Just a Regular Old Hockey Mom: running for vice prezI’m trying to make sense of the Republican convention.  I’m also trying to rise above the righteousness I see on both sides and put myself in someone else’s shoes, but I sort of feel like Cinderella’s step sister.

Two nights ago, I had dinner with some family friends and we started discussing the election.  Barry, a 60-something, Jewish, Republican, lawyer man said to the entire group, which included four Democratic women around my age of 40, “I bet you all are happy McCain chose a woman.”

My sister-in-law, Lisa, who is also a lawyer, mouthed, “You gotta be f**king kidding,” and I thought he was.  But he wasn’t.  He loves Sarah Palin.  Thinks she’s feisty and thought she showed the world how much she knows about oil.

Lisa said, “How can you agree with off-shore drilling?”

Barry said, “She’s from Alaska, she knows her oil,” and it became clear to me why McCain picked this unknown, right-wing, woman Senator from Alaska.  Because people are so afraid of the rising cost of gas and they think she knows her oil.  

Barry didn’t respond to Lisa’s question.  He went off on Obama, calling him Obuma, I think as a way of saying he’s a bum, but it’s hard to say because his logic was impossible for me to follow.  It wasn’t a conversation, not even a back and forth.  Barry kept cutting us off and spewing his own version of the facts, which seemed so different from ours.  

Lisa said, “Why aren’t you listening to a thing we’re saying?”  

He didn’t answer.  He wasn’t listening.  

I tried to think about what was going on for Barry.  Maybe he felt out numbered?  Maybe he felt insecure about his political ideas?  Or maybe he was just a pit-bull without the lipstick?

This has been my experience of the current political debate: It’s like half the country speaks Red and the other half Blue and even if they’re in the same room talking to each other, neither side can understand the other.

I’m trying, but I don’t speak Red.  

I watched the Republican Convention.  The commentators on Fox News told us before Sarah Palin began that she was going to win us over with her "every-woman" charm and grace.

I thought Palin was a bitch.  I’m sorry to use that sexist term, but she was snarky and condescending and to be fair to our sex, so was Rudy Giuliani.  Palin said, “I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a community organizer, except that you have actual responsibilities.”  And then she smirked and the Republicans in the audience laughed.

I felt sick when I saw that.  In my opinion, community organizing should elicit more respect than serving the nation as a soldier at war.  Community organizing is serving the nation peacefully and directly.  Our soldier, Obama, served in the South Side of Chicago, where people had lost their jobs.  He could have joined a corporate law firm and made tons of money for himself, but he didn’t.  

How can Palin mock Obama for serving his country and come off as charming? And how can she put herself out there as a hockey mom?  I don’t think you can be a hockey mom AND run for Vice President when you have a 4-month old baby.  

I said this to Victoria and she said, “Are you saying women with small children can’t have big jobs?”

I said, “I think women can and should do what they want.  As men do.  But I don’t think you can say you’re a hockey mom and pretend to uphold family values, and at the same time neglect your four-month old baby.”

But somehow in the Red language, Sarah Palin is the model mother, even if one of her teen-age daughters is pregnant.  Ooops.  

I can’t understand that.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, guest blogged for Jewcy over the past week.  This is her last post.

I just finished Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See.  Someone in my book club last night said it was the only book in the past year that our entire book club enjoyed.  I nodded with the rest of ‘em.  I don’t know if anyone else remembered that MY book, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy was the book we read last month.  It had been a whole month.  And so I didn’t say, “Wait, didn’t you all enjoy My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy?”

I just sat there, mute as a Chinese woman.  I didn’t question.  

I’ve been thinking about cultural teachings and practices since reading Snow Flower.  Chinese women were taught to be quiet.  Jews are taught to question.  

At age six, Chinese girls’ feet were broken, their toes tucked under, and then tightly wrapped for months.  Each time their feet were rewrapped, the wraps were pulled tighter.  Walking after the bones reset and healed was pretty much impossible, so Chinese women spent their whole lives in one room, the women’s chamber.  Foot binding—-a practice most people today would agree was savage and cruel—-wasn’t completely banned until only about 50 years ago.  

These Boots Were Made For: sittingThis is an 86 year-old woman.  Look at her tiny shoe.

Why did they bind?  

For social advancement.  The smaller the foot, the sexier the woman and the more marriagable she would become.  This was the cultural belief.  Chinese people lived by these beliefs for centuries and no one questioned.  

Eight-day-old Jewish boys get their penises circumcised.  I WANT TO MAKE CLEAR THAT I DON’T THINK CIRCUMCISION HURTS BOYS THE WAY FOOT BINDING HURT CHINESE GIRLS.  I don’t know how circumcision hurts a boy, if at all.  Some circumcised men claim that circumcision feels better.  I have no idea and don’t claim to know.  My guess is that the snip hurts, probably like it hurts to get your ears pierced.  Lobes rarely get infection; usually the skin heals within a few days.

The similarities I see are cultural.   Americans and especially Jewish Americans are caught up in a cultural practice. Why do we circumcise?

Because Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son; because circumcision has been a 4,000 year tradition; because circumcision marks a Jewish boy;  because maybe it’s easier to keep a circumcised penis clean; because a circumcised penis looks better; because a boy should look like his father; because a boy shouldn’t feel strange in the locker room at the JCC.

In Venezuela, where my partner is from, circumcision, like foot binding, is practiced to raise a child’s social position.

Victoria said, “I don’t want our boy parading around in front of my family with a poor boy’s penis.”

I don’t either.  And I want our boy to be identified as a Jew.  But I want to make sure we don’t permanently alter our boy’s body without seriously questioning.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!

A Child By Any Other Name: might have a harder time being taken seriously?Victoria has six post-it notes hanging above her desk:  Mateo, Nicolas, Tomas, Alejandro, Santiago, and Simon.  I have one:  Nikolai.  

I love the name Nikolai.  This morning, I woke up thinking:  We can call our boy Niko.  

When I mentioned Nikolai the first time, four and a half months ago, when we found out Victoria was pregnant, she said, “Too Russian.”

I said, “What ya got against Russians?”

She said, “You just like it because it’s YOUR heritage.”   

I’m half Romanian, one quarter Russian and another quarter Ukranian, but The Ukraine may have been Russia when my great grandmother was born there.  So maybe I’m half Russian.  

I said, “I don’t feel Russian.”

She said, “I want my child to have a Latin name.  I want him to have a Latin identity.”  And then I got it.

Victoria lives in America, but she’s Venezuelan, so she feels like she has to hold on to her culture or it will get washed away.  Her extended family is still in Venezuela while mine is here.  We inevitably spend much more time with my family.  At home, we speak Spanish at dinner, but we speak English at breakfast and at lunch.  We also go to synagogue on occasion and except for the one time Victoria took Tashi to church; in our house, my cultures are ahead three to one.  

She also wants our boy to play in both worlds.  She wants him to be successful and thinks he’ll have to fight to be taken seriously by Latins if his name is Nikolai.

“Who cares what they think?”  I said. “Look at Barack, his name is Arabic or Swahili and he’s doing just fine here in the US.”

“That’s true,” she said, “but he’s taken shit for it.  And he’s not Latin.”


Today, for some reason, I was back on the Niko train and thought I'd try again.  ”Nikolai sounds Latin, to me,” I said.  It sounds a little Russian, I see that but also Italian and Portuguese and Latin.  

Victoria sighed.  

Then even before brushing my teeth, I ran to my computer to google “Latinos named Nikolai.” I found Nikolai Garcia, Nikolai Guerra, Nikolai de Lyra,…

I ran back to Victoria and told her my findings.  

She said, “Try googling Latinos named Jefferson.”

“I see your point. But Niko is so cute.”

“Then let’s do Nicolas.”

“Too Christian,” I said.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!

What: i don't look like a priest to you?I said, “Hey, why don’t we get Tuffi to do our baptism?”

“She’s not Catholic,” Victoria said.

I said, “I know, but I think of her as totally priestly.”  

Tuffi, formerly known as Stephanie, but renamed Tuffi by Tashi when Tashi was just learning to speak, is one of Tashi’s God-moms.  Tuffi presided over Tashi’s baby-naming and seemed like a total priest to me.  

Victoria said, “Someone Jewish can’t do a baptism.”

I said, “Why not?  It’s not like we can get a priest to do it.”

Victoria said, “Why not?”  

And because she is pregnant and probably experiencing a little “mommy-brain,” I gave her the benefit of the doubt.  I trusted that she was probably listening the other eight times we talked about the baptism but just forgot, so I told her again about how I met with Father Steven, in the Castro. 

About a month ago, I got this other priestly idea, which was to get the whole family baptized.  I see it like this:  I don’t want half my family to be part of something and the other half not a part of that something, even if it’s total voodoo and I don’t believe in it anyway.  I mean, just in case there’s any power there, I might as well get some of it.  Doesn’t matter to me whose God is providing it.  There’s only one God anyway, we all know that.  And since Tashi and I have not been baptized, I made an appointment with a priest to ask some questions.  I was in San Francisco and thought if there is ever going to be a like-minded priest, a priest in the gayest neighborhood in America is MY priest. 

First thing he said to me, “So you want to become Catholic.” 

I was like, “No, no, no.  I just want to be baptized.” 

Father Steven said that no priest would perform a baptism on somebody if that somebody wasn’t going to take on the teachings of Catholicism. 

The priest did say, and I told this to Victoria, that unlike marriage or first communion, anyone can perform a baptism.   (For the full transcript of my conversation with Father Steven see previous post, Let’s Have a Baptism)

Since then Victoria and I have had several conversations about making baptism our own thing.  We’re creating our own religion here:  A Judeo-Christian-Latina-Lesbiana religion of our own making.  A religion of peace and harmony and who cares what other people think.  That’s why I suggested that Tuffi be our priest.

Victoria said, like this was all new to her, “Well, we at least have to get someone Catholic.”

Ten years ago I read Anne Lamott’s book, Operating Instructions, but I still remember this line where Anne’s friend first learned that Adolf Hitler had a tormented childhood and the friend said, “I’ve had it with Hitler.”

I’ve had it with religion.

Previously: Let's Have a Baptism/Bris

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!

Baptism or Bris: which is freakier?We know for sure we’re having a boy.  Got the amnio results.  All is good news, even the news that it’s a boy. 

I mean right?  We already have a girl, and a boy and a girl is every mom’s dream.  And boys love their mommies.  There is that special bond that only happens between boys and their moms.  And what is more important in the world than raising a sensitive, feminist, gun-hating man?  A man who loves women.  A man who can be a modern-day Jesus, as this Jew understands Jesus.  A man who can befriend the sick and destitute and end world hunger and create peace between warring nations.  And there’s really no difference between a boy and a girl in the gender neutral world this boy will create. 

That’s why this is such good news.   

But what about the penis?

Now we have serious decisions to make. 

Since Victoria is totally FOR circumcision, and since she wants to baptize, I came up with the best idea.  I said, “Let’s have a baptism/bris.”  As soon as I mentioned it the idea seemed even better than ever.  Here would be a way to honor both of our religions at the same time.  ”We’ll invite our friends and family and someone will sprinkle a little water and then someone’ll do the snip.” 

Victoria said, “What’s a bris?”

I explained that a bris is a circumcision done buy a special rabbi called a Mohel.  The Mohel comes over with his special snipper and the family gathers around and I think it’s customary that the father hold the baby, so naturally, I would hold the baby and we’d give him a little wine, the baby, that is, to help numb the pain and then the Mohel does the snip.

Victoria said, “AT HOME?  That’s freaky.”

I said, “Baby, there’s nothing freakier to a Jew than a Baptism, except for maybe those statues of the man nailed to the cross that hang over everyone’s beds.  Why do they put those in the bedroom?  Is that a sex thing?”

She ignored my last question.  She said, “I don’t want to cut my baby’s penis in front of other people.  That’s freaky.”

I see her point. Religion is freaky.

Andrea Askowitz, author of My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, is guest blogging for Jewcy, and she'll be here all week.  Lucky you!