Recently a friend told me I'd never understand his feelings because I didn't like kids and don't want to have any. Before I could protest, he apologized for the tone and clarified: he meant I couldn't truly love kids in their entirety, because I don't have any (and therefore don't experience the diaper blowouts, temper tantrums, and projectile vomit right along with the baby giggles and other fun). I haven't written about this for a few days: it took me some time to consider and process and get beyond pissed-off.
I wholeheartedly agree with this person that being a Dad is 1) something I'll never understand (um, specifically I'LL NEVER BE a Dad, but generally we don't plan to have children so I won't be a parent) and 2) that a parent's love for their child is a deep level of understanding I can't reach unless I have a child myself. I include ALL forms of "having" a child in that statement, including foster children, adoption, natural birth, etc.
The knife twist of his comment is that I'd like to have a family, but our lives right now are totally unsuited to raising a family, and until/unless we really want them and are in a place to make our lives about kids, we're not having them. Maybe my husband's and my views do make us selfish, but I'd rather be ready and have no regrets before changing everything for children. If that makes me a selfish bitch, well so be it. I'd rather be selfish no-kid-family than be a selfish bitch with kids who suffer for it.
In the meantime, I find an incredible amount of value being an "aunt" to my nieces/nephews/friends' kids. I'm fairly empathic and understanding: people talk to me all the time about their personal problems, relationship issues, etc etc. Seriously, random people on a plane will tell me all their shit. So it's not that weird to me that my friends' kids feel like they can talk to me about stuff they may not want to bring up to their parents, and trust that I'll tell them the truth. And not being their parent, I can tell them the truth and they may listen. I don't have the same parent/child relationship that can make both sides uncomfortable and cloudy when touchy teenage things come up, and being an aunt instead of a parent I can point out stupid behavior or give advice without being seen as judgemental or overprotective.
I grew up with a lot of aunts and uncles in my life: they're still important people in my life and I still look to them for the occasional reality check on stuff I don't feel comfortable talking to parents or siblings about. Family dynamics are a fascinating, compliated minefield of relationships: there are times as a teenager I know my aunts' influences kept me from royally screwing up. If I never have my own children, my goal is to be that resource for the kids in my life if they need it. I don't think that makes me any less loving or more selfish than a parent.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Vengeful Turkey
I come from a large extended family: my mom's the oldest of eight, dad's the oldest of seven. Holidays at my grandma Kit's house (mom's side) are crazy: cousins, animals, aunts and uncles all running haywire. Stories are told and retold, children are in and out of the house all day followed by the dogs, cats are hiding in terror, and horses are hitched up for rounds of sleigh rides. It's all loud insanity and it's wonderful.
When I was about five my grandparents lived on a large farm in northern Minnesota, outside of Cloquet. It was more than a hobby farm, less than a farm-for-a-living spread. After all, they had seven kids still at home (four of them teenage boys) to feed so anything they could supply from the farm was much more cost effective for a second grade teacher and a heavy equipment driver for the county. In addition to the herd of horses, cats and dogs for fun, I remember cows, chickens, goats, sheep, guinea hens, and turkeys. There were probably other random animals from time to time...I know one of my aunts had a pet raccoon for a while.
One turkey in particular took an instant disliking to my small five-year-old form. He decided I was a blonde devil and for months I couldn't walk near the barn without him attacking. In case you didn't know, 25lb turkeys fully live and loaded have VERY STRONG wings: he'd extend them out to each side and run at me, screeching and beating his wings at me until I was cornered against the barn. I loathed that stupid bird. My aunt Elyse, only seven years older than me, had to beat him away from me with a big stick. That bastard gave me nightmares every time I stayed at Grandmas for the entire summer.
Thanksgiving came and we were all sitting around the large kitchen table. It was a cacaphony of children and adults all talking at once, passing food, slipping treats to the dogs under the table, and laughing. I, being the oldest (and therefore exalted) grandchild, sat next to my Grandpa, a big, gruff man who was really a big softie with the grandkids. He watched me take a big bite of turkey and waited until I swallowed. Then he told me that was the big nasty tom from the barn. To this day I think he was telling me just to see how I'd react, being a girl mostly sheltered from the more unpleasant farm duties (we never went there on butchering day after the chicken incident).
I cheered and asked for more.
When I was about five my grandparents lived on a large farm in northern Minnesota, outside of Cloquet. It was more than a hobby farm, less than a farm-for-a-living spread. After all, they had seven kids still at home (four of them teenage boys) to feed so anything they could supply from the farm was much more cost effective for a second grade teacher and a heavy equipment driver for the county. In addition to the herd of horses, cats and dogs for fun, I remember cows, chickens, goats, sheep, guinea hens, and turkeys. There were probably other random animals from time to time...I know one of my aunts had a pet raccoon for a while.
One turkey in particular took an instant disliking to my small five-year-old form. He decided I was a blonde devil and for months I couldn't walk near the barn without him attacking. In case you didn't know, 25lb turkeys fully live and loaded have VERY STRONG wings: he'd extend them out to each side and run at me, screeching and beating his wings at me until I was cornered against the barn. I loathed that stupid bird. My aunt Elyse, only seven years older than me, had to beat him away from me with a big stick. That bastard gave me nightmares every time I stayed at Grandmas for the entire summer.
Thanksgiving came and we were all sitting around the large kitchen table. It was a cacaphony of children and adults all talking at once, passing food, slipping treats to the dogs under the table, and laughing. I, being the oldest (and therefore exalted) grandchild, sat next to my Grandpa, a big, gruff man who was really a big softie with the grandkids. He watched me take a big bite of turkey and waited until I swallowed. Then he told me that was the big nasty tom from the barn. To this day I think he was telling me just to see how I'd react, being a girl mostly sheltered from the more unpleasant farm duties (we never went there on butchering day after the chicken incident).
I cheered and asked for more.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Review: Tribal Vision: A Celebration of Life Through Tribal Belly Dance
Paulette Rees-Denis, the founder of Tribal belly dance in Portland, OR, was kind enough to let me read a copy of Tribal Vision: A Celebration of Life Through Tribal Belly Dance (Cultivator Press, 2008).
I'm primarily a fusion belly dancer: a little oriental, a little salsa, a little Turkish, even a little ballet here and there. I realize my own fusion comes from my main teacher and HER penchant for fusion, but part of my satisfaction with my current group is the ability to try new fun styles as they come up and encouragement to learn everywhere. I suspect that's why I so thoroughly enjoyed this book. I wasn't sure where it was going at first: the beginning chapters are an intertwining of the author's life as well as the evolution of Tribal on the West Coast. As both stories unfolded, however, it became clear that her life in dance was one of the driving forces behind the development of Tribal belly dance, and that both were a journey of exploration and experimentation.
The real connection for me came through the author's desire to create a safe, sacred space for herself and her students. The ability to let go of the real world and just be is difficult enough, but to be able to do it in front of/with a group of women takes a special level of comfort, and I appreciate her desire to give that to her students. I also loved that every aspect of dance is covered, from troupe origin to costuming to watching a student have that "aha!" moment when her body does exactly what she's trying to get it to do.
The photos were fantastic: a visual history of Paulette, the dancers, the students, and the myriad of costumes through the years. Cammi Vance was in MN a few years ago doing workshops, so it was fun to see her "back in the day" as well.
All in all I'd recommend Tribal Vision to any dancer who wants to enrich her knowledge and dance philosophy. And you can be sure the next time I'm in Portland I'll be looking for a class!
I'm primarily a fusion belly dancer: a little oriental, a little salsa, a little Turkish, even a little ballet here and there. I realize my own fusion comes from my main teacher and HER penchant for fusion, but part of my satisfaction with my current group is the ability to try new fun styles as they come up and encouragement to learn everywhere. I suspect that's why I so thoroughly enjoyed this book. I wasn't sure where it was going at first: the beginning chapters are an intertwining of the author's life as well as the evolution of Tribal on the West Coast. As both stories unfolded, however, it became clear that her life in dance was one of the driving forces behind the development of Tribal belly dance, and that both were a journey of exploration and experimentation.
The real connection for me came through the author's desire to create a safe, sacred space for herself and her students. The ability to let go of the real world and just be is difficult enough, but to be able to do it in front of/with a group of women takes a special level of comfort, and I appreciate her desire to give that to her students. I also loved that every aspect of dance is covered, from troupe origin to costuming to watching a student have that "aha!" moment when her body does exactly what she's trying to get it to do.
The photos were fantastic: a visual history of Paulette, the dancers, the students, and the myriad of costumes through the years. Cammi Vance was in MN a few years ago doing workshops, so it was fun to see her "back in the day" as well.
All in all I'd recommend Tribal Vision to any dancer who wants to enrich her knowledge and dance philosophy. And you can be sure the next time I'm in Portland I'll be looking for a class!
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