Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
a broken heart in a vacant lot
Lately I've been slightly more hesitant to venture out of my house to walk around my neighborhood. The recent capitol hill slaying and the university district attack have me on absolute edge. Unfortunately for me, and for a lot of women in my neighborhood, there is an unfortunate aura of fear blanketing the neighborhood and with it an assumed pressure to approach our environment with increased trepidation. Yes, violence often flourishes in cities, but something about these incidents seems uncommon for a city like Seattle and I refuse to accept the circumstances of urban life as an explanation for these events. These incidents seem different—senseless and unusual. It is rare to read stories about women like myself—college educated women, social workers—being stabbed to death or beaten with a hammer until unrecognizable. And what disturbs me is that there has yet to be an arrest in either case and there is an uncomfortable absence of updates in the local media. I'm sick of waiting around for an explanation and I'm sick of waiting around to feel safe.
As a person of the city, I it is my very strong opinion that I should not be afraid to walk to my local grocer after six o'clock at night, I should not have to feel obligated to assess my surroundings when simply walking around the corner for a cup of coffee, up the hill to my friend's apartment, or even when taking the bus to another neighborhood; simply being aware should be enough. And, as a woman, it is the age old challenge of my entitlement to that security that rushes to the forefront of my mind. My life is my own and I should not feel as though it is some commodity that can be bought or sold, it is not something anyone other than me is entitled to. I have a right to my security and safety and I have a right to expect that to be respected. And, furthermore, as a woman, I should not have to fear the person walking down the street behind me; I should not have to feel like a target in my own environment.
Safety will come with empowerment and until the ownership and dominion people have over their bodies is respected fear will permeate and there will be no resolution to the problem that is violence. The only thing I can do for myself is continue to navigate my environment with awareness. I mean, this city is my home, too, god damn it and I refuse to be afraid of it.
As a person of the city, I it is my very strong opinion that I should not be afraid to walk to my local grocer after six o'clock at night, I should not have to feel obligated to assess my surroundings when simply walking around the corner for a cup of coffee, up the hill to my friend's apartment, or even when taking the bus to another neighborhood; simply being aware should be enough. And, as a woman, it is the age old challenge of my entitlement to that security that rushes to the forefront of my mind. My life is my own and I should not feel as though it is some commodity that can be bought or sold, it is not something anyone other than me is entitled to. I have a right to my security and safety and I have a right to expect that to be respected. And, furthermore, as a woman, I should not have to fear the person walking down the street behind me; I should not have to feel like a target in my own environment.
Safety will come with empowerment and until the ownership and dominion people have over their bodies is respected fear will permeate and there will be no resolution to the problem that is violence. The only thing I can do for myself is continue to navigate my environment with awareness. I mean, this city is my home, too, god damn it and I refuse to be afraid of it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
a tuesday favorite
I hope that someday the happiness in my life can be summed up with a photo like this. Enjoy this collection, it is fantastic.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
dancing on smoke stacks
Twenty-six miles from my hometown is a little town called Anaconda, and in between the two is another little town called Opportunity. My grandfather likes to make this joke that goes, “what lies between Butte and Anaconda?” I reply, “What?” He delivers, “Opportunity.”
Way back in the day, we’re talking in the days before American Industry had to outsource portions of industrial procedure to China, Anaconda was home of the largest smelter works in the world. The stack itself is about 500 ft. tall and is one of the more remarkable structures in southwest Montana, and is the tallest masonry structure in the world. What is important about this stack is not its design or how remarkable the engineering of the structure is, but rather what once happened on top of it.
In 1919 a celebration was held to dedicate the smoke stack before the smelter operations began thus turning the stack into a glorified chimney. In the days before the scaffolding was removed a group of men and women climbed to the top of the stack and had a party. My great-grandmother was one of them. At the age of 19 she climbed a unbelievable 500 ft. and danced on top of the smoke stack, a story she relished telling until late in her life. This is what women of Butte did; this is what Julia Rafferty had done. She was a gilded-age flapper, a dancer, a college graduate, a teacher who drank Manhattans with dinner, a woman who never once wore pants, and perhaps most importantly a woman who so greatly feared growing old out of fear for missing an experience that she lived her life for the feelings of youth. I gather that she was one of my mother’s strongest influences--a feminist before the feminist age, yet a woman of tradition, insight and progress.
Way back in the day, we’re talking in the days before American Industry had to outsource portions of industrial procedure to China, Anaconda was home of the largest smelter works in the world. The stack itself is about 500 ft. tall and is one of the more remarkable structures in southwest Montana, and is the tallest masonry structure in the world. What is important about this stack is not its design or how remarkable the engineering of the structure is, but rather what once happened on top of it.
In 1919 a celebration was held to dedicate the smoke stack before the smelter operations began thus turning the stack into a glorified chimney. In the days before the scaffolding was removed a group of men and women climbed to the top of the stack and had a party. My great-grandmother was one of them. At the age of 19 she climbed a unbelievable 500 ft. and danced on top of the smoke stack, a story she relished telling until late in her life. This is what women of Butte did; this is what Julia Rafferty had done. She was a gilded-age flapper, a dancer, a college graduate, a teacher who drank Manhattans with dinner, a woman who never once wore pants, and perhaps most importantly a woman who so greatly feared growing old out of fear for missing an experience that she lived her life for the feelings of youth. I gather that she was one of my mother’s strongest influences--a feminist before the feminist age, yet a woman of tradition, insight and progress.
I think about my grammie today because my newest thing is to savor my time and live a life less rushed. I am realizing that I am incredibly young and still have so much to learn. Do you remember being young, I’m thinking of those post-adolescent college years here, and thinking that you know everything there ever was to know about life? Then one day you are surprised to find yourself in a car accident or keying your neighbor’s car or ruining your friendships over small disagreements and then all of a sudden realized you know nothing at all. Well, I have been there and I should not have been so naive to think they would stop once I graduate from college or got a real job because these moments just keep on presenting themselves. Yesterday I was discussing a few things with my mother and she got all “are you even thinking?” She started in telling me how much time there is in life, how many goals I have yet to attain, how many things I have yet to experience and I kind of had to stop and agree.
I mean, I want to think I know everything, but I don’t. I have so much yet to learn. And for the first time ever it felt good to make that realization. It felt good to realize exactly how young I am and how much I have ahead of myself. And it makes me sad to think about how little I’ve been expressing myself and how limited my experiences have been and how rushed I let myself feel. And how important it is to slow down and savor my youth.
I’m so wildly, deliciously young!! And I’ve got all sorts of things ahead of me. Good things. Things I think will be the most defining, wonderful moments of my life.
I think all I really needed was a friendly reminder and some calm encouragement from the mom department telling me that it’s okay to climb high walls and dance on buildings and try to see the things others will not ever see—to take advantage of the opportunities that come my way. And that it is okay to take risks and have experiences because I’m young and I have to learn it sometime. And in the long run it is those youthful adventures that will keep us young beyond our years.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
