spring is no time to compute

Sorry blog, it's finally possible to be outside barefoot, and there's no way I'm spending any time at all indoors, or even on the porch, looking at a computer. Weeding needs to happen, seeds need to be planted, every plant and bird needs to be visited and admired, walks need to be taken, the sun requires worship. I've moved kitchen tasks outdoors. If I could go to the bathroom without offending my neighbors, I'd do that outside, too.

Things will happen here on ye olde abovegroundpool someday when there's a chill in the air, or rain forces me inside. Until then....Plant markers blatantly lifted from Heavy Petal. And I think she meant "radishes." But whatev—it's spring!

scruples

(and a merit badge for community building)

I'd intended a while back to give Lagusta an abovegroundpool merit badge for being a sharp, funny, kickass, feminist, vegan, local chef extraordinaire, and sharing that experience with the rest of us. But hadn't gotten around to it.

I've been distracted from writing the entry by the fact that my friend is being beaten up, and from figuring out steps to take to prevent things from escalating. I don't want her to be murdered, I don't want her to continue suffering through beatings, and I don't want this guy to hurt anyone else. What I've learned talking to the lovely people at domestic hotlines is that I can't be the one to end it.

Years ago I had a horrible weekend with friends in CT. The whole setting was confusing to me. I was both attracted to and repulsed by the plush lifestyle I was experiencing, where it was okay (and even encouraged) for a pack of adult friends to raid the house, eat and drink and use everything in it, do nothing more important than play badminton and swim in the private lake, and run the well dry. I was meeting one of my friends' little sister for the first time. This fourteen year old girl (again rich, not underprivileged) lived on a diet of morning-after pills, wore pants that were so tight and low that her pubic hair always showed (the tiny bit that hadn't been shaved), and had no interest at all in engaging with any of the [queer] women or gay boys assembled. She only wanted to talk to [straight] boys that were attracted to her and she kept inviting over, but didn't even seem interested in them. I didn't learn much about why she was dour and self-destructive, but it really set a vibe for the weekend. I remember this was the first time I ever saw an episode of Sex in the City, and in this setting, sitting next to this poor girl, who, by the way, I didn't like, but did empathize with, was completely unable to find any humor in the show. I'm sooo not anti-sex, nor anti clothing that someone thinks they might look sexy in. I don't pretend kids aren't sexual. But it messed me up to see this kid so bitter about [clearly unsatisfying] sex already, so defined by it. She isn't alone, of course, but meeting her set the stage for the rest of the weekend.

Toward the end, we played the game Scruples. Round after round, I learned things I wished I'd never had about these people I thought were smart, I thought I liked. The guy I knew best of this crowd ended the game by admitting he hadn't intervened, or called anyone else to intervene, when he once overheard a woman being brutally attacked. After a futile argument that bewildered me, (It wouldn't change anything. I didn't even know her.) I had to leave. It's very possible that screaming woman was raped, beaten, or killed. I've never hung out with any of these people ever again.

Intervening, calling the cops, getting help quick, somehow, is the right thing to do in an emergency like the one my "friend" didn't respond to. From a domestic violence hotline I learned that when physical or sexual abuse is happening (to an adult), and it is not an immediate emergency, it is dangerous to call for intervention unless the victim is on board. If the victim is still seeing the perp, letting the perp into her* space, and he's* angered about being reported, he'll often hurt her worse than usual, or kill her. They recommend that, until she's ready to end the situation, to 1) Set up a code for emergencies; and 2) Keep a journal of incidents with times, dates, and details of the attacks, ideally with pictures of the visible injuries. Because of course the bulk of the injuries aren't visible.

I also recently read about pets in domestic violence situations. Like the people who stayed in their homes with their animals to try and weather Hurricane Katrina, people who are being abused often don't want to leave their animals behind, delaying getting help, most for months. Indeed, those animals often suffer at the hands of the same perps. There are some experimental domestic violence shelters that offer animals shelter as well. The animals have proven to be of great comfort to the women in the shelter where interviews took place. We all know the statistics showing that animal abusers often turn out to be abusive toward other people, too. Now we see that fear of animal abuse (like child abuse) often stops people from getting themselves out of dangerous situations.

And what does this have to do with a New Paltz blogger?

Well, I recently read her writing about the murder of a friend of hers, and that is part of what galvanized me to seek out professional help in dealing with my friend who is suffering. It's important, and also not the first time that Lagusta's writing has been inspiring to me. From discussions of how and why to make your own tempeh to making a bicycle-driven clothes washer, and this morning's reflection on the middle class environmentalist's failings when it comes to development discussions. It is really nice to know there's someone sane and passionate and articulate in the hood, sharing her experiences and thoughts in hopes of making her community/ies stronger.

I'm grateful for her generosity, her anger, her irreverence, and all the times I've cracked up reading her blog. Cuz we all really need that. (Oh yeah, she runs a vegan home meal delivery service and a vegan truffle business. But it's her writing I'm into at the moment.) So the repurposed "My Community" merit badge goes to Lagusta and her blog, Resistance is Fertile. Thanks for bringing your vegan eco feminist chef fury to the Hudson Valley and to the web!

*Obviously, these pronouns are interchangeable. Men hurt men and boys and girls, women hurt other women and girls and boys and men, trannies get hurt by men and women, etc., etc.

my economic downturn

I taught art classes for years, and the struggle students are up against always seems the same: they've been told how to see, so can't see on their own. Because it's how I am, I got myself all up in arms (over and over) about how kids aren't taught to think, just to memorize facts, including some untrue. (Right, who are your historical "facts" coming from anyway?) I've talked for years (ok, maybe now decades) about teaching critical thinking to young kids, maybe second graders, so that these poor things wouldn't get to college and still not have a clue how to think about something for themselves. Too bad I only talked for decades, and have never taught critical thinking skills to anyone.

I'm moving on. My new obsession is home economics. When I was in high school, a home ec class was offered, but no self respecting feminist girl took it, and a couple of boys took it as a joke. (I fought against taking typing, too, computers not being on the scene yet, and not wanting to grow up to be somebody's secretary. That's a separate but related story, where my first jobs were as a secretary. ) Those couple of boys taking home ec didn't learn anything. Sure, they carried their egg around, in theory learning to parent. But they didn't learn about say, contraception, at my Catholic school. They didn't learn how to cook or sew or can or plumb or use tools or grow a garden. And they sure as hell didn't learn anything about money.

I'm on this rant because the student loan monsters are after me. I owe them more than $50,000 for an advanced degree in studio art. I borrowed enough money to buy a house in order to spend two years in the armpit of New Jersey learning zero practical skills and zero technical skills; having most creative impulses beaten out of me by relentless critique and theory; seeing the nasty underside of the New York art who-knows-who business (let's call it what it is); making a few friends; and spending nearly every waking minute a) teaching, b) producing artwork that wasn't as interesting or nuanced as what I'd made in undergrad school, and c) discussing with my shrink whether anti-depressants were really necessary.

The anti-depressants WERE necessary, even with the awfulness that getting off them brought. All that was with zero understanding of the impact of borrowing tens of thousands of dollars.

I now understand why taking money seriously is important, even when you hate the stuff. If there are any young people out there who read this blog, pay attention:

1. DO NOT BORROW MONEY FOR SCHOOL UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Yes, you want to get away from home. Yes, you've been told you'll be a flunky if you don't go straight to college. Yes, I'm sure you have visions of the fabulous career you'll have, and the multitudes of debts you'll be able to afford. Unless you're 100% positive things will turn out as you plan, it doesn't make sense to borrow money, even if you're studying to become a doctor or lawyer. Take my friend who was at the top of his law school class, and writes poetry instead of practicing law. He learned he just couldn't stand the game of law in this country. Look at all those doctors who leave fancy practices behind to help those living in poverty and suffering from AIDS or dengue, because they realized facelifts weren't why they got into medicine. These doctors can't afford their student loan payments, I promise you.
   
   There are scholarships available. Public schools have some brilliant teachers in them—find those teachers and stick to them. Community colleges aren't bad. If you must go to an out of state school, live there for a year first and get residency in the state. Ivy league means nothing, unless you're a fancy pants rich person who can afford to pay, and you live in the fancy pants world where such things as where one got their education matters. Find a way to pay for school, or better yet, move to a country where they believe in educating their citizens and have free schools.
   
   You won't be a loser if you don't go to college straight out of high school, or (gasp!), even if you don't go to college at all.
   
   
2. PAYING RENT SUCKS. If you do go to school, you plan to be there for several years. Why not get together with a few friends you trust and buy a ramshackle cottage? Sell it or rent it to other students in a few years. Four years + of rent is not a small amount of money. Add it up!
   
   
3. DON'T GET CREDIT CARDS. They're pure evil. Better to go hungry or ask a friend for help than charge your groceries.
   
   
4. START A BUSINESS. It doesn't matter what it is. Make and sell t-shirts, sell crafts, distribute food at a farmer's market. Be a bicycle delivery service. It really doesn't matter, but picking something you enjoy is helpful. The point of this is for some cash, made solely by you and not by working for the man at the corner fast food joint. It'll help make you believe in yourself. It'll teach you some basic skills about self-management, force you to learn about communication and dealing with money.

This is a weird topic for an activist space, for sure, but here's the thing: money and debt change lives. I thought I'd share instead of ranting to those for whom it's too late to make a difference. I'm just now learning to to take care of a home, to make due when money is tight. My hands shake when I get into the nitty gritty of starting my own business or organization. These things are like languages, so much harder to learn later on. Especially under the looming weight of student loans.

tool talk - p style

I guess transmen know all about this, but I didn't know. There are tools that allow women to urinate standing up without depantsing and without making a mess. They are useful if, well, you want to use a urinal, or a filthy toilet without getting close to it. Or in situations where you're not comfortable or safe taking down your pants and squatting. Or if you physically can't take down your pants and squat.

People mention liking them for car trips and outdoorsy times. I can think of quite a few situations it could prove useful. And I can now officially attest to the easy use of the P Style, which is available at my local feminist bookstore, and maybe yours too. (There's also the WhizBiz from Australia, which looks like a long funnel, if you're more into that.)

If I post a picture of "abovegroundpool" written in the snow, you'll know what happened.

transparency

a note on money:

since some of you have asked, here's the scoop on abovegroundpool and money. doing all the paperwork to become a formal 501c3 is time consuming and expensive. so agp is set up as a business. we're hoping to give uncle sam less (or no) money this year by showing losses in the business. not proper tax resistors yet, but it's something.

and yes, agp is selling some stuff on etsy. that's mostly to raise money for good causes (right now for catskill animal sanctuary, in honor of world farm animals day). but also because a business isn't legit unless they've got some receipts.

don't worry, nobody's making any money off this free archive: take the stuff and run with it!