level of hygiene and dignity. Kiran Gandhi's antics seriously lacked both.

But hey, now that her name has been plastered all over the media, she might be able to land a gig with a more recognizable band. I just hope she'll be hidden behind a nice big drum set.

Weight Lifting as an Act of Rebellion

I lift weights at the gym.

Not just the feather-lite girly pink ones either. I'm not afraid to lift heavy.

In the beginning, weight training was just a way to round out my fitness regimen. I vaguely remember reading an article in a magazine about bone density, loss of muscle, women's health, blah, blah, blah. I don't remember the specifics. I know it was enough to make me pick up my first dumb bell even though I had no idea what to do with it. Plus, my husband was dragging me to the gym against my will (Not really. But he needed an accountability partner, and while I didn't need to lose weight, I wanted to be supportive and encouraging and all that stuff spouses are supposed to be).

But now for me, weight training is more. It has become an act of rebellion.

There aren't many women that hang out in the free weights section of the gym. Most of them are too busy with the cardio equipment or the Zumba classes. Their preoccupation with long sessions of calorie-burning cardio ties up most of their gym time. It's part of their endless pursuit of the holy grail otherwise known as the tiny waistline.  When couples enter the gym, they experience a type of divorce - the men head straight to the weights and the women to the treadmills.  It's a little sad to witness, actually.

Lifting weights builds muscle. Women want to be small. In fact the smaller the better. The message is screamed at us from every direction.

Weigh less. Eat less. Wear less. And, by inference, Be less.

The implied standards of beauty that parade across our television screens and grocery store magazine racks have resulted in an ideal body image so skewed and unattainable that women often fall victim to unhealthy fad diets and dangerous eating disorders in their pursuit of 'perfection'. Eat less. Weigh less at any cost. That is the pervading message for women.

And with those slender bodies comes the message to flaunt them. Higher hem lines, lower necklines, sheer see-through fabrics. Wear less. Flaunt your feminine sexuality because that's where your value lies. It's not in your brain or your ideas or your talents, but in your body and how much it arouses male desire.

Perhaps it's a remnant of old-fashioned thinking that women are delicate and fragile that shapes the images of beauty so prevalent in the media. Stick figure models with their Auschwitz-chic protruding collarbones and hipbones grace fashion runways and magazine covers. They look like they might blow away in a stiff breeze, like their limbs might snap at the slightest of touches. And when the models and celebrities don't look that way naturally, there's Photoshop to make sure that we still see them as ultra thin and frail.

Breakable and dainty. That seems to be the gold standard of feminine perfection. Tiny. Frail. Weak.

There is no muscle on the body of Society's approved version of womanhood. Just slender arms that need help opening jar lids and bodies that are so light they can be swooped up in masculine arms and carried away.  To them, vulnerability, not strength, is the true face of femininity.

NO.

I refuse to play this game. I won't follow Society's rules. I don't want to try to squeeze myself into the narrow and unhealthy definition of beauty that is more limiting and constricting than a Victorian corset.

To hell with less. I want to be more.

I want to think more. Feel more. Do more. Be more.

Yes, weight training builds muscle (although not the giant man muscles like so many women believe. That takes a certain cocktail of hormones, a cocktail most women can't achieve without injectable help), but I don't want to be a tiny delicate butterfly. I don't want to be seen as frail and fragile. I want to be strong. I want to be confident and capable. I don't ever want to fit the image of helpless and weak, of the damsel in distress who needs big strong muscles to save me. I want to be strong enough to save myself if I need saving.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar wrote last week in his Time column, "Perhaps the muscular, athletic woman symbolizes physical and mental self-sufficiency, which threatens the cozy ideal of beauty as soft, fragile, and weak."

Yes. Perhaps it does. And that's why you'll find me pumping iron three times a week at my local gym. It's an act of rebellion against the limiting ideals that a consumer-driven society wants us pursuing.

Ladies, jump down off of that treadmill, throw down your salad fork and join me in a revolution. Smash down the snug and comfortable ideals of beauty.

Be strong. Be capable. Be more.

If you need me, I'll be over here in the free weights section. Because you can't bench press your body weight with Barbie doll arms.

Dear Caitlyn Jenner - Let's Talk Woman to "Woman"

Dear Caitlyn Jenner,

As much as I would like for you to just go away, it's apparent that you won't be fading away from the limelight any time soon. You've got a brand new reality television show that's being actively hyped beyond what it's worth. You keep landing interviews and awards, and you're constantly trending on social media.

In fact, the media in general keeps insisting that you're socially relevant... so it must be true. And since you seem to be here to stay (at least for a little longer than the average sideshow flash-in-the-pan) I guess it's time we have a little heart-to-heart chat.  You know? Woman to "woman".

I know that you're brave. You're courageous. You even have that shiny new ESPY to prove it. Walking across a nationally televised stage in six-inch heels must take an awful lot of courage. I certainly don't have the balls to do it. (That's called sarcastic irony, people. Please hold your scathing emails.) You even admitted in your acceptance speech that you'd never felt more pressured in your life (and you've known the pressure of representing your country in international competition, so that's saying something).

"Picking out this outfit - okay girls, I get it! You got to get the shoes, the hair, the makeup, the whole process."

You're right. It is quite a frightening process. And most of us have to figure it out without famous fashion designers and professional make-up artists at our disposal. Still... most of us fumbled our own way through the process by high school prom. (Although photographic evidence from the eighties suggest some of us never really found success.)

But there's much more to bravery than simply matching your dress to your shoes or finding the right shade of eye shadow.

I don't think you actually "get it" at all. To be fair, it's not entirely your fault. You haven't lived your whole life as a woman. You haven't traveled through the world in fashionable yet uncomfortable women's shoes, and you haven't been shaped by all that entails.

You were never told you throw like a girl and known it was meant to degrade you. Bravery is playing ball anyway.

You've never dealt with the onset of your period in 8th grade gym class, a red stain spreading brightly across your white shorts. You never had to ask to be excused in the middle of class to go to the bathroom and had the male teacher question your motives. You never had to walk out of that class as every classmate watched your retreating form, hearing the snickers of all the boys who saw that red stain on your backside. Bravery is walking back into that class and enduring two years of snide comments and name calling because of that one embarrassing gym incident.

You've never dealt with boys' braggadocious detailing of their sexual encounters which labeled you a slut but gained them high fives and pats on the back. Bravery is opening yourself up to intimacy again anyway.

You've never woken up after a raucous night terrified that you'd forgotten to take your birth control pills. You've never had to wonder how you would cope with a positive result on a pregnancy test. Bravery is facing life for the next few uncertain weeks anyway.

You've never suffered through a business meeting where men talked to your cleavage and didn't take you seriously because you're "just a woman". Bravery is succeeding anyway.

You will never have to fear being too weak to ward off a rapist. Bravery is learning to defend yourself and walking dark streets confidently anyway.

Being a woman isn't all bad, of course. The pinnacle of femininity lies in motherhood.  You'll never know what it's like to feel the first fluttery kicks of a baby growing inside you. Or the rush of hormones as that baby slips into the world. You'll never know what it's like to nourish that baby at your breast.

You'll never feel as cherished as a woman feels when a man engulfs her small hands with his larger ones as he gently helps her out of his car.

Remember what you told Diane Sawyer, back when you were still Bruce? You said, "My brain is much more female than it is male."

I think you are wrong. It can't possibly be. You can't possibly know.

You don't get to define us, Caitlyn. You're too new to the game. Besides men have been defining us for far too many centuries (and it wasn't all that long ago that you considered yourself one). You don't get the privilege of deciding how a woman's brain thinks and feels... or at least how you think it should.  Because how could you possibly know how a woman's brain thinks and feels without the composite experience of being a woman for your entire life?

How dare you try to wrap what defines a woman into a tidy little pink-hued box? How dare you?

As a woman, I'm more than a little offended at your blatant disregard for the fact that being a woman is more than feeling emotional and wearing heels and dresses and makeup. It's more than being sensitive and nurturing or feeling decidedly feminine. That's not what makes someone a woman any more than being a man is the sum of playing sports, getting dirty, or feeling aggressive (In which case... I'd probably be considered a man. Wonder if I could get an ESPY....).

If gender is nothing more than a social construct (like so many liberal psychologists would have us believe), then gender isn't something we experience separately within ourselves anyway. Instead, it is developed in coordination with our fellow citizens. In basic terms, our gender is largely formed by how we are treated by other people, by our experiences functioning within society. It is the byproduct of countless choices made over time. Being a woman is a collection of certain experiences, of certain indignities endured and courtesies enjoyed. Some are based on our biology and some on how society views us and treats us. What makes a woman is a jigsaw puzzle of varied pieces.

So Caitlyn, since brains are shaped by experiences (just like studies of London cab drivers show) and gender is a construct developed by societal experiences, your brain can't possibly be female, because you've experienced most of your life as a man. You've been largely shaped by a male identity. You've lived male experiences and been shaped by the treatment of a society that has viewed you as a man for most of your life (and still does to a large extent)... for better or for worse. No amount of reconstructive surgery or fancy dresses and high end makeup can change that.

You don't get to be a woman any more than Rachel Dolezal gets to be black. No matter how hard you wish you could or how much you "identify" or how much you spend on reassignment surgeries or how many ESPYs you are awarded. You don't get to be a woman. Period. I'm sorry.

I don't know where you fit into things. It's a pretty crappy spot you seem to be in. But stop pretending you know what it feels like to be a woman. You don't. And while you're at it stop trying to define what it is to be a woman. That's just too freakin' complex to even begin to try and define.

There isn't a box that we can all fit in, so stop trying to stuff me in one. But if we do for some strange reason end up in the same stupid box... just so you know... I'm man enough to hip-toss your girly butt out of it.

Kay? Thanks,
~Alice