It scares me to think that my daughters are growing up in a world where women are still “less than” in the eyes of many. Particularly, in the eyes of “the majority.” It disturbs me to know that women and children are being trafficked across the very continent on which I am living. That the young girls sitting in the back of the plane, who don’t quite seem to belong, might be headed into danger. I wonder about the unsolved crimes in Vietnam and Cambodia involving 20-something women that the police ignore with a simple “they were out drinking” . . . as though that conveys some sort of “legitimacy” to the crime perpetrated against them . . . murder.
Not long ago, a video made it onto the China-version of You Tube showing the forced abortion of a fetus at 7-months gestation. Why? Because this mother already had one child. The government forced the abortion because she had violated the one-child law. Later, after serious political pressure, the government apologized. But they could not bring her child back to life. And, no one considered sterilizing the father. I cannot wrap my head around the way China controls the reproductive rights of its citizenry.
In my own country, people attempt to impose their religious or personal beliefs on my rights. It is nothing less, in my opinion, than an attempt to limit my civil and human rights. Interestingly, this debate usually is centered around my ability to pro-create, which is inextricably linked to my gender.
I personally am both pro-choice and pro-life. I believe I should have the right to make decisions about my body and my life without interference from politicians, dictators, interest groups, celebrities or anyone else for that matter. And, I believe that life is worth protecting. Life and the decisions that come with it are complex. I am complex. I have had experiences that I would never wish on my worst enemy and fought my way back to life when I truly believed there was no reason to continue it. I was wrong.
It is important that we take some time and reflect on the 24- hour news cycle. It is important to reflect on what’s being said about women and how it affects our daughters, our nieces, our mothers, wives and sisters. It is important to look at children and remember that they are human beings deserving of the same human dignities that the taller humans expect.
It is important because someone — often a man and a woman — raised those tall human beings who tried to categorize rape as legitimate, who purchased a woman for a day, a week or a lifetime, who enslaved a child. Children are living in a time that is as dangerous as any time has ever been. Our children have the luxury of growing up in a nuclear family with loving extended family members. We are trying to raise them to be enlightened and aware and to understand that they are, in fact, among the lucky few in this world with freedom. Unfortunately, the most recent campaign season makes me wonder if the degrees of freedom enjoyed by our daughters will (continue to) be less than those of their brothers? And why that cycle continues to perpetuate itself?
House Points: A Tale of Two Williams
November 2012
Shanghai
When we returned to China for our second year, the children wanted to change schools. We switched from a more traditional Asian school to the British International School, which requires students to wear uniforms complete with ties and scarves. It seems almost Hogwartian — they even have houses. As you might imagine, house points are awarded and deducted based upon performance, behaviors, etc. This week, our little man, received 5 house points for his project on explorers.
I realize that every mother’s son is the finest boy ever to walk the earth, but in this case it is true. He is sweet, charming and in every way more than I deserve or could have ever hoped for in a son. He is like his father, which means he will certainly be a fine man.
Several weeks ago, we went to Beijing and met an archaeologist and Great Wall of China historian named William Lindesay. He took us on an amazing trek along the “wild wall.” William came to China in the early 1980s and set out to see the entire Great Wall, which is actually several walls built over many Dynasties using an assortment of materials, depending on the Dynasty and location of the wall. During his quest, William was arrested, his film confiscated and deported several times but he never gave up and, eventually, he finished his journey and chronicled it in a book.
You may have heard of William Lindesay or have seen him in a National Geographic documentary about the Great Wall of China. He is a very interesting and accomplished man. But to Henry he was simply a good story teller. Indeed, he was a very good story teller.
For Henry’s school project, the children were asked to prepare a presentation about a great explorer. Many children chose Christopher Columbus or Marco Polo. Henry chose William Geil. Never heard of him? Most people haven’t.
During that grand adventure with William Lindesay, we learned that he was not the first person to trek the full distance of the “stone dragon.” William had only recently learned about William Geil, a man who travelled from Doylestown, Pennsylvania to China in 1908 and went the distance of the Great Wall.
Henry chose this forgotten American explorer as the subject of his project. He used the stories he learned from William Lindesay, the pictures taken by his father on the trip and the second book published by William Lindesay, The Great Wall Revisited: From the Jade Gate to Old Dragon’s Head.
The book was a real inspiration for Henry. In it, William Lindesay retraces William Geil’s journey and photographs the same locations showing how one of China’s, if not the world’s, greatest treasures has deteriorated over time. Henry found it fascinating.
His presentation consisted of five slides including some bullet points, pictures and the You Tube video of our trip to the Wall. It was a very personal presentation about two Williams who inspired Henry to think of himself as an explorer on a journey. That’s worth 5 house points and the undying admiration of his Mother.
Taiwan, India, Australia . . . Home
November 2012
Taipei, Taiwan
For the next three weeks, I will be literally on the road. I got up at 5 and was headed for the airport by 6:30 this morning. After some flight difficulties, I arrived in Taiwan around 11 a.m. Not bad for travel in Asia. No one is forcing this grueling schedule on me but me. It simply needed to be done.
I needed to meet the team in Taiwan. A full 18 months into the job, I should meet the team. And there it is — the vastness of the job. Asia Pacific and Africa. Teams and individuals scattered in places like Bangkok and Rayong, Thailand; Taipei, Taiwan; Chennai, India; Melbourne, Australia; Jo’berg, South Africa; not to mention Indonesia, the Philippines, Japan, Korea, and on and on. At some point, you want to connect with people beyond the conference call, the PicTel and email. It is the right thing to do.
You want to personally thank people for their contributions and share their successes with them. You want to demonstrate that you care about them and their work. A leader shows up. Sometimes, that is all it takes — showing up. I am always surprised at how many leaders fail to show up. Hard to cast a shadow if you are never there.
My trip started today. Bella cried last night. Not so long ago, at parent-teacher conferences, I learned that I am often the subject of “circle time” in Year 5C (4th grade to us Americans). During circle time, Bella talks about her Mom traveling and how it makes her feel. This is good, I know. It apparently is therapeutic for the whole class as other children are inspired to share as well, but I appear to be the worst offender. Still, I hugged her and told her to keep on sharing if it helps.
If sharing helps, then let me share with you that this is beginning to suck in a major way. I am never home, I rarely see the kids and I am feeling less and less appreciated at the Salt Mine by the second. I missed the kids by 10 minutes tonight because my last call ran past 8:30 and they were already in bed when I phoned. Even Jack was too tired to talk. Sharing this lets me vent but I hardly feel better. I feel numb.
I’ll have hours upon hours in airplanes and airports to think things over, which is what you do at the end of the year. And, then, a
special treat — a nice long holiday to reconnect with those I love and feel better. But before that happens. . .
It’s Taiwan this week, then India and straight on to Australia. I’ll keep you posted. It’s sure to be a real adventure.
Bull Durham . . . Shanghai Style
November 2012
Taipei, Taiwan
I spent the better part of the day meeting with government officials in Taiwan trying to explain our sustainability strategy, our commitment to reducing our carbon footprint and doing our share to stabilize the environment. You know, the usual cocktail conversation. After deflecting the questions about our specific product introduction plans about a hundred times, it was finally time to leave. I must have done pretty well because I left with gifts . . . not the kind of gifts that win you elections or get you sent to prison but the kind of gifts that you can take home and your kids will think are cool, like key chains, baseball caps and tiny pretty boxes to hold rings or other small jewelry.
After the government meetings, it was back to the humdrum of trying to get the product certified in time for sale (not happening) and figuring out whether we actually can meet the new regulations in — pick one: India, Taiwan, China, Thailand — without destroying the current cycle plan. And, of course, working out the budget . . . which basically means figuring out how to continue to do more and more with less and less and less.
I called home at 6 tonight so that I wouldn’t miss the kids . . . again. It turns out all the drama is happening there.
The swim team coach is unimpressed with some of the swimmers’ efforts and cuts are imminent. This has struck terror in the heart of our youngest. Auditions for the primary school play were today and our son was asked to read for the two lead roles, one being a monkey. Don’t ask because I don’t know, but I’m thinking he’s a lock. And the senior member of the “little people gang” is fretting over how to let someone down without hurting their feelings. In the immortal words of Crash Davis: “We’re dealing with a lot of shit.”
So my advice to Jack is:
1. Get a live chicken and cut the head off,
2. Send the director cup cakes, and
3. Buy some candlesticks . . .
I find that most dramatic situations in life can be solved by going back to Bull Durham:
[Larry jogs out to the mound to break up a players’ conference]
Larry: Excuse me, but what the hell’s going on out here?
Crash Davis: Well, Nuke’s scared because his eyelids are jammed and his old man’s here. We need a live . . . is it a live rooster?
[Jose nods]
Crash Davis: We need a live rooster to take the curse off Jose’s glove and nobody seems to know what to get Millie or Jimmy for their wedding present.
[to the players]
Crash Davis: Is that about right?
[the players nod]
Crash Davis: We’re dealing with a lot of shit.
Larry: Okay, well, uh . . . candlesticks always make a nice gift, and uh, maybe you could find out where she’s registered and maybe a place-setting or maybe a silverware pattern. Okay, let’s get two! Go get ‘em.
[Source: Bull Durham, 1988, written by Ron Shelton]
Jack, I think you should at least be able to get a live chicken without too much trouble! There is one running around the front of our yard. Good luck, Babe!
Not Feeling It
November 2012
Bangkok, Thailand
It is Wednesday night. The night before Thanksgiving, which at one time was as good as Christmas Eve. It was “bar” night — what old people like me now refer to as Amateur Night. Still, it beats being in my hotel room, on a global conference call that will last until 10:30 p.m.
Earlier, I read my husband’s Thanksgiving blog on thewinemonologues.com, which is terrific and I made a quick call home to find them all eating pizza. It’s what you do the night before Thanksgiving when you have kids and are going to be preparing a giant meal the next morning. I had room service. Not great. So, I guess I’m not feeling as thankful as I should be on the eve of Turkey Day.
I feel bad about that, actually. I feel bad about not feeling very thankful. As I listen to this conference call and the ineptness of the people trying to run this meeting at 8 p.m. my time, I am feeling less and less thankful and starting to feel less guilty about it too. I’m such a Thanksgiving Scrooge this year! But, seriously, I am not in a thankful mood.
Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for many things, including my husband, our children, my family and my friends. I am grateful to have a job and I am grateful that my job has given our children (and us) the opportunity to see the world. I have much to be thankful for and I know that I am very fortunate. I guess I’m just in a place where I am finding it hard to get into the spirit, so to speak. While I’m sure this hotel room in Taiwan has something to do with that, I am not entirely sure it’s the only thing turning me into such a Scrooge.
It is not that I am not thankful; I am. I just don’t feel thankful. I feel something else and I am not entirely sure what it is.
So, what is the purpose of writing this at all? I am writing it to acknowledge it and to acknowledge that there are likely others entering this holiday period not quite feeling it either. In fact, it could be making them feel worse, even though that might seem to defy logic.
I’ve had a hard year professionally, and personally it’s been a bit of a roller coaster. Some years are like that, I guess. I am, at the very least, glad that I have survived this year (so far) and I am truly grateful for the people who have supported me — most notably my husband.
So, as you sit down to your turkey and stuffing and watch your football, be on the lookout for the person who seems to be hanging back a bit or forcing that smile. Reach out . . . they might not be feeling it.
Love you Jack, Jane, Henry and Bella!
Meditation
November 2012
Chennai, India
I have been in India now for several days. My location is congested and wildly exotic in terms of smells, sights and sounds. I love it. I know most people would find it overwhelming and some might characterize it in even more unflattering words, but I love it.
I love the chaos of the traffic, the mix of the buses transporting their passengers to work, school or wherever their final destination might be. I love the sight of the school children in their bright maroon and blue uniforms. The girls’ hair twisted tightly in braids and adorned with flowers. Women riding side-saddle on motor bikes in colorful Saris, holding babies as their husbands speed along the road darting between cars, buses, motorbikes, bicycles, people and cows.
I have not had much time for myself. I have been in meetings nearly every minute of every day. But, on the drive each morning and evening, I gaze out the window at the world before me. Barefoot children running after their parents, men in traditional dress, colorfully dressed women with deeply dark skin shimmering in the dwindling sunlight. Everyone seemingly purposeful. Everyone seemingly content.
I am certain that their lives — like all of our lives — contain challenges. Some may be more desperate than others but, for the most part, the view from my car window shows productive people living productive lives.
As we drive, we pass a number of Temples and I am surprised by the number of men I see gathering early in the morning to start their day with prayer, reflection or meditation. I am equally humbled on the return trip when the line outside the Temple seems to stretch even further. I don’t pray anymore. I haven’t for years. I never found it gratifying in any way. That isn’t to say that others don’t find it gratifying, peaceful or meaningful. But I do not.
I have, however, found that silence and a long look out the window is calming. In that silence I hear something — something calling to me — I don’t know what it is yet. But, I sense it. I just need to be quiet and listen.
The Parent Trap . . .
November 2012
Chennai, India
The parent t
rap is like the mob mentality — just because every other parent is doing something, you feel like you should be doing it too. It is one of the reasons that I am really glad to be in Shanghai right now. Not, that you don’t have some of that parent mob mentality as an expat in China, but you have less of it than you do in the States, especially if you avoid the obvious traps for it.
Our son never played soccer. And, at the ripe old age of 10, he never would have been able to take up the sport in the States. Hell, if you haven’t started by the time you are 4, you are too old to even consider it. He played for one spring in Shanghai. He loved it and he knows enough about the game and has enough skill to play on the playground. Perfect.
This year at age 11, he took up American football — at home, he would be on a waiting list to play. He may try hockey (though I hope not) but there is no way he could play hockey in the States at 12. By 12, you are either headed to the minors or you are a “has been” or otherwise “washed up,” “burnt out” or “over-the-hill.”
And, what is it with every girl getting their hair streaked for “graduation” from primary school? I don’t actually care about the hair streaking or coloring, it’s the “everybody is doing it thing.” It almost feels like peer pressure for Mom; you have to make your daughter an appointment for highlights or she won’t be cool or fit in or be ‘normal.’ I don’t get it. Did the kid even want them? Did anybody ask?
Over the summer, our son was talking to his older cousins about “stuff” and I overheard him say that he can get an earring and dye his hair blue because his Mom doesn’t care about that stuff. He explained that she cares about sex and drugs. Frankly I care more about unprotected sex and drugs, but he’s 11. So, for now we’ll leave it at sex and drugs. Rock and roll is fine.
Sheryl Sandberg, China & Me Page 14