I always yell at the commercials

Let’s talk about advertising for a minute, shall we?

It seems that this time of year (cough, Super Bowl, cough) we all have MANY opinions on commercials, and it also seems that this time of year many companies bring out all their cliched trope of misogyny, and insist on using women and their bodies to sell stuff. Granted, there are usually also a handful of bright spots with some wit or a fresh angle that rise to the top, but truth of the matter is that the Super Bowl brings out the best and worst of the advertising world, and it also happens to be an event that vast numbers of people watch, even those (ahem) who don’t really care about Spots Ball (Go Team!), and even those who don’t particularly care for commercials.

So. Ads. Companies pay gajillions of dollars to tout their product during this sportsing event. And millions of people watch the game and the commercials and you can follow a running commentary on both on various channels of the Interwebs.

Here’s what: this is how advertising works. It creates a desire where one didn’t necessarily exist before, and then it somehow compels you to go out of your way to consume and satiate that desire. I worked in advertising for YEARS and I honestly have a really hard time with commercials, Super Sports or no. Mr. Blue Eyes won’t watch live TV with me because I tend to yell at the commercials and pick them apart, ranting about what the producer wants me to do or buy. I complain about the ridiculous cliches that help generate emotions and desire in a super condensed ad slot. I am ruthless in my critique, and I usually get all huffy and puffy, and Mr. Blue Eyes has to turn off the TV and bring me cold compresses for my forehead until my heart rate gets back to normal.

Irresponsible advertising–and I use that term loosely to encompass ads that exploit people in order to sell product–makes me super irritated. I don’t react well to be purposely manipulated by a phone company or a car company or a fast food company to convince me that they are the Super Best and I should go there to spend all my monies. The whole idea rankles me; the exploitation, the “clever” spin, the manipulation, the incessant repetition, the photoshopping for maximum effect, the all-too-common stereotypes, the misogyny, the unrealistic expectations…I mean, come on! (Also? Remind you of anything else that’s been going on of late?)

Throughout the sportsing Twitter and Facebook are alight with friends and strangers giving their two cents on whatever the refs are doing, and whatever the advertisers are saying/selling. You’ll see a TON of angst about certain companies, their commercials, their ad messaging, etc. You will see a number of complaints from parents about how they can’t believe how inappropriate the ads were for a family event, too dark, too scary, too sexy, too much. And I understand where they are coming from, for sure. But I am surprised at their surprise. I mean, truly, I am. This is how advertising works and it works REMARKABLY well in the United States. Think about that. Think about why. Consider how many things are “sponsored” and by whom and why. Am I promote a wholesale boycott? No. I am asking you to consider how and why XYZ company can spend millions of dollars on 30 seconds of advertising. What are they trying to get you, the consumer, to do, or to buy? Why? Then see if your values actually align what that thing, and if they do–great! And if they don’t, think carefully before whipping out your credit card.

That’s it. That’s my advertising rant. Just think about it.

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P.S. I’m not mentioning any Super Sports Game commercials or companies because a) this post was written last week and b) I didn’t actually watch the game or the commercials.

Resist, for your own emotional health

Ya’ll, it’s been a rough weekend. And I say that from a super privileged place, I slept in a comfortable bed, in my own home, with plenty to eat and plenty to wear and WiFi at all times and the Cheeto in Chief was not issuing Executive Orders that directly affect me, my family, or my livelihood. I am ridiculously lucky not to have been born in Aleppo, or Libya, or, Flint, Michigan.

For most of the fall, since the election, actually, I have been living in a state of general panic and anxiety, some election related, some general life stuffs. I joined groups dedicated to building bridges, trying to work together, trying to understand…and I think that is important, and meaningful.

HOWEVER, the response in the last few days has done so much more to heal my heart. The sheer numbers of people who are determined to stop the psycho in any way they can has renewed my faith in humanity, honestly. It has renewed my faith in (some) Americans. I know there are many many people who are thrilled with the Cheeto’s election and his actions this last week, and I have so many things to say to them, the least of which is “fuck off.” But, in the interest of keeping it civil, I am choosing right now not to engage. For me, there are much better ways to spend my time and energy, and seeing the cavalry show up in similar ways is lifting my soul.

  • The ACLU has received almost $20 million in donations since the White House ban on immigration, they usually get $3-$4 per YEAR in donations.
  • Tens of thousands of people have shown up at airports and state houses around the country to protest the ban on immigration from carefully selected Muslim-majority countries (where Mr. Cheeto doesn’t have any business interests).
  • Last week hundreds of thousands of women around the country marched to be heard, to be seen, to assert that we have rights and we are a force to be reckoned with.
  • The National Parks Service has gone rogue in defiance. Ditto the State Department and almost every science-based national organization in defiance of the bullshit coming from the White House.
  • Millions of people are protesting on other forms, posting on social media, rallying, RESISTING.

THIS is the America I am proud of, the ones who get their boots on the ground and DO the thing. We jam up congressional staffers, we writer letter, sign petitions, make call after call after call…and then when none of that works? We show up with signs, we make noise, we refuse to back down. This type of action makes me happier than anything has since the election.

Keep it coming, America.

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P.S. Do you remember in The Hunger Games when Katniss ends up with Peeta and her reasoning is because Gale was too into fighting, too committed to The Cause, and she just wanted to live her quiet life with Peeta because he knew what she’d been through and would help and support her? That aggravated me to no end, although who I am to dictate her love preference. BUT! The rationale that she should reject him because he continued to fight the worst kind of dictator in all the land rang so hollow to me. (I also really hated Book 3 in general and the ending specifically, so there’s that.) Gale would be wearing a pink pussy hat and marching with the feminists. Gale would be at the airport with signs and snacks. Gale would be calling his congressional representatives every damn day and his timeline will be full of resistance and revolution against the forces that are trying to destroy his country. Gale will not go softly into the night. Be like Gale.

Authenticity

I don’t like scary acrylic nails or plastic shoes, and I don’t like overly photoshopped images. I don’t like artificial cherry, grape, or banana flavoring and I don’t like disingenuous compliments. I do, however, have streaks of purple in my hair and several plastic IKEA plants greening up corners of my home. So, my authenticity requirements are a little bit fluid and loose around the edges, I’m not some kind of hard ass.

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I have struggled to fill this space lately, there have been the Big Life Things that only get a passing mention here, and Unbloggable Things that don’t get mentioned at all (let’s go to lunch, I’ll tell you ALL about it). I wonder what having this quasi-anonymous place is for, if not to be able to write about those things!? But, it’s hard to be completely authentic, even if doing so results in lower anxiety levels for me. Also, perhaps it isn’t always entirely healthy to share every thought and feeling and frustration every moment that I have it. (Besides, isn’t that what Twitter/Facebook is for?)

I feel like the last several years I’ve noticed a particular shift online AND in my real life away from the more genuine and towards something that feels more plastic-y, more artificial, more–dare I say it–“styled.” And I get it, I do. The Internet is not the same place it was 10 years ago, trolls are everywhere and you have to fiercely protect your own privacy and family. Hell, I don’t even write under my real name, I’m hardly one to complain about others who curate their outgoing messaging. But I also miss the days before the pretty filters, and the lightening-brightening tool, and the cropping out the unseemly, the messy, and the dark, in order to stay true to a “personal brand.” Whatever that means.

I know there are plenty of places where you still get the Real Deal, you see all the warts and the cracks and the scary bits of someone’s life. It’s a super vulnerable and scary thing to do, to open up and show your true self to the world. It’s probably easier to set up a nice little vignette, three paragraphs of words, or an image, and retouch it a bit to present a shined up version, the “better” version. And sometimes, we all do that. We have to, I think. We all filter ourselves as we interact with humans in our daily routine, and perhaps even more so as we put ourselves “out there” via Twitter or Instagram or blog posts or whatever. I think we’ve all found ourselves unsubscribing from a completely unfiltered feed, it’s too much, too extreme. But, do we also unsubscribe from the other end of that spectrum? Do we put so much value on the filters and the visual tricks that we lose sight of the beautiful and honest core?

The beginning of a new year–calendar or academic–is always a prime time for decluttering and simplifying my life. I unsubscribe from spammy email lists like crazy, weed out my closet, and get rid of the piles of unnecessary and unremembered stuff that tend to accumulate in the corners of my house. Simultaneously, I am also trying to clean up my own Expectations feed, to remind myself that my imperfect, feisty, sweary, nerdy, ranting, defend-the-underdog core is just fine. I need to remind myself that it is much easier to be myself, the sometimes petty, sometimes jealous, sometimes selfish, oftentimes kind (but also sometimes not, see: petty and jealous and selfish), usually nerdy, usually serious version of Harriet that has pulled me through to adulthood. I am not perfect, and that is okay. Sometimes (okay, most of the time), I’m not even trying to be perfect, and that is okay too. Year after year I get slightly better at being comfortable in my own skin, and therefore more honest and authentic about who I am and who/what is important to me; it’s a process.

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Love (noun) vs. Love (verb)

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Love Wins.

That is one of the placating statements in times of violence or fear or hate. Love Wins. I’ve said it. You’ve said it. I’ve truly believed it. In the end, love wins. Good always triumphs over evil, love will prevail over hate.

It’s not enough. And, depending on how you are defining “love” it’s not even true.

Love as an idea or a pinnacle of humanity is not enough, as a descriptive noun it gives warm fuzzies but does not promote change of behavior. However, love as an action, now that’s something else entirely. Love as a verb is scary, and determined, and all-consuming, it keeps you up at night.

Love is flawed but trying. Love is committed and forgiving, but has no patience with complacency. Love is a living thing that must be tended to, encouraged, and allowed to grow. Love is something you DO, actively, and continually. Love as a VERB is a CHOICE. I’m not talking about romantic, sexual love, the twitterpated butterflies early in a relationship. I am talking about something much more, much bigger, and much more difficult to maintain.

A wise man once said “Love your neighbor,” what he meant was to treat all humans as if they were your own. To fiercely protect the unprotected as if they were your own babies, your own blood. To stand up for the downtrodden and the abused as if they were YOUR parent, YOUR child, YOUR lover, and YOUR friend. To champion the weak and oppressed as if your own happiness depended on it.

We are there. The forces of hate and fear and vitriol are growing stronger and stronger, or, they are the same as they always have been but we are hearing about them more now. Christians who are truly following the admonitions of Christ can no longer “pray for XYZ” and consider their work done. Humanists who claim to be anti-racist or anti-sexist or anti-whatever can no longer leave it at that. Love as an action is not complacent, it is not pithy, and it CERTAINLY is not convenient. It’s time to get uncomfortable, folks. It is time to take a stand and dig in our heels, those who are fostering and encouraging hate and fear have a huge jump on us already, and to combat that cloud of evil we need to do more than sit at home and offer hashtag prayers.

I am done with this shitty status quo. In 5, or 15, or 50 years I will not say “oh, I sat by and let that happen, I didn’t want to get involved.” I’m not entirely sure what my next steps are, but I have had enough. Enough of rape and domestic violence, enough anti-woman culture, enough violence towards women by men, enough #NotAllMen, enough violence towards ethnic or religious groups by those who refuse to understand, enough vitriol, enough hate crimes towards LGBTQ persons, enough racism, enough police brutality towards those with dark skin, enough #AllLivesMatter, enough mass shootings and enough elementary school kids being killed in broad daylight, enough young black people being shot for NO GOOD REASON. Enough. I am done. And I am no longer going to be polite and nice about it.

I will love fiercely and without abandon, and if that means I will literally crush hate and fear and all the loathsome ideology that comes with it, so be it. If you (the metaphorical “you”) want to be racist, or sexist, or anti-feminist, or homophobic, or trans-phobic, or anti-Islam-because-they-are-all-terrorists, or pro-zero-gun-regulation-whatsoever-because-what-have-guns-ever-done-to-anyone, or in ANY way promote the unequal treatment of humans, you will be tongue-lashed without mercy. Out of love. Because that shit is not okay. Love is not passive. Passivity is apathy, a definitive lack of action. Love is a verb. It’s time we start acting that way.

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The Tidal Basin in Washington DC

Washington DC Tidal Basin_feistyharriet_June 2016 (1)A few weeks ago I spent a whirlwind two days in Washington, D.C. for a work conference. I knew I wouldn’t have much free time, so I decided to spend the few hours I did have doing things I’d never done in DC before. After my meetings were over I decided to walk around the Tidal Basin, swooning over all the monuments all lit up at night.

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Mr. Lincoln was a very popular stop with crowds of people everywhere. I only spent a few minutes here and kept wandering, past the Korean War monument, and the Vietnam Memorial. I stopped at the Martin Luther King monument and listened to a tour guide talk about Dr. King’s life and his dedication to civil and human rights. I walked through the memorial to FDR and his political policies, and kept wandering around the Tidal Basin towards the Jefferson Memorial, my favorite. It was pretty late by the time I got there, and I had the place almost to myself.

Carved into the wall of the memorial are several quotes, but this one hit me square in the gut:

I am not an advocate for frequent change in laws and constitutions. but laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered, and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society remain even under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.

—Thomas Jefferson

Of late, there have been a lot of political upheavals on better gun control and policy, LGBQT rights, issues surrounding race and ethnicity, religious freedoms, women’s rights to determine their own healthcare needs…and I can’t help but think that our Founding Fathers are shaking their collective heads, somewhere. Jefferson knew that government must evolve as humanity progressed, so I am baffled at the argument that it should not because that’s not what the constitution intended. Wrong. The constitution is a living, breathing, CHANGING document, as it should be, as we as a collective citizenry are constantly changing, evolving, and becoming more enlightened than our “barbarous ancestors” who didn’t provide protections and established individuality for women, people of color, and the “other.” We know better, and we should campaign for better, not for status quo.

Washington DC Tidal Basin_feistyharriet_June 2016 (4)I have been thinking about activism a lot lately, and the more I think about it the more I get this sinking feeling in my gut that it is time for me to act; and that scares me a little, it’s outside my comfort zone. But if I don’t–if we don’t–actively work towards a more inclusive, safer, more peaceful world, who will? Watching so much fear and hate and violence and Drumpism fill the media, I just…I can’t sit still anymore. For my fellow Americans, as you celebrate your independence over the weekend, perhaps spend a little time thinking about those who have gone before you to grant you the freedoms you enjoy, and how can you help those who are coming along with you, or behind you, to enjoy similar freedoms in their lives.

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