Ann Imig's Blog, page 15

10 Stars of my 2014 Internet (now with even more bonus stars)

What a year.

Samantha Irby made me lose my mind , so I promptly bought her devastating/hilarious Meaty book.

Michael Twitty moved me profoundly with his thoughts on Ferguson, and he keeps me awake with his work in culinary injustice , appropriation, oppression, and racism.

I wish Mallory Ortberg had been my art history professor in college.

Leo Babuta breathed new meaning into my daily to-dos.

I love the way Wendi Aarons delivered humor and good writing advice with humor and good writing.

My very own sister, Rachel Krinsky (CEO of YWCA Madison) in her TedX talk showed me the difference between an open door and a meaningful invitation, and inspired me to take action in my own organization/life and “stay in the room” with regards to racism locally and online.

Lisa Page Rosenberg and Heather King  guided me in everyday life with their light, levity, thoughtfulness and gentle wisdom.

I got to read two books I loved that aren’t even out yet: I found Nancy Davis Kho’s MIDLIFE MIXTAPE memoir of a  music fan and mother completely entertaining, thoughtful, and relatable (despite the fact that I’m not a live-music aficionado). Una LaMarche’s UNABROW made me laugh and laugh and laugh.

***

Looking back on some of my own work and writing this year:

A year ago I traveled from Tel Aviv to Disneyworld in 24 hours: Holy City, Magic Kingdom.

I chronicled Husband and my 10 Worst Dates Ever, and then we  turned 15.

I turned 40 at LTYM: Twin Cities and 500 people sang Happy Birthday to me. Whoa.

I was invited to read my parenting humor for a show at The Natural Parenting Expo. I had a role in a webseries. I wrote about my privilege and racism. I grappled with my online life. I wondered about parenting. Still grappling and wondering.

I edited Listen To Your Mother: What She Said Then, What We’re Saying Now which lands in book stores on April 7th. Thanks to my patient and caring agent Elizabeth Kaplan and editor Liz Stein from Putnam & Sons, I’ve learned a tremendous amount. Together we produced a book worthy of the LTYM mission. I can’t wait for you to read it. And you. And you!

With the help of  over 100 creative entrepreneurial soul-sisters, and hundreds more storytellers across the country, LTYM held 32 shows in 2014 and plans for 39 more shows for 2015. I have more help than ever thanks to a superb team of brilliant, incredibly generous, innovative, inspiring, and supportive visionaries on both the national and local level. (I’m not a fan of adjectives in writing, but I’m effusive bordering on effusive-abusive in real life, so there). Deb, Melisa, Steph & Taya, Darcy & Takeyla THANK YOU, you keep me going. You keep me laughing and thinking and doing better.

I’m living the life I want. I wish the same for you.

Holiday Aromatherapy Oils for the Semi-Socially Conscious

Inspire your senses and transform your liberal guilt with essential oil blends that are just right for your semi-conscious mind!

WiseMindEase Pillow Spritzer You bought stocking-stuffers from a big box store, and you’re still processing hypo-local shame. Those stores provide a lot of jobs, but they are low-wage jobs. This big box recognizes domestic partner benefits, however also allows open carry. All of the trinkets said MADE IN THE USA and contain no lead or nickel and were made in a nut-free facility. However, said trinkets were not registered fair-trade, and that’s keeping you up at night.

JadedLemon Drops You bought your helpers Starbucks Cards, but all your holiday parties have left you without a moment to Snopes that Starbucks Grande GMOs Latte Facebook link. You betrayed your local coffee roaster, but this time for a public school fund-raiser, and you heard Starbucks pays their employees well and offers insurance. To be frank, you’re already going above and beyond here anyway. Soothe yourself; who even gives to postpersons anymore? You do.

DoOver Towelettes You remembered to wish your neighbor “Happy Diwli!” but what you said was “Happy Denali!” Doubles as a car freshener.

Ambivilenze Facial Steamer You bought your holiday dress from a single-woman-owned hyper-local shop, but the dress was made in China. You brought it home in your sustainable monogrammed tote, and now you’d like to put your head in one.

Humble Pie Spice You ordered your holiday cards for 60% off online. You did not support your local printer, but neither did you carbon-emit with your car to the local printer. You chose postcards with no envelopes for less footprint, but did not spring for the recycled card stock for an additional $9.99, Cheapskate. Time to re-center, seasonally speaking.

Gentle Gentile Cleanse The 8 Days of Oils! idea for your Sassy Jewish Accountant buddy was swell, but the Joyeux Noel PursePak (TM) didn’t go over so well. Bathe your myopia in a gayer yuletide, while cleansing your mind of the phrase “Sassy Jewish Accountant buddy.”

ReNewReYou Essence You debated this one, but that freebie manicure set you re-gifted your dry cleaner from the casino was only gently used. Considering the shekels you shell out in his patchouli-stank eco-vegan-laundry hovel every week, he should be the one giving you a mani/pedi. Live reduce, reuse, recycle as your creed, and ReNewReYou Essence on your pulse-points.

AbSolution Nasal Mist You ate all of your kid’s advent candy before the 12 days of Christmas. Now you must once again buy non-fair-trade chocolate, knowing full-well of the chocolate shortage and especially about cheap-chocolate labor. But since you have to replace the advent calendar anyway, sniff your way to a clearer conscious. Breathe in, breath out–absolve yourself nasally–and buy a few bars of organic fair trade chocolate on your next trip to the co-op.

***

Happy Holidays, Everyone!
Wishing you love and peace in abundance.

Thank you for reading. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.

Fondly,

your Sassy Jewish Blogger buddy

 

Throwback Thursday: Eight Years Ago, A Twee Ten-Pound One-Ouncer

Happy Birthday Eight!

You’ve never liked it when I talk about you on the internet. I’ll keep this brief, try to do no harm, and hope and pray that no one who knows you in real life repeats any of this back to you. Like all those “tread lightly” signs your dad and I saw on hiking trails when we met in the Rocky Mountains, so I try to protect your dignity while also sharing your hilarity. It’s a gift, son. A gift that begs sharing. You have an audience and some fans out there you’ve never met. Sorry about that. Who can blame them when you toddled around saying things like “Duly Noted” at age three, calling me “Ann Krinsky” instead of Mom. How could I keep it to myself, when you told me my sparkly outfit was beautiful, asked if it had matching socks, and proceeded to say you’d like to put my head in the oven, turn it on, and cook it?

See, my second-born son, this actually works in your favor. You ask me stories about when you were little, and thanks to this blog, I can remember the mandatory Chuck E Cheese/Indiana Jones bedtime script you requested nightly at age Four. I can look at my social media archives and recall the occasion I told you not to put your hands in the back of my low-rise jeans, and you responded “It’s not my hands. It was popcorn.” I can recollect when our cat Henry died, and at age two you queried “Can we eat him?”

I’m forgetting things, Eight. Without the WorldWideWeb would I remember when instead of saying “Yes Mommy, I understand” you preferred “What the crap, Ann?” If I didn’t make amazing internet friends like Shari, would I have my very own mug emblazoned with your loving monicker for me; Most Idiotical Buttcheek? That’s a hard personalized Coke can to come across, my friend.

Okay, I hear you. I’ll stop… ish. You already pull away from me more than you come to me. Most of my kisses get met with “Eww, taco breath.” You aren’t into Mommy Wearing, try as I might to Ergo-myself to you.

I love you with bigger words than I know.  Happy Birthday.

Ann Krinsky

 

 

It’s On Us: For White People Who Want to Fight Racism in Madison and Everywhere

Last night, as the country watched Darren Wilson not get indicted and not face a trial for Mike Brown’s death, I saw plea after plea online from Black friends and peers–people of color in my life imploring their white counterparts to SPEAK UP. I saw a lot of fear from white people about saying the wrong thing, about feeling helpless in the face of the enormity of the problem, and fear over the vicious responses received for those who do raise their voices.

Discussion ensued over people considering if and how to speak up, and if and how to speak to their children about Ferguson, juxtaposed with Black women and mothers,  and mothers of Black sons terrified of NOT speaking up– especially of not adequately preparing their children to survive in a world where their skin color incites fear, snap judgments, an assumption of guilt, and potential deadly adrenaline responses from officers of the law or stand-your-ground-ers. On top of this terrifying reality for mothers of young males of color, piles the the bile one must certainly have to push down–the abhorrent dichotomy of rearing your child to thrive with confidence and a true sense of self, while at the same time training him on exactly how to act and appear subservient to his oppressors (quieter, calmer, smaller, “non-threatening”)  in order to stay out of jail and live to fulfill his promise.

This is the thing: The more I learn, the less I can ever imagine keeping quiet again. Listen, I knew that structural racism existed. I knew I lived in a segregated city, and that I felt the gap widening between the haves and the have-nots right in my neighborhood school. But, until recently:

I did not know I lived in the state with the worst outcomes for Black children.

I did NOT know that the US incarcerates a significantly greater rate of Black men than South Africa did during Apartheid.

I did not know that 75% of people in state prison for drug conviction are people of color although blacks and whites see and use drugs at roughly the same rate.

I did not know that 74% of my community’s Black children were poor, compared with only 5.5% of white, that only 48% of Black children were proficient at reading by 3rd grade, and that 50% of Black kids did not graduate high school with a diploma in four years.

I did not know, mostly because I’m a product of this system that has ushered me along in a lifetime of benefits-of-doubts, of free passes, and social capital. I did not know mostly because I’m white.

I grew up thinking of structural racism as history–as a flawed mindset and unforgivable despotism of previous generations in southern geographical locations, largely rectified thanks to the abolition of slavery and the civil rights movement. As a child looking back on history, it was easy to tell myself I wasn’t part of the problem. As a white adult living in the most racist city in America? I’m part of the problem until we fix the problem.

Here is what I’ve come to for myself: When I get into a helpless or hopeless feeling, I can’t allow that moment of weakness or feeling overcome to serve as a pass to retreat and do nothing. Now, when I hear myself say to myself It’s too big. I’m no expert. My efforts are vain and small. I go back to my list of what I can do, because this is the thing; It’s on us, the grown-ups with the power and resources of this generation.

The good news in Madison, is that dedicated people in this town are pouring themselves into action and strategy for reducing the achievement gap and making Madison not the most racist city in the US. Activists and community organizers in both the public and private sector in Madison present me with many opportunities for education and action. I don’t have to wring my hands over what to do, I need only pick which areas to invest in and when.

Here is my current non-comprehensive  list of things I can do today, right now. Feel free to add your own in the comments:

I CAN:

Seek first to understand: Show up and participate. Share and support the work of activists, artists, and thought-leaders of color in my online and offline communities.

Especially if I live in a highly-segregated area where racial and economic disparity go hand-in-hand, I can place myself in the position to attend and learn, instead of assuming a power position of “giver” or “teacher” or “provider of opportunity.” As vital as volunteer work and charitable giving are to community, if this is my only interaction with people of different races and socioeconomic backgrounds, the gap remains wide. I seek opportunities to put myself in the position of actor instead of director, audience instead of podium. I ask people I work with to tell me if I talk too much and listen too little.

I can include my family in my process, bring them to events, and encourage dialogue in my home about current events, racism and injustice. I can (occasionally, and hopefully not too annoyingly) extrapolate Sunday School lessons and bedtime stories with parallels to current events.

I can make more conscious choices of how and where I use power. I look at my spheres of influence and how I can open them up and create a context for change. When offered an opportunity, I can try to extend that opportunity to my counterparts of color, making sure they’re well represented in leadership positions, in the spotlight, and on speaker panels.

I can educate myself. I can take advantage of programs in my area where change-makers gather to openly discuss privilege, race, and making change (see Madison Magazine’s Steps Toward Change, and read the story of Daishon Boyd and Jamada Norris while you’re there).

I can continue to read read read online and off. Read The Root. Read Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow (Eyes? OPENED). I can read and amplify and support the work of Black writers  that educate, challenge my biases, inspire, raise awareness, expand my perspectives, enlighten me, and make me laugh and think. I can stay informed. I can know the names Mike Brown, John Crawford, Amadou Diallo, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Renisha McBride,  and Tamir Rice just for starters.

I can engage in a life-long commitment to examining my privilege and question myself and my biases constantly. How do my biases affect who I surround myself with–who I “feel comfortable” working with–what art or food or writing I appreciate?

I can give time and money to non-profits that support marginalized populations. When I volunteer at school, I can support students and teachers, but I also get to forge relationships with kids that last over years and into the especially vulnerable tween/teen/young adult years. (See caveat of only serving as a “helper” above).

I can get discouraged and make mistakes and keep going. I don’t have to do everything on this list today. I can keep adding to this list. And the best part is that this list–while weighty in responsibility–has already begun to enrich my life immeasurably through personal connections, meaningful work, spirited collaboration, turning me decidedly away from fear and hopelessnes and toward a burgeoning hope for a more equitable and just community for our children.

 

 

 

 

LTYM in 39 cities in 2015, but first at The Women’s Expo November 23rd!

Dear Friends and Readers,

THERE IS SO MUCH GOING ON.

First, please watch Listen To Your Mother’s 2015 season announcement brought to you by over one hundred local visionary women director/producers–four of whom have worked tirelessly with me for months to prepare for this launch–and thousands of folks who’ve entrusted LTYM with their stories over the years.

 

Find the full list of cities and local Director/Producers here.

Next, if you live in the Madison-area, please join some LTYM alumni and I at The Women’s Expo next weekend, on Sunday November 23rd at 12:30 PM at The Alliant Center, on The Dreambank Stage.

Our mini LTYM: Madison show features:

Araceli Esparza, Children’s book writer and poet, reading her poetry about the challenges of being a poor mom, and mothering her younger brother
Fabu, a Madison Poet Laureate and playwright, reading  mother poetry spanning three generations
Linda Hedenblad, Business Consultant and Improv Comedian, reading “Confessions of a Non-Mom Mom” about her unlikely and later-in-life path to motherhood
Abby Jakowski, wife and mother of three, reading “I See You,” relating to moms parenting kids with allergies and special needs
Elizabeth Katt-Reinders, policy director at an environmental nonprofit, reading “Grace and Connection” about a random encounter between two exhausted moms.
Deb Nies, social media consultant, reading her hilarious “Puberty aka When Things Get Hairy” regaling her daughter’s foray into adolescence.
 Sara Williams plans to write her way into old age instead of sitting in a rocking chair. She reads “Connection” about her relationship with her mother

I will emcee this 30 minute program, and then we can go grown-up lady trick-or-treating at all the fabulous exhibitor booths!

Here’s a $5.00 admission coupon

 

Finally, stay tuned for exciting book updates! We’ll release the (incredible) contributor list very soon. The galleys (paper-bound draft copies) are on their way to my doorstep, and you can save money by pre-ordering your own copy of LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER: What She Said Then, What We’re Saying Now today!  The publication date is April 7th, and you can pre-order from any of the following vendors:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Books A Million

Indiebound

iTunes

Powell’s

Quiz: My calendar, or my 18 year old niece’s calendar?

My niece went off to college. We stay in touch through Facebook, texting, and we even spoke on that old-fashioned telephone contraption one time. Listening to her describe her day-to-day, I realized how nearly undecipherable our lives have become from one another.  Our calendars look so similar in fact, I challenge you to determine whose is whose.

Person #1

Spends many hours per week opening mind to forensics, blood Spatter, and criminal Psychology.

Person #2

Spent a few years watching Dexter from behind closed-eyes, closed bedroom door, and closed-mind.

 

Person #1

Wears hand-me-down dress for the first time and gets asked out twice. Deems it magical goddess dress for its intoxicating powers.

Person #2

Donned same magical goddess dress dress dozens of times and got asked if she had pockets for crumpled-up Caprisun.

 

Person #1

Capoeira dance-fights with sweaty hot guys pretty much all the time. Attends nonspeaking improvisational dance meetings.

Person #2

Yoga-hyperventilates with sweaty middle-aged people twice weekly. Attends allspeaking PTO meetings.

 

Person #1

Name posted on a confessions page with “you pull at my heart strings.”

Person #2

Name posted on volunteer spot with “your bake sale shift is 8:30 am.”

 

Person #1

Poses with attractive male for photo while cooking stir-fry in community kitchen.

Person #2

Trips over familial males unloading dishwasher while cooking corn dogs in toaster oven.

 

Person #1

Looks like this, up close, without makeup:

photo by Cole Dembski-Sullivan

 

Person #2

Looks like this, up close, without makeup:

 

I’ve never been scarier. Trust me. And don’t call me “kiddo.”

Some years back, my internet life led me to filmmaker Anne Flournoy, of the highly-acclaimed web-series The Louise Log. Friendship ensued, and Anne asked me if I’d like to act in an episode of The Louise Log. I gave up acting professionally years ago, but every so often the universe hands me a job, and I say yes. In this case I said yes before Anne had even conceptualized the storyline for the season. My trust in her ran that deep.

A year ago I shot this from my home over Skype, while the rest of the (impressive real Broadway actor people) cast and crew shot on site in NYC. Skype kept crashing, Anne coached me over the phone, and we managed to pull it off in two takes. Best of all, none of my neighbors called 911.

Click here, to watch the video. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t call me kiddo. Happy Halloween!