Things You Might Not Think About

With my spring semester ending last month I have the much anticipated space to read the books that have been piling up on my shelf over the last semester. I recently finished Know My Name, by Chanel Miller. It took me a couple weeks to read, as each time I dove back in I found myself crying with and for Chanel, for myself, and for all women, really.

In January of 2015 (on my birthday, actually), Chanel was sexually assaulted on the Stanford campus. This book is her account of what happened to her, what she went through in the court system, how this violation impacted her and her family, and how she found her power again and a connection to others through her experience and her words. So often while reading I cried for her pain, the desire she had to protect her younger sister from all of the trauma and damage, the women and care teams around her after the assault and during her court proceedings. Chanel powerfully called out the disconnect between how victims are treated and alleged perpetrators are treated. And the way women are judged and told to change to avoid sexual assault and predatory behavior from men.

What I love about this, and what I’ve also felt for so long, is that she is pointing out how fucked up that is. Her experience in a small town on the east coast particularly struck me. She was going to art school for a time and was without a car in a small town. She recalled walking everywhere and not a single day going by that she wasn’t harassed by men calling to her from their cars or walking straight up to her and invading her physical, mental, and emotional space, already so tender and disjointed from her assault. Her boyfriend, living in another city at the time, was concerned and told her he would pay for her to get a rental car to drive back and for to classes in. After initially agreeing, Chanel then realized, why should I give up my walks, this time to think and potentially heal and explore this new living space, when I’m not doing wrong?

We tell girls and women to cover up, to act a certain way, to never go somewhere alone, carry keys as if they were a knife, have a rape whistle or other alert system at the ready on your phone. We are always on the defensive.

In the world of online dating I have felt an increasing amount of anxiety. One of the main reasons I download then delete it so often is a fear of the men on it being able to see my photos and neighborhood and then potentially stalk me, or even just approach me when I don’t want them to. I recently matched with a guy and we had been messaging in the app for a couple days when he asked me about my film photography work and if I had an Instagram. Before really thinking about it I gave him my handle. The rest of the day went by without him replying and I started getting anxious. My last name isn’t listed when I match with someone, and I don’t have any other specific information about where I live or work, so it would have been hard to find me on social media just based on my first name. But now he had my Instagram handle, which was public, and shared a whole lot more of my life than those six pictures and two dumb prompts on the dating app. I unmatched with him and switched my accounts to private. And what a shame that is, to have to change something about myself out of fear of what another might do. He could be a perfectly normal man who would never harm another. But I have been trained to be weary of men and conscious of how I present myself 24/7. I wouldn’t even think twice about giving a woman my Instagram handle, whether it was a romantic interest or platonic. It doesn’t matter. There isn’t an inherent danger from other women. We know the danger we constantly feel around us and would never subject another to it.

Things need to change. Our society needs to change. We cannot question victims of assault or abuse to see if they did something to deserve the violence or encourage the pass. We need to raise our boys (and girls and every gender) to respect boundaries and ask for consent. We need to teach our girls not to apologize for saying no, or for drinking and getting drunk, or for enjoying themselves. Our existence is not an open invitation for others to do what they please with our bodies and our souls.

Nurse Boylan

It seems very fitting to me that National Nurse Appreciation Week and Mother’s Day are the same week because my mom is stellar at both. I am blown away by her ability to pursue nursing school while a mother of two small children. She worked so hard, and took the long road, so that she could remain present for us while also pursuing her passion. The fact that she has been in her current role for the entirety of her career (over 20 years) is beyond impressive. My mom has worked hard to prove herself, to keep the doctors in their place, and to show compassion and empathy for the nurses she trains and patients she cares for (and their families).

This, I believe, is how she approaches motherhood, too. My mom is empathetic and compassionate. She can call me (& my brothers) on our bullshit. She listens to our needs and has worked on asking us if we want advice, or just someone to listen. And now she’s been able to channel that care and compassion into Marley dog:) I love you, mom.

Jumping Back In

I knew this would happen with school…I get so overwhelmed balancing my work schedule, classes, seeing clients for the first time this semester, and trying to have some kind of personal life, that this website gets neglected. Then I get overwhelmed with thinking about writing some big post and sharing a ton of content. So here we go. I’m just going to jump in with some photographs from the scans I got back today. Enjoy.

San Fran for Gran

Last month my mom and I took a day trip to San Francisco to honor my late grandmother’s birthday. It was a lovely day filled with treats and walks, picnics and the bay. I even wore a dress I had recently made with the sewing machine she had gotten me for my eighth grade graduation (17 years ago!!).

Holy Water

Growing up we had a swimming pool in our backyard. The shape of it was similar to the shape of the state of California. We had a diving board and a slide (that, looking back, I’m quite shocked it never caused injury or harm to anyone, old and rickety as it was!). We’d get the slide going and sit on one of those rubber knee pads for gardening, just to get extra speed going down. My older brother and I spent (what felt like to us) hours in the pool during summer break. We always had a combined back-to-school swim party at the end of summer for our friends.

We also participated in swim team from the time we were about five years old, up until high school. I have so many memories of early Saturday morning swim meets, where the water was too cold for warm ups, but just right by the time our race came along and it was blazing hot. Many hours were spent perfecting my braiding abilities on willing friends.

Water has always felt holy to me. In the winter time, I take a bath most every night. Sometimes I’ll listen to music while I soak, other times I’ll watch a show or movie. And often times I’ll bring a crystal or two in with me to cleanse them and myself.

My memories are very vivid of when I was baptized. I grew up Evangelical Christian, and as such, you are supposed to decide when you are ready to be baptized and dedicate your life to the Lord. I was somewhere around middle school when I decided to do this. I was involved in the youth group at the church my family was going to, and a few of my friends and I decided to do it at the same time. The baptism coincided with an outdoor service, and the plan was to rent an above ground pool to do it in. Somewhere along the way, the pool did not make it to the church, and in a last minute scramble, they put a tarp in the back of a pickup truck and filled the bed of the truck with water. That’s right, I was baptized in the back of a pickup truck. And while I no longer identify as a Christian, I can still remember the cheers of the community around me as I came back up from under the water. It was such a beautiful moment to me.

There is something about water that is cleansing and comforting to me. It is life sustaining in the sense that you need to drink it to survive. But it is also life sustaining on an emotional and spiritual level for me. And then sometimes it’s made better by sharing in the experience with your best friend.