January 22, 2008 by Mel Weiss
There’s lots to comment upon this week—especially as the primaries start stacking up (McCain in South Carolina say what?!)—but in honor of the 35th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, January 22nd has been designated by NARAL Pro-Choice “blog for choice” day (there are other ways to commemorate as well). We’re all supposed to address the question of why it’s important to vote pro-choice. For this endeavor, I interviewed my roommate and feminist partner in crime, Molly. We’re definitely both loud and proud pro-choicers, but we bring different baggage to the table. (Come by some night when we discuss religion—it’s always a barn burner.)
The first thing I want to mention is, admittedly, slightly less academic and a little more personal—but the personal is the political, right? I really don’t like the way the anti-choice right has managed to change from a fringe coalition to a front and center movement. I resent it. And I resent that people—mostly women, but not only—are so used in the process. It’s profoundly unethical, I think, and it’s doubly wrong when put into the service of making the far anti-choice right palatable.
But I digress. Molly and I discussed our first initial reactions to the question, “Why is it important to vote choice?” Molly’s vote is an expression of her deep conviction that people in America have a pathologically fearful relationship with women’s agency. I vote pro-choice with the idea foremost in my mind that choice is yet another battlefield in the war to maintain the separation of church and state. Not that we don’t agree with each other—I feel very strongly that choice is a human right, and please see above barn-burner reference for a clue as to Molly feels about the Religious Right. But our answers were our gut reactions, and they ended up revealing more about us.
Molly’s answers, and her line of thinking, can be summed up in her well-honed phrase: “I don’t think women can be equal partners in society if we don’t have control over our bodies.” Extremely true. But as queer woman, I’m less worried about an accidental pregnancy. For me, there was the galvanizing experience of learning that Jewish law permits abortion. But even stronger than that, there’s an absolute love of the separation of church and state—I’ve been reading too much Jewish history not to feel that way. So while Molly—brilliantly, might I say—is dedicated to changing people’s minds about the topic of choice, I am more concerned with what’s on the big black books in Washington, D.C. She’s got the long view and I’ve got the short view. Neither one is wrong, and used in conjunction, they should work quite nicely for ensuring women’s right to choose.
So vote pro-choice. We say so.
–Mel Weiss with Molly Theobald
January 14, 2008 by Mel Weiss
Wow—has it ever been a week for women, politics and the media. It started with the unthinkable—Hillary Clinton showed emotion. (I’m not going to remark upon the blood-pressure-raising aspects of this being front-page news across the nation, because we’ve got a lot to get through, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t steaming up as it happened.) Hillary Clinton then won the New Hampshire primary. Whether those two events are related or not is not an issue within my limited understanding, but boy, did that upset some people. And I’m not talking about the usual suspects, either, misogynists and Republicans and conservative pundits like Chris Matthews. No, the most hurtful shit-slinging came from inside the ranks of liberal-leaning women. (Of course, the misogynists, Republicans and conservative pundits all had plenty to say as well. I just try not to listen too much.) She only won because women felt bad for her, women voted for Hillary to spite the horrendously unprofessional news coverage of her, women are stupid and vote out of female solidarity instead of any understanding of the issues—all theories treated as valid in the aftershocks of the news that there would be no Democratic coronation, and that maybe it’s not okay to trash powerful women for fun in front of female population of over 50%.
But certainly the news didn’t stop there. On the morning of the primary, Gloria Steinem wrote an Op-Ed piece for the New York Times. It’s too long to explain fully here, so go read it for yourselves, but the point I think (and hope) she really wanted to make was that, while racism and sexism are both huge problems in our society, it’s much more acceptable to be overtly sexist than overtly racist. I happen to agree that there’s tons of evidence to support this theory, but Steinem included a lot of information that was somewhat extraneous to that thesis, and it created some drag. A lot of drag, in fact. This time, I didn’t even bother to read the reactions of right-wing America—I was too busy following the Talmudic deconstruction of Steinem’s comments by fellow feminists. Sometimes measured and thoughtful, sometimes incredibly scrutinizing, I could feel these comments tugging at the sometimes tenuous connections between waves. The next generation of every movement needs to rebel, friends assured me, but I’ve always taken particular pride in how respectful the inter-generational feminist dialogue has appeared, at least to me. I was also very scared, in this age when bloggers end up on pundits’ shows, of watching this vivisection move from my computer screen to the television screen. I was afraid of a shande in front of the not-so-friendly neighbors.
But barely had the emails stopped whizzing about Gloria Steinem when they fired up anew. This time, two of my personal greatest loyalties were straining against one another, and the issue still is still hot. As reported by the JTA, the Forward and a few blogs, the American Jewish Congress had an ad rejected by Ms. Magazine. The ad was about Israel and featured three prominent Israeli politicians. Once the news hit the internet, the accusations started flying, and it makes me nervous. That being a good liberal and a good Jew leaves room for many different feelings about Israel—a complicated psychic space where nothing reduces well—is an argument I feel like I’ve been having for years and years, and to have feminists specifically drawn in—well, it makes me antsy.
The moral of this story is not that we, feminists, women, Jews, citizens, need to be a house completely united, to butcher Lincoln’s famous phrase. I believe in an America where we can disagree. But this is definitely an age when disagreements can become public—and thus ten times as nasty—in the time it takes to click a mouse. So unless we can disagree respectfully, and always work towards improving our ideas and ourselves instead of tearing each other down, I worry that we’ll leave ourselves open to attack from our real opponents—people who scream about socialized medicine and rapist immigrants and baby-killing abortionists. And fighting them off is work enough, no?
–Mel Weiss
January 7, 2008 by Mel Weiss
I had the amazing opportunity this weekend to spend my time with a group of friends. We declared ourselves officially off the clock. And what did
we do? We talked about elections. Three elections in particular, in fact: Pakistan, Kenya and Iowa. And it’s not like election fever is going to pass anytime soon.
Kenya’s current troubles take a bit of explaining, at least to me, since my political knowledge of that part of the world is a little weak. Fortunately, Laura, one of my merry band, is interested in focusing her work in international relationships on religious conflicts, and Africa is her area of expertise. Here’s what I gather: the current tensions
in Kenya—which has included the deaths of hundreds of people—were sparked by recent elections, which quite possibly were rigged, but really, the
turmoil is tribal. The election results, contested by the international community and many Kenyans, are above and beyond their political import,
conduits for the aggressions among Kenya’s many tribal groups.
The political turmoil in Pakistan following the assignation of former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto proceeded the upcoming election, in which Bhutto was to have been a candidate. Elections have been pushed back six weeks, and, while rather transparent attempts by General Musharraf to manipulate the upcoming vote come to light, voters are extremely tense.
And, of course, Obama and Huckabee. Huckabee and Obama. I resent that Iowa has so much power over the course of the election, but at least they
decided to make it a little more interesting for the rest of us.
Other than chew over these immensely interesting and varied elections, what I did this weekend is begin a book I’m both intrigued and intimidated
by: Judaism as a Civilization by Mordechai Kaplan, the guidebook to Reconstructionist Movement. I don’t know enough about the Reconstructionist movement, but as a lover of history, I’m loving this book. I am entirely struck by the notion of rebuilding Judaism as a holistic entity. And, while I’ve really only begun it, I look forward to a Jewish future where issues like, of, concerning and surrounding international elections is implicitly a Jewish thing to care about.
My weekend’s take-home lesson? Voting matters. Elections matter. And that the right to vote, not extended to all of our sisters, is a chance to really
participate in something. With that said, make sure you’re registered!
–Mel Weiss
December 24, 2007 by Mel Weiss
I’m prone to complaining about the world falling apart, um…most of the time. This has been brought to my attention, and in the spirit of the season, I thought I’d share something that I’m just thrilled about—and very thankful for: this year hasn’t seen the “War Against Christmas” crap of recent years. For this I am grateful simply because I might not have survived another season.
Of course, this isn’t to say that there isn’t plenty of ridiculous religion in politics this day. You have Mike Huckabee comparing homosexuality to necrophilia (don’t worry—his advisers have clarified that they’re not on the same side of the sin spectrum), Mitt Romney and the comparison that wouldn’t die to JFK (they both held the religious minority niche and addressed the conservative church faction about it—any vague similarities ends there, as Kennedy made a point to throw the separation of Church and State in the faces of the Southern Baptists he was addressing; Gov. Romney made a point to assure Evangelical leaders that his Mormonism wouldn’t get in the way of his evangelical enforcements), and Alan Keyes’ bizarre wig-out during the Iowa caucus debate (after yelling at the moderator, his answer for what we can do to fix education is to “put God back in the schools”).
I appreciate that the holidays, and the barrage of coming caucuses (cauci?), really brings out the loony in presidential candidates. I would hope that these sort of antics go further towards convincing everyone who’s not a Christian that these nuts are not your friends. Yes, the Democrats trot out their church credentials, too, and goodness knows I’m one of the biggest fan of religious liberals you’ll find in New York. I think it’s fair to say, though, that the Grand Old Party is no party for those of us who rock the mogen davids.
So thank you, candidates, conservatives and Michelle Malkin, for not accusing me of ruining your holiday with my insidious, deity-hating “Happy Holidays!” I wish you, um, a nice Tuedsay. If anyone out there is roaming Brooklyn looking for good Chinese food and a cool movie on Christmas, give me a call—I’m on it.
And last, I can think of many people who probably appreciate seeing this sort of honesty in the NYTimes. (Unless you’re part of the demographic doomsdayers.) Enjoy!
–Mel Weiss
December 17, 2007 by Mel Weiss
Look, I love a brilliant analysis as much as the next person, and probably more. But I watched some of the Iowa caucus debates (ugh) and what impressed me the most—far more than anything any of the candidates had to say—was the way the moderator, Carolyn Washburn, editor of The Des Moines Register, handled herself. She took zero crap from the grandstanding candidates, was not intimidated by some of the scarier antics and asked hard-hitting questions. It made me remember how important the media can be in politics—and how much good work it can do, in general, when it tries. So in that spirit of straightforward factuality—and shamelessly stolen in structure from Harper’s–some numbers, for your pleasure. Just facts ’n’ figures you might find interesting. I sure did.
10–Number of percentage points by which Rudy Giuliani promises to cut government spending across the board—non-military, only, of course. (Asked in the Iowa caucus debates what sort of sacrifices this might entail for ordinary Americans, our man Rudy replied, “Well, it would require them trying to figure out another way to do it. You know, not having the government do it for them.” Please do your part to ease the national debt by reminding your grandma that she’d better go out and earn those diabetes meds, damn it. The government’s not doing it for her anymore.)
2/7— fraction of President Bush’s vetoes spent denying children healthcare, in shooting down the revised S-CHIP two times. (When you consider that Harding was the last President to clock in with under ten vetoes, that somehow seems even more impressive.)
13—Number of government programs dedicated to preventing teen pregnancy (this information comes courtesy of Mitt Romney’s talking points and has not been independently verified by a non-waffling source)
3—percentage by which teen pregnancy has gone up between 2005 and 2006 (following a proceeding 34-point drop from 1991)
170 million—number of dollars spent on abstinence-only education by the US federal government in 2005 (bonus number: over 80% of the abstinence-only curricula, used by over two-thirds of Special Projects grantees in 2003, contain false, misleading, or distorted information about reproductive health.)
68—percentage of Americans under 65 who had private health insurance in 2005
30–number of seconds it takes someone in America to file for bankruptcy in the aftermath of a serious health problem.
900 billion—number of dollars estimated to be held by China (If China decided to flood the market with dollars, our economy would take a pretty serious hit. Also, aren’t they supposed to be Communist or something?)
3—number of overall reviews that the President and NATO have ordered on the Afghan mission. (It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just…now? And because we don’t have a plan past 2008, don’t know how to keep the Taliban from resuming its strong hold and have no troops readily available? I think we can file this under “too little, too late,” don’t you?)
56—approximate percentage of eligible voters who clocked in for the 2004 presidential election. (Are you registered? Do you know where your polling site is? When your state’s primaries are held?)
6—the number of major corporations controlling over 90% of mass media in 2000 (according to journalist Ben Bagdikian—although this number has since fallen).
Support independent media—it’s absolutely vital. Find the facts—and fight them. The numbers are right there.
–Mel Weiss
December 10, 2007 by Mel Weiss
Hanukkah is, of course, the holiday of light, blah blah blah, we all know the story of the miracle of the oil. Except that I’m in a class on ancient texts and history, and having read the pseudepigraphal Maccabbean texts, it appears that the whole story is a little less rosy than I was taught in elementary Hebrew school—a lot of petty political squabbling, and later Jew-on-Jew violence, and other things that sort of muddy the political waters. Likewise, I have a friend studying American history, and he keeps pointing me to texts about the lead-up to the Civil War. Apparently, that conflict was similarly more complicated than slavery vs. freedom. And so on.
All of this has got me thinking about the validity and usefulness of political myths. Oh, I know they’re largely unavoidable, and that the process of propagandizing is how much of history has been relayed to us as a general public. But that doesn’t make it right, especially not in an era when news is nearly instantaneous and comes to us through various media, everywhere we go.
So what do we do with messy politics? What do we do with issues that cannot easily be reduced to the size and depth of a bumper sticker? And how on earth do we convince people that sound-bite politics just isn’t enough? The very honest and frankly difficult answer is: I don’t know. And it troubles me—deeply. Because the very issues that are often the least reducible—the Israel-Palestine conflict, abortion—are generally the ones I feel strongest about. And that other people feel strongly about, too. Strongly enough to kill and be killed, which makes dialogue pretty difficult. Insisting that everyone read Howard Sachar or Betty Friedan is not necessarily the most rational approach.
And, worse, these founding myths can help inspire great things. The first grader who finds inspiration to fight for freedom from, actually, either of the stories I mentioned has been done a great service through perhaps less than honest means. And maybe it’s legitimate to introduce these lesser truths—the facts behind the inspiring stories—in stages, so the larger message might make it across untainted. Problems arise when we lose people’s attention, or they finish school, or they’re less convinced by the difficult parts. Humans are messy, complicated, multi-faceted and capable of enormous depths of conviction. This makes any interaction about history or politics deeply fraught, and I’m endlessly grateful to those people who help teach me that there’s usually another layer.
So I’ve kindled the menorah every night this Hanukkah, and taught a few people about the holiday. And I haven’t done it because I had particular feelings about the politics of the Temple priesthood during the Maccabbean era, but because fighting for the right to religious self-expression is something that brings more light into the world. But it doesn’t make anything any simpler.
–Mel Weiss
December 3, 2007 by Mel Weiss
I know, I know—I should be blogging about Annapolis, and the recent hubbub throughout the entire Jewish community about what happened there, if anything happened there, if what happened there matters at all, what Abbas promised or didn’t promise, whether Ehud Olmert should be replaced with Netanyahu, and so on. It all demands some incisive prose, I know. But frankly, I just can’t right now. I’ve spent probably an hour a day deleting emails on these topics from my various inboxes every day, so I know that there’s plenty of information out there if you want to go looking (unless, of course, you’re having an allergic reaction to the deluge of urgent subject lines yourself). I want to spend just a few minutes on some insanity a bit closer to home—my home, anyway.
The CNN/Youtube Republican debate was this past week, and in the name of public duty and my desire to craft the best anecdotes, I watched the whole thing—all thirty-four questions and subsequent evasions. It was brilliant. I mean that. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before—and we’re talking about television on the internet here, folks. I’m a big Youtube fan, and I’ve seen some wacky stuff, but this really deserves just a few words, so here we go:
Maybe my favorite moment came almost immediately: asked about illegal immigration, my man Rudy Giuliani and Mitt Romney went for each other’s throats. No, that’s too dignified. Better is the comparison made by my roommate, who, hand over her mouth in horror, asked if, when they were done pulling each other’s hair, would they throw sand at one another? These men want to be President of the United States! Not that dignity necessarily goes with the job, but come on! (The argument in question managed to devolve from the policy implications of providing “sanctuary cities” for undocumented immigrants to whether Mitt Romney hired “illegals” to mow his lawn, to who had the worse “holier than thou” attitude vis-à-vis being tough on immigration.)
But, honestly, such theatrics are perhaps simply the inevitable product of political theater. Embarrassment aside (and for a real fun game, just picture Rudy G at a G-8 summit), I was a little horrified at how the questions asked of the Republicans seemed to reflect what I had assumed were my own biased assumptions about the Republican constituency. Most of the questioners were white and male (more than twenty out of thirty-four is a pretty high percentage). Three separate questions about guns (with the usual perversion of the second amendment.) Two questions about candidates and religion. (And while I thought it was fun to watch Mike Huckabee squirm when asked what Jesus would do in regard to the death penalty, it’s a little creepy to know that we should care what Jesus said. That’s perversion of another amendment.) A question from a retired gay brigadier general that got an outright rude and disrespectful response from Duncan Hunter. A well-put query from a black youth in Atlanta about black-on-black crime that was met with a convoluted ramble from Mitt Romney about promoting marriage. A question about the penalty for abortion, should it become illegal, that as ever, assumed the woman in the question has no agency and no decision-making capacity.
I guess my point here is that it’s easy, as a liberal, to be offended by political discourse in America. (Consider me a great example of this.) It’s a bit more over the top, I think, to be offended by a mainstream event—specifically broadcast to me via a media source my generation depends upon—as not just a liberal, but a Jew, a queer person, a woman, and as someone who wishes Rudy Giuliani would stop talking about Mayor Koch. That’s impressive. To summarize: as Gov. Huckabee put it, Jesus was too smart to ever run for public office. As we all know, Jesus was a liberal. You do the math.
–Mel Weiss
November 26, 2007 by Mel Weiss
Sometimes, you see things that smack you in the face so hard you can’t even say anything for a while. The recent Saudi case revolving around the gang rape of a nineteen-year-old girl, for example. The girl was sentenced to 200 lashes. (She had violated Saudi gender-segregation laws.) Yeah. Saudi women are protesting, but the ruling has to be overturned.
One thing that caught my attention about the reportage of the protests was the emphasis Saudi activists (and normal people everywhere) placed on the real distance that this insanity is from the Islam they know and embrace. I’m a huge fan of the religious-minded and center-to-left-leaning combination. (Of course, this can easily slide into the insincere and creepy, but that’s politics.) And center-to-left practicing Muslims don’t have the political muscle they need, yet, which makes it feel even more important to notice, encourage and really appreciate public protests like these.
So when I read Katha Pollitt’s amazing column in a recent issue of The Nation, I was a little disappointed that she didn’t mention Irshad Manji. (Read the column, though! It’s a rare columnist who can really reassess a very critical and deeply-entrenched part of her M.O.—in Katha’s case, her adamant secularism—and admit that it’s not always the best way to get things done. She’s awesome.) In the interest of full disclose, I first heard about Irshad Manji reading Lilith. But then Jewish feminism has one hundred percent been my door into both the theories of religious lefty-ism and the middle of people who continue to create it. And although I know I can (and often do) ramble on endlessly about the separation of church/synagogue/mosque/etc and state, at this moment, I think there’s nothing more powerful than religious women of all affiliations standing together to say, “We love and respect religiousness. But this is bullshit.”
Even though my government other governments that do, and other fun things.
Oh, and a quick request: I have been sourcing the internet for local protests to go to, even online petitions to sign. I’ve got nothing, which is kind of terrifying. Where is everyone on this? Have we all–feminist organizations included–so thoroughly given up on Muslim-extremist governments? If anyone knows of protests or petitions, please leave the information below. I’ll be updating as I find things, or get fed up and create one.
–Mel Weiss
November 19, 2007 by Mel Weiss
According to a recent article from the AP, Democrats place the final cost of these wars (in Iraq and Afghanistan) at $1.6 trillion—roughly twice what the White House has requested thus far. This is upsetting and of itself, but while mulling it over, I found a copy of a new book, The Victory Gardens of Brooklyn, in the Lilith offices. The book itself is a novel, but it reminded me how much I’ve always loved the story of Brooklyn’s victory gardens—palpable reminders that during World War II, civilians were actively engaged in the war, doing all they could. But what role do ordinary Americans play in our current wars, other than bear the brunt of the debt we’ll be saddled with? Sure, federal funds are being cut for everything from education to environmental protection to the arts, but citizens don’t have a chance to feel that they can sacrifice for the war effort. CNN has referred to the Iraq war as “The Forgotten War”, a term formally reserved for the Korean police action. Not to sound alarmist, but where is our participation in this war? Where are our civilian sacrifices? Our ways of contributing that don’t involve putting yellow ribbons on our gas-guzzling SUVs? And for the love of all that is holy, where are our oil rations?!
It’s enough to get a girl pretty down. But then I found something that cheered me up: Sarah Chayes has an article in the current issue of the Atlantic Monthly. Now, I have to confess that I adore Sarah Chayes. I was totally hooked on her New York Times blog, which ran in the summer of ’06, and when I heard her speak at a book signing, I was blown away. She speaks with the calm, matter-of-fact straightforwardness that befits a former reporter, and she manages to sound entirely knowledgeable without sounding terribly bleak—frankly, an accomplishment. This current article is no exception. Chayes delights in breaking down for her readers the insane bureaucracies she’s dealt with (almost entirely American) since quitting her reporting job for NPR to form several collectives in Afghanistan, most recently and importantly Arghand, a soap-making collective. That’s right. Sarah Chayes, grasping that Afghani fruit is the most vital local economic product, and that fruit is not easy to transport or keep fresh, knowing that if the Afghani economy is not fostered, people will logically return to Taliban-run poppy fields, did what anyone would do: she started making soap. And she started doing it with locally, with local labor (men and women, in a particularly bold move) and local crops in combination with a global economy and globalized digital means of communication. The results include jobs, legal and politically unaffiliated, stability and hope. Not bad, for soap.
Sarah Chayes is a brilliant role model for those of us who are prepared to change our lives this way—which nearly no one is. And she knows this. And she writes about this. And she doesn’t judge anyone. But her message is clear, if only through her deeds: becoming involved in healing the world—the most essential tikkun olam—is vital. We have to engage. And if you’re looking for a way to start, she’s got a wish list for you. Because it’s not just $1.6 trillion we’re looking at—it’s day to day life for an unbelievable number of people all over the world. Accountability is not really big in Washington right now, and nobody’s going to force Americans to contribute to this war that we are still involved in. So we’ve got to force ourselves. I wish you luck.
–Mel Weiss
November 12, 2007 by Mel Weiss
I have an embarrassing confession: I didn’t vote this past Tuesday. There wasn’t anything major on my local ballot, but I realized I’m still registered at an old address, and it didn’t happen. No major harm done, but I’m a little mortified. To perhaps assuage this, and to motivate me to send in my new address form, a short and incomplete history of my personal identity politics and suffrage:
The first independent political entity to give women the right to vote was, believe it or not, New Zealand, clocking in first in 1893 and thus beating the United States by twenty-seven years. That’s right, although it strikes me as unbelievable: the United States passed the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920. (By the way, those voting rights are not necessarily commensurate with other equal rights under the law. ERA what now?) There are still countries in the world where women are not allowed to vote, such as Brunei and Saudi Arabia.
One of the most phenomenal aspects of the Constitution of the Unites States was the guaranteed right to vote for religious minorities,
although, of course, the same would not apply for non-white racial minorities, like Jews. (It took the Reform Act of 1867 to extend voting privileges to a similar population in England.)
On any sort of reasonable election guide, you won’t find Burma/Myanmar listed—the junta doesn’t hold any elections. You will find Thailand, whose military coup was much more recent and bloodless. You’ll also find nations like Zimbabwe and Russia, where elections are, if not locally, at least casually known internationally as a massive joke and general waste of paper. A little digging will let you know that election-related stampedes have killed 51 in Yemen in recent years, and 22 women in India. Women have been killed in Afghanistan for registering themselves and others to vote. It is still
a right for which people regularly die.
And, of course, recent events teach us not to take our rights here too much for granted.
In honor of Veterans’ Day, in honor of those who have fought and died for the freedoms we all—myself most definitely included—so often fail to stop and cherish, register to vote, and make sure your friends and family register, too. There’s nothing more powerful in the world.
–Mel Weiss