I spent some time at the border recently, volunteering with the humanitarian coalitions and resource centers transitioning refugees into US life once they're released from detention.
I learned a lot, but more than anything else, I learned that humanity is not political.
My motivation to go came from a deep pit of my stomach desire to help. It began with the idea of shower infrastructure and a couple of phone calls and within 72 hours it was clear that in order to get involved in the way I hope to, I had to put my boots on the ground.
What I experienced changed everything. There are no politics in disaster relief. Not in the real work of it. Not one person spoke of what got us to this place – only how to work together to solve it. We didn't traffic in rage.
I keep hearing [men] say that a female/female ticket would have no chance at winning. Let's step back and examine this for a moment, shall we? (thread style.)
Consider 2008. Minority communities came out in droves to vote for Barack Obama (4% higher than the previous election) while a higher number of white voters stayed home (down 1% from 2004.)
At the time, the NYT broke it down like this: "In last year’s presidential election, younger blacks voted in greater proportions than whites for the first time and black women turned out at a higher rate than any other racial, ethnic and gender group."
1/ When folks ask why we made such a drastic leap I always go to the first domino in the chain of collapse. It’s a story with many truths, all leading to one hell of a climactic cliffhanger before the credits roll. #housingcrisis...
2/
I want to feel in control of this story...this narrative around what happened to my beautiful LA life and how and why and most importantly ”was it intentional?”
I get it. Our situation is a little weird and a little confusing.
3/ Mostly because I've allowed it to be.
The no-frills version is that we moved 300 miles from home and into my sister's garage. The frills are everything I’ve shared on Instagram @minimalish.house over the past 14 or so months. Yes, we chose to do that.
You know that thing predatory guys do while you’re standing in line? The thing where they slowly invade your personal space until their flaccid junk makes contact with your butt?
Yesterday, while I was standing in the grocery store checkout line, I felt the familiar slow graze of a pervert. I jumped forward, my chest tightened, and I snapped my head look at him only to lock eyes with someone’s great-grandfather, grinning like an unapologetic frat boy.
I spun right back around. I busied myself with my wallet. I tried to convince myself it was an innocent mistake. But he was back in my space again. Again I stepped forward, turned my body perpendicular to his and placed my hand on my hip taking up as much space as I could.
I've been so fortunate this year to get to know so many of the incredible women known as silence breakers, and I want to talk to my journalist friends as the year anniversary approaches. (A thread.)
When I wrote my piece for @BuzzFeed about my experience as a Weinstein intern and my early awareness of the casting couch, I never expected that I would gain such support and friendship from women who have suffered so much and remain so strong. You guys, they're incredible.
And all of these incredible women (and men!) have been working hard this year. A year of hardship and more trauma and tragedy, but a year where headway has been made, no matter how obscured by the continued fight. But this is what I want you to know:
I guess that the thing is, we as women need to get over the idea that your future matters. We need to get over the fact that your wife or girlfriend will be upset. We need to get over the fact that you're a father now.
What we need to remember is that one day your disregard…
…for women could be magnified in such a way that it spills over into law and politics, and if that happens...when that happens, our trauma will be called scapegoating and character-smearing rather than being seen for what it is: a testament to your abhorrent moral character.
The idea that time undoes abuse is absurd. The idea that a young woman should be expected to come forward with her traumatic experiences when we won't even ask young men to keep their dicks in their pants is patriarchal nonsense at it's finest.