Author: erintothemax

Hi, my name is Erin and I like to blog.

The Anti-DEI Crusade

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Let’s call the anti-DEI crusade what it is:

  • A mechanism for forcibly removing women of color from leadership positions
  • An attack on non-government power structures — the academy and the corporation — during a moment of consolidating government power within the hands of anti-democracy forces
  • Racist butt hurt

The concerted attack on former Harvard president Claudine Gay did not merely arise in a congressional hearing, and unfurl from there. Rather, her enemies (and enemies of DEI) had been waiting patiently for a flashpoint in order to demonstrate control over the academy.

DEI stands for diversity, equity, and inclusion. It is a series of efforts that organizations may make in order to increase diversity, advance equity, and promote inclusive atmospheres for everyone. DEI is not, as radical reactionaries would have you believe, a zero-sum game where white people are victimized. In fact, embracing and advancing diversity, equity, and inclusion is not just the right thing to do (yes, I subscribe to the theory of the late Senator Paul Wellstone that “we all do better when we all do better”), it is also a strategic advantage. In The Journal of Infectious Diseases article “The Science and Value of Diversity: Closing the Gaps in Our Understanding of Inclusion and Diversity” on scientific research, for example:

The benefits of engaging individuals with a wide swath of perspectives have great potential to improve our capacity to innovate. Why? Overwhelming evidence suggests that teams that include different kinds of thinkers outperform homogeneous groups on complex tasks, including improved problem solving, increased innovation, and more-accurate predictions—all of which lead to better performance and results when a diverse team is tasked to approach a given problem.

This isn’t rocket science, though. Kids are better equipped for the real world if they were part of a diverse student body in school. Workplaces are better equipped to meet the demands of the market if they reflect the diverse communities within the market. And our civic institutions are most responsive and make their best decisions when there are a diversity of identities and perspectives represented.

I noticed over the past week both an op-ed in Washington Post calling for the resignation of Vice President Kamala Harris (because, supposedly, she is unpopular, though … isn’t it Biden whose unpopularity is the issue most of interest to the upcoming election), and another urging Justice Sonia Sotomayor to go. For the good of the country, supposedly. Naw. This is the same crap as all the other anti-DEI crap swirling around. There are organized conservatives who want to see all the women of color in leadership resign or be forced out.

Another piece of this anti-DEI crusade involves steps being taken to minimize, delegitimize, and take control over corporations and academic institutions, which in aggregate overwhelmingly do take steps toward DEI (because it is good for their bottom lines, and for the education they provide). Right-wing actors like Christopher Rufo. In his op-ed for The Wall Street Journal, “How We Squeezed Harvard to Push Claudine Gay Out,” Rufo writes:

While her resignation is a victory, it is only the beginning. If America is to reform its academic institutions, the symbolic fight over Harvard’s presidency must evolve into a deeper institutional fight. The Italian theorist Antonio Gramsci called this approach the “war of position,” a grueling form of trench warfare in which each concept, structure and institution must be challenged to change the culture.

Let’s back up. The world is experiencing a shift toward authoritarian models, and the United States is no exception. There is currently a man leading in the polls for the presidency who has promised to be a dictator on day one, who has promised a “bloodbath” if he loses, and recently claimed immigrants are not human. In other words our own home-grown fascist leader. Democracy and the individual freedoms that imperfect model helps advance have never been in this level of peril in the history of the United States.

We cannot consider the anti-DEI crusade in a vacuum, as somehow divorced from the threat to authoritarianism in the United States. Rather, Trump-friendly forces are seeking to simultaneously gut higher learning and take control of the private workings of businesses. Seen in this light, the efforts become scarier still. This is about consolidation of right-wing authoritarian power.

The anti-DEI crusade taps into racist butt hurt as a pretext for kicking non-white men, and especially women of color, out of leadership positions and gutting our institutions at a perilous moment for our democracy. It’s terrifying.

Me, Graduate School, Middle Age, The Big Box Store

On By erintothemaxIn Commentary3 Comments

Doing graduate school in middle age is strange behavior. No one is waiting for the graying to burst into our respective fields screaming, “I have arrived.” I am in the process of pursuing an MFA in creative writing at Mississippi University for Women. It is a strange choice to wallop homework into my life, and I stand by it, even though more appropriate behavior for my demographic (working mother, aging parents) entails flossing away what little time remains at the big box store.

But graduate school has not changed this fact. I continue to spend time in the big box store. I do a number of big box stores on a regular basis: the discount store, the book store, the sporting goods store that under the leadership of a woman CEO has made it harder for school shooters to buy their guns and ammo there. My daughter, who is ten, begs to go to any varietal of big box store with me because then she can beg that I buy her everything inside the store. Earlier tonight we went to the supermarket in the big box store complex and I caved. I let her get the Gingerbread House Cinnamon Toast Crunch on clearance. I am a sucker for a deal at the big box store. My daughter knows this. It is why she has a discontinued Harry Potter pen projection light from Marshalls, where I went last weekend to pick up a cheap blanket for the dogs.

The big box store in late-stage capitalism America bears similarity to middle age. Time accelerates and slows in perplexing ways, and I buy things that wouldn’t sell a few seasons ago at a lower price even though I struggle to close my chest of drawers. I am old enough to remember a time when it seemed flashy for big box stores to have soaring facades above their entrance not backed by actual levels/floors of the building structure itself. At 43 I am old enough, and moneyed enough, to have tried Botox on my forehead once. It was fine but it dissipated after a few months, and I doubt I’ll do anything like that again. Earlier tonight, in the parking lot by the shopping cart carrels, my daughter asked me why I said aging is a feminist issue. My voice shifted to its ‘spirited steed’ gear and I told her we could talk about that on the drive home. She then commanded I explain the concept in 10 words or less. I said, no.

Aging is a feminist issue because women and girls are subject to pressures on their appearance that are unrealistic, make us feel bad, and consume our time, I said. Aging is part of this, and especially for women, I said. My daughter told me that’s too many words. Fine, I said. I’ll explain it in two words: total crap. She squirreled in the backseat and we kept bickering about aging, feminism, and how many words I am allotted to express my ideas to her about politics. God I love her.

I find that to age out loud is a political statement. It is a statement I am making. I am not afraid of my age. I am proud and lucky to be here.

But it is a special type of lunacy to be in graduate school when time is as comparatively limited as mine. The reality of doing graduate school part-time in middle age while working full-time and doing sandwich generation as a fucking prickled verb looks like:

+ Me completing homework in the car in the parking lot outside of gymnastics practice

+ Me responding to emails from the school at the speed of crawling, from a baby who hasn’t learned to sit up yet

+ Me dashing off portfolio of work for the semester in the lobby of a hospital skilled enough to keep old parents old, rather than dead

I would like to revise my statement that it’s not lunacy, but rather optimism or maybe self-love that keeps me in graduate school. To believe that I can improve for the sake of improving, and to commit to doing it, is a gift. I love becoming a better writer. I’ve got a big box store of a brain full of stories and poems and essays I want to improve. I know time is precious, that it runs out. To acknowledge that and keep going in earnest as myself, this spirit attached to a woman with caregiving and professional responsibilities, is the sacrilege that interests me.

The Marathon I Didn’t Finish

On By erintothemaxIn Commentary2 Comments

Running is my anchor habit. I organize my life around running. Each Sunday, I map out my runs for the upcoming week. I run marathons twice a year. Training for marathons gives me a structure to follow. A big goal to achieve. A bite-sized training plan for each day with an accomplishment to celebrate. Toughness. Grit. Perseverance.

While I have enjoyed running since I was a kid, I got serious about running five years ago. In 2019 I ran my first marathon. I loved it. Since then, I have run two marathons a year, with the exception of 2020. And I guess, as of now, this year.

Two extraordinary years. So tough and isolating, and yet, so instructive.

Last Sunday I ran the Marine Corps Marathon. I dropped out at 18.7 miles. At the time I thought this would be okay. I was feeling mounting fatigue and I was thirsty, as you do when running a marathon.

I was neither injured nor sick. I could have completed this race.

But I was running slow.

Slow happens.

It’s fine.

Except when it’s not.

My daughter had a Halloween party that day, and her entire grade was going to go trick-or-treating together. Due to the slower pace I was running, the complex logistics of getting out of one of the country’s largest marathon’s finisher village (think: ant farm without parking), and the sizable additional commute to the party, I realized that if I finished that race she was going to miss out on trick-or-treating with her friends. And I didn’t want to be that selfish asshole.

I thought dropping out was not going to bother me. I actually called my husband from the course and told him that at the next point where they would be to cheer me on, I was going to walk home with them rather than continue on to the finish line. “Don’t fight me on this,” I said. He didn’t and I dropped out. We walked home together. I showered. We got in the car. We stopped for sandwiches.

I was fine.

Until I wasn’t.

While I still believe I made the right decision, I had no idea how much dropping out of this race was going to bother me. I felt like I had been dumped on Valentine’s Day. In my favorite restaurant. By myself.

I cried intermittently for two days.

Charles Duhigg writes about habit and productivity. In The Power of Habit, he identifies the three core pieces of the neurological loops we create around habit. First, cue. Because my habit is so ingrained, it has come to the point where waking up in the morning is my cue to run. Then, habit. I run. Finally, reward. I complete my run and note my time, distance, and pace.

Each run is a reward, but completing a marathon is a collective reward of 18 or more weeks of training. I think, with more reflection, that part of the reason why I spazzed out so much was that I had my reward of final accomplishment in the form of a finish line taken away from me.

Running has been my constant teacher. It has taught me that what I say I can’t do is actually what I won’t do. That there is a difference. A huge difference. That seeing that difference is the beginning of agency, of power to change. Running has also taught me about respecting my body, fueling my body, and admiring my body for what it can do rather than the insignificant particulars of what it might look like. Given that I almost died of anorexia many years ago, this is a lesson that can never be over-repeated for me. I could go on and on about what I have learned over these years of running.

But I realize not finishing this marathon, while not the outcome I wanted, is teaching me far more than the successful runs. I am learning things about myself. That I actually can’t stand to let things be undone. That sometimes things are best left undone (and especially in the name of love). That a slice of humble pie offers more personal growth than a medal ever could.

In the past few days, I have learned how to accept the flowers I didn’t think I deserved. I have learned how to accept my emotions, to allow that I actually got pretty upset, and after that, and only after that, finding the perspective to right-size them. To celebrate that, for a moment by the river, a band was playing for me. That nothing takes that moment away.

Cooking To Death

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Am I the only parent who feels this profound sadness? That we are cooking to death? That we are giving this planet to our children? That fish are drowning in microplastic beads they have ingested? That the microplastic beads are in everything — shampoo, dishwasher pods, clothing? That going outside for ‘fresh air’ may be more smoke-filled and toxic than staying cloistered indoors? That the masking formula has flipped, that the masks are to be worn outside for protection from the climate? That the sky can be orange? That the sun can look like a sinister pumpkin? That smoke can blot out skylines? That people experiencing homelessness are sweating out heat waves on park benches? That the hottest days on record are replacing themselves day after day? That the climate has undeniably changed and deniers continue to deny, to ridicule? That dogs can’t stop panting? That it is supposed to get worse and not better? That our children will grow increasingly accustomed to heat days and smoke days? That most cars are still running on gasoline? That recycle bins are emptied to landfills? That single-use plastic is nearly impossible to avoid? That we eat, drink, breathe, and sit upon carcinogens until we lie down to sleep on top of them? That it is bad now, and getting worse, and no one seems to be doing much of anything? That the Doomsday Clock is 90 seconds to midnight? That the country with the most nuclear weapons had tanks cruising toward its capital a few weeks ago? That the threat of nuclear war is a nightly topic on the nightly news? That Americans are combining watching a movie about the making of the atomic bomb with watching a movie about Barbie dolls, that Americans are wearing shirts of a plastic buxom woman standing in a minidress in awe of the mushroom cloud in front of her? That this is our response?

Anger Management Issues Are Abuse. Just Say That.

On By erintothemaxIn Commentary1 Comment

I would like to decry, declaim, and holistically reject the frame of Anger Management Issues, a frame so clinical as to create its own pathology: our collective inability as a culture, still and after all these years, to name and shame abuse within our own relationships and those of our loved ones.

Anger Management Issues were invented as a mechanism for abusers to save face, to give them an out for which there is learning and functioning and the bland speak of corporatese. Anger Management Issues seem to be deployed as a couple’s issue just as much as an individual Yosemite Sam’s, for anger is often used within the context of multi-person concepts such as arguments and disagreements and rows.

But when a partner or family member is kicking the living crap out of you — whether physically, sexually, mentally, spiritually, emotionally, financially, and/or otherwise1 — it’s not an Anger Management Issue. It’s an abuse issue. And we hate to say that someone is being abused especially when others have known about the so-called Anger Management Issues for awhile, because then we are all, in some way, culpable for being part of a society or family or neighborhood that allows this Anger Management Issue to occur in plain sight, or at least behind closed (but porously loud) doors.

We hate to say that someone is being abused because too often the judgement of abuse is made, in part, by reviewing the actions or intentions or discernment (oh, please) of the person being subject to another person’s willful violence. “She’s a strong woman and we don’t need to worry.” Or: “She can hold her own,” they’ll say as he is clearly abusing her irrespective of the strength of her will as a person to not be subject to violence. Or “that would never happen to me because I respect myself too much to find myself in that situation,” the unhelpful “model strong woman” will say on the television on the ladies talk show or to her friends over a glass of wine.2

The reality is not really like that. I once purchased a book in hopes of helping someone deal with his Anger Management Issues, and together we sought couples therapy to address his Anger Management Issues. But they weren’t Anger Management Issues. They weren’t couples therapy issues. They were abuse issues that belonged to the person perpetrating the abuse.

What I want you to know is this: No one should yell at you and break you down to pieces. No one should whack at your self-esteem with a machete for sport. No one should break things or punch holes in walls or destroy your property in the hope of scaring you into submission. No one should force or guilt or coerce you to sex. No one should withhold money or health insurance from you, or try to cut you off from participating in the public square or relationships with other people. No one should break your spirit or punch your face or bend your hands back or burn cigarettes into your arm or do any manner of physical things.

If you hear that someone has Anger Management Issues, I ask that you slow down and start thinking really carefully about what behavior is being described, and that if you are the person dealing directly with that person that you develop a plan to get away safely, and if you are a person whom the target of the Anger Management Issues feels they can trust, that you make yourself available non-judgmentally to support them as they navigate their way out. As you go about your life, please question the use of the term Anger Management Issues, and start thinking in your head, is abuse actually what is being described? Even if we haven’t called this behavior abuse in the past, is that actually what it is? Give peace the benefit of the doubt, that peace is in the right on this on this question of what is abuse — the targeting of an individual — and what is a mere issue of executive functioning gone wrong — an inability to control one’s own emotion of anger.

________

1Please don’t ask the question if abuse is “physical” or “something else.” It is all horrible, and this question and hierarchy sets up a respectability for forms of abuse that can equally threaten (as well as lead to) physical destruction. I know you mean well. but please don’t ask this question as the answer is irrelevant to whether a person would benefit from no longer being subject to abuse.

2Is it always men doing abuse to women and girls? No. Women do abuse to men and boys. Women do abuse to women and girls. Men do abuse to men and boys. There is more than the gender binary and abuse happens in all ways and directions. Gen Z is leading on the ridiculousness and inapplicability of the gender assignment concept as a mandatory checkbox on the birth certificate, driver’s license, and estimate of life potential, and I tend to agree, gender itself is a made-up farce that systematically advantages some over others. I shun all relationship violence. And yet I am unable to resist using she and he as I did in the paragraph above to describe abuse because men are conditioned to expect subservience from women and men’s violence against women is an unavoidable pattern that goes on and on and on and on. Enough!