I am the embodiment of all 4 of my grandparents, and then my parents. Yet I an find no DNA groups that are interested in sharing our collective knowledge for future generations. I guess I have to hope with my great nieces and nephews.
Thanks for giving me so much to think about, Sylvia, and all those who have already commented. Gender, pronouns, so complex and important to celebrate and get right, yet also dangerous for too many in this time in the world. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank those who shine a light of truth and justice and lead the way. And I am very grateful to all those whose work may never be noticed and elevated, but who stitch the world together.
Yes, there are many people to be grateful for . . . and so many of them are invisible to us! That's why I love the Mary Gordon prayer so much. It makes me think beyond the obvious people who help shape my life. It asks me to go deeper. And it makes me wonder if/how/when I myself might be an invisible helper to others.
Sure love how you get me thinking, Sylvie. You’ve stitched together an interesting piece here. It makes me want to share a thought about gender, adding yet another spice to your OGT for this end of November.
There are personal labels in English I am partial to: cousin, sibling, friend, companion, pal, parent, etc. See where I’m going with this?
Perhaps, if we could lean toward more open labels, we’d all join together and be more comfortable with a stretchier appreciation of gender in our society ?
Here are two examples I’ve witnessed: One negative and one positive.
The first time I traveled to Mexico was ironically during “The Year of the Woman.” There were signs all about their country celebrating this.
Now I don’t speak Spanish, but I was told by a woman I met there, “Those signs actually translate in English to The Year of My Woman.”
OMGoodness…🙃
And the positive: When I began teaching at Morse High in Bath, I joined their Student Government, SCLC, abbreviation for School Community Liaison Council.
It was composed - by design - of students, faculty, staff and community members. Rather than devoting their time in the usual pattern for sponsoring school dances and raising money projects, they had the ability to discuss and make any meaningful impact in their school, except decisions about personnel.
Talk about democracy at work, huh?
Well, it was 1973, and the elected leader of this mindfully created organization was titled “Chairman.” And throughout its existence all of the leaders had been male.
I suggested we change the label to Chairperson. And the next year, the Chair was female. Interesting, huh?
Now, what do these have to do with my thoughts surrounding your OGT? Well, Bottom
Line: even if your son never has a child, I KNOW he will nurture, guide, protect, and support those who are younger. And the skills he shares have come from his parents. From generations of parents. The legacy of parents, including his own. Including you.
Maybe I feel this because I was not able to birth a child, myself. Maybe being an adoptive parent is freeing as well as limiting.
And hopefully/perhaps my examples of the + and - of gender labels can help to illustrate both how limiting our thinking can be AND how sneaky powerful language can be.
And perhaps we can have a whole other discussion about that part of the quilt song where the labels “daughter, wife, mother” are used…. I got snagged there and couldn’t relate positively; though I like the song up till then.
Forgive me if my written tone comes off as insensitive. It’s tough to write other ways of looking at something - anything. And in the midst of it I realized these bits are whiskers of other gender issues of today.
Anyway, you know I love your writing and the way you get me thinking.
Right now I’m wondering: Can we simultaneously embrace and look beyond the gender labels?
Yes to all of this. Thank you, Maryli. I should emphasize that I, in no way, mean to diminish the importance of my son in my life. (He is the exact center of the universe, in case anyone is wondering.) Whether or not he ever has children, I totally agree that his own imprint on the world will doubtless include a lot of work that is invisible, but important nonetheless. That's probably true of most of us -- our work is so often invisible and yet -- if we set our sights toward healing our world for all -- our work is valuable and necessary and, in some cases (like the quilts), even beautiful. You don't even have to have children -- whether adopted or birth children -- to have an important impact on all that follows.
The book "Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane" is what got me thinking about matrilineage, specifically. The novel is set in a culture that doesn't even call little girls by their names. They are all just called, "Girl." With that backdrop, the whole idea of land that is passed down from mother to daughter was pretty interesting, and it got me thinking about the whole idea of lineage. What gets passed down, and how, and to whom? And what does it even mean? So much of what women have passed from generation to generation has been of a quieter and more intangible nature because of the historic roles of women in our culture.
Like you, I favor more inclusive labels for people ... parent, child, sibling -- etc. So often people's contributions are rendered invisible simply because of whatever labels get attached to the people making the contributions. If you are outside the mainstream in any way, you are more apt to be ignored or discounted. Gender is a huge part of that, and contributions of people who identify as LGBTQ+ are certainly ignored and discounted.
Language is indeed powerful. The whole idea of the power of labels is what makes me actually like the verse you didn't like. To me that verse is saying, "You may give us a label that, in your eyes, diminishes our importance. But we are here, we are real, and our work is important and beautiful." It reminds me of the chorus in Woody Guthrie's song, "Deportee" -- another song I love: "Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita. Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria. You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane. All they will call you will be 'deportee.'"
Recently I read "Lion Women of Tehran" -- another book I recommend. One small snippet of a scene toward the end of the book has stuck with me. The two women friends are at the hospital bedside of the daughter of one of them. The mother asks the nurse if "he" (referring to the daughter) will be okay. The nurse corrects her, saying "she." That led to a comment that in their native Persian, there is only one pronoun, so translating that one pronoun to the multiple pronouns in English is confusing.
That made me think, "Wow, what if there were only one pronoun? Wouldn't that make everything less complicated?" And then I thought of the erasure of women's rights in Iran (and I shudder to imagine what happens to people who are LGBTQ+ in such a culture). That made me wonder if being too general in our descriptors can erase the reality of groups that are already marginalized. Being general enough to include everyone is so important. At the same time, our particularity is important, too. How to navigate the need for both? I don't know the answer. I just have the wondering.
My sister and I are also lines end. Not our choice, believe me. I knew, loved and appreciated your parents, wonderful people.
So you know exactly what I am talking about.
I was lucky in the parents department!
Thanks, Debbie
I am the embodiment of all 4 of my grandparents, and then my parents. Yet I an find no DNA groups that are interested in sharing our collective knowledge for future generations. I guess I have to hope with my great nieces and nephews.
Yes, and also consider all the people you've influenced over the years who are not even blood relations. Your legacy will continue on with them, too.
So lovely, Sylvia! Thank you.
Thanks, Emily! Great to hear from you.
Thanks for giving me so much to think about, Sylvia, and all those who have already commented. Gender, pronouns, so complex and important to celebrate and get right, yet also dangerous for too many in this time in the world. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank those who shine a light of truth and justice and lead the way. And I am very grateful to all those whose work may never be noticed and elevated, but who stitch the world together.
Yes, there are many people to be grateful for . . . and so many of them are invisible to us! That's why I love the Mary Gordon prayer so much. It makes me think beyond the obvious people who help shape my life. It asks me to go deeper. And it makes me wonder if/how/when I myself might be an invisible helper to others.
Sure love how you get me thinking, Sylvie. You’ve stitched together an interesting piece here. It makes me want to share a thought about gender, adding yet another spice to your OGT for this end of November.
There are personal labels in English I am partial to: cousin, sibling, friend, companion, pal, parent, etc. See where I’m going with this?
Perhaps, if we could lean toward more open labels, we’d all join together and be more comfortable with a stretchier appreciation of gender in our society ?
Here are two examples I’ve witnessed: One negative and one positive.
The first time I traveled to Mexico was ironically during “The Year of the Woman.” There were signs all about their country celebrating this.
Now I don’t speak Spanish, but I was told by a woman I met there, “Those signs actually translate in English to The Year of My Woman.”
OMGoodness…🙃
And the positive: When I began teaching at Morse High in Bath, I joined their Student Government, SCLC, abbreviation for School Community Liaison Council.
It was composed - by design - of students, faculty, staff and community members. Rather than devoting their time in the usual pattern for sponsoring school dances and raising money projects, they had the ability to discuss and make any meaningful impact in their school, except decisions about personnel.
Talk about democracy at work, huh?
Well, it was 1973, and the elected leader of this mindfully created organization was titled “Chairman.” And throughout its existence all of the leaders had been male.
I suggested we change the label to Chairperson. And the next year, the Chair was female. Interesting, huh?
Now, what do these have to do with my thoughts surrounding your OGT? Well, Bottom
Line: even if your son never has a child, I KNOW he will nurture, guide, protect, and support those who are younger. And the skills he shares have come from his parents. From generations of parents. The legacy of parents, including his own. Including you.
Maybe I feel this because I was not able to birth a child, myself. Maybe being an adoptive parent is freeing as well as limiting.
And hopefully/perhaps my examples of the + and - of gender labels can help to illustrate both how limiting our thinking can be AND how sneaky powerful language can be.
And perhaps we can have a whole other discussion about that part of the quilt song where the labels “daughter, wife, mother” are used…. I got snagged there and couldn’t relate positively; though I like the song up till then.
Forgive me if my written tone comes off as insensitive. It’s tough to write other ways of looking at something - anything. And in the midst of it I realized these bits are whiskers of other gender issues of today.
Anyway, you know I love your writing and the way you get me thinking.
Right now I’m wondering: Can we simultaneously embrace and look beyond the gender labels?
Good Night, Friend.
Yes to all of this. Thank you, Maryli. I should emphasize that I, in no way, mean to diminish the importance of my son in my life. (He is the exact center of the universe, in case anyone is wondering.) Whether or not he ever has children, I totally agree that his own imprint on the world will doubtless include a lot of work that is invisible, but important nonetheless. That's probably true of most of us -- our work is so often invisible and yet -- if we set our sights toward healing our world for all -- our work is valuable and necessary and, in some cases (like the quilts), even beautiful. You don't even have to have children -- whether adopted or birth children -- to have an important impact on all that follows.
The book "Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane" is what got me thinking about matrilineage, specifically. The novel is set in a culture that doesn't even call little girls by their names. They are all just called, "Girl." With that backdrop, the whole idea of land that is passed down from mother to daughter was pretty interesting, and it got me thinking about the whole idea of lineage. What gets passed down, and how, and to whom? And what does it even mean? So much of what women have passed from generation to generation has been of a quieter and more intangible nature because of the historic roles of women in our culture.
Like you, I favor more inclusive labels for people ... parent, child, sibling -- etc. So often people's contributions are rendered invisible simply because of whatever labels get attached to the people making the contributions. If you are outside the mainstream in any way, you are more apt to be ignored or discounted. Gender is a huge part of that, and contributions of people who identify as LGBTQ+ are certainly ignored and discounted.
Language is indeed powerful. The whole idea of the power of labels is what makes me actually like the verse you didn't like. To me that verse is saying, "You may give us a label that, in your eyes, diminishes our importance. But we are here, we are real, and our work is important and beautiful." It reminds me of the chorus in Woody Guthrie's song, "Deportee" -- another song I love: "Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita. Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria. You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane. All they will call you will be 'deportee.'"
Recently I read "Lion Women of Tehran" -- another book I recommend. One small snippet of a scene toward the end of the book has stuck with me. The two women friends are at the hospital bedside of the daughter of one of them. The mother asks the nurse if "he" (referring to the daughter) will be okay. The nurse corrects her, saying "she." That led to a comment that in their native Persian, there is only one pronoun, so translating that one pronoun to the multiple pronouns in English is confusing.
That made me think, "Wow, what if there were only one pronoun? Wouldn't that make everything less complicated?" And then I thought of the erasure of women's rights in Iran (and I shudder to imagine what happens to people who are LGBTQ+ in such a culture). That made me wonder if being too general in our descriptors can erase the reality of groups that are already marginalized. Being general enough to include everyone is so important. At the same time, our particularity is important, too. How to navigate the need for both? I don't know the answer. I just have the wondering.