{& more personally, etc.}

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There is something quite wrong with a January in which the trees downtown are in bloom. Everywhere else is fifty feet of snow, and we have… what? Decided to abdicate Winter for Spring?

Dear California, get with the program. It is winter. Please act accordingly. We are beginning to envy Glasgow…

There’s a certain lack of glee in being able to read the seed catalogues on the porch and not whilst shivering and bemoaning the puddles. It almost looks like I could just step out and start pitchforking up the soil… but I just keep my fingers crossed and pray for precipitation. Sure, sure, California dreamin’ on such a winter’s day, blah, blah, blah, but I am getting allergies already, which is just horrible. I’m not ready for this! I need some rain, first…


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Thanks to all who asked about my sister – she’s had an incredibly good experience so far – to the extent that they’re thinking of kicking her out early! If you know anything about organ transplants – and I didn’t before last week, really – the whole thing is kind of a trip. They call you, if you have a cadaver donor, and tell you to get to the hospital, pronto. When you have a family member on the donor list, they have the phone numbers of the entire family – house, cell, and on down. They called my mother at a quarter to eleven on the house phone, it went to voice mail, and she ended up dumping her purse on the floor to find her cell, because she was listening to the message whilst trying to struggle upright. (These are the things one does when one is nine-tenths asleep.) Nobody could sleep after that. They raced to the hospital at 5 a.m…. and proceeded to not get prepped for surgery until 9 p.m.! Of course, the medical team wasn’t twiddling their thumbs all day, as they do one final test to assure that the donor is a match – but she basically watched movies all day while my mother (who never did get back to sleep) dozed. By midnight, she was in surgery, and by 3 a.m., it was a done deal.

Further details, in case you were wondering: it’s typical to leave failed organs in a body during a transplant, so that there’s less chance of rejection. I didn’t know that! So, now my sister has three kidneys. We have started calling her Tripod and 3PO, because we are tasteless and awful like that. She has promised to clobber us all upside the heads as soon as her side doesn’t hurt so much. It’s incentive to get well, I say.

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The real trial is the enforced isolation. She’ll not be returning to school until… April. Or church. Or any public place like a post office, a grocery store, God forbid the mall. No bowling, either. Humanity is a germ factory, and to prevent rejection and infection and all sorts of other -tions, she has to be protected. All guests to my parent’s home have to use the big bottle of Purell by the front door, and if they even have a sniffle, wear a mask or stay home. My sister joked she’d require them to walk through the car wash at the gas station off the freeway, which is only the slightest exaggeration.

And, did you know that people who are transplant recipients are at higher risk for — well, everything? All those immunosuppressants they give patients so the organ doesn’t reject mean that the immune system goes on vacation. If you sit in an airplane or a movie theater with the rest of germy humanity, you’re likely to be plagued with viral, bacterial and yeast infections, including shingles and herpes. You might just die of it. Thank God for movies on laptops, eh? Further, some people experience elevated blood pressure as a result of transplant, and still others become diabetic — all because of the transplant and transplant drugs.

And the darned thing still might decide to wither and die inside the patient, because the body finds a way to attack it and kill it.

o_0

And yet, it’s worth it. I talked to my sister on Google’s chat thingy and she was chirpy and funny and snarky, and I realized I haven’t seen her like that in about a year and a half. She had lost so much of her spark in a gradual erosion that I hadn’t recognized how much of her had slipped away. She’d become fretful and sickly and sarcastic instead of energetic and witty. How could I have forgotten who she is? That’s the horror of long-term illness for you, though – it takes you \away from yourself, and turns you into the Endurance Version of you, and sometimes we just don’t endure well, especially when we’re teens.

So, it’s not over – it’s just beginning, but at least there’s something to begin with, something to go on. The seed of health has been sown — all we need to wait on is the rain and the sun, the natural processes to bring everything back in balance.

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Here’s to the rain.

THE WORD: {in which we discuss “privilege”}

Welcome to my brain, where I’m just gonna blog about A Thing I’ve been cogitating. It should have been The Weekend Word, but it’s Wednesday, so what the hell. It’s been that kind of day.


I don’t actually want to embed this video into my blog, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I don’t believe this one needs more air time. If you don’t want to click through, it’s footage from the Sugar Bowl, a college football game scheduled, oh, sometime over the holidays – all the Bowls start happening around Thanksgiving thru New Years, or something. Note my vagueness: football isn’t the point of this post. Actually, the woman in the video, shown drunk and violently aggressive toward the college students in a row ahead of her, isn’t actually the point, either. I’m simply using her as an example today.

On ‘teh interwebs’ we throw around a lot of sociology terms, and sometimes — well, we miss. If you didn’t take and utterly ADORE Intro to Sociology or Psych 101, Classical Social Theory, and memorize all the definitions, here’s the short version of today’s topic: IDENTITY PRIVILEGE: Any unearned benefit or advantage one receives in society by nature of their identity. Examples of aspects of identity that can afford privilege: Race, Ethnicity, Gender Identity, Sexual Orientation, Class/Wealth, Religion, Ability, or Citizenship Status.

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It is hard to write about privilege. It is harder, still, to talk about it, because, oy, the guilt. And the discomfort. And defensiveness, which shuts down communication.

Yet, we talk, talk, talk, talk, talk about diversity, about how, especially in YA lit, authors of color should be encouraged, should be producing, booksellers and teachers and librarians should be sharing those books — but, there’s clearly a chorus just mouthing along with the refrain. Because some things – and some people – haven’t begun to change, it’s apparent that some folks still don’t know what it is we’re talking about.

Let’s go back to our example. The aggressor in this video is petite bodied, and Caucasian. As a ticket-holder at a Bowl game, we can also say she is likely upper middle class, or at least as comfortably well-off as one must be to attend a Bowl game with herself and her spouse and her children, a sixteen-year-old son, and two younger children, as well as buy herself a “couple of drinks.” (Forbes reveals that tickets were an average price of $380, more expensive this year than they’ve been in the last five years.) If we’re looking at the privilege groups of this person, they’re easy to find – very easy.

I made Tech Boy watch this video with me, and he found an angle that I had missed, as she is privileged by being female. From her gestures and actions and the way she pulled herself along the railing, the woman was not in full charge of her faculties. She kicked the crap out of people, scratched and clawed women and men, and NO ONE HIT HER BACK. No one. She was restrained. She was blocked. She was shouted at and insulted, and, by her poor husband heaven help him, dragged off the injured parties. But at no time did anyone send off a kick to her face or pop her in the jaw so security could cart her away. When she cupped that one boy’s face and sneered at him, he did not take any action except to remove her hand — without breaking her elbow, as we’re taught in self-defense. And — this is important — she didn’t appear to expect him to do so.

Now, I’m going to back that up: she’s drunk. Despite her insisting that she had only had “a couple” of drinks, she’s drunk, and thus we cannot reasonably make assumptions regarding her expectations at all. People drink at games, and in consequence we cannot say that the guys she’s assaulting haven’t had drinks, either, despite some of them appearing underage. And yet, they don’t hit her. They laugh – some nervously, some derisively – but there are clear expressions of discomfort and dismay when she launches herself. The shouts from the crowd include screams of “Stop!” The college guys do not seem to have a “Response To Drunk Aggressive Woman” in their box of Life Response Cards just yet — and Tech Boy admitted himself he would have attempted avoidance and flight before doing anything to her, regardless of her crazymad punching. But, the fact that the woman never ducked, took the part of the aggressor and found it acceptable behavior for her to flip off strangers before swan diving into a row of them and smacking them around seems to hint at a habit of mind that includes privileged thinking.

Privilege is the unearned benefit or advantage one receives in society by nature of their identity. If she were male, they would have beat the crap out of her. If she was, say, twelve, or even seventy, it would have gone a whole different way. Were she a person of another sexual orientation, nationality, or ethnic identity would have been uglier than it was. A petite, middle-aged mother beating someone down? Is treated as a joke. A heavy-set, middle aged man? Maybe a person of color? Egads, not so much. There would have been blood.

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Wondering what this has to do with life as a writer?

First of all, there is blatant privilege in YA lit. Sexism, oh, yeah. And racism. You will encounter this as a writer. You should think about it before it happens.

Second is a bit more pedestrian of a point: people writing the Other really struggle with the fear of writing badly, because of identity privilege. Whether you’re Caucasian, and trying to write a person of color, a woman, and trying to write a man, straight, and trying to write someone queer, petite bodied, trying to convey the experiences of someone large bodied, deaf, and trying to write someone hearing — many are the ways that you can get it wrong. Despite Stephen Colbert’s satire on colorblindness, we know the truth: Difference makes a difference. The school of thought that says “we’re all just basically average,” and that we have a “level playing field” refuses to take into account systemic nature of oppression – entire countries, school systems, and workplaces set up to enforce a status quo. YOU, are privileged. I am, too. Everyone is privileged, to varying extents, in various ways, whether that privilege is wanted or recognized.

So, what’s a writer to do about it?

It’s important to decide what identities are most central to who you are as a person, and as a writer, and examine them — and then examine the others which you didn’t realize you had. Once you’ve understood that all social groups have valuable qualities and that social group membership does not determine one’s inherent goodness or worth, you’ll be able to see those groups in your characters, and it will deepen and enrich your writing. You’ll be able to more organically observe differences and privilege in the real world, and it will translate into you being able to effectively write real characters with real differences, and differentiate them as individuals and actual human beings, not a generic Other. This will make it harder to write cliché, and your writing can only benefit from that.

Heck, your life can only benefit from that.

Thanks for thinking with me.


(Hat tip to Sorrywatch, click over if you’d like to hear birdsong or pick apart her sorry-not-sorry apology.)