Five Star's 283rd Great Blog Roundup Is Brought to You By Gabriel García Márquez
This week's Five Star roundup is brought to you by men and sexual harassment, love for an old woman, accepting age and marking the gains, sex and gender, the time before dying, the early days of sobriety, the benefits of living openly, technology's effect on how we grieve, a sense of familial completeness, and Gabriel García Márquez:
The interpretation of our reality through patterns not our own, serves only to make us ever more unknown, ever less free, ever more solitary.
— Gabriel García Márquez —
Sexual harassment isn’t an occupational hazard. It’s not a glitch in the complex matrix of modern life. It’s not something that just “happens.” It’s something men do. It’s a choice men make. It’s a problem men enable. It’s sometimes a crime men commit. And it is not in the power nor the responsibility of women to wage war on this crime.
It’s on us.
Watching someone get old and prepare to die is hard. It’s really hard. And sad. And quiet. The inability to fight the inevitable end sometimes makes me cry in the shower. Not for myself, but for my friend Esther. Not for me, but for Esther’s son.
…I have aged, am ageing, and I hope to be gaining something in the process other than crow’s feet. But make no mistake; like wisdom and the acceptance that I enjoy an occasional viewing of Riverdance on PBS, I welcome those too.
"Sex, Gender, Identity and Expression in Roller Derby" by Kevin 'Kevlar' Dennison at The Canadian Derby Frontier:
Sex, gender, identity and expression… what are they, how do they relate and what the hell does any of it have to do with Roller Derby? Before Trans* Awareness in Sports Week gets into full swing over the coming days I wanted to take a few moments to go over the basics of these concepts because whether you realize it or not, you are literally surrounded by them every single day, often quite glaringly in Roller Derby in particular.
I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know what any of this means, other than it happened, and it took my breath away. I don’t know what’s wrong and I don’t know if it can be fixed.
Addiction is a tricky bitch, which, after convincing you she is safe, jumps in your lap and nuzzles your free hand just before biting off the tip of your nose (despite your face).
How could I say that I love this woman, how could I receive her gifts and not be willing to share in the weight of what she carried? How could I in good conscience receive the boons of a culture that was fine with her/our existence so long as it was invisible?
The sad truth is that for a full year, I did.
In my adult life, I’ve lost a few friends who led active lives on the Web. And reviewing their lives online has kept me in mourning longer than I might have been otherwise. In the instance of acquaintances, it’s eerily possible to get to know them better after they’ve died.
So when it recently occurred to me — me, Founding Member of the Braintrust of DUH — that I don't currently have any babies, and that the transition happened without a pregnancy or promise of future babies, it surprised me to realize that I am okay with that. I am happy with that. I couldn't imagine being pregnant right now, or contemplating getting pregnant. Because I don't want any more babies.
Boom! There it was. The mythical unicorn feeling of completeness, the one I heard people describe but secretly worried I'd never have.
Please come back and share good writing with us over the coming week to be featured on the next Five Star. Submit it by Tuesday at midnight CST to nominate it for inclusion in the next roundup.
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