One Red Hot Country Mama!

A Tibetan refugee once told me about the Chinese "school" he was
required to attend as a youngster growing up in Tibet. The mornings
were devoted to indoctrination and study of Chairman Mao’s "little red
book". The afternoons were devoted to reporting on various homework
assignments. The "homework" was generally devised to eradicate the
deeply ingrained spirit of Buddhism among the Tibetan people. For
example, knowing about the Buddhist prohibition against killing and the
belief that every living creature is equally a precious "sentient
being," one schoolteacher assigned his students the task of killing
something and bringing it to school the following day. The students
were graded. Each dead animal was given a certain point value – a fly
was worth one point, a worm – two, a mouse – five, a cat – ten, and so
on.

more obvious? I hope that some diplomatic action will be taken soon – because I am not sure if the recommendations from various heads of state for the Chinese to focus on diplomacy with Tibetans will be enough.

*P 184 of this edition.

Well, I am back from Paris… it was simply the best trip possible. I rented an apartment from www.feelparis.com in the heart of the city. I met up with people from all over the world. I danced, I ate, I drank, I saw… I even kicked a hotel where my friend’s husband brought his mistress. Yes, the trip had a little bit of everything.

As a bit of an unusual twist on the blog, I am adding a little short essay I wrote about the trip. It isn’t 100% true – ie. people knew I was away, he didn’t cheat on me, he just broke up with me and there was no hat. Enjoy.

“Yes, and that is why people from all over the world come to see her,” I overheard, a black-haired guide speaking in French. “People want to know that true beauty in a woman is not about having everything put together perfectly. Beauty is spontaneous… a kind of imperfect perfection.”

I looked at the statue of Venus de Milo – she is imperfect by today’s standards, that is for sure. She looks like the way my body looks like after the winter, when I have been eating a lot of chocolate and drive-thru, working too much, sitting at my desk too much and going to the gym not enough… and my stomach sticks out over the top of my jeans. “Muffin top” is what my friend Tori calls that little piece of fat which Venus would have if she wore jeans. The statue’s hair is not too stylish either in its stringy pony-tail. Yet people from around the world come and see her – because she is beautiful.

I walk alone through the hallways of Paris’s the Louvre, wearing a sweatshirt, a too-big coat and baggy jeans. No, I didn’t want to stand out here. I could not let anyone know that I was thousands of miles away from anyone that loved me… and that no one knew that I was there.  That I ran away from my life. A friend of mine from highschool once ran away from home, and she said that the first rule of running away is that you cannot share that fact with anyone – people are more likely to take advantage of you when you have no one nearby that cares for you.

“Well, maybe in the place where she is from, that hairstyle is cool?” said a woman in Japanese. I turned around to see her – she was wearing tight jeans, pointy boots and a shiny purse that likely cost thousands of dollars.  She and her friend burst out in laughter. I realized that they were looking at me and talking about my messy chignon. I touched my hair self-consciously.

“Excuse me…” said a young Japanese man with thick black glasses and a scrappy little beard in faltering, hesitant English. “Could you take a photo?” After saying “sure, no problem,” I noticed that he was posing with those two cats who were making fun of me!!!

“Yes,” I responded in Japanese – with all the confidence I could muster. “I want to see all of your beautiful smiles – say cheese!” The girls looked surprised and very ashamed. How could they have guessed that I was an exchange student for two years in Tokyo? “Now…” I said gesturing at my head, “maybe you guys can give me some hairstyling advice – I know – it is so terrible!” They all laughed loudly – and complimented me on my Japanese language skills.

The four of us ended up going for dinner than to drinks together. On the way, the girls suggested that maybe the best solution for my hair troubles was to buy a hat – so I got a big white floppy one.  “You look so pretty in your hat. You are a beautiful woman!” said one of them. “Why are you here in Paris by yourself – you should have a boyfriend!” 

I told them that I had a boyfriend until few weeks ago. I caught him cheating on me with his ex-wife. The trip was my way of escaping my life. I felt like my life was becoming a monument to my sadness and to what had been lost. I wanted to see other monuments instead – to beauty, to freedom, to happiness. I didn’t say that last part in Japanese though, since I don’t know how to say monument, and I think these guys were too young and sweet to get it. 

“Alone in the city of love – it is so sad,” said one of the girls.

“But, no – somehow right now, I feel not sad for the first time in months.” I switched to English “I feel better now – just hanging out with you guys – practicing French and Japanese and being interested in my own life. It is not quite the life I dreamed of – but it is imperfect and beautiful – like the statue where we met…” They smiled.

I found this article by Glori Steinem in the New York Times archives today about how the barrier for women is more pervasive than the barrier for men. I have been thinking a lot about this during the Clinton vs. Obama primaries and was happy to see an article about it.

At the heart of the article, is why racial equality seems to happen quicker than gender equality:

Black men were given the vote a half-century before women of any race
were allowed to mark a ballot, and generally have ascended to positions
of power, from the military to the boardroom, before any women (with
the possible exception of obedient family members in the latter).

Of course, it is important to note that we want to work towards equality for everyone, but for some reason women who are fighting for their own rights and the rights of others are greeted with more disdain than people fighting for equality among the races.

So why is the sex barrier not taken as seriously as the racial one? The
reasons are as pervasive as the air we breathe: because sexism is still
confused with nature as racism once was; because anything that affects
males is seen as more serious than anything that affects “only” the
female half of the human race; because children are still raised mostly
by women (to put it mildly) so men especially tend to feel they are
regressing to childhood when dealing with a powerful woman; because
racism stereotyped black men as more “masculine” for so long that some
white men find their presence to be masculinity-affirming (as long as
there aren’t too many of them); and because there is still no “right”
way to be a woman in public power without being considered a
you-know-what.

The most powerful statement in the article is the first sentence below:

But what worries me is that he  is seen as unifying by his race while she  is seen as divisive by her sex.

What
worries me is that she is accused of “playing the gender card” when
citing the old boys’ club, while he is seen as unifying by citing civil
rights confrontations.

Well, hopefully it will take less than a half-century to sort this one out.

It would be amazing if it happened… but maybe the world isn’t evolved enough yet. Good on Hillary for putting herself out there.

In life, many people (esp me ) have difficulty dealing with uncertainty. I find one of the challenges of entrepreneurship is the increased uncertainty… Will there be clients? Will current clients continue to be happy? Will the work come in at a steady stream or at all at once? The same goes for other parts of life, such as relationships.

One thing that has helped me is finding a way to be happy no matter what the outcome is. Basically, I go through the list of future options, and figure out what they could be… even ‘disaster’-type scenarios… and try to figure out a way where I could be happy. And, each and every time I can find it. Maybe you can try that too.