A.N

The effort to repeal Barack Obama’s health-care bill is not over, and neither presumably is the public career of John McCain. But each crossed an important threshold yesterday, and Senator McCain gave us a clearer idea of who he is and what he stands for.

The repeal effort isn’t over, because debate and further voting is now under way to determine whether the bill will pass and, more basically, to define what it would actually do. McCain will have more votes to cast, on this measure and others, and it’s possible that in the end he will turn against this bill because of its provisions (whatever they turn out to be) or because of the rushed and secretive process that led to it. Just this afternoon, McCain voted No on a “straight repeal” bill that would eliminate Obamacare without any replacement.

If in the end John McCain makes as decisive a stand against this proposal as he did in favor of it last night, then the historical verdict on this stage of his career will be more complex than it would be right now. At the moment the story would be that McCain, soon after his diagnosis and treatment for aggressive brain cancer, responded to this memento mori by flying back to Washington to help take medical coverage away from other people.

There’s still time. But yesterday was important, for the bill and for McCain.

* * *

Not even U.S. senators are often in a position where just one of them, strictly on his or her own, can directly affect the welfare of tens of millions of people. John McCain was in that position yesterday. By definition, in a vote this close, every vote is the “decisive” one. But McCain built drama by holding his vote until the very end. He wanted to take center stage. And he did so—by voting Yes, to let this bill proceed.

He voted to keep alive a bill opposed not by some but by all major medical-professional and health-related groups. A bill that an organization of nuns called “the most harmful legislation to American families in our lifetimes." A bill with absolutely no across-the-aisle Democratic amendments, as compared with well over 100 Republican amendments in the original Obamacare plan, and with virtually no open hearings or debates. A bill whose support level in opinion polls is roughly half that of Donald Trump himself. A bill—well, the litany is familiar, all leading up to the point that it’s a bill that John McCain could have chosen to stop yesterday, and didn’t.

If he had stayed home in Arizona, the bill would have died. If he had voted No, at least this effort at repeal would have ended. Of course, perhaps Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell could have squeezed either Susan Collins or Lisa Murkowski, the two Republican defectors, to switch their votes, so he could still eke out a 50-50 tie, allowing Mike Pence to make it 51-50. Perhaps if McConnell had failed yesterday, he would have kept looking for some other way to get an anti-Obamacare “win,” despite the distortion the crusade is causing in everything else the Senate has to do. Perhaps McCain thought he was saving his influence within the GOP for later—later stages of deliberation on this bill, later encounters with Trump. Perhaps, perhaps. For certain, McCain made a choice yesterday, and he did something no one looking back on this moment will admire.

(Whenever I hear about politicians saving influence “for later,” I cannot help thinking of the unfortunate Ricky Ray Rector, the man whose name is a shorthand for the most heartless thing Bill Clinton did in his drive for the presidency. Rector was a murderer who tried to blow his own brains out when about to be captured by police. He survived but with profound mental disabilities. An Arkansas jury nonetheless convicted him and sentenced him to death; the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear his case. Young Arkansas governor Bill Clinton, then in a very tight contest in the Democratic primaries of 1992, and all too aware that only four years earlier Michael Dukakis had been badly hurt by a “soft on crime,” Willie Horton race-baiting campaign, approved the execution and went to Little Rock to be in the state when it occurred. When Rector was offered a last meal before being put to death, he told the jailers that he wanted to save his dessert “for later.” When politicians talk about “saving” their influence, this for later is what I hear.)

* * *

John McCain himself went out of his way to highlight why his choice was so sad, and so hypocritical. As David Graham noted yesterday, McCain immediately followed his vote with one of his trademark speeches on the need to take the high road in politics—the need to stop doing things in a rushed and secretive way, to stop simply looking for partisan wins. Elevated words, of the kind McCain is accustomed to being complimented on. But the words were entirely at odds with his actions of just minutes before—when he had the chance to stop a rushed and secretive push toward a partisan win, and he whiffed. Later that same evening, just hours after he somberly declared that “I will not vote for this bill as it is today,” McCain went right ahead and voted for that bill as it was yesterday, one of only 43 Republicans to do so.

And he didn’t need to do this, any of it. What leverage does anyone have over John McCain at this stage in his life and career? Even though his mother is still alive at 105, John McCain knows that he is not going to run for another term in the senate five years from now. What primary challenge does he have to worry about? What hostile PACs or donors? What attack ads? He knows that Donald Trump wants a “win,” but what conceivable loyalty does McCain owe the man who mocked him as a loser? What does he have to fear from McConnell? What’s the evidence that if he opposed the leadership now he’d been in worse shape later on?

Given the obvious unease many of the Republicans have about voting for this unpopular measure—on the one hand, it’s what they promised, on the other hand, most of the public opposes it—might McCain actually have won their quiet gratitude, by being the one who could afford to take a hit for stopping this reckless bill? And how profoundly different would his high-road speech have sounded, had it followed a break-from-the-pack No vote?

In the actions that matter, namely the vote he cast, McCain resembled the normal down-the-line Republican senators—Jim Inhofe of Oklahoma, let’s say, or John Thune of South Dakota, or Richard Shelby of Alabama. The difference is that McCain so clearly wants the press to think better of him for his “we shouldn’t do it this way” speech. Mitch McConnell can be bottomlessly hypocritical, as when complaining about Democratic “obstruction” in approving Trump nominees after his unprecedented stonewalling of Merrick Garland’s nomination. But McConnell is not asking anyone to think he’s noble. He just gets the job done.

We shouldn’t do it this way, McCain said to his colleagues, of the closed, rushed, and railroaded process that led to this bill. He was right. But it was in his power to stop it from being done this way, in an enormously consequential case, and he didn’t.

Sofia Coppola’s latest film, The Beguiled, is as frothy a delight as the pastel-colored macaroons featured in her earlier Marie Antoinette. But whereas Marie Antoinette — a film notable for setting its story against the French Revolution without including any commoners — was booed at the 2006 Cannes, partly for its apolitical content, The Beguiled earned Coppola Cannes’s Best Director award, despite the fact that The Beguiled is an equally, if not more, unapologetically apolitical film. That Coppola would win the greatest honor at the same film festival a decade later should not surprise us, when we consider that what she evades is not the plight of the French masses, but the experience of black women.

The Beguiled reimagines Don Siegel’s 1971 film of the same name, which itself adapts a 1966 novel by Thomas Cullinan. The media was quick to connect Coppola’s Best Director award at this year’s Cannes Film Festival to actress Jessica Chastain’s call for more complex portrayals of women in the film industry. As many have noted, however, Coppola’s reimagining involves removing any black characters from a story that takes the Civil War as a starting point. It’s a dramatic exclusion that led to immediate criticism, even against the backdrop of the praise the film has received.

Inclusion alone, however, is not enough or even the point. Including black women characters in the name of realism does not necessarily make a story compelling to a black audience. If The Beguiled is, like Marie Antoinette, partly a fantasy — not actually about the Civil War, but rather a fantastical and imagined psychic landscape — what it ignores is that black women too might like frothy delights. The Beguiled troubles not only because it erases black women’s history. It erases their fantasy lives as well.

***

When my mother, as a black teenager growing up in the Dominican Republic, read another Confederate tale, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind, it was Scarlett O’Hara she idolized. She neither saw herself in nor looked up to the many caricatures of black subjectivity that populate the novel. That Scarlett was the best heroine my mother felt she could hope for is a cultural omission that couples troublingly with the fact that Margaret Mitchell would have likely felt she did include my mother: in the odious caricature of black female adolescence, Prissy. A girl “given” to Scarlett, Prissy is described repeatedly as a “simple-minded wench” and a “black wraith” who “smells abominably.” Why would my mother—or anyone—identify with this non-human caricature?

And why would my mother, even if she weren’t too young, identify with Mammy, a surly bully created by Mitchell’s white racist imagination? Perhaps there is room to read Mammy’s—and the enslaved household staff’s—perpetual disdain and terroristic disciplining as thinly veiled subterfuge. Perhaps Mammy and Pork—another “loyal” servant—allowed the O’Haras to mistake their blinding hatred for tough love. But no matter what veiled subterfuge Mammy got up to, the main narrative effect of her perpetual surliness and physical heft was to allow the idealized white mother to float about, wearing a veil of endurance but always whispering strength in the O’Hara girls’ imagination. The novel’s first page presents us with the good cop/bad cop binary of Ellen’s “gentle admonitions and the sterner discipline of [M]ammy.”

I surmise that while these interpretations come easily to someone well-versed in U.S.-based critical race studies, they may not be immediately available to a teenaged reader looking for diversion and with limited awareness of how the history of colonialism and Atlantic slavery had shaped her place in the world. I don’t wonder that my mother harbored Scarlet fantasies.

Scarlett, the often obnoxious, selfish, and hot-tempered anti-heroine, is so seductive as an icon of feminine recalcitrance that my mother named me after her. (Like Katie Scarlett O’Hara, Scarlett is my middle name.) As a fifteen-year-old girl hungry for a freedom that her strict family did not allow and covetous for books, my mother idealized staunch individualist Scarlett O’Hara. I was only called by this name, Es-CAR-let in Dominican pronunciation, until I was eight years old, but immigrating to the U.S. in the early 1990s meant that I had to officially go by Dixa, my first name as it was written on my birth certificate. Though the phonetic relation to Dixie is a coincidence, I nevertheless ended up with the most strangely Confederate set of names that ever graced a Caribbean birth certificate.

When I recently sat down to read Gone with the Wind for the first time, the 1,000-page book not only threatened a new flare-up of my tendonitis but also sparked a very early memory. As a bookish little girl in the Dominican Republic, like my mother had been, I remember in my bones the ineffable joy of holding a new book in my hands. I realized that this book became beloved to my mom not only because of its sassy heroine, but also because it was very, very long. So long that even if she plowed through 100 pages a day, hundreds of pages would await her the next day.

Few bookstores and libraries populated the Santo Domingo of mine and my mother’s youth. She had to rely on her well-read uncle’s personal library and I cherished a worn-out set of Little Golden Books that I couldn’t read (they were in English) but whose essential book-ness imbued them with an irresistible aura. From a practical standpoint, its sheer length helped ensure that Mitchell’s epic would powerfully imprint itself onto my mother’s mind.

My fifteen-year old mother was able to admire Scarlett’s rebellion against the social norms that constrained wealthy white women in a way that a 34-year-old scholar of race, gender, and colonialism — me — cannot. I am much too aware that enslaved black girls and women were neither allowed the fainting and solemn femininity of Scarlett’s frenemies nor the coquettish and hardheaded charm that Scarlett embodied. As Mitchell’s epic amply demonstrates, even when being worked to their death and used for their wombs and the milk of their breasts, the black “wenches” of the Plantation South were always lazy and incorrigibly stupid. Gone With the Wind‘s inclusions, its fantasies, are not mine.

***

Coppola’s erasure of enslaved and free black women in her version of The Beguiled annoys me for two main reasons. The first is that it rests on the assumption that genteel, white Southern femininity — or any femininity — was separate from the subjugation of black women and men. And, second, that the inclusion of black women characters requires dealing with “serious” and “political” stuff that is incongruent to a pulpy, Southern gothic bodice ripper (a bodice is literally ripped at one point) or to a more symbolic, even fairy-tale like, representation of “women’s” desire under patriarchy. Black women are excluded from the movie’s history, and also from its fantasies.

Scarlett O’Hara and the main characters in The Beguiled (as played by Nicole Kidman, Kirsten Dunst, and Elle Fanning) could be icons of feminine grace because black women were forced to do the dirty, animalistic, and gruff work of satisfying white men’s (and, frankly, many women’s) sexual, economic, and political desires. Black women were seen as simultaneously genderless (i.e., not feminine) and full of sex (e.g., through their reproductive organs) in a broader national imaginary so that white, especially Southern, women could focus on the assortment of admittedly constraining social expectations. The resulting gender norms were so seductive that it obscured the violence and brutality that was Old Dixie’s beating heart, and not, as Coppola and others seem to consider it, an expendable chapter or appendix.

While Confederate white women and girls, like those in The Beguiled and Gone with the Wind, shuddered at the (understandable) fear of being raped by Union soldiers (and, though it goes unmentioned in Coppola’s movie, black men), the entire edifice of Southern Plantation slavery in actuality relied on the profitable and perpetual rape of black women and girls.

The Beguiled focuses on a few weeks at a seminary for girls in an 1864 Virginia reeling from the Civil War when several white women and girls face the challenge of remaining chaste and proper Southern ladies while confronted with the strapping masculinity of injured soldier Colonel John McBurney. The presence of a swarthy foreigner as played by Colin Farrell sets aflutter the eyelashes of several sexually parched, blond heroines.

As a poor Irish immigrant and Union soldier-for-hire, John remains as far from being a white Southern gentleman as he could be while still being white. He remains, nonetheless, the desirable, dangerous, and beastly outsider onto which these Southern ladies can somewhat safely enact their small sexual and political revolutions. For most of the film, the soldier represents an exciting sexual frisson that Coppola’s camera ensures will delight viewers as much as it does the caged-up women in the film.

It is only when the Colonel begins thrashing about like a caged beast, mutilated by an amputation that obviously echoes castration, that the women and girls all decide that he must be executed. (And so emerges the specter of the lynching of black men and boys for doing something as innocent as whistle at a white woman, whether truthfully or not.)

The narrative resolves these problems by elevating the call for “women’s” solidarity above individual sexual and romantic desires. That a group of (white) women work in tandem to eradicate the sexuality a man awakes in them suggests that this solidarity is at odds with unbridled sexual desire. But more alarming is that Coppola’s intent to, as she puts it in an interview for Film School Rejects, “give these women a voice” and to portray “what happens to the women left behind,” is somehow at odds with keeping the two nonwhite characters in the original film and novel.

That “Southern women during the Civil War” is a category that is, first and foremost, composed of white women and that black women — enslaved and free — are somehow disposable to this larger narrative underlines how nonwhite women are often alienated from efforts that supposedly speak for the whole. While some recent efforts have done their best to address this problem, others cannot seem to remember that “women” might also be black, Latinx, Asian, Native, queer, trans, etc.

On the second point, that including black characters opens a proverbial can of worms, Coppola states that she “didn’t want to brush over such an important topic in a light way. Young girls watch my films and this was not the depiction of an African-American character I would want to show them.” Instead, her film is “really about the power dynamics between men and women that are universal.”

Key questions emerge about how cultural producers and commentators deal with the afterlives of slavery. Can black women in films such as these also be coquettish heroines, owners of their own sexuality, whose poplin underthings and pearl earrings accessorize their games of seduction? Is this impossible for the simple reason that white men were de facto, when not de jure, allowed to rape black women, and when the latter were often prohibited from wearing and enjoying certain fripperies?

Ample scholarship has shown that many enslaved and free black women and men took pleasure in sartorial and performative style. Coppola’s The Beguiled however relegates, once again, the realm of fripperies and frivolities, of romance and lust, of macaroons and pretty lacey things, to a (white) femininity that is inaccurately considered raceless. In an interview for The Wall Street Journal Magazine, Coppola remarks that “you can love beauty and superficial things, but also have depth.” Not if you’re a black woman, it seems.

Part of this depth, which Coppola seems unable to discern, is that the violently enforced separation between how black and white women could perform femininity is inseparable from definitions of femininity, gentility, grace, and even sexual awakening as they have operated in the U.S. imaginary. Can an enslaved black woman even go through a sexual awakening or revolution as the women in The Beguiled do, or does the fact that she has likely been raped preclude it?

I grudgingly accept Coppola’s decision to avoid telling the story of a nonwhite woman altogether, especially an enslaved one, because I reckon that her portrayal would likely induce major side-eye. Do I really want Coppola to include the character of a black enslaved woman named Hallie (and played by Mae Mercer in the 1971 film)? What would have been an appropriate and universally pleasing portrayal? Coppola and others can, and should, tell the stories they feel they are on this world to tell—stories that may not include nonwhite women—but then perhaps they should not proclaim that their aim is “universality,” the excuse for telling white men and women’s stories above anyone else’s.

***

Though I relish being named after one of the greatest anti-heroines in literary and filmic history by a daydreaming adolescent girl, I happen to also be a black Latina immigrant. This is awkward, to say the least. Part of me wishes I were named after stubborn anti-heroines like Guadeloupian Veronica Mercier in Maryse Condé’s Heremakkonon, mixed-race Helga Crane in Nella Larsen’s Quicksand, or any of the pompous and perennially bored Antiguan heroines of Jamaica Kincaid’s ouvre. None of these works, however, were readily available in Spanish to my mother in the early 1970s.

But they are available to Sofia Coppola. And, although I don’t know if she has read them, they show no trace in her movie. So I find myself looking elsewhere for an exploration of the fantasies my mother and I desired. It’s worth mentioning that Beyoncé’s Lemonade is a cultural product that satisfies exactly this desire, felt by black women and girls throughout the Americas: the desire to be the heroines of our own stories, even in a Plantation and post-Plantation imaginary; of making anew the images that have so represented violence against us; and of saying “fuck that” to the idea that black femininity is too much of a pain to deal with. But Beyoncé, along with her sister Solange, are not the only cultural producers creating and remixing landscapes for black femininity. We can now read and see works by irreverent, funny, absurd, and interested-in-style women like Roxane Gay, Samantha Irby, Issa Rae, and many others for whom blackness and frippery are not mutually exclusive.

Dixa Ramírez is an Assistant Professor at Yale University. Her book, Colonial Phantoms: Belonging and Refusal in the Dominican Americas, from the 19th Century to the Present, is forthcoming in 2018 from NYU Press.

Dear Captain Awkward,

I would like some advice on how to deal with this. Let’s start in the beginning. It was the beginning of the school year (8th), when a boy asked for my number. (We will call him Earl) I gave it to Earl only to wait for practically half the school year until I get a text from him. Of course, I could have talked to him in the single class we share. But I was extremely awkward and did not know how I could initiate a conversation with him. Our text conversation was very awkward. After several other conversations, Earl suddenly asked for a selfie of myself. Right after that, he sent a (unwanted) photo of himself, which made me feel like I had to send him a photo in return.

Several weeks later, I saw Earl in the hallway and was about to greet him when I saw him walk towards another girl and hug her. I assumed that she was either a family member (many students’ relatives attend our school) or a close friend. I later found out they were actually dating, that Earl was actually a player, and showed off the pictures he acquired from multiple other girls to other boys. He also asked for a few of my friends’ numbers, even when I was in the same room! I was devastated and felt like it was my fault it happened. Earl even sat with my friends and I during lunch and asked for their names (Just thought I would add that). That was a month ago. We have not talked in that time. Two days ago, he began texting me again. Once again, Earl requested a photo of myself. This time I declined. Immediately after I said no, he just (and I quote) said “K, gn”. I would like to cut ties with him completely. I’m not sure if this is a bad enough problem for you to share some advice, but I would be grateful if you could help.

Sincerely,
Troubled Teen

Dear Troubled,

I am so sorry this is happening to you. It is gross and scary and NOT YOUR FAULT. I’m glad you wrote to me, though, because you are not alone and we need to figure out how to stop this kind of stuff and how to make that process safe for kids like you.

To be clear, I don’t think you were talking about clothed selfies of the human face in your letter, is it okay if I proceed with that assumption? If I’m wrong, well, I’d love to be wrong. It would be the best wrong I’ve been all year.

You have met a predatory and manipulative jerk. You didn’t do anything wrong. “Earl” did everything he did on purpose. He does the exact same thing to lots of girls and his way of operating makes y’all feel like it was your fault and that you’re the only ones it’s happening to. The photos he sends you are deliberate – They make you feel obligated, even if you say “Ew, no” it still gives him a thrill and a feeling of power to cross your boundaries like that and get away with it. The photos y’all send him are his “insurance” that you’ll be too ashamed to tell anyone or that, if you do, you’ll be in trouble yourself for also sending a picture.

It’s time to talk about informed consent, which means, roughly, that before you take any course of action you should know clearly what you’re getting into so you can make the best possible decision for yourself based on all available information. Informed consent, not coincidentally, is what Earl denied you by sending you a photo of Earl Jr. without asking first if you wanted to see it.

There are probably going to be commenters who tell you to drop what you’re doing and “Call the police right now!” Involving the police might be the right thing to do and it might extremely not be the right thing to do, depending on where you live and what the laws are like there. It also depends on what was in the photo that you sent vs. the one that he sent. There are some places where, even if you and Earl were girlfriend and boyfriend passionately and consensually sharing these images, you could both be convicted of possessing and distributing child pornography and end up with very scary sex offender convictions. I wish I were kidding about that, but here’s a link to an article by a lawyer about these laws where I live, Illinois, USA.

What Earl is doing seems to me like a clear pattern of predatory behavior designed to trick girls into sending him compromising photos and it needs stopped, for sure, but it’s risky for you when the laws can be so badly designed. Adults are completely terrified of teen sexuality and without knowing where you live and what the laws are like and what the general “Oh well, boys will be boys, what can you do?” attitudes are like, I can’t make a clean “Oh yes, def. call the police on this pooplord!” recommendation as much as I’d like to. More like, if you want to call the police do it with the help of a lawyer who can expertly guide you and protect you in the process.

There are probably going to be commenters who insist that you tell your parents what happened immediately. Some parents will be understanding and supportive and take action to protect you but also listen to and respect what you want to do. Some will absolutely flip their lids and take action (like bringing in law enforcement without fully considering what that means for you) (or freaking out that you sent a photo, too, and punishing you) that might not be what’s actually best for you. I 100% hope that you can tell your parents, but I grew up in the kind of house where my mom would be so ashamed of and angry at me for complying that it would probably not be worth it to tell her because the “What were you thinking?” “How could you be so stupid?” cloud of judgment would be worse punishment for me than anything that might happen to Earl or the prospect of 1 blurry photo of my teenaged nubbins out in the world. You are the expert on your own parents, so, trust your instincts here.

If you do decide to tell your parents, maybe do it in a note? Sample text or script you could adapt:

“Mom, Dad (or Mom & Mom/Dad & Dad), I need to tell you something really uncomfortable that happened and I am scared that you’ll be ashamed of me or mad at me.

A boy at school that I liked asked for my number and we’ve been texting. He sent me a naked picture of himself and asked me to send one in return. I’m embarrassed to say this but I did. After I sent it I realized that he doesn’t really like me and that he does this to lots of girls. I want him to stop doing this to all of us and I don’t know what to do.

I have been scared to tell anyone about this because I sent a photo, too. Since it happened I learned that there are laws about this that could get me in just as much trouble as the boy. Before we do anything can we talk to a lawyer who knows about this stuff to make sure I won’t get in trouble for coming forward?”

One common piece of advice is that you tell a trusted adult – a family member, a teacher, or maybe a school counselor what happened. Someone who can stop Earl and get him out of this pattern. I think this is 99.9% a very, very good idea with some reservations. Teachers and school counselors and anyone at your school are probably “mandated reporters.” That means that if they know or suspect abuse of some kind is happening, they must call law enforcement. This is to protect kids, and it doesn’t mean that you don’t ever tell them scary stuff, but it means that if you say “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it between us?” sometimes they legally can’t make you that promise. They could lose their jobs, or be charged as an accessory or sued for covering up the problem.

This is why a lot of people use hypothetical situations to have these conversations, like the classic “I’m asking for a friend” scenario. For you it might mean saying “If I thought a boy at school was sending nude pictures to girls and trying to get them to send them back so he can show his friends, what should I do?” The obvious question on the teacher’s mind is “Which boy” (or, tbh, “It’s Earl, right?“) or “Did this happen to you?” but if you give everybody a fig leaf of plausible deniability at first you might get an idea of the teacher’s approach before you tell more details. “Can you tell me what the process of reporting that looks like? Have you ever had to deal with something like this before? What happened? What would happen to the boy? Would the girls get in trouble, too?” Figure out how informed, how aggressive, how sexist* this person is before you pour your heart out.

I’m sorry that so much of what I wrote is hypothetical and not a clear recommended course of action. It’s hard to be a kid and to not have much control over your situation, and it’s hard to live in a culture that is so inconsistent in how we treat victims of this kind of behavior. It’s hard to have such a clear right answer – “Stop this dude before he rapes someone!” – and to have so little trust in the processes or systems that exist to protect you. But I think there are a couple of things you 100% can control and that will make you feel safer:

Talk to a trained counselor outside of your school & the mandated reporting umbrella. For example, here is a link to the crisis resources available at Scarleteen, including a message board for staff & peer support, a texting service, and anonymous online chats. You’ll find people will believe you, who won’t judge you, who won’t think you’re weird, who are aware of how depressingly common what you went through is. You can get a real-time sounding board while you figure out what to do. Telling more comforting strangers (like you told us) can make it easier for you tell other people. (P.S. Scarleteen is a national treasure and they run that place on love and a shoestring. If you’re a grownup reading this and looking to fund some good, here’s a donation link).

Take screen shots of everything he sent you and that you sent him, including the pictures and email them to yourself or save them somewhere so you have documentation of what happened.

Block his number, forever and always. Preemptively block him on all conceivable social media platforms. Congratulations, Earl is now dead to you. Blank his pathetic ass in the halls of academia.

Beware of his gross friends who looked at the photos without saying “Whoa, not cool, man.” Those boys do not get your phone number in this lifetime.

If he gets in some trouble, good. You didn’t “get him in trouble” or “ruin his life.” If he’s harassing the girls in his class this way, he needs to deal with some consequences, and now, while he’s still a kid, is the right time for some serious intervention. If he threatens you, harms you, retaliates against you, makes you feel targeted and unsafe, damn the torpedoes and tell an adult.

Learn the rules about sexual harassment in your school. Does your school have a policy about this? What does it say? Is it good enough? Down the road, maybe through student government or the school newspaper, you could help shape a better policy that would protect kids like you from pervs like Earl? (Part of me is like AUGGGGHHHH YOU ARE 14 YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO RESEARCH THIS, and part of me is like FUTURE AMAZON WARRIOR IN TRAINING!!!!!)

Ahem.

Tell other girls. “Hey, have you ever had anything weird happened with Earl, where he sends you pictures and tries to get you to send him one, too?” You’ll be able to tell from how they react, and you can say “Yeah, that happened to me, too. It’s not your fault!” Spreading the word about him is powerful. Reminding yourself and each other that you’re not alone and that it’s not your fault is powerful. Maybe the other girls could all go with you to tell a teacher or a school counselor as a group.

Warn other girls. When you see Earl single someone out, you can warn her – “I know Earl seems cool, but chances are he WILL send you a dick pic and try to get you to send him a photo so he can show it to all his friends.”

Be a safe landing place for other girls. Say you warn a girl, but she’s under the Earl-spell so she blows you off at first, but then it happens to her and she’s clearly embarrassed. Be kind to her. You know how she feels. Don’t blame or judge or “I told you so!” her. Don’t ever look at the photos if they get forwarded around, or make fun of her for it. Just say, “Yeah, you were kind of a jerk to me before, but I probably would have done the same thing before I knew what he was really like. It’s not your fault,” and add her to your powerful girl-army.

I wish I could build you a world without Notes From A Boner, where I never had to use the words “The next time you get some random screen peen…” but, there will be a next time and it will always kind of ruin your day a little because WHY ARE DUDES?

However, one tiny benefit of this upsetting situation it’s that your NOPE! meter will work much better from now on and it probably won’t ruin your week. The next intrusive wang you see will get a “Weird, why would you send me that?” and the cold release of the block button. Or, (true story) when you’re older and trying to sell a bike on Craigslist and some dude sends you a pathetic and revolting photo from realname@whereireallywork.com,” you’ll forward the email to humanresources@wherehereallyworks.com with a note saying “I got this from one of your employees today, you might want to check to see if he’s been hacked? Surely no one from your excellent company would send something like this to a stranger. I hope you can get to the bottom of this embarrassing incident, good luck!” Instead of wondering if it’s your fault somehow, Future You will let these losers reap the whirlwind of your contempt and indifference.

Sending so much love your way, Troubled Teen. We believe you. It’s not your fault.

*”Aw, boys will be boys, amirite?” = ABORT & possibly tell someone in authority “I tried to talk to [Teacher] about a sexual harassment situation and he said ‘boys will be boys’ and would not take it seriously at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

The parents of Charlie Gard, the 11-month-old terminally ill British baby, have ended their legal fight to take him to the U.S. for experimental treatment.

Grant Armstrong, a lawyer for Charlie’s parents, Chris Gard and Connie Yates, said Dr. Michio Hirano, the U.S. neurologist who examined the baby, said it was too late to treat him with experimental nucleoside therapy, adding Charlie’s “time had run out.”

Addressing the court, Connie Yates said: “This is one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to say, do, to let our beautiful little boy go.” She said “a whole lot of time has been wasted,” leading to the diagnosis that it was too late to do anything for Charlie, who has been on life support since October 2016.

Justice Nicholas Francis paid tribute to Charlie’s parents, saying “no parent could have done more for their child.” Armstrong, the family’s lawyer, said the couple would set up a foundation with the money they had raised for Charlie’s overseas treatment so the 11-month-old’s voice “continues to be heard.”

Charlie, who was born in August 2016, was diagnosed with a rare genetic condition called encephalomyopathic mitochondrial DNA depletion syndrome; he suffered from brain damage and couldn’t move his limbs. Doctors in the U.K. advised his parents to end life support, but Gard and Yates raised funds to transfer him to the U.S. for the experimental treatment. British medical experts—and three courts—said prolonging treatment would cause Charlie  “significant harm.” The European Court of Human Rights ruled in June against the parents, all but ensuring Charlie would be taken off life support.

Pope Francis and President Trump both weighed in, with the pope saying he prayed Charlie’s parents would be able to “accompany and treat their child.” Trump tweeted:

If we can help little #CharlieGard, as per our friends in the U.K. and the Pope, we would be delighted to do so.

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) July 3, 2017

The case raised questions about life, the state’s role in determining when a child’s treatment should stop, as well as the powers enjoyed by Europe’s courts.

As my colleague Emma Green wrote at the time:

Charlie’s case touches on some of the most sensitive moral and political questions about the role of the state at the end of life. The decisions of the European courts represented the final word on whether Charlie’s parents could pursue treatment in the U.S., and after the ruling, Yates and Gard claimed the hospital had denied permission for them to take Charlie back to their home to die. Yates and Gard have framed the medical dispute as “Charlie’s fight,” developing a large social-media following as they chronicled their effort to pursue further treatment for their son. The case also has religious dimensions: On their instagram page, Yates and Gard documented their celebration of their son’s baptism and showed him clutching a pendant of St. Jude, the Catholic figure most often associated with hospitals and medical care. Media in the U.K. have followed the Gard family’s case closely and the court orders to end Charlie’s life have been fiercely criticized by conservatives in the U.S. and abroad.

Charlie is now likely to be moved to palliative care at the Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, where he has been treated since October.

“Life is a good teacher and a good friend. Things are always in transition, if we could only realize it. Nothing ever sums itself up in the way that we like to dream about. The off-center, in-between state is an ideal situation, a situation in which we don’t get caught and we can open our hearts and minds beyond limit. It’s a very tender, nonaggressive, open-ended state of affairs.”

When Things Fall Apart: Tibetan Buddhist Nun and Teacher Pema Chödrön on Transformation Through Difficult Times

Frida the Grenchie, one of my favorite little Instagram pups and the muse behind Growlmama and Growlees, shared a photo over the weekend of ~*THE*~ most amazing custom pillow portrait–and I had to find out more about it!

Turns out, the fantastic creation is from Mia Loves Jay, an Etsy shop based in Dublin, Ireland. Each quirky portrait is created by stitching your pup’s likeness on a background of carefully selected Liberty of London fabrics. As you can see, the results are preeeetttty phenomenal.

Take a peek at Mia Loves Jay on Etsy to snag a custom cushion of your own dog!

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© 2017 Dog Milk | Posted by capree in For Humans | Permalink | 1 comment

Every night before bed I read until I'm sleepy. Most nights this is fine, others-not so much. If the book I'm reading has something that reminds me of Ben then I don't stop thinking about him, and can't get to sleep. Last night the book had a part in it about the cremation process. That, of course, got me thinking about Ben being cremated. Late nights-when I'm tired, it's hard for me to keep my mind from going to dark and morbid places sometimes.

I thought about the dazed and hazy feeling I had signing the papers to give the funeral home permission to go pick up our 4 pound 13 ounce baby's body from the hospital and cremate his remains. I thought about whether or not they kept his little blue outfit with the bow tie on or not. I thought about the condition of his skin and bones, and what he looked like after the autopsy. Do they take the time to stitch deceased babies up nicely after cutting them open? I wondered if the doctor even bothered dressing him after it. I thought about the process, the burning, the smell. I thought about the shockingly small amount of ashes we got back.

In therapy I learned to allow your mind to ponder these things. To face all the feelings that come with losing a baby. To get help if I start to obsess over something, but that it's okay and normal to think about it and to let myself feel it all. It's not lost on me that no one should have to have these thoughts though. It's not fair to be reading or watching TV and be reminded that your baby is just a pile of ashes now.

I don't think I expected to still have things about Ben's death that I hadn't considered yet, 15 months later. My mind often races and I deal with an anxiety disorder so there isn't a lot of times in my life that I can say "Oh, I hadn't thought of that". I thought that every part of my pregnancy, the 10 day hospital bed rest, his short life, and his death would have been "dealt with" in my mind by now. I was wrong. Many things pop into my mind at the most surprising times and I'm stunned for half a day about it.

A few people I know have had their water break at 31-32 weeks recently. I guess it's more common than I thought. I've been reading their posts about how their doctors gave them meds to delay their labor, their hospital bed rest, how scared they are, how they just want their babies to stay in a few more weeks to grow. Every single part of it is what happened to me. Except the outcome. For me it ended in an infant's death and having to wonder about the cremation process over a year later.

It's not appropriate to comment "I hope your baby lives". Because of course their babies will live. Babies don't die just from being born 8 weeks early. It's not appropriate to ask 100 questions about how their doctors are monitoring for infections. Because I'd scare them too much and doctors know what their doing. It's not appropriate to tell them to refuse any more medicine because their babies will be okay in the NICU, but not if bacteria gets to them while they're unprotected in your uterus. Which will result in an infection so severe that it kills them 18 hours later. Because it only happened to Ben because he happened to have the 2 most unlucky parents on the planet. It's not appropriate to feel angry that they had healthy babies after all this- and I didn't. Because no one should feel angry about a healthy baby. It gets exhausting being happy for other people while I am still sad for us. All I can think of is "why not us?", "why not Ben?". Grief is selfish like that.

I am happy for them though. Because I hope I never hear about another infant dying again. It's a pain I wish on no one. It's not fair, it's not right, it's not okay, it's not normal. But it's my reality. It's a part of who I am. I will forever be a dead baby's mother. I will never be "normal" again. The new me is someone that knows a lot about death and that talks about it freely. The new me will always think the worst when someone has a pregnancy complication. The new me knows too much. The new me feels terrible for being sad and angry when someone else gets to have a healthy baby. Not sad and angry for them, but for me.

The new me will always be reminded of my sweet baby and his tragic life at the most random times-that will never go away and I don't want it to. Along with a pile of ashes, it's all I have.

“When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
– Haruki Murakami

By now you may have heard I fucked up, and people are calling me a creep.

While I’d like to believe that I’m not a bad or evil person, regardless it’s clear that some of my past actions have hurt or offended several women.

So, what did I do?

I made advances towards multiple women in work-related situations, where it was clearly inappropriate. I put people in compromising situations, and I selfishly took advantage of those situations where I should have known better. My behavior was inexcusable and wrong.

With respect to the NYT article above and Sarah Kunst specifically, I’d like to sincerely apologize for making inappropriate advances towards her several years ago over drinks, late one night in a small group, where she mentioned she was interested in a job at 500. A few days/weeks later I referred her to my co-founder Christine Tsai to begin a formal interview process with 500, where Christine and others on the team met with her. Ultimately, 500 decided not to offer Sarah a job. Again my apologies to Sarah for my inappropriate behavior in a setting I thought was social, but in hindsight was clearly not. It was my fault and I take full responsibility. She was correct in calling me out.

For these and other incidents where I have been at fault, I would like to apologize for being a clueless, selfish, unapologetic and defensive ass.

To all those I let down, and especially to those I directly offended and hurt: I’m very sorry.

I’m ashamed I didn’t change my behavior until I was forced to do so by circumstance and by others. The reality is, I was stopped from further bad actions by those who spoke up about my offenses, at substantial risk to their personal and professional reputations… and subsequently, by Christine and others on the 500 team. I won’t try and thank any of those people, or act like I wanted that ass-kicking.

When confronted about what happened, I was defensive. What did I do wrong? We were just hanging out! Why are people so upset? I tried to present my crappy behavior in the best possible light. I didn’t have much empathy for the people I hurt and offended, and rather than face up to my own shallow motivations, I rationalized my actions and came up with reasons to find blame in others, rather than solely with me.

After several tough conversations with Christine and senior management at 500, I realized that — guess what? — *I* was the problem. I wasn’t full of goodness and light, and I needed to take a closer look at the stranger in the mirror staring back at me. Somewhere, I had lost the plot.

As a result of the above intervention, I agreed to hand over day-to-day management of 500 to Christine, and she is now leading 500 in the new role of CEO. My role has been limited to focus on fiduciary obligations to our investors as a general partner of our funds. Along with the above, I also started counseling about a month ago to address my shitty behavior and poor judgement. I don’t expect anyone to believe I will change, but I’m working on it.

I’d like to state clearly that my past actions are most certainly my own fault and responsibility. Until recently, Christine and other senior management at 500 were unaware of my actions. Once they did become aware, they took steps quickly to investigate and prevent further inappropriate behavior. You can place the blame squarely on me, not Christine or anyone else at 500.

In the next few days as I get feedback from many (many) people, I plan to speak further with Christine and the 500 management team, our investors and advisors, and others to figure out the best possible outcome for 500. As this is a group of hundreds of people and companies, I would not want my individual interests to overshadow what is best for them (not me). I am also cognizant that many people outside 500 — including those I have hurt or offended — have strong opinions as well, and I am doing my best to listen.

My personal failures aside, 500 has long supported a diverse community of entrepreneurs including women, minorities, LGTBQ, international, and other overlooked founders. Despite my many mistakes, I sincerely hope 500 will be able to continue that mission. To the extent my actions have now made that more difficult, I am truly sorry to Christine and the 500 team, to our founders and investors and partners, to the larger global tech community, and again most specifically to the women I have hurt or offended, all of whom I have clearly failed.

And I know “sorry” means absolutely nothing right now.

Again, what I did was wrong. It wasn’t and isn’t acceptable. I’m working on behaving differently in the future. If you have suggestions or feedback or criticism, I’m open to hearing it.

DMC

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I’m a Creep. I’m Sorry. was originally published in 500 Hats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

GIF OF THE DAY > pic.twitter.com/AI813ykqA7

— Booooooom (@Booooooom) July 7, 2017

That wholesome feeling when you think you are contributing but you really have no idea what you are doing. pic.twitter.com/80JzQKrdkH

— Stuart Rutherford (@doodlewhale) July 4, 2017

“Playing Soviet” is an interactive database of children’s book illustrations drawing from little-known and rarely-seen Soviet children’s books from the Cotsen Collection at Princeton’s Firestone Library.

(via Open Culture)

American culture nurtures many myths about the moral value of hard work. The phrase “by the bootstraps,” still widely used to describe those Americans who have found success through a combination of dogged work and stubborn will, rose from a mis-remembering of The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen: In it, the eponymous aristocrat pulls himself from a swamp—not by his bootstraps, but by his hair. And Horatio Alger’s stories, as well, while often remembered collectively as the prototypical tale of American rags to American riches, also romanticized the social and economic power of good luck. (Ragged Dick, in the Alger story named for him: “I’d like it if some rich man would adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink and wear, without my havin’ to look so sharp after it.”)

The myths live on, though, for the same reason myths often will: They ratify a deeply held value in American culture. They allow us denizens of the current moment to hold onto one of the most beloved ideas that has animated Americans’ conception of themselves—ourselves—as a culture, over the decades and centuries: that we live in a meritocracy. That our widely imitated and yet idiosyncratic take on democracy has been built, and continues to rest, on a system that ensures that talent and hard work will be rewarded. That the American dream is real, and enduring.

Current events, however—and Americans’ ability to share their experiences with each other, via new technological platforms—have helped to reveal the notion of meritocracy to be what it always was: yet another myth. And: a myth that is particularly pernicious, when it comes to Americans’ sense of what we owe to each other. During a discussion at the Aspen Ideas Festival, co-hosted by the Aspen Institute and The Atlantic, NPR’s Michele Norris talked with Darren Walker, the president of the Ford Foundation, and Jeff Raikes, the co-founder of the Raikes Foundation. The trio, in their discussion, emphasized the tensions between how we talk about the American dream and how people live it.

“As Americans, we want to believe that you can get on that mobility escalator and ride it as far as you want,” Walker said, “but that no one rides it faster than anyone else.” We want to believe that talent will triumph, and that hard work will be the tool of that success. Which is to say: We want to believe that opportunity is evenly distributed.

But, of course, that great escalator is faster for some than it is for others. It is harder for some to get to than it is for others. The fact is, as Walker pointed out, this country “was constructed on a racialized hierarchy.” It’s a hierarchy that remains today—one that is evident, in ways both obvious and insidious, across American culture, across the American education system, across the American housing system, across the American economy.

And yet our stories, and our myths, tend to belie that reality. The logic of meritocracy, as a concept—“a system in which the talented are chosen and moved ahead on the basis of their achievement,” per Merriam-Webster, but also, per Dictionary.com, “an elite group of people whose progress is based on ability and talent rather than on class privilege or wealth”—endorses a world in which economic success carries a moral valence, and in which, as a consequence, the lack of such success implies a kind of moral failing.

That’s a tension playing out, at the moment, with the negotiations taking place in Congress, about the future of the American healthcare system. Many of those debates, my colleague Vann Newkirk pointed out, have adopted the pernicious logic of the prosperity gospel—the idea that success, and wealth, and indeed health itself, are signs of God’s favor. It’s a tension, as well, that has long inflected conversations about social assistance programs—a tension that has, in general, long defined how Americans think about what they owe to each other, as people and as fellow citizens.

“Meritocracy” takes as its core assumption, essentially, an equality that does not exist in America. One that, indeed, has never existed in America. “To successful people,” Walker said, “to interrogate their success requires that they acknowledge the injustice that is baked into our systems. And that’s really, really hard to do, because we’re patriots. We believe in our country. We believe that there is something that makes it possible for people like me, and Jeff, and you”—he was talking to Norris—“to be where we are today.”

That something is, in the Algerian sense, the American dream. That something is meritocracy and a myth and an ideal. Those things claim to speak to the best of who we are; in practice, however, they can serve as a justification of the worst. They can allow us to romanticize the world rather than interrogate it. After all, as Norris summed things up: In America, “we are the land of the brave and the home of amnesia.”

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is not common, exactly, but it isn’t rare either. And despite a considerable decline in SIDS over the past 20 years, it remains the leading cause of death among babies between 1 month old and 1 year old, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

At the same time, the underlying reasons for SIDS have remained a mystery, even after decades of study. That’s beginning to change. The latest research has dramatic implications for scientists’ understanding of SIDS, and hints at the distant possibility of a blood test that might be used to screen newborns for the syndrome.

A study published Monday in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences finds a substantial number of SIDS deaths appear to be linked to elevated serotonin, a chemical that helps regulate breathing and other functions. Researchers tested the blood of 61 babies whose deaths were characterized as SIDS and found that nearly one-third of them had increased levels of the neurotransmitter in their blood.

“This is a very exciting finding,” says Rosemary Higgins, a neonatologist at the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development, which oversaw the study. “More research would need to be done, but it could possibly lead to a forensic test to distinguish SIDS deaths from other causes of death among infants.”

SIDS deaths are notoriously difficult to track, in part because some infant deaths—like accidental suffocation by bedding in an unsafe sleep environment—are counted as SIDS deaths even though they aren’t truly inexplicable. About 3,700 babies died suddenly and unexpectedly in 2015, the most recent year for which the CDC has data. The agency counts 1,600 of those 3,700 total deaths as SIDS.

So the possibility of a forensic test that could determine which deaths are truly attributable to SIDS could further doctors’ understanding of the syndrome in key ways. For example, such a test would be a necessary step toward eventually developing a screening for at-risk newborns before they die. Though the possibility of such a screening is still a long way off, Higgins says.

The latest PNAS study builds on a growing body of evidence that suggests brain abnormalities—some of which entail elevated serotonin levels—may be linked to SIDS. One previous study, published in the Journal of the American Medical Association in 2010, found a link between SIDS and lower levels of serotonin in the brain, whereas the latest PNAS study, which looked at elevated serotonin, focused on serotonin levels in the blood.

These earlier findings, coupled with the latest research, suggest that an abnormality in serotonin metabolism—leading to lower or higher levels in different parts of the body—could indicate an underlying vulnerability that increases a baby’s SIDS risk. Researchers are still working to understand a causal link, however.

Many questions remain. Because the researchers were specifically testing serotonin levels, they don’t know whether the 19 babies with elevated serotonin in their blood had any other abnormalities in common. It’s also unclear whether the same groups that suffer higher rates of SIDS deaths are also more likely to have elevated serotonin serum. For instance, black babies and Native American babies are more than twice as likely as white babies, Asian babies, or Hispanic babies to die of SIDS. Premature babies and boys are also disproportionately represented among SIDS deaths compared with full-term babies and girls. “The cost of testing and the rarity of the event are prohibitive to screening at the moment,” said Peter Blair, an epidemiologist who focuses on SIDS at the University of Bristol in England. “If we can improve identification of a small group at high risk, then maybe.”

One of the biggest questions posed by the latest study is: Just how big of a risk factor is increased serotonin in the blood? In other words, among babies who have higher levels of serotonin in their blood, how much more likely are they to be victims of SIDS? After all, most of the babies in the study group had normal blood serotonin levels.

Most researchers view the syndrome as part of a “triple-risk model,” meaning SIDS results from three interacting factors that affect the baby all at once. The three factors in the triple-risk model include the underlying vulnerability, the stressful environment, and the critical phase of development that the infant is in. Under this model, an infant with an underlying vulnerability would also have to be in a bad situation—like being placed on his or her stomach when put to sleep, which is unsafe for newborns—to trigger SIDS.

Although SIDS deaths are sudden, a latent vulnerability may be present for days or months prior to death, the researchers of the PNAS study wrote, and may even originate during gestation.

For the time being, the best advice for parents and other caregivers who are worried about SIDS is still to follow the “safe to sleep” guidelines: That means a baby should always be put to bed in an empty crib with a firm mattress. The crib should be free of any toys, bedding, blankets, or pillows. And the baby should be placed flat on his or her back.

But it will be hard to completely eliminate the risk for SIDS until scientists understand just where it comes from.

“Just as important with these findings," says Blair, who did not work on the study, "is that we are getting closer to identifying causal mechanisms for SIDS. The welcome fall in [SIDS-death] rates is due to good risk-reduction advice rather than an increased understanding of why these infants die.”

Here is a very impressive group of women: Jean Case. Rabia Chaudry. Rochelle Keyhan. Joanne Lipman. Arati Prabhakar. Sandra Phillips Rogers. Gillian Tett. My Atlantic colleague Gillian White. Case is, among other things, the CEO of the Case Foundation. Chaudry is, among other things, the president of the Safe Nation Collaborative. Phillips Rogers is the group vice president, general counsel, and chief legal officer of Toyota Motor North America. The list goes on. On Thursday evening at the Aspen Ideas Festival, co-hosted by the Aspen Institute and The Atlantic—in a conversation moderated by Pamela Reeves, gender advisor to Melinda Gates (and the wife of Jeffrey Goldberg, The Atlantic’s editor in chief)—they gathered to share stories of challenge and success in an American work environment that was not designed with women in mind.

The women told tales of discrimination both overt and subtle. They discussed finding their own ways to rise above it. And at the end of the session, they offered up more concrete advice—for finding success in general, but particularly for finding it in that basic setting that can so often determine achievement across the arc of one’s career: the meeting. The place where workers in so many industries perform and, consequently, are judged.

What strategies, Reeves asked, do you use to make sure you are heard—and, by implication, impressive—in meetings?

Here were some of the women’s answers:

Amplify the voices of fellow women: The strategy of “amplification,” most famously employed by women of the Obama White House, relies on women supporting each other, collectively. It works like this, as the Washington Post explained: “When a woman made a key point, other women would repeat it, giving credit to its author. This forced the men in the room to recognize the contribution—and denied them the chance to claim the idea as their own.”

Repeat, repeat, repeat: Foster a we’re-in-this-together sense of community in the group, for everyone involved in the meeting, by explicitly acknowledging the contributions of others. Begin a comment, for example, with something like, “Let me build on what Bill said,” and then go from there.

Use humor liberally: Tell jokes! Make things fun for people! This is generally good advice.

Set expectations for your contribution: Begin a comment by saying something like, “I have three points to make”—and then make those points systematically. It’ll make you seem organized. It’ll also make you less likely to be interrupted.

Imitate, tastefully but shamelessly: Observe who, in a meeting or other group setting, seems to get paid the most attention to by higher-ups or fellow participants. And, then, imitate those people. If their approaches—their gestures, their tone of voice, their general manner of expressing themselves—are getting them heard, mimicking those approaches should help to do the same for you.

Stand up: No, but literally. For phone meetings, in particular. This is especially helpful for tough conversations: Standing up, for one thing, you’ll feel more confident and powerful. Also, as Gillian Tett argued, your voice will literally be lower when you’re standing, giving it a boost of gravitas.

Take up space: Again, literally. In physical meetings, spread out. Lean forward when seated at a table. Own your own presence, physically and otherwise.

Be loud: Yes, literally again! Too many women, Jean Case said, speak meekly and quietly. Don’t be one of them. Speak up. Your voice, projected across the room, will also project confidence.

Don’t say “I’m sorry.” Unless you really should say you’re sorry.

Fake it ‘til you make it: If you’re feeling shy, pretend to be bold. If you’re feeling like you don’t belong, convince yourself that you do. Act. Pretend. Perform. Until soon, ideally, you’re not performing anymore. “Just fake it,” Tett said, “and then if you do it enough, you’ll start to believe it.”

It’s all extremely good advice. It’s advice, notably, that works for men as well as women who want to be seen and heard and valued. What’s also striking about these assorted workhacks, though, is the common idea that unites so many of them: Many of these tips are premised on the value of women imitating stereotypically male behavior in the workplace. Be loud. Take up space. Project gravitas. Women would be well advised, many of these expert tips are suggesting, to mold their behavior according to a paradigm that has been established by centuries’ worth of primarily male leadership, in business and beyond—a paradigm that rewards things like, say, overt confidence, and unapologetic volume, and underlying swagger.

And: The experts are entirely correct to offer that advice. If women are to be better represented in business as in other arenas of American life, they need first of all to have that proverbial and all-too-literal seat at the table. Often, the seats are allotted to those who best fit existing notions of “powerful” leadership—to the people who prove best, in the end, at swaggering. As a consequence, fake-it-’til-you-make-it isn’t merely a theme at the Aspen Ideas Festival; it is also a strategy regularly offered within the growing field that advises women on the tricky work of succeeding in business while being female. Sheryl Sandberg advocates for it (or, more precisely, for a version of it: “fake it,” she advises, “’til you feel it”). So did many of the women writing essays for Robin Romm, in the recent collection revealingly titled Double Bind: Women on Ambition. Strategic performance is a way to combat imposter syndrome; it’s also a way to ensure that women will be able, within a cultural context that hasn’t been designed for them, to align their behavior with their ambitions.

But fakery-until-makery is powerful primarily as a kind of transitional measure: It’s a means to an end. It reflects the world as it still is: a world in which stereotypes of male leadership still shape our conceptions of prowess and efficacy and success. In 2017, a group of highly successful women shared a collection of very useful tips on how to be louder and brasher and more performatively powerful. Perhaps, at an Ideas Festival years down the road, those same women, and those who follow in their path, will offer a different set of advice—workhacks reflective of an environment where women have many more seats at the table.

This app will scan your cat and tell you the likelihood that they are plotting to murder you.

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Before we snuck a grill onto our balcony one glorious day last May, I would regularly show up at friends-with-grills homes with prepared pizza dough and a few toppings in the summer; I love grilled pizza so much that I’d feed a crowd just to get my fix. It was one of the first things I made when we bought our own. The benefits of cooking pizza outside are manifold. With heat circulating all around the pizza and the dough resting on open grates instead of a flat tray, I find that you can get more texture — crisp on the outside but staying stretchy within — and flavor — charred spots that will immediately remind you of your favorite brick-oven pizzeria, without heating up your apartment, pretty much the last thing any of us want to do in the summer. Plus, it’s really quick. Once your dough is purchased or prepared, you could be eating your pizza in 10 minutes; not bad for a homemade dinner after a long day.

Read more »

The Pentagon wasted as much as $28 million over the last decade on camouflage uniforms for Afghan soldiers despite the fact forests make up only a small fraction of the country’s landscape, according to a report released Wednesday by the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR).

The findings comes a decade after the Department of Defense moved to procure new uniforms for Afghanistan’s National Army as part of U.S. efforts to bolster the country’s capacity to provide its own security. The uniforms, which cost approximately $93 million, were made using a “forest” pattern from a company called HyperStealth—one which the report says was chosen over other free camouflage patterns owned by the U.S. government after Afghanistan’s defense minister at the time, Gen. Abdul Rahim Wardak, “liked what he saw” on the company’s website.

This decision was problematic. As SIGAR noted in its report, the “forest” color was chosen “despite the fact that forests cover only 2.1 percent of Afghanistan’s total land area.” This didn’t go unnoticed by HyperStealth, which acknowledged in a February 2010 press release that the forest design may seem an “odd choice” for Afghanistan.

John Sopko, the special inspector general for Afghanistan Reconstruction, called the move “insane.”

“This is just simply stupid on its face,” Sopko told USA Today. “We wasted $28 million of taxpayers’ money in the name of fashion, because the defense minister thought that that pattern was pretty. So if he thought pink or chartreuse was it, would we have done that?”

Indeed, the report concluded that the uniforms added between $26 million and $28 million to the overall cost of the uniforms, adding that changing the uniforms could save the U.S. between $68 million and $72 million over the next decade.

The Pentagon did not dispute its findings.

“DoD concurs in the suggestion contained in this report that a DoD organization with expertise in military uniforms should conduct a cost-benefit analysis of the current Afghan National Army (ANA) uniform specifications to determine whether there is a more effective alternative, considering both operational environment and cost,” Jedidiah Royal, the acting deputy assistant secretary of defense for Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Central Asia, said in a statement.

Good morning, fellow mortals!

At this pivotal moment in American policymaking, I’m here to remind you of our individual and collective doom. Wellness, like youth, is temporary. In the end, you either get sick, then die—or you die before you can get sick in the first place. It bears repeating, apparently, at a time when the health-care debate in the United States has become so partisan as to imply the population of sick people and well people is just as cleanly divided as Americans are politically split. But this isn’t the case.

You can’t choose to be healthy or ill the way you can choose to be a Republican or a Democrat. You can’t choose for your babies not to be born with medical problems.

You can do everything right to stay in good health. You can be one of “those people who lead good lives,” as the Alabama Republican representative Mo Brooks put it in a television interview, explaining why healthy people should get to pay less for insurance than sick people. And you’re still likely to find yourself facing unexpected medical costs at one point or another.

If you’re lucky, it won’t be catastrophic. But eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.

On top of the massive bills that can result from unexpected injuries or illnesses, each of us who continues to get older every moment of every day is marching inexorably toward needing more (and more expensive) health care as we age. More than 60 percent of all nursing home residents rely on some Medicaid funding, for example.

This is why the basic principle of health insurance is what it is, and why the concept of high-risk insurance pools, lumping together the neediest people in the population, is so problematic. Younger and typically healthier people subsidize the cost of health care for older people not just out of some moral imperative, but based on the premise that the younger people will someday be old themselves.

Yet the GOP’s Better Care Reconciliation Act would, in essence, penalize the elderly and the poor. Both groups are disproportionately represented among the 22 million additional Americans who would be without insurance a decade from now if the Republican plan passes, according to the latest Congressional Budget Office estimate. And that’s largely because the bill decimates Medicaid, which flows to 40 percent of all American children, 60 percent of children with disabilities, and more than 75 percent of all poor children in America.

By cutting out $772 billion in Medicaid spending over a decade, the Republican bill would save money for the wealthiest Americans by making poor people pay more money for stripped down versions of existing insurance plans. The consensus in the medical community is that these cuts could be ruinous to the 1 in 5 Americans who rely on such funding. This isn’t just about poor, disabled kids: Americans nearing retirement age would be hit particularly hard. “Medicine has long operated under the precept of Primum non nocere, or ‘first, do no harm,’” wrote James L. Madara, the CEO of the American Medical Association, in a letter to senators this week. “The draft legislation violates that standard on many levels.”

Many critics have fixated on how cruel it is to draft a bill that squeezes sick people and old people out of the insurance market, and understandably so.

But there are pragmatic concerns, too. Like the fact that populations of people who tend to need health-care services the most—the poor, the elderly, the very ill—are in constant flux. The 5 percent of Americans who account for 50 percent of the country’s healthcare costs isn’t a static group, as Helaine Olen recently wrote for this magazine. “A chronic illness can land someone in this category but, given the increasing prevalence of high-deductible plans, so can something as simple as a broken bone or an emergency appendectomy. Although some people will be in this group year after year, many will cycle in and out, and nearly everyone will be in it for some brief period.”

Nearly everyone means me, and you, and all the people we love. Because, if we’re lucky, we’ll all eventually become very old indeed, and the likelihood that we’ll need expensive health-care along the way is quite high. (An enormous part of this is preventative care in high-risk populations, which can drive down costs—but only for those who have consistent, affordable access to care.)

Many Americans cannot afford to pay for insurance hikes under the Affordable Care Act—the cost of the most popular Obamacare plan is going up 22 percent this year. Senator Mitch McConnell, the majority leader and author of the legislation, has argued he simply wants Americans to be free to make “the best health care decisions for their families on what types of plans they want and can afford.” But who can afford a serious illness? How can anyone plan for such a thing?

“There are no ‘healthy’ and ‘sick’ people,” wrote Ken Norton, a partner at Google Ventures, in a Twitter essay about the death of his 11-year-old son from a congenital heart defect in 2014. “Healthy people can turn into sick people really fucking suddenly... I’m here to tell you that there is no ‘us’ and ‘them,’ no responsible taxpayers and irresponsible moochers, we are them and they are us.”

The men who bristle at the idea of paying for insurance that covers women’s prenatal care would do well to remember that they themselves are former fetuses. And healthy people need to remember that they are future sick people, too.

The question of how to fix the Affordable Care Act—which, indeed, needs attention—isn’t just a question for poor people, or the elderly, or the middle class, or people with pre-existing conditions, or people who don’t have jobs, or the tens of millions more Americans who will be uninsured in a decade if the GOP’s repeal-and-replace plan passes. It is a question for all Americans, because all of us are vulnerable to a change in fortune.

If there was one goal Senate Republicans had set out to achieve in developing their health bill to show they were less “mean” than their colleagues in the House, it was to take away the House Republicans’ green light for insurers to once again discriminate against those with pre-existing health conditions. Senate Republicans were willing to drive up deductibles and co-pays and be more draconian on Medicaid cuts, but on the one issue of pre-existing conditions they were intent on being less “mean,” as President Trump termed the House bill. Now that the text of the bill has been released, it’s clear that they have failed to achieve that.

As they argue for the bill, Republicans are going to claim that it will not allow insurance plans to discriminate against people because they have a pre-existing condition. But that just isn’t the case. The Republican plan may not allow insurers to discriminate against a pre-existing condition through the front door, but they’ve created a backdoor way in.  

So what is this backdoor for discriminating against those with pre-existing conditions and how does it work?

Answering that question requires understanding the importance of a key protection in the Affordable Care Act, what is known as the “Essential Health Benefits” requirement. These Essential Health Benefits rules require insurance companies to cover critical care, such as treatment by doctors, hospital stays, and prescription-drug costs. The guarantee of Essential Health Benefits means that no insurer can provide any health plan that excludes these critical benefits. Perhaps it goes without saying, but if these benefits are not covered, a plan is all but worthless to those with serious pre-existing conditions.

The Affordable Care Act does allow, through Section 1332, for states to have some flexibility to waive these and other requirements, but only if they meet very rigorous conditions or “guardrails” that ensure coverage remains available, affordable, and high-quality. This is where the new Senate bill makes significant—and dangerous—changes. The bill drives straight through these carefully crafted guardrails. Today, to waive requirements like essential benefits, a state must show that the alternative insurance being provided is “comprehensive,” and “will provide coverage and cost-sharing protections against excessive out-of-pocket spending.” These careful conditions on quality are removed in the Senate bill, replaced with a bare-minimum requirement that the alternative doesn’t increase the federal budget deficit. States will be able to easily waive the requirement to cover Essential Health Benefits, without any careful conditions to ensure the quality and affordability of coverage.

As a result, insurers will offer skinny plans with less coverage that falls far short of the needs of those with serious health conditions. This is how it used to work: Before the Affordable Care Act, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation and the Department of Health and Human Services, almost one in 10 Americans in the individual market didn’t have coverage for prescription drugs. Young and healthy people will opt for those plans, leaving those with pre-existing conditions in their own, much more costly, market. In the end, the effect is the same as if companies could just outright discriminate against those with serious health problems.

Consider, for example, a family with a spouse or parent with cancer whose drug treatment costs thousands of dollars for their drugs. They think they have a victory in that under the Senate plan, their insurance company can’t explicitly charge them more because of their family member with a pre-existing condition. But, unfortunately for them, they find that they live in a state that allows insurers to offer plans that don’t cover prescription-drug costs. This family will face nothing but bad choices.

Because the skinny, incomplete plans are a non-starter for them, they can’t take the cheap option. But everyone who’s young or healthy does. The only people choosing the alternative, signing up for a plan that actually meets their needs, are those with serious conditions. This will further drive up the costs of these plans—the only plans that actually cover the treatment that seriously sick people need—and will further drive the young and the healthy away.

The state may not explicitly say they are making those with pre-existing conditions pay more, but that will be the impact. Many of those families will simply not be able to afford the care they need. And it could get worse. A thoughtful analysis by Matt Fiedler at the Brookings Institution found that where states can waive Essential Health Benefits, insurance companies and employers could reinstate annual and lifetime limits on coverage.

Simply put, the Senate bill will open the door to states forcing people with pre-existing conditions into segregated markets that will lead them to pay far, far higher costs than everyone else. People with pre-existing conditions could run into new annual or lifetime limits on how much insurance coverage they can get. That means those with the most serious chronic health conditions (and their families) will be at increased risk of financial devastation and even bankruptcy. The bottom line is that the backdoor discrimination the Senate plan allows against those with pre-existing conditions is as cruel as the discrimination in the House bill which the Senate claimed to fix.

These are exactly the reasons why the American Cancer Society urged concern about waiving these critical protections: “If a state decides that prescription drugs are no longer an essential health benefit, a plan could cap the amount it covers for cancer drugs—or decide to not cover cancer drugs at all—leaving patients to pay the entire bill.” And it is why they urged the Senate to “return to the drawing board” when they saw the bill’s text.

And it’s not only coverage for expensive drugs: By requiring insurers to cover Essential Health Benefits, the Affordable Care Act protected the 62 percent of individual-market enrollees who before the law did not have maternity coverage, the 34 percent who didn’t have substance-abuse-treatment coverage, and the 18 percent that did not have mental-health coverage. With the broad waivers like those possible under the Senate bill, one could expect that Essential Health Benefits like covering drug-abuse treatment, including for those with opioid abuse, and mental illnesses and maternity coverage could be dropped in various states, meaning more discrimination against women and millions with mental illness or histories of drug abuse.

This bill will take American healthcare back to what everyone in the U.S. should recognize was a completely broken system before the Affordable Care Act. It will takes the country back to a system in which companies often profited not by how well they provided healthcare but by how well they discriminated against or screened out those who faced the most challenges. President Trump promised “insurance for everyone” and lower costs, but this bill will bring the country back to a system in which insurance only works for the healthy, and the sick can’t afford the coverage they need.

In the third episode of GLOW, a new 10-part series debuting on Netflix Friday, a male producer and a male director brainstorm possible characters for their women’s wrestling circuit. As in the real-life Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling—which featured characters named Palestina, Jailbait, and Big Bad Mama—the various identities rely heavily on stereotypes. Jenny (Ellen Wong) becomes Fortune Cookie. Tammé (Kia Stevens) is Welfare Queen. Arthie (Sunita Mani) is Beirut. “It’s not a judgment,” GLOW’s coked-up producer, Sebastian (Chris Lowell) explains. “It’s just what I and the entire world see with our eyes.”

GLOW, created by Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch and executive produced by Orange Is the New Black’s Jenji Kohan, arrives in a heady fog of hairspray and ’80s nostalgia, but it pulls no punches in its treatment of the entertainment industry. In the show’s very first scene, Ruth (Alison Brie), an actress, delivers a monologue in an audition and raves about the role, commenting on how few roles like this there are for women. “You’re reading the man’s part,” the casting agent replies. Which is how Ruth ends up in a gym with 50 or so other “unconventional” women, auditioning for a new kind of “family-friendly” entertainment. On the one hand, she can see how patently absurd it all is. On the other, it’s still the only job going where she can actually dig into a strong female character.

Ruth has more than a little of OITNB’s Piper to her—she’s pretentious, earnest, and painfully self-centered, and there’s a reveal in the first episode that might put viewers off entirely if Brie weren’t so endearing in the role. After one failed audition, she goes home, immerses herself in WWE, and practices wrestling personas at home wearing a makeshift cape and cut-off rubber gloves (“I’m Pre-Menstrual Syndrome!,” she bellows). But it’s an actual fight with her friend Debbie (Betty Gilpin) that persuades the director, Sam Sylvia (Marc Maron) to cast both of them—Debbie as Liberty Bell, an all-American superhero, and Ruth as her Russian nemesis. “Relax,” Sam tells Ruth. “The devil gets the best lines.”

Flahive and Mensch’s ensemble cast is terrific. Gayle Rankin plays Sheila the She-Wolf, a monosyllabic goth whose outfits Ruth tries to identify with by explaining that she once went to school dressed as Anne of Green Gables every day for a year. Sydelle Noel is Cherry, an out-of-work actress who becomes the girls’ primary trainer and caretaker. The British singer-songwriter Kate Nash plays Rhonda, a daffy and lovable type whose character, Britannica, is a Nobel-prize winning scientist in spandex. And Britney Young is Carmen, the neglected 25-year-old scion of a professional wrestling family. The show has fun with the fact that the characters are literally grappling with female stereotypes in the ring while proving how much more complex and interesting the real women are.

Maron, as the unkempt and past-his-prime Sylvia, is so charming that he steals virtually every scene he’s in. A frustrated former B-movie director based on Matt Cimber, Sylvia is a chain-smoking, drug-snorting, womanizing wreck who’s also surprisingly protective of the team he’s assembled. (“Don’t take that!” he snaps at “Beirut” when Sebastian offers her “terrorist” persona a gun to wield.) And Gilpin (Nurse Jackie) is stellar as Debbie, a bombshell former soap star dealing with a cheating husband and an infant son who bites her while he’s breastfeeding. Just like Ruth, she seems to find something in the ring that’s unexpectedly satisfying, even if it’s just a momentary chance to be a star-spangled superhero.

GLOW has plenty of ’80s accoutrements—some nostalgia-inducing (a synth-heavy soundtrack, leotards for every occasion, neon eyeshadow, Steve Guttenberg) and some not (a home pregnancy test that resembles an AP chemistry exam). Each episode runs around 30 minutes, which allows the show to both delve into individual stories and spin a larger arc, with few of the pacing issues of Netflix’s longer shows. Mostly, though, it’s just a blast to watch women having so much fun. GLOW fully owns its campiness and its showy aesthetics, but it’s smart and subversive underneath the glitter.

A highly recommended way to be very unpopular with the people you share meals with is to tell them you’re making zucchini grilled cheese for dinner.

“Like, zucchini as the bread?”
“Zucchini instead of cheese?”
“But I don’t like zucchini!”
“KEENY.”

Read more »

3 tacos = 1 burrito, so why don’t they cost the same?

Here’s something that happens to me literally every time I go to any fast-casual Mexican food joint in New York City. I think about getting three different tacos, a hearty amount of food that lets me taste a bunch of different stuff! And then I look at the burritos, which are roughly equivalent to three tacos and do some mental math. And always, unless I’m feeling luxurious, I end up getting the burrito. It’s very messed up. It’s because the pricing was done by a crazy person.

(A quick note before I go any further: I will be talking about the prices of Mexican food in New York City. I will not be talking about the quality of said food, which is generally serviceable. The point I want to make clear to you, my dear reader, is that I truly do not give any semblance of a shit about how “the only place to get good Mexican food is on the West Coast,” or something. That’s not what this is about.)

So, here’s what the ordering process looks like. I take a look at the tacos, which usually range in price from $3 to $4.50. I price them out. Let’s say that after tax, 3 tacos is about $12 (some places also offer a 3-taco combo option that’s maybe slightly cheaper). Then I look at the burrito options, which use many of the same fillings, but somehow only cost 8 or 9 dollars. What?????

The burrito-taco exchange rate in New York City is absolutely ludicrous. Why should 3 tacos, a portion that is, IMO, equal to one burrito, cost me 50% more? I could get two tacos for the price of a burrito, but in my experience, two tacos is not enough. I can put away three, easy. It sucks to get only two tacos and still be hungry, knowing that money could have been put towards a duty-fulfilling burrito instead.

You could argue that much of a burrito is low-cost ingredients like rice and beans, whereas a taco is mostly expensive proteins. But I’m literally not buying that. I’m always acquiescing to the burrito. Most of this is mental — it’s not the flat price I have a problem with as much as the gap in pricing. If a burrito cost as much as three tacos, I would not be talking about this at length. But unfortunately, we live in a society where a burrito costs significantly less than three tacos. Maybe they could make the tacos less expensive by putting less filling in them? Just a suggestion.

We need common-sense taco pricing reform in New York City. The movement starts now.

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The Taco–Burrito Exchange Rate Is Out Of Control was originally published in The Hairpin on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

OMG! You can now order IKEA products on Amazon? My head just exploded. This changes everything!

UPDATE: Uh-oh. Looks ike it’s resellers and not IKEA directly selling on Amazon. This bums me out.

Charcuterie boards, also known as meat and cheese boards, are a delicious and visually appealing way to serve a variety of meats, cheeses, and accompaniments at a party or as a snack.

How To Make a Charcuterie Board

Meat and cheese boards are my go-to for super chill, no stress year-round entertaining. With a little bit of planning and creativity, you can create a stunning and tasty charcuterie board that will impress your guests. You can load them up with all your favorite cheese, cured meats, fruit, nuts and spreads. Add a salad platter, some wine and baguettes and you have yourself a meal!

(more…)

The post How To Make an Epic Charcuterie Board appeared first on Skinnytaste.

Yesterday I posted on Instagram about the book “How Emotions Are Made” and multiple commenters said I should listen to this episode of Invisibilia. They were right. So good.

Y’know what? It’s been a while since we’ve had a cute kid story on the blog here. I think we’re overdue.

So a while back we were having a little party at our house. And my oldest boy Oot….

You guys do know Oot, right? It’s been a while since I talked about him here. He’s the older of my two little boys.

(Here he is winning a game of Tak.)

Oot is 7 years old now, if you can believe it. He is my heart’s delight. And despite my failings, he has grown up sweet and kind and loving and full of empathy.

So. A couple months ago, we were having a little shindig at our house. Except this wasn’t an event of the sort that I would organize, not a couple people coming over for games. Sarah’s family is huge, and there are roughly eleven billionty children in it. So this isn’t a cozy little gathering. It’s going to be an event. It’s going to be a happening.

The complication? We have a relatively small house. Only about 1400 square feet, and one of the two bathrooms is only accessible through a bedroom.

And here’s the thing. It’s *my* bedroom. Which means it a fucking mess. I’ve got piles of books and detritus everywhere. You can’t hardly see the floor. Plus I have a lot of stuff on my shelves is  dangerous at best, and at worst just straight-up deadly. Picture it as a more cramped version of a wizard’s lab, except instead of having a stuffed crocodile hanging from the ceiling, there’s a mattress on the floor.

Simply said: I do not want people wandering through my bedroom. For real. I’ve mentioned this many, many times to Sarah when she has family over.

So. Anyway. We’re getting ready for the party, and I come back from an errand to discover Oot has written up some helpful signs and stuck them to my door.

(Click to Embiggen. Seriselee.)

Please, *please* click the above image and try to puzzle out what it says on your own. Oot has my genes both for penmanship and spelling, but if you click on it, you should be able to make it out with a little work. And it’s *so* much better if you read it in the original.

For those of you who can’t quite make it out, the signs say:

“Do. not. Entre.”

“i. Will. Kil. You. if. You. Trn.”

“This. Nob. (Arrow pointing to doorknob.)”

“Seriselee. Stae. The. Fukc. Out.”

Now when I see this, I am absolutely fucking delighted. I am over the moon. I could not possibly enjoy it more.

First and foremost, this is a very thoughtful thing he’s done. I ask Sarah if she put him up to it, and she said she hasn’t. All on his own, my little boy has decided to help me keep my room private because he knows it bothers me when guests wander in there. He’s heard me talk about it, and he’s trying to help.

As for the rest…. well… I’m probably reading it a little differently than you, because I know more of the backstory. (It might surprise none of you to know that I consider backstory to be pretty important.)

You see, years ago, when I discovered that here in small town Wisconsin, a mortgage is actually cheaper than renting an office. So I bought a grotty old student rental house to use as a disturbance-free writing space.

In that house, I have a writing room which nobody is allowed to enter. Because it’s my fucking writing room.

But I also use the house as a guest house where friends can stay when they’re in town. And my friends are curious people. So years and years ago I put up some signs on the door:

Oot comes to visit me at the Workhouse sometimes. And I put these signs up *years* ago. Long before he could read.

But the world keeps spinning. And things change. And our children absorb so much more than we are ever ready for. And no matter how careful we are, we are never careful enough….

So I come home from my errand to see my sweet child has carefully labeled my door. I read these signs and I laugh. And I thank Oot for being so helpful and considerate. And I tell him that I am really impressed that he has done such a good job of writing everything out. And it’s true. I am impressed.

“But I’m wondering,” I say. “We’re inviting these people over to our house for a party. Do you think it might be a little rude to threaten to kill them?” (I’m going to leave the discussion of the word ‘fuck’ for another day.)

Oot looks thoughtful, he narrows his eyes a little and nods. “You’re right,” he says, as if he’s really kind of impressed that I’d figured that out. “I’ll make a new sign.”

So I wander away, happy that I’ve so deftly fixed the problem.

Ten minutes later, I come back to see this:

I would like to point out that I’ve never heard Oot say, “Fuck.” But obviously the sign at the workhouse has made a deep and lasting impression. It occurs to me that in his mind, this might actually just be the natural way you ask people to stay out of a room. This is just a regular warning sign: “Wet Paint.” “Do not park.” “Stay the fuck out.”

So we talk again. And I tell him that he’s done a good job by getting rid of threatening to kill people… “But it’s still not really *polite* yet, is it?”

So he takes another run at it:

And these notes are still on my door to this day. I cannot think of a reason I would ever want to take them down….

I hope y’all are doing okay out there.

Take care of each other,

pat

The last apartment I lived in was on a super cute street in Mid-City New Orleans. I had the best group of neighbors and our entire block would often hold impromptu cookouts on the weekends. One of my neighbors was from Trinidad and his jerk peas became something of a legend within the group because none of us could get enough of them. We’d hover around the pot until they were ready to eat, and then they’d be gone in the flash of an eye. He never gave me the recipe for those jerk peas (I don’t blame him), but I do know that the peas swam in a broth made of full fat coconut milk and a healthy dose of jerk seasoning. I’ll probably never be able to recreate those famous peas, but these Coconut Jerk Peas are about as close as I can get!

The one thing you want to be aware of, though, is that jerk seasoning varies a lot from brand to brand, so you’re best adding the seasoning according to your own taste buds. You can add some before the peas cook and then spice up the whole pot at the end with more, if needed. I included a photo of the brand I used, which I got at Whole Foods. They used to have jerk seasoning in the bulk spices department, but they no longer carried it, so I had to buy a jar. This spice blend contains a lot of ingredients and some items that I don’t keep on hand, so it’s just one of those blends that I find easier and more logical to buy pre-mixed. Of course, if you want to mix up your own spice blend, a quick Google search provides plenty of recipes.

The best part about these peas is that they are insanely simple. You can make these on Sunday afternoon while you’re relaxing or doing other chores, and you’ll have lunches ready for the week.

Coconut Jerk Peas with Pineapple Salsa

Step by Step Photos

Before we begin, I just want to show you which type of jerk seasoning I used. All brands are different, so you’ll have to go by your own taste buds for this one. If you don’t have an international market near you that carries it, check Whole Foods, Cost Plus World Market, or perhaps The Fresh market. 

These are the peas that I used, but you could also use purple hull peas. Frozen is definitely better than canned, but if you must use canned, make sure to drain them well before adding to the recipe.

Begin by dicing an onion and mincing 2 cloves of garlic. Add them to a medium sauce pot with 1 Tbsp olive oil and sauté over medium heat until the onions are soft and transparent.

Add 1 lb. frozen peas (I did not thaw them first), 1 cup water, and 1 Tbsp of the jerk seasoning. The water will not fully cover the peas, but that’s okay. Stir to combine, then place a lid on the pot and turn the heat up to medium-high. Let the pot come to a boil, then turn the heat down to medium-low and let it simmer for 15 minutes.

While the peas are simmering, prepare the pineapple salsa. Combine 2 cups finely chopped pineapple, 1/4 of a red onion (finely diced), and 1/4 bunch cilantro (roughly chopped) in a bowl, along with the juice from half a lime (about 1 Tbsp) and 1/2 tsp salt. 

Stir to combine and then taste and adjust the lime or salt if desired.

Once the peas have simmered and are tender (test a pea or two to make sure), add a 14oz. can of full-fat coconut milk.

Stir everything to combine and heat through. Smash some of the peas against the side of the pot to help thicken the liquid. Taste the peas and add more jerk seasoning if needed and a bit of salt. You want the peas to be heavily seasoned because once you ladle them over the plain rice, that seasoning will seem somewhat diluted.

To serve, place a cup of cooked rice in a bowl and ladle the peas and coconut broth over top. Finish it off with about 1/2 cup of the pineapple salsa.

I never get sick of “beans” and rice! 

The post Coconut Jerk Peas with Pineapple Salsa appeared first on Budget Bytes.