For a historical context of how insane it is that we are still having this conversation in 2012, see my former law professor Louise Trubek‘s New York Times op-ed yesterday, about her role in litigating this in 1957.

1957!

In 1983, two things happened to me that seem related. One I actively chose. The other one happened to me.

In health class, we had an assignment to write a research report. I don’t remember what the parameters of the assignment were,but I decided to write about different kinds of birth control. Mainly, I remember 2 things. The Boston Women’s Health Book Collective book, Changing Bodies, Changing Lives, was so chock full of good information that although it was the source for 90% of my information, the teacher gave me double credit for the work — 2 A’s for 1 report. And at the time, there was a “pill for men,” which was derived from cottonseed oil, being tested in China. (That was in Newsweek.)

Yes, I studied birth control options in my public school, and I kicked ass doing it.

Let me be perfectly clear: I was 13 years old. I had kissed one boy. That was the full extent of my sexual experience at the time, and for a good while after that. (Granted, we kissed a few times.)

The other thing was the thing that happened to me.

I suffered such severe menorrhagia that I began blacking out every time I stood up, or had to walk up stairs. No exaggeration. I would stand up, and my vision would go fuzzy and dark from the outside in; and, I usually had to clutch the handrail on the stairs, so that I wouldn’t collapse and fall down.

After 3 weeks, I was no longer able to hide what was going on from my mom, who took me to my first gynecological appointment. They gave me a massive dose of some kind of hormone to stop things, and told us that if I could not keep them down for 24 hours, I would have to be hospitalized.

14 hours later, at around 4 am, I threw up with the kind of drama that I can only describe as exorcisian. Mom rushed me to the hospital, where I got a blood transfusion, a lot of drugs, and finally the ability to stand without fainting.

And when I left the hospital, the doctor gave me a prescription for birth control pills. (And iron supplements.) The birth control pills were to make my body both menstruate, and STOP menstruating. On a regular, appropriate schedule.

I was no slut.

And the birth control pills I was on didn’t make me get sluttier, they didn’t make me have sex. But they did make my body work, they made me not need another blood transfusion, and they made me able to safely LIVE MY LIFE. You know, standing, sitting, walking up and down stairs — the basics. Concentrate on classes, conversations, not walking into traffic because I was no longer obsessing about whether or not I needed to rush to the bathroom, or in the alternative, die of embarassment — I’m not talking about anything too crazy.

I was lucky. My parents had good health insurance, and could afford my treatment and medications.

Everyone deserves the health care I had, although I really hope you don’t need it.

(Especially if you are a teenage girl.)

PS: I would have deserved that health care, and respect, even if I had been having sex. Even if I’d been having sex with every boy — and girl — I knew. I can tell you for damn sure, if I had gotten pregnant at 13, I would have had an abortion. I think we can all agree, 13 year olds should not become parents.

On the one hand, although I did everything I was supposed to do on weight watchers, I was still up a pound. It feels very unfair to be super-careful with my eating, and to successfully exercise 5 days/week, but to gain instead of losing. I *know* I’m in this for the long-haul, I’m making healthy choices, and that the gain may involve building some muscle.

Logic and knowledge have nothing to do with my feelings about this.

But I haven’t given up, although I did miss 2 mornings of exercise in a row. There has been no massive gorge on Halloween candy — I’ve had a couple of pieces, but nothing outrageous. And I’ve gotten up the last 2 mornings, exercised, and gotten homework done in the early morning.

On the encouraging side, I had a FABULOUS IDEA that has completely reinvigorated my PhD work. I’m not going to try to explain it here, but in a nutshell, it involves a feminist and queer theory analysis of copyright law.

I promise, that makes more sense and is less boring than you might think. It was one of those ideas that propels you forward instantly, where you find yourself WIDE AWAKE after bedtime, excitedly looking for articles and reading until the wee hours.

And on that note, back to statistics.

This is the background against which my own health, well-being, and body-image “stuff” now takes place.

On the one hand, modeling exercise and healthy eating is good for me and good for the kids.

On the other hand, modeling dieting, obsession with weight and personal appearance, not so much.

And of course, my “stuff” is still my stuff. There is no feminist or lesbian “get out of jail free” card for having been enculturated as an American woman, even if I can think critically about my reactions.

Seven weeks ago, I stepped on the scale and realized I was at my highest non-pregnant weight ever. (I count the first 6 weeks or so after the baby is born as still “pregnant weight.”)

I really, really didn’t like that feeling.

So I did two things that I’ve been thinking about doing since Noah was about 2 months old. First, I joined Weight Watchers online. My doctor, who is also one of my closest friends, has had great success getting to and maintaining a healthy weight through their program, and has been encouraging me as well. Plus they were having some sort of promotional deal where you got a bunch of time free in the online program. (Who has time to go to meetings? I do not.)

And last week, I pulled out the T-TAPP video that I bought on the passionate recommendation of Ask Moxie, maybe 5 years ago, again in the aftermath of my 50 lb weight gain pregnancy with Noah. I never did the video then; sleep won every time. But I’ve been doing the basic instructional video (just over 15 minutes) for a week.

This self-care thing seems to be working. I’m eating a ton of fruit and vegetables. In the first 6 weeks, I lost 8.5 lbs, which seems like a healthy rate. The exercise is making muscles all over my body hurt, but in that good, something is working here, way. I raced around with Josie on the playground on Saturday, and I definitely had more energy than I expected to have.

A month from today, I turn 42. There are no crazy weight loss goals for my birthday, but I am shooting for “42:42″ — a total loss of 42 lbs, to be completed and sustained during my 42nd year. That will bring me back down to my wedding weight, still well within the normal BMI range. And I can hit doing the exercise tape a total of 42 times by my 42nd birthday, if I keep it up every day until then.

I’ve been thinking a lot about being out, and why being out matters, and for that matter, why it matters that I am a lesbian, and in particular, a lesbian parent.

There are times when I hate National Coming Out Day. Sometimes I feel like its a day when I “should” come out, even when there isn’t a good context, and it will be awkward, and I don’t wanna and you can’t make me. I know that’s me doing my thing — there are no Lesbian Police checking to see if I’ve made my coming out quota or anything like that.

And quite frankly, fear of awkwardness isn’t a very good reason not to come out. Fear for my safety, fear for my kids, fear for consequences that really matter — those might be good reasons. Awkwardness is just awkwardness, and life is full of awkwardness.

And being out really does matter. Why else would there be more than 1800 It Gets Better videos, and almost half a million people who have pledged to help it get better? It is a lot easier to be scared, and to believe scary stereotypes or rumors about people when you don’t know anyone “like that” — or don’t think you do. And while there certainly are LGBTQIA people who run the full gamut from “ordinary” to “extremely unusual,” once straight people know that they know someone LGBTQIA, their attitudes nearly always change. It’s hard to be scared of someone who sits two cubes over when you hear them kvetch about their boyfriend the same way you do, or someone at the school playground whose kids exasperate them exactly the same way yours exasperate you. Or to think that someone you know from a volunteer program, is really that different from you, after you see them survive and rebuild after having their heart broken.

When straight people see LGBTQIA people, whom they know to be LGBTQIA, in our full humanity, it makes a difference.

Why should anyone care?

In theory, they should not. No one should care who other people date, are attracted to, love, or with whom they build families.

But in reality, some people care.

Our government cares.

And if I want to change their minds, coming out is step one.

I do want to change their minds. Partly for me, but more for my kids. Right now, they still accept that some families have two mommies, some have a mommy and a daddy, some might have two daddies, or even just one parent. But over time, that matter-of-fact quality will not work as well as it does now.

The idea that someone might try to make Noah or Josie feel ashamed of being part of our family…it breaks my heart.

So…I am out. As much as I can be. Every day.

(But I still try to prevent it from being too awkward.)

Today was the first day that BOTH Noah and Josie are in “Big Kid” school — or for those of you who speak Montessori, Children’s House. Josie is in 3-year-old kindergarten, and Noah is in 5-year-old kindergarten. They are in different classrooms, but in the same school and similar groups of children.

As I told Facebook:

I really thought that The First Day of School was going to be no big deal. The kids were there for summer program until 10 days ago! Josie spent afternoons in the very Big Kid classroom that is now hers. So wrong. Noah tried to hide behind me instead of greeting his teacher — the same one for the last 2 years. Josie sobbed. And when I bent down to comfort her, I split my pants.

That’s right. I split my pants on their first day of school.

And as Jill told Facebook, I was wearing orange undies. (What can I say? I like bright colors. And I didn’t expect anyone to see them!)

Mercifully, I carry a large purse, which I was able to sling over my shoulder and back, and butt, without it looking completely weird. Or at least without it looking so weird that anyone commented on it. And I was able to comfort Josie, who was fine within a few minutes after we left.

And Josie continues on her current mission to do EVERYTHING her brother does.

Jill leaves today for a work detail — shorter than her usual ones, but still 2 weeks of her being away.

While she’s gone, Madelaine and I are taking all 4 of our kids to a Renaissance Fair, we have a trip to Chicago (where Jill will meet us) to celebrate her birthday at a WNBA game, and hang out with lots of friends. Also, the State Fair runs from this week through next, and last year we promised Noah we would go this year. I’m still not sure exactly how that’s going to work.

Just after she gets back, Jill is taking Noah to Washington DC for a 3-day weekend with This Grandma & This Grandpa. Instead of coming home, they will meet us in Florida for an extended family trip to Disney World for a week. We come home to my classes starting, but two days needing day care for Noah and Josie, before Josie’s actual birthday, and then the start of school September 1.

I am tired just thinking about it.

Things that make Istanbul fascinating:

• History, history, history. Istanbul is home to an enormous 4th Century church, turned 15th Century mosque, turned 20th century museum, the Aya Sophia (also called the Hagia Sophia). We couldn’t find it, but there is allegedly 9th Century Viking graffiti defacing the church. Facing the Aya Sophia, there is an enormous, much better maintained 17th Century mosque, the Sultanahmet Mosque, which is still actively in use. On the other side of the Aya Sophia, is Topkapi Palace, originally constructed in the 15th Century, but expanded and modified heavily in the 16th. Today it holds a number of Ottoman Empire treasures, as well as relics associated with the Prophet Mohammed (footprints, a tooth, beard, and other personal items).
• Location. I’m not sure there is anything cooler than an ancient city straddling 2 continents. My friend Sue, who traveled with me, and I got on a public transit ferry, crossed the Bosphorus Strait, and ate dinner in Asia. Which was so un-touristy that we could not find anyone who spoke English, and we ordered dinner by pointing at things. Which resulted in way too much food, and my unexpected consumption of a baked rice ball with lamb liver. And the best artichokes I’ve ever eaten. IN ASIA! (I have now been to 4 continents. Can you tell I was excited about that?)
• Architecture. Even if you don’t love mosques, you have to admit, they look really interesting. Especially when they are 400+ years old, which most of them seem to be. Minarets are cool! Domes are cool. Incredibly elaborate carving and tile is cool.
• People Watching. There are a LOT of tourists in Istanbul. But most of them are not Americans or Europeans. My best guess is that most of them are Turkish, Middle Eastern, or Central Asian. In the touristy areas, we saw an enormous number of women in full abaya and niqab; the overwhelming majority of women were modestly dressed and in headscarves. Most tourists seemed to be in family groups, although we often saw what appeared to be heterosexual couples without children. I wondered if Istanbul is a honeymoon destination in some parts of the world. Local restauranteurs and shopkeepers in the tourist areas were amazingly aggressive, trying anything to get our attention. “Beautiful lady! Beautiful lady! You dropped something. Let me guess where you are from? Texas? Australia?” Although we were not fans of the aggressive entrepreneurs, we both had at least a few friendly, entertaining conversations as we ate and bought souvenirs.
• Food. Last but NOT least, I left Istanbul as a big fan of Turkish food. From kebabs of minced lamb mixed with pistachios, to artichokes braised in olive oil, to yogurt soup, to spinach, to watermelon dusted with pistachios, to baklava, to chicken stuffed with vegetables, to rice balls with lamb liver…I would happily repeat almost every meal I ate in Istanbul. Especially the kebab above, from Hamdi Restaurant. Sue and I loved it so much we went back to eat it again.

I also had a great time at the IAMCR Conference, where I presented a paper and heard a few papers that helped me clarify what it is I’m doing in grad school, and what my academic passion really is. But that’s a separate post!

I woke up, and listened to talking heads tell that story for about 15 minutes, before having to crawl back into bed and to sleep. It didn’t hit me until this morning.

My feelings today are complicated. On the one hand, I am relieved. I think he was a dangerous man, and I believe the US was rightly at war with him and with his followers. I wish that I felt his death would make us safer. I wish that his death would help end the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I cynically doubt either of those outcomes, although hope springs eternal.

I admire the brave Navy Seals who directly took this action. I once had a boss who had been a Navy Seal. The calm, efficient, get-it-done quality they have turns out to have been the right tool for the job. And I admire the President, for making sure that we had good intelligence, and authorizing the action.

I am uncomfortable with hearing about people celebrating the death. The idea of celebrating any death makes me feel queasy.

I am proud of how many of my Facebook friends have put up this quotation from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” -Martin Luther King, Jr.

UPDATED to note that apparently the first sentence of the quotation is not actually from Dr. King. However, Google Books confirms that the language beginning with “Returning hate for hate…” is correctly attributed to Dr. King, from A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, p. 594, edited by James M. Washington.

I have been thinking about my own September 11, 2001. About how I can still barely say the phrase, “I just want to go home,” out loud, without my voice breaking. I felt so alone. So horribly alone, stuck out in California, worried about what was then still my city, DC.

I didn’t know anyone who was injured or killed at the Pentagon. But I lived 12 blocks from the US Capitol building. And I worked about 8 blocks from the White House. I knew that my city was changed forever, but I couldn’t walk around and see it. I couldn’t be there.

For everyone who lived in or near one of the impacted locations, or who lost someone in the attack, it was different. Normally, I am a person who reacts to news with a political lens, almost immediately. But I couldn’t be with that viewpoint right away, not when it was personal. It took a long time for me to get objective enough to think analytically.

That does not mean I supported the excessive response of the US government. I don’t think I am safer because I can no longer take a full tube of toothpaste on an airplane. Or because secret federal FISA courts can authorize the FBI to see what I check out from the library or look at online, without my even being under “reasonable suspicion” of criminal activity. In the old days, law enforcement agencies needed “probable cause” to believe that such intrusion would give them evidence about a crime before they could get records like that.

I continue to believe that our invasion of Iraq was completely pretextual, and that the loss of American, British, and Iraqi lives will be a blot on US history that future generations will find cringeworthy and baffling.

I don’t know exactly what I think about the war in Afghanistan. It didn’t seem like a completely unjustifiable idea at the time…but that isn’t even where they caught Bin Laden, in the end. No one with a democratic sense of values, no one who opposes poverty, or supports freedom of religion, or the rights of women, or free speech, could fail to oppose the Taliban. But we don’t go to war against all dictators. And in a budget crisis, in an economic crisis, can we justify continuing to spend billions of dollars per year fighting a land war against them, in their homeland? Is there still a them there? How would we even know? I do know that still being at war there almost 10 years later seems insane to me. Are we going to stay at war there forever?

My September 11 story has a silver lining.

I finally quit waiting for a seat on an airplane to take me home, and instead decided to rescue myself and drive from Irvine, California, back to Washington, DC. When my cell phone came back into network range in Flagstaff, Arizona, it rang. A woman I barely knew was calling. She was stuck in Denver, and asked if I would detour 6 hours to pick her up. I thought about it for 10 minutes, then agreed. It was through her that I met Jill.

If I had not said yes, if I had not detoured 6 hours to pick up a near stranger, I would never have met my wife.

They spam women students at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee.

Don’t get me wrong. If you want to strip, strip.

This is about spamming, and particularly about what is so wrong about spamming women students with the message that instead of studying, we should really be taking our clothes off for money. Or exercise. (Hey! There’s a gym at the university.)

It is also about the refusal to stop spamming, and then stopping, and then starting up again.

And about claiming that your mailing list is a double opt-in to someone who has been actively asking you to remove them from your list since July 2010.

It goes like this:

Roughly once a month since I first got an email address with a top level domain ending in .edu, I get a spam message from customercare@misspole.com . They are a localish business, pitching stripper pole dancing classes to women students.

I began asking around, and indeed, other women students were getting the same unsolicited commerical email messages. Spam.

My first attempt to contact them by email bounced.

Then I called their Kenosha telephone number and left a voice message, including my email address, asking to be removed from their mailing list.

No luck.

I tried emailing them again. I complained to the UWM IT department, who told me how to filter the messages into my junk mail folder. (Thanks guys, already had that one down. I want the spammers to stop spamming everyone, not just to find a self-help solution.)

I complained on their Facebook page, and mine. (Hmm, but strangely my comments on their Facebook page seem to have been removed. I wonder how that happened.)

Eventually, they responded to my complaints on Facebook, through Facebook messaging.

Interestingly enough, the response on Facebook suggests that they don’t only spam women students at UWM, but also women students at UW – Madison.

That was in July.

I tried the “Do Not Contact” link in their messages, AGAIN.

I didn’t get any spam from them in August. I thought it worked.

When the fall semester began again, so did the Miss Pole spam. But I was busy, and it was going into my junk folder, so I ignored it.

Until this morning. When it quit going into my junk folder.

They sent a message that almost seemed to imply they were owning up to their spamming practices, what with the subject line reading: “Who the, what the, huh? Oh, Miss Pole. Wait… Who’s that?”

I responded to the email with this message:

Dear Miss Pole,

There is clearly something very wrong with your “unsubscribe” technology. After repeated emails and phone calls, and my complaining on your Facebook page, you insisted that you removed me from your email list.

Indeed, I enjoyed several lovely months free from porn spam at this educational email address.

Then the fall semester began. And I began getting your inappropriate spam messages again.

You do realize that under the federal CAN SPAM law, every unsolicited email message you send exposes you to a $10,000 fine, right? If UWM chose to file a claim against you, your liability would be $10,000 for EACH MESSAGE (meaning all of the thousands of UWM students you invite to learn to be strippers), repeated for EACH MONTH. For messages to me alone, you are legally liable for roughly $100,000.

Please stop spamming me. And the rest of the women at UWM who are trying to get an education, not trying to learn how to be strippers.

Since their list seemed impossible to leave, I didn’t expect it to work, and I also posted it as a note on Facebook.

Imagine my surprise when I got a response this morning!

Liza,

Subscription removals/do not contacts are managed by iContact. Our strippers in training are not well versed in computers, technology, spamming laws, or ‘do not contact’ button clicking. Therefore, a mean spirited email isn’t as effective as utilizing the ‘do not contact’ functionality.

This is a double opt-in email list and it appears that you (1) opted in and (2) have never unsubscribed or requested do not contact status.

Please feel free to file a complaint with iContact , ph: (919) 968-3996, and they should be able to assist.

My apologies,

Patricia

The bold type there is my emphasis.

My head exploded when I read that, and I realized I needed to share here.

But first, I would go try the iContact opt-out form. Take a look:

“UW Milwaukee Fall 2010″ as the list name? Does that sound like a list that was harvested, or one that is “double opt-in” to you?

After taking the screen shot, I clicked — again — the Add me to your “Do Not Contact” list.

Of course, the Spring semester has just begun, so I imagine that I’ll be hearing from my new best friend just as usual next month.

This year, I am thankful that we are moved into and settling into our new house, which no longer includes two scary wild jungles in which one might easily lose a dog or toddler.

I am thankful for two wonderful, exhausting, intelligent, helpful, enthusiastic, energetic, adorable, sweet, stubborn, loud, creative loving children. (I wish I could share the two of them dancing to Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal with the entire planet. But I am not sure they would forgive me for it when they reached adolescence. Especially Noah.) I am thankful they have such nice manners (usually), that they love to read, and that they both enjoy counting, building, and learning new things.

I am thankful that they are beautifully cared for on weekdays, by a wonderful school community of caring adults who are helping them grow into those people I just described.

I am thankful for my wonderful wife, her love, her gracious move into the role of primary breadwinner, her support for my career change, her company for finally offering domestic partner health benefits, and her exhaustive music appreciation classes for Noah and Josie, and me too.

I am thankful for my parents, and for their support for our family, their help and enthusiasm with Noah & Josie, and for their love.

I am thankful for the freedom and privilege and opportunity I have to change careers at my age and stage of life. I’m thankful that UWM has a program that is such a perfect fit for my interests, and that I found it in time to apply. I’m thankful that the faculty have such a commitment to inclusion, and that the Institute for Museum and Library Services had the vision to reward that commitment with the Overcoming Barriers to Information Access fellowship that will let me both study and contribute to my family’s financial health over the next 3 years.

I am thankful for my 41 years on this planet. If I am able to stay on this trajectory, I think that the next 41 will be even more amazing.