Every summer gyms use “Bikini Season” also known as “summer” to people who don’t live by the water, as a marketing ploy to register new members. Shape magazine features articles on getting a bikini-body and which shape suit suits you.
As I sit writing at a café in a small residential town in LA, a mother and her young daughter, no older than 7, walk by and a woman turns around at them, yells
“You’re fat,”
Pause.
Slowly enunciating as she aggressively continues,
“You’re a fat cow.”
The mother just stares at the woman. She checks her daughters face for a reaction. I must editorially mention that neither the mother nor the daughter is fat, not even close. The woman who accosted them was clearly suffering from some kind of (and I’m no medical expert) psychological or control issues, it was definitely more than just being mean, or bitter
Along side the shock two questions come to mind.
1. Apart from obvious health reasons, why is being called fat such a heartbreaking insult? 2. What kind of messages do we send to our children when teaching moments like these arise? As it is bikini season, after all.
I didn’t hear what the mother ended up saying to her daughter, she stayed calm, seemed taken aback to be honest, but she knew it was a crucial moment. You cannot smooth over a comment like that with a generic “She’s crazy, you’re not fat”, which is merely more putting people down for no reason, especially when the mother was probably hearing the worlds aimed at herself, and her societally accrued self-doubt and confidence issues.
If she replies, “No your not”, it can come off that she thinks fat equals bad and you don’t want to be this negative thing. There are levels of fat, of health and of consciousness, of course, but I am not referring to the health implications of obesity. I am talking about what if feels like to be marginalized and treated badly based on physical appearance. This links directly with why 8-year-old American girls are already talking about dieting. Worst-case scenario, this is when body consciousness turns into eating disorders, self-deprecating behaviors and low self-esteem.
Most importantly, how do I, as someone who has always been chubby, but also always been an athlete, and never had a balanced healthy relationship with food, try to teach healthy behaviors and associations towards food to my children, so when bikini season comes around each year, they can just put on their suits and hit the beach or pool without hesitation?
To be health conscious, but not obsessed, enjoy food, but realize its fuel and not filling voids or other unsatisfying parts of life. We cannot expect our parents to be perfect, but nor do we want all their baggage and issues stock piled in our lives as young people.
One answer seen most recently on Jamie Oliver’s new show The Food Revolution is taking seriously how much influence schools have over our children. What they eat all day, not only feeds their bodies, but their minds as well. Supplying food for energy to pay attention, but not to be hyperactive. I fully support giving schools the permission to demand healthier and natural, less processed foods in their cafeterias.
To be an example as parents, as friends, as teachers, as celebrities, is also imperative. Whatever we choose to keep in the fridge at home is what our children eat when they are home. If there is no soda, we drink water, juice, and milk. Let us be a part of raising a new generation of healthy, active, proud, young people.
lunes, 24 de mayo de 2010
jueves, 20 de mayo de 2010
FUTBOL
Soccer is still in its infancy here in America. That’s one European trend we haven’t followed suit on. In order to build a strong American team for the world cup, we need to be able to pick from the most elite pool. And though I love the American national team, and am excited for us to play in south Africa this year in the world cup, the reason that Brazil, Spain, and England, for example, have such strong teams is that young people grow up immersed in a culture where football (as it is better known in every other country in the world outside of the US) is mainstream. It’s accessible, all you need is a ball and your feet.
This time last year, when the Champions League was coming to the height of competition, I was living in Barcelona, Spain. I’ll spoil the story and for those who don’t follow soccer, Futbol Club Barcelona won every single competition for the year, a triplet of Champions League, King’s Cup (Copa del Rey) and Spanish League (La Liga).
After each round: Quarterfinals, Semifinals, big Liga games in between, the city banded together on the street, in bars, in their homes on their balconies in support of the home team. Flags draped the balconies, blue and red jerseys colored locals and tourists alike.
The night Midfielder Andres Iniesta scored in the last minute of a 0-0 game taking us into Champions League finals Barcelona's fate was sealed in history. After the game, everyone rushes to the streets. Cars are driving past honking to the rhythm of the team’s anthem, flags and horns flying out the windows. Crowds rush towards the jam that is the center of town, Plaza Catalunya, first 100.000, then 150,000, soon almost 200,000 people crowd to Canaletas the famous fountain at the top of the famous Ramblas promenade.
I squeeze my small frame in between hoards of screaming, jumping, dancing, smiling, crying, singing fans, Cule (followers) they call themselves. The air is red from all the fireworks and sparklers being legally set off. The magazine stands, metro signs, traffic lights, fountains, and lampposts are branches where perched fans call out to their fellow football lovers.
I magically find myself dead center of it all, and see no better place to experience the thrill of this win then climbing the closest lamp post at the top of La Rambla. My black satin mini dress does not stop me from hiking myself higher and higher to reach the 4 people already posted above the sea of painted, effervescent faces. I start singing the Hymno del Barca, in Catalan. Everyone claps along with me at the right moments, fists pumping in the air as we come to the end of the song, Barca Barca Baaaaarca! The adrenaline I imagine comparable to the players on the field of the 110.000 person stadium.
Now maybe I joined the bandwagon when I became a fan of one of the best club teams in the world. It is the inescapable energy of the Barca fans, the die hard “Sang Cule” (Those whose love of the team runs through the blood in their veins), and how the players are all so humble and feel the fans are the 12th player on their team, without which they cannot be Barca. How could I ever have resisted?
This time last year, when the Champions League was coming to the height of competition, I was living in Barcelona, Spain. I’ll spoil the story and for those who don’t follow soccer, Futbol Club Barcelona won every single competition for the year, a triplet of Champions League, King’s Cup (Copa del Rey) and Spanish League (La Liga).
After each round: Quarterfinals, Semifinals, big Liga games in between, the city banded together on the street, in bars, in their homes on their balconies in support of the home team. Flags draped the balconies, blue and red jerseys colored locals and tourists alike.
The night Midfielder Andres Iniesta scored in the last minute of a 0-0 game taking us into Champions League finals Barcelona's fate was sealed in history. After the game, everyone rushes to the streets. Cars are driving past honking to the rhythm of the team’s anthem, flags and horns flying out the windows. Crowds rush towards the jam that is the center of town, Plaza Catalunya, first 100.000, then 150,000, soon almost 200,000 people crowd to Canaletas the famous fountain at the top of the famous Ramblas promenade.
I squeeze my small frame in between hoards of screaming, jumping, dancing, smiling, crying, singing fans, Cule (followers) they call themselves. The air is red from all the fireworks and sparklers being legally set off. The magazine stands, metro signs, traffic lights, fountains, and lampposts are branches where perched fans call out to their fellow football lovers.
I magically find myself dead center of it all, and see no better place to experience the thrill of this win then climbing the closest lamp post at the top of La Rambla. My black satin mini dress does not stop me from hiking myself higher and higher to reach the 4 people already posted above the sea of painted, effervescent faces. I start singing the Hymno del Barca, in Catalan. Everyone claps along with me at the right moments, fists pumping in the air as we come to the end of the song, Barca Barca Baaaaarca! The adrenaline I imagine comparable to the players on the field of the 110.000 person stadium.
Now maybe I joined the bandwagon when I became a fan of one of the best club teams in the world. It is the inescapable energy of the Barca fans, the die hard “Sang Cule” (Those whose love of the team runs through the blood in their veins), and how the players are all so humble and feel the fans are the 12th player on their team, without which they cannot be Barca. How could I ever have resisted?
Definitions of Feminism
In today's LA times Opinion section Meghan Daum was talking about how Sarah Palin is calling herself a Feminist.
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-0520-daum-fword-20100520,0,4933552.column
I have been a self-identified Feminist for years, lucky to have been raised by strong, opinionated, caring women who taught me to respect myself as a woman and see my special place in the world, but never that I was on a different playing field than men (be it above or below).
Over the years I have come to realize this is a unique way to grow up. I want to address first Palin calling herself a Feminist, and second, how individuals define feminism.
The Palin Issue. I admit it wouldn't be the first identifying marker I would place on her. I am assuming it's all politics to just get people talking about her (all press is good press). I am a believer in people being able to identify themselves how they see themselves. To give a polarizing example, gender identification. Those in the Trans community who consider their gender fluid, or who feel they were born into the body of a different sex than they feel to be, in my opinion, should be allowed to decide for themselves how they live in their own bodies.
With Palin the abortion argument obviously arises, as she is a staunch anti-abortionist, and I staunchly pro-choice. The reason I would choose not to exclude Palin from the group of people who identify themselves as Feminists is that I would be deciding for her how she feels, or what is right for her. I cannot do that. For the same reason I am pro-choice. Each person should be able to choose what they do with their body.
However, it is hypocritical for her to call herself Feminist and say she can define it for herself if she does not want other women to decide for THEMSELVES what they do with their bodies, ie the difficult decision of abortion.
DEFINING FEMINISM FOR OURSELVES
I pose the questions...
how do you define feminism in your own life?
How do you see Feminism in the world around you?
Do societal definitions and your own match or come into conflict?
How can we rectify them?
My definition has always been seeing, treating, and experiencing the genders equally. Of course there are innate qualities born to women and men, places our bodies and brains excel, but the idea of feminism is the idea that it does not make anyone better than anyone else, or more entitled
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-0520-daum-fword-20100520,0,4933552.column
I have been a self-identified Feminist for years, lucky to have been raised by strong, opinionated, caring women who taught me to respect myself as a woman and see my special place in the world, but never that I was on a different playing field than men (be it above or below).
Over the years I have come to realize this is a unique way to grow up. I want to address first Palin calling herself a Feminist, and second, how individuals define feminism.
The Palin Issue. I admit it wouldn't be the first identifying marker I would place on her. I am assuming it's all politics to just get people talking about her (all press is good press). I am a believer in people being able to identify themselves how they see themselves. To give a polarizing example, gender identification. Those in the Trans community who consider their gender fluid, or who feel they were born into the body of a different sex than they feel to be, in my opinion, should be allowed to decide for themselves how they live in their own bodies.
With Palin the abortion argument obviously arises, as she is a staunch anti-abortionist, and I staunchly pro-choice. The reason I would choose not to exclude Palin from the group of people who identify themselves as Feminists is that I would be deciding for her how she feels, or what is right for her. I cannot do that. For the same reason I am pro-choice. Each person should be able to choose what they do with their body.
However, it is hypocritical for her to call herself Feminist and say she can define it for herself if she does not want other women to decide for THEMSELVES what they do with their bodies, ie the difficult decision of abortion.
DEFINING FEMINISM FOR OURSELVES
I pose the questions...
how do you define feminism in your own life?
How do you see Feminism in the world around you?
Do societal definitions and your own match or come into conflict?
How can we rectify them?
My definition has always been seeing, treating, and experiencing the genders equally. Of course there are innate qualities born to women and men, places our bodies and brains excel, but the idea of feminism is the idea that it does not make anyone better than anyone else, or more entitled
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