The Dark Side of Independence

This comes with a warning. It’s not the post one would expect for a Fourth of July celebration. For me, “independence” has become a bad word. I mean, as women in our country, what has “independence” brought us…certainly not freedom, not the freedom we all need and desire? More women than ever before are working harder, longer hours, for less pay.

Don’t get me wrong. We are blessed. We are a great nation. Our independence is the basis of all creative expression which, initially, made us a planetary leader. But this same independence also created disasters, both personal and global.

Independence is a necessary and masculine quality. We all must leave the nest, so to speak, to discover our own potential, to develop our unique internal gifts, to become self-sufficient…but in the U.S. we’ve gone over the deep-end. Somewhere, along the way, we’ve left interdependence, responsibility and community on the wayside. Like all feminine qualities, they are so devalued that we’re suffering the consequences. We have, in fact, been suffering the consequences for generations, but it is only now that we’re at the point of no return.

Now that we no longer sit at the top of the economic world, we no longer have the highest number of well-educated individuals, we no longer have the greatest amount of resources at our disposal (because we’ve already used them up, turned them into non-biodegradable rubbish, and discarded them), what do we have? We have our creative expression, our freedom of expression. Because of this, I am hopeful. We still have a major role to play in creative solutions to the multiple problems that face our planet. Despite my faith being shaken by the inability of even our top scientists to come up with a viable solution to the gulf spill, I still believe that we hold this ability, this opportunity, and this responsibility. We must be the ones to come up with solutions, solutions for all the disasters we’ve participated in creating. We have no other choice.

So, what does all of this have to do with women, with the feminine? As women, we’ve learned how to act independently. We’ve learned this so well we’ve forgotten the importance of interdependence. We live in a society that has also forgotten. And here’s the key. If the problem is a predominance of independent action, then the solution is interdependent action. We forgot responsibility. We forgot the results of our excessive push forward. The answer is solutions that come through creating community efforts, taking into account the consequences of each action, acting in a responsible way. And this type of action is second-nature to most women, to most mothers and some fathers. How do good mothers make decisions? Without thinking, they first answer the question, how will this affect my child, our family? Mothers make extraordinary decisions and changes both during pregnancy and beyond that they would never make for themselves. They quit smoking, they eat healthy foods, they change jobs, they change their lifestyle, they let go of all that is non-essential, they look at the bigger picture, they see how every decision, every action, affects their child’s future.

This Independence Day I challenge us to celebrate our interdependence. I challenge us to accept the responsibility that came with the incredible freedom we’ve been given. I challenge us to make our decisions the way a mother would. I challenge us to value our women and children, our earth, our world.

Happy Interdependence Day, Everyone!

Would You Intervene to Stop a Bully?

I was walking back from the farmer’s market today, trying not to think about a different farmer’s market, one that I had walked by a few days ago, 6700 miles away in Greece, when my daydream was interrupted by a disturbance from the middle of the street. Now this certainly got my attention, because, unlike Greece, it is rare to hear anyone shouting in my neighborhood.

There was a young man, probably in his upper 20’s, taunting and harassing an elderly man in the middle of the street. Traffic was stopped in both directions. Observing this outburst from the sidewalk was a group of half a dozen young men, roughly the same age as the bully. None of them came forward, but continued to watch. The bully became more inflated, was shouting something at the elderly man and dancing around him like a boxer trying to find his opponent’s weak spot. I started racing down the street with my cell phone in hand (Greek phone numbers dancing in my head), while trying to remember how to dial the police in the United States. I was a quarter of a block away when the situation escalated and the older man attempted to take a swing at the young bully. Only then did the half dozen male observers step in, en block. I could overhear them quietly telling the bully to, “Just get in the car and go.”

I, the only woman amongst the (sorry guys, weak) testosterone pack, called out, “Has anyone called the police yet?” One of the young men looked at me, apathetically, and said, “The police can’t stop a bully.” I replied, “He will continue to do this to others. If observers file reports against him, then the police can do something!”

I was appalled by his response. It was as if some unspoken code kept them from breaking up the confrontation. Didn’t any of them have elderly parents or grandparents? Didn’t any feel the least bit responsible for stopping such an incident? Certainly they seemed oblivious to the fact that people who harass, people who bully, are only one step away from violent behavior. Quite frequently, emotional abuse leads to physical abuse, and even if it does not, I know, too well, its equally damaging effects.

Another young man turned to me and quietly said, as if he didn’t want the other guys to hear, “Yes. The incident has been called in.” So, I proceeded up the street and was stopped by a female shopkeeper who asked me what had happened. I explained what I knew. I shared that I did not know what had precipitated the conflict, but that I was quite disturbed by the men’s lack of response. Her opinion was, “No one wants to get involved.” She also said that she had seen the woman in the car behind make a call on her cell phone.

What has happened to us that we are unwilling to step in? That we are so willing to claim no responsibility? What is this silent male code not to interfere, that trivializes and therefore accepts bullying, labeling the abuser as “just a bully?” What allowed these men to equate a call to the police as “weak” or labeling them as “tattletales?”

People, get the word out: bullying is abusive. Emotional abuse is as damaging as physical abuse, even when one does not lead to the other. We have become socially irresponsible to our elderly and to one another. The bully certainly did not exhibit any admirable masculine traits, but the group of male observers fell short, as well.

It’s a sad day when it takes a fifty-year old physically weak woman to step in.

This post may, at first, not seem relevant to the theme of feminine healing, so let me point out just two significant links. First, the acceptance of abuse and violence to others or to ourselves or, its opposite, too easily accepting the position of victim and the entitlement that goes with this, is a common state in our society and one that needs to change in order for all of us to heal.
Secondly, taking responsibility for ourselves and others, assigning worth to interdependence equal to the status of independence is another necessary change towards balance and healing, not only in our own society, but in our global world.

What do you think? In what ways have you been a bully to yourself or to others? When have you taken on the victim role? When have you left it behind? To what do you feel “entitled?” When have you valued interdependence as highly as independence? When have you stepped in, taken a stand, begun your path toward healing?

It Takes a Family

One Family...Five degrees in one week.

Supportive nurturing environments are feminine creations, and since our structured world does not value feminine creations as much as masculine ones it is no wonder that our country is suffering the consequences. We are reminded of the sad state of American families on a daily basis. More often than not, financially providing for the family as well as caregiving and nurturing falls upon women, and, frequently, this burden is unshared. It is no wonder that our families are crumbling.

This last weekend, I was reminded of this in an expected way.

Those who know me are aware that I would not have made it through my grueling residency training if it weren’t for two facts: 1. The location of my training hospital was the closest hospital to my family home. 2. The two other women who went through my program with me became my sisters. In other words, without the support of family-both genetic and environmental-I would not have survived.

Well, one of these two women flew across country for the Stanford graduation of one of her closest friend’s sons. Now, I’m a Berkeley gal. In fact, my family is a Berkeley family. Four of us have obtained six of our eleven degrees from UCB. The only time this Golden Bear has set foot on Stanford soil was for the Cal-Stanford Big Game—so this was no small compromise. But I would do just about anything for my dear friend, given that she saved my life over and over again.

I thought I was the one making sacrifices. I couldn’t have been more wrong. First of all, although I came uninvited, I have never felt more welcome. I was accepted, without hesitation, into her extended family of friends. Okay, in all fairness, their acceptance was as much a reflection of my friend’s extraordinary nature as her friends’ extraordinary generosity. But that was just the beginning.

For the first time, in a very long time, I participated in preparing the meal with a group of women. When was the last time that you, as I woman, had the help of three other women in preparing a meal? We forget that this used to be the norm until fairly recently. The biggest surprise, though, was the graduation ceremony that followed afterward. This wasn’t her “nephew’s” actual graduation ceremony but a separate ceremony for the students who were of Native American descent. Although her nephew is only one-quarter Native American, the percentage was irrelevant. My girlfriend explained to me that when her friend had gone through the same ceremony several years earlier after earning her Ph.D., there had been very few Native American graduates. This time there was standing room only, and the ceremony took several hours.

Each graduate approached the stage with his or her support system, which included family members, extended family and significant friends. Most groups filled the stage. A Native blanket was placed over each graduate's shoulders. Then, graduates, along with their family members and friends, were invited to speak. It was the most wonderful graduation ceremony I had ever experienced. This is a significant statement, coming from a woman with an extremely tight-knit family that valued education highly, a woman who has experienced more graduation ceremonies than she can count.

One after the other, the graduates explained how difficult their University experiences had been and how they could not have made it through without the support of their families and the Stanford Native American community. Many of the graduates were the first in their families to obtain university degrees. Some were the first in their towns. Almost all were the first to obtain degrees from Stanford. Then their families and friends spoke; many of them cried. I have never seen so many men cry in such a short period of time—not even at a funeral. Many expressed their admiration and pride. All expressed their love. Some reminded the graduates to give back. All impressed the importance of community and working for the greater whole.

It was extremely inspirational and sobering at the same time. I kept thinking: this is the way graduation ceremonies should be. It takes an entire family, extended family, friends and community for each of us to accomplish not just our educational goals, but to accomplish anything of significance in our lives.

It did my feminine heart good to be surrounded by family the entire weekend. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t related to a single person that I encountered, yet I was accepted as a family member. This is the heart of the feminine. This is what we are missing. This is what we need to reclaim.

Are you still trying to do it all alone? Who is your family? What family will you create?

As for me, I so missed my own family after being surrounded by so much caring and love from people unrelated to me that, when I left my friend, I drove straight to my brother’s home to spend the day with my nieces and nephew.

It’s not popular to create community, to work together, to practice interdependence--but create family we must! Our future and our world depend on this.

Congratulations Graduates!