Starship Captain's log #7 - Who can you not be with?

5/20/17

“A new survey from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research finds Republicans are far more likely to cite a culture grounded in Christian beliefs and the traditions of early European immigrants as essential to U.S. identity.” From: https://www.apnews.com/f958cdd9cfcf435db14ba2f79ac50c36/AP-NORC-Poll:-Divided-Americans-fret-country-losing-identity

I’d say Republicans don’t work for the State of California. You cannot believe the variety of cultures, colors and gender mixes we’ve got here. It’s useful to be confronted with your prejudices, uncomfortable but useful. I got over working with gay men long ago, there being quite a few in the restaurant industry when I worked decades ago. Clearly there are lesbians working at the Developmental Center, they have jobs in Plant Operations and are just one of the guys; they get the job done. Working with people of all colors makes you realize they are just people. One prejudice I was personally confronted recently was very large people, some call them clinically obese. There is a woman in my office who - from any angle - is round. It was hard for me to take at the beginning (especially in spandex) but I now see her as just another person and I can empathize about finding chairs that fit. Who can you not be with?

White Republicans feel threatened by the growing number of immigrants of color, etc. as the article reports, and clutch more tightly to Christianity (a scary thought.) This is not unlike (sort of, painting with a broad brush) the rise of Islamic fundamentalism: a changing world, and you’re not part of it.  We get ourselves into trouble with language and meaning and concepts like “identity.” I’ve been confronted by my identity a couple of times, when I moved to Sonoma I had been a ‘wife,’ ‘mother,’ ‘student’ and then I was none of those things. It’s not unlike the feeling you get when your computer crashes and you don’t have a back-up. You are nothing. An interesting experience; it’s ok.

Speaking of identity, I met an employee at work, she had been a man and is now a woman. She had a full length mirror in her office, taped on it was a photo of herself as a man in 2009. In my opinion she makes a more attractive man than woman but it’s not for not trying: she’s black, over 6 feet tall - she’d be the MVP on your basketball team, with sky-blue eye shadow, a stylish, short-hair wig, little cupcake boobs high on her (massive) chest, sky-blue t-shirt and leggings stretched tightly over her large, rather muscular body. You see a lot of styles of butts working here. I had no idea they made them so they stick out a foot in the back like that. It is what it is. If you have a problem with it you’ll know it pretty quick! We spoke about hay fever, how bad it is this year, sinus pain being the worst, the effectiveness and costs of different medications. She offered me some Trader Joe’s triple ginger cookies and how ginger is good for you. She did most of the talking. I am intrigued, what is her experience of being a woman? Why is it something you would want to be? I always thought it a handicap. How is it different from being a man? She might know.

When I was young, women clustered in the kitchen and spoke about people, relationships and food. I thought it so trite, I wanted to speak about important things like politics and economics which I thought the men were discussing in the living room. Once or twice I escaped to the living room and found them talking about sports or cars. I was very disappointed. These days I enjoy the company of women, some who are enthusiastic about sports. We talk about a lot of things, the subject of men never comes up, except a husband bringing lunch to his wife while she demonstrates fiber spinning at an event – that makes an impression! The women I hang with are fiber-artist-enablers ‘of the first water,’ very supportive of each other’s creativity.  What do men talk about?

I went to a unit last week, standing at the nurses’ station counter was an attractive, intelligent-looking man in a corduroy jacket and slacks. He appeared to be engaged in a conversation with the nurse behind the counter. I walked into the nursing station, made eye contact with him, said nothing and ducked into the cubby in the back where the records are kept. He spoke to her in a voice like the Grand Nagus in Star Trek: Next Generation, high-pitched and nasal, “Where’s my list? You know how I need my list.” “Yes, I know” she replied. I thought he was joking, making fun of the clients. I thought he was a doctor - apparently not. Now the nurse, in her severe horned-rim glasses, looks like she has a hobby that includes black leather, stiletto heels and whips. Things aren’t always what they seem. (Ask to see your doctor’s license.)

I’ll leave you with a cartoon.

Many blessings,

Karla, k.j. and mom