My Child's Genitals Are Not Up For Discussion

So mostly I talk about silly stuff my kid or my husband says, or something funny I saw on the internet, or something I'm eating (or would like to eat.) Occasionally I get a little maudlin and talk about politics or something else that I take seriously, usually in regards to how it relates to me or my family.

This is a little bit like that. But not really. But sort of. I'm deadly fucking serious right now.

There is a lot of talk out there on the internet about circumcision, especially among parents or about-to-be parents. Especially right now, in light of the Momversation webcasts.

I would like to go on the record and say that I think all of the participants made excellent points. I think some of them made them in ways that left something to be desired, but people have strong points of view on circumcision. I understand and respect that.

However, some of the commenters on some of the participants' sites have left a bad taste in my mouth. Because I left the last comment on Mighty Girl's blog before she closed the comments, I am concerned that a lot of wind might blow in this direction, so I would like to fully articulate my position on the subject.

• I have a son, so obviously, the topic of circumcision has come up between my husband and I.
• I am pregnant again, and for that reason, I anticpate that the subject will come up again.
• Male circumcision is a personal choice, typically made by a parent or parents.
• Male circumcision is not the same as female circumcision, also known as female genital mutilation. They are comparing apples to oranges.
• My son's penis is the business of expressly no one but myself, his father, and his pediatrician, should need arise.

For the record, I very much resent on the behalf of parents who have made or will make the decision to circumcise their sons the implication that female genital mutilation is comparable.

Here are some facts about this practice:

Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) is the partial or total removal of the female external genitalia. External genitals include the clitoris, labia, mons pubis (the fatty tissue over the pubic bone), and the urethral and vaginal openings. (Source: World Health Organization, 1995. "Female Genital Mutilation: Report of a WHO Technical Working Group". )

The practice of FGM is often called "female circumcision" (FC), implying that it is similar to male circumcision. However, the degree of cutting is much more extensive, often impairing a woman's sexual and reproductive functions. (Source: Toubia, N., 1993. "Female Genital Mutilation: A Call for Global Action." New York: Women, Ink)

Female Genital Mutilation is practiced globally.

FGM is practiced in at least 26 of 43 African countries; the prevalence varies from 98 percent in Somalia to 5 percent in Zaire. A review of country-specific demographic and health surveys shows FGM prevalence rates of 97 percent in Egypt, 94.5 percent in Eritrea, 93.7 percent in Mali, 89.2 percent in Sudan, and 43.4 percent in the Central African Republic.

FGM is also found among some ethnic groups in Oman, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen, as well as in parts of India, Indonesia, and Malaysia. (Source: Toubia, N., 1993.)

FGM has become an important issue in Australia, Canada, England, France, and the United States due to the continuation of the practice by immigrants from countries where FGM is common. (Source: Ibid.)

In 1995 the World Health Organization classified FGM into four broad categories. They are as follows:

Type 1
Excision (removal) of the clitoral hood with or without removal of part or all of the clitoris.

Type 2
Removal of the clitoris together with part or all of the labia minora.

Type 3 (infibulation)
Removal of part or all of the external genitalia (clitoris, labia minora, and labia majora) and stitching and/or narrowing of the vaginal opening leaving a small hole for urine and menstrual flow.

Type 4 (unclassified)
All other operations on the female genitalia, including:

• Pricking, piercing, stretching, or incision of the clitoris and/or labia;
• Cauterization by burning the clitoris and surrounding tissues;
• Incisions to the vaginal wall;
• Scraping (angurya cuts) or cutting (gishiri cuts) of the vagina and surrounding tissues; and
• Introduction of corrosive substances or herbs into the vagina.

Type I and Type II operations account for 85 percent of all FGM. Type III (infibulation) is common in Djibouti, Somalia and Sudan and in parts of Egypt, Ethiopia, Kenya, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Nigeria, and Senegal.

Complications arising from FGM are frequent and often serious.

The highest maternal and infant mortality rates are in FGM-practicing regions.

The actual number of girls who die as a result of FGM is not known. However, in areas in the Sudan where antibiotics are not available, it is estimated that one-third of the girls undergoing FGM will die.

Conservative estimates suggest that more than one million women in Centrafrican Republic (CAR), Egypt, and Eritrea, the only countries where such data is available, experienced adverse health effects from FGM.

One quarter of women in CAR and 1/5 of women in Eritrea reported FGM-related complications.

Where medical facilities are ill-equipped, emergencies arising from the practice cannot be treated. Thus, a child who develops uncontrolled bleeding or infection after FGM may die within hours.

Immediate physical symptoms may include the following:

Intense pain and/or hemorrhage that can lead to shock during and after the procedure. A 1985 Sierra Leone study found that nearly 97 percent of the 269 women interviewed experienced intense pain during and after FGM, and more than 13 percent went into shock.

Hemorrhage can also lead to anemia.

Wound infection, including tetanus. A survey in a clinic outside of Freetown (Sierra Leone) showed that of 100 girls who had FGM, 1 died and 12 required hospitalization. Of the 12 hospitalized, 10 suffered from bleeding and 5 from tetanus. Tetanus is fatal in 50 to 60 percent of all cases.

Damage to adjoining organs from the use of blunt instruments by unskilled operators. According to a 1993 nationwide study in the Sudan, this occurs approximately 0.3 percent of the time.

Urine retention from swelling and/or blockage of the urethra.

Sound pleasant? Not so much.

Let's talk about male circumcision now.

Male circumcision is the removal of some or all of the foreskin (prepuce) from the penis. The word "circumcision" comes from Latin circum (meaning "around") and cædere (meaning "to cut").

This is an operation as old as mankind, highlighted today by Jewish and Muslim tradition in which all males are typically circumcised as a part of their faith and culture. It is performed worldwide by many tribes and cultures as an initiation rite and, despite some aggressive opposition, it is routinely done at birth for the majority of boys in the USA as well as many in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa and much of the English speaking world. Overall it is estimated that a quarter of the male population is circumcised - about 750 million males.

Benefits to circumcision:

(I freely acknowledge that this information is appended from a source who is pro-circumcision. Not being in posession of a penis of my own, I have to rely on secondary sources.)

1. Many older men, who have bladder or prostate gland problems, also develop difficulties with their foreskins due to their surgeon's handling, cleaning, and using instruments. Some of these patients will need circumcising.

2. Some older men develop cancer of the penis - about 1 in 1000 - fairly rare, but tragic if you or your son are in that small statistic. Infant circumcision gives almost 100% protection, and young adult circumcision also gives a large degree of protection.

3. Cancer of the cervix in women is due to the Human Papilloma Virus. It thrives under and on the foreskin from where it can be transmitted during intercourse. An article in the British Medical Journal in April 2002 suggested that at least 20% of cancer of the cervix would be avoided if all men were circumcised.

4. Protection against HIV and AIDS. Another British Medical Journal article in May 2000 suggested that circumcised men are 8 times less likely to contract the HIV virus.

5. As with HIV, so some protection exists against other sexually transmitted infections. Accordingly, if a condom splits or comes off, there is some protection for the couple.

6. Lots of men, and their partners, prefer the appearance of their penis after circumcision, It is odor-free, it feels cleaner, and they enjoy better sex. Awareness of a good body image is a very important factor in building self confidence.

7. Balanitis is an unpleasant, often recurring, inflammation of the glans. It is quite common and can be prevented by circumcision.

8 Urinary tract infections sometimes occur in babies and can be quite serious. Circumcision in infancy makes it 10 times less likely.

In comparison, the WHO and every other recognized health, human rights, and civil rights organization who have addressed it have acknowledged that there are few, if any, health or social benefits to FGM, and the drawbacks are numerous and severe.

I am aware that a cost-benefit analysis when it comes to circumcision is not necessarily appropriate. Lots of people have very strong feelings one way or another, which, as I said before, I understand and respect. However, let me say that the research that I've seen against circumcision mostly deals with the fact that it is unnecessary.

At this point, I would like to make something perfectly clear, so sit down, put away your righteous indignation, and listen very carefully, because I am going to say this probably multiple times before anyone listens to me. You can save yourself some time by catching on right now.

Circumcise your son, don't circumcise him. Do it as an infant, do it as a child, let him make the decision for himself later on as an adult. Do it for medical reasons or social reasons or religious reasons. I honestly don't give a tiny rat's ass about your kid's schwantz. I have enough to do, teaching my own son responsible penis usage, without worrying about yours.

One of the things that has truly shocked me as a parent is other parents' willingness to mind my business for me. I would never be so presumptuous as to inquire about a stranger's intent to circumcise their child, or not; and yet I was asked by no fewer than six when I was pregnant and when my son was an infant.

I politely declined to answer that question, the reason being that I certainly hope no one is discussing my genitals with strangers behind my back, and I think it's an inappropriate topic of conversation. Max may have that conversation with anyone whom he chooses to once he is old enough to do so appropriately, at which point, it will no longer be my business.

I don't care whether your son is circumcised. Please don't ask me whether mine is. It's not your business.

As Maggie points out in the Momversation video, why is it so necessary for people to convince others that they are wrong in order to believe that they, themselves, are right? The tenor of this discussion has gotten way, way, way out of hand and I am insulted on behalf of people who have the temerity to make their own decisions.

Do not tell me how to raise my child. Do not tell me he is too young for potty training or too old to be wearing diapers. Do not tell me why I should have nursed Max longer or gone back to work sooner. I am a full-grown adult, and I will handle that decision for myself. Please feel free to do the same for your child. I will do you the small courtesy of not judging you.

And finally: I welcome vigorous discussion and debate on the topic, but one thing I will not change my mind about is that my son's penis is his business, not yours. By all means, let's talk about it, a lot, but you won't change my mind on that topic. Also, I won't tell you you're wrong, even if I disagree with you, but you also won't change my mind on the fact that circumcision and female genital mutilation are, in fact, not the same thing. Let's just assume that I'm actually quite bright and don't try.

A Tale of Too Stupid

First of all, go and read this post. Then come back.

The upshot is that this mother, in her nightly struggle to get her pre-school-aged daughter to bed and to sleep, in her frustration, wondered aloud via Twitter if it would be acceptable to smother her daughter in order to get her to stay in bed. A woman who follows her on Twitter, who clearly doesn't know her, her morbid sense of humor, or the deep and abiding love for her child that is so obvious to anyone with the common sense God gave pistachio nuts, found this tweet to be objectionable.

Shortly afterwards, the police appeared at her door. At 11 o'clock at night, this woman had to show them her sleeping child in order to prove that she hadn't murdered her own daughter.

I am totally dumbstruck by the ardent stupidity of this entire situation. I am absolutely horrified for this woman, and so sorry for the mortification and abject humiliation she must be feeling.

Dan is a teacher, as are several of our closest friends. They are all required by law and their jobs, not to mention simple human decency and civility, to report suspected physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual abuse of all children they come in contact with. In a thousand years, I cannot imagine anyone legitimately interpreting what this woman was saying as a threat of actual child endangerment.

Not a month ago, I threatened to tape Max in a box with a couple bottles of water and a couple of sandwiches and Fed-Ex him to my parents. Did any of you--seriously, anybody at all--interpret that as something I would publicly brag about doing, let alone actually do? Even for a minute? Did anybody sit down and give it any thought at all, whether that was something I was capable of?

Honest to God, I know my readership isn't enormous or anything, but really--anybody?

People don't brag about murdering their children on Twitter before they actually go and do it, for fucking Christ's sake! Especially not rational, sane, loving parents--as this blogger clearly and obviously is. People abuse children secretly, then they bury the body, or burn it, or chop it into pieces and stow it in their freezer! They don't write about what they're doing on the internet--especially before they do it. Come the fuck on.

That's the point. I've admitted my parenting shortfalls right here on this blog--a year ago, when Max was biting, I admitted to biting him back once. I admitted how terrible it made me feel to have physically done something that made him cry. I've admitted that I'm not the most patient parent on this earth, that I have a tendency to tune him out when I'm deeply involved in something else. Does that qualify as child neglect in somebody's mind? Quick--call child protective services.

This is busybodying run totally amok. This is a woman with not enough to do (and there's a link to her blog at the first link; I won't link to her because, frankly, I don't think she deserves the traffic) and too much time on her hands and too little to think about. I won't go so far as to call her stupid or ignorant, because name-calling is a little inane even in a case like this, but really, I'm starting to think that there ought to be a common sense or I.Q. prerequisite in order to connect to the internet, if for no other reason than to protect us normal, sane, rational human beings.

Dear Comcast: Suck It.

Remember when you sent me a flier for high speed internet access, and I agreed to it, and went to Best Buy, which I cheerfully loathe, and bought all the wireless stuff, and paid like $200 for it, and then the high speed internet access you gave me didn't work for like six months?

And when I called and complained that the high speed internet access I was paying like $48 a month for didn't work, you asked me "Is your computer on?"

And when you sent me another flier for digital cable at some kind of outrageous discount, with a year of free HBO, and I stupidly agreed, it took you, like, three weeks to get a tech out there to set it up? And the digital cable box didn't work? And he didn't have another one? And he'd be right back? And then he didn't come back for three weeks?

And then when I got my first bill, and the outrageous discount mysteriously was missing, and that free year of HBO was actually a free six months, except we'd already had your high speed internet service, so I actually didn't qualify for free HBO at all? But you couldn't take it off my service, because blah blah Comcast blah?

Remember?

Yeah, that was fun and games compared to after we moved. When your tech came out to transfer our service and tried to shake us down for an $85 "transfer fee?" Payable in cash only? Hilarious!

When our cable stopped working a month after moving in, and I took a day off work to be there when the tech showed up, and he came almost three hours late, and I had the temerity to complain, and his response was, "Why? You making me breakfast?" So funny!

Yeah, guess what? You're not going to get my $140 a month anymore for your barely-functioning service.

Verizon, which I'm not stupid enough to think won't suck too, has guaranteed the price and services in writing, offered me a free DVR, and thrown in home phone service for less each month than I was paying for digital cable and high speed internet.

So Comcast, for the last time, I bid you a fond adieu. Suck it.

Molly

Dear Stupid Little Punks:

I just wanted to write you a quick note and say hi. Just in case you were wondering, I own the Chrysler Town & Country minivan that you stole Thursday night. Congratulations, by the way. You were very quiet and sneaky. I never heard a sound--no breaking glass, no nothing--probably because you didn't break a window, you used a crowbar. We didn't know anything about it until the next morning. I appreciate the fact that you didn't break the window, since my insurance company has been pretty consistent about covering nothing, but you did pry the panel off the door to get it unlocked. Thanks for that.

You don't know much about me, or my family, or the disruption that you've caused, but if you'd looked around a little while you were ransacking the inside of my car looking for things to steal, you might have found some things out, if you'd thought about it. The picture of the smiling little blond boy in the red plaid vest and necktie, the one you left on the floor of the passenger side of the car when you emptied the glove compartment--that's my son. His name is Max. The picture is two years old now, but it was taken at Christmas. You left a big shoeprint on the picture, but you also stole his DVD player. His favorite DVD was in it, by the way--I'm sure you just tossed it on the roadside somewhere after you crashed our car into a fence and ran. It was Sesame Street, by the way. He keeps asking about it.

We bought the car in 2005, right after Max was born. It was the newest car either my husband or I had ever owned, and the nicest one. We paid it off later that year with some money I inherited from my late grandmother. I almost never get into that car without thinking of her. Now I'll almost never get into the car without thinking of you.

My car smells a little like pot smoke now. Yeah, I know what pot smoke smells like. I went to college. My husband spent two hours yesterday at our friends' house, washing it, cleaning it, pulling out the seats, vacuuming--I think he wanted to try to sort out some of the mess that you made throwing everything around the car, but I also think he wanted to clean out some of what was left of you in there. I hope it worked for him--it didn't work so well for me.

We've driven that car to Michigan several times, to Nashville, Tennessee to visit our best friends and my parents, to Massanutten, Virginia this summer to spend a week at my parents' timeshare. We've learned our way around Washington D.C., a city I've always loved and wanted to live in, in this car. I have to say, though, that things are going a little sour for us here, thanks only in part to you. We probably won't explore as much as we have this year again though, since we can't afford to replace the GPS that you stole, and neither my husband nor I are really a particular whiz with directions. That GPS really opened the city up for us. Oh well, though. Nice while it lasted.

I should say thanks, too, to you, for not smashing my car so hard into that fence that the airbag went off. I mean, we can't afford a new car right now, not with my husband starting graduate school this winter, and me just starting a new job, and pregnant--did I mention that? Yeah, pregnant again. I mean, you did smash in the ignition with a screwdriver and a chunk of concrete, and you've obviously done some pretty serious damage to the steering column, since the airbag sensor warning light goes on any time we turn the wheel now, but hey, we don't need a key to drive the car anymore. We do just fine with a flathead screwdriver now--probably what you used too, on your little two-mile joyride before you ditched it. The front-end damage from car vs. fence is pretty minor too, surprisingly--just a little dent in the front driver's side bumper and a little tear in the bumper itself--probably caused when you tried to back it up. Clearly you're quite experienced.

You stole my car charger for my cell phone, but I appreciate the fact that you left my husband's leather jacket. I bought it for him for Christmas the first year that I really felt like we were doing well enough to really buy each other presents. I love how he looks in that jacket--I really thought you'd take it for sure. I guess you wouldn't be able to turn around and sell it too easily though. You also left behind my Ipod dock, which I'm happy about, because it was pretty expensive. Our friend, who was kind and patient enough to drive us around all day on Friday and Saturday, knows about these kinds of things and says that it's the highest-rated dock out there.

So, yeah, it cost about $300 to get it out of impound, because I had to pay for the tow and impound for it--interesting, since I really didn't do anything wrong in this case--and a few bucks to wash the mud off of it--did you drive it through a cow pasture or something, by the way? I have no idea what it'll cost to fix the ignition, but suffice it to say, I can't afford to fix it right now, whatever the cost. And it'll be okay for getting from point A to point B for the time being, but we'd planned to drive to Michigan for Christmas later this month, and I don't think we'll do that. We can't really afford the plane tickets either, and we're a one-car family, so we'll probably stay here this year. It'll be the first year we've stayed since we moved here. I know it'll really disappoint our parents, and I'm not sure how to break it to them yet. Maybe you could tell them if you see them?

To be honest, you probably would have been almost doing us a favor if you'd hit that fence doing 80, instead of the maybe 10 you were actually doing, and totaling the thing out. I mean, then we'd sort of be screwed, what with the car payment and everything, but I wouldn't be driving around in this car that now starts with a screwdriver instead of a key, with the front end damage, that smells like fucked-up, ignorant teenagers, that I'll never look at the same way again. Which is really probably on me, not on you. I'm sure that there are people who could shed this totally violated, completely invaded feeling after someone like you did this to them, but I have to admit that I'm not one of them. Mea culpa.

Thanks,
Molly

NaBloPoMo Day 26: Unadvisable

To be filed under "Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should":

Paula Deen's Deep-Fried Stuffing on a Stick

P.S. I wasn't aware of Paula Deen's working relationship with Smithfield Pork products, which is an absolute abomination of a factory farm, but I don't have to love her to shake my head in wonderment at the woman who's deep-fried a stick of butter, do I?

NaBloPoMo Day 12: How-To

Google is my homepage. That sounds disturbingly like "God is my co-pilot," which makes me think of the bumpersticker I saw the other day on the Beltway that said "Dog is my co-pilot," which makes me chortle. But Google is my homepage, and at the top of it, there's a daily "How-To" box, which I love. How to think like Leonardo DaVinci. How to roll a Center-Pull ball of yarn. How to compost kitchen scraps. Awesome, no?

Part of the reason that I love them is because I like to think about how I might do some of these things before I actually read the How-To's. For example: today's says "How to Conquer your Fear of Karaoke, Once and For All."

I am not afraid of karaoke, per se. I just figure that I make a total jackass of myself on average three times a week, so why would I willingly up that average by singing? My uncle Lonnie, who I am deeply crazy about, once wrote the following poem, after my one and only piano recital:

"Mary played on the white notes,
Molly played on the black.
Fred the kitty covered his ears
While Granny sang in the cracks."

Suffice it to say that it was an accurate summation of my family's musical abilities. So I just say no to karaoke. As if karaoke isn't socially awkward enough most of the time without putting me into the mix?

So for you, I'd like to offer my own "How-To" in regards to conquering karaoke:

Here is the original. I would just like to note that in the "related" How-To's, they've included "How To Break a Glass With Your Voice." Yes, exactly.

Here is mine.

1. Begin drinking. Start with tequila.
2. Choose your friends carefully. I recommend the friends who have a low tolerance for alcohol and no shame. You will look good in comparison.
2. Choose a song you know well, and a short one. I suggest "My Bologna has a First Name."
3. Tip the karaoke hostess to lose your name.
4. If all elese fails, try everything you can to go right after this guy:



I'm not sure what song that used to be, but you can only look impressive next to him.

5. Drink enough that you will forget what happens by morning.
6. Don't go home with anyone. You will certainly regret that more than anything you could possibly sing.

The Politics of Food

(Cross-posted at A Year In The Kitchen.)

Let me just say that I'm a political person. I follow politics. I am interested in politics. I pay attention to politics. I think politics are important and interesting.

A British chef and cookbook author who I mostly think is full of shit, however, thinks that cooks (and celebrity chefs in particular) should stay out of politics.

Delia Brown, I'll keep food out of politics when politics stay out of my food.

There was a great deal of discussion at Mark Bittman's blog Bitten yesterday about how poor people eat poorly (nutrition-wise, that is) due mostly to ignorance. I would just like to say that while this may not be the medium to get political, I am offended on the behalf of poor people living in cities everywhere.

The comments on the blog ranged from "These poor people should plant a garden and grow their own vegetables, eat less meat and poultry, and stop eating so much processed junk! We should educate poor people everywhere as to why their health is bad, their children are failing in school, and their communities are in ruins!" to "The cultural bias of poor people is to eat large amounts of bad-quality, badly prepared, unhealthy food. There's nothing that can be done for people who don't know any different."

I am horrified by the ignorant, elitist, stereotyping nature of these comments, as I feel quite certain that none of the commenters have any idea what it's like to be poor in the inner city.

Poor people don't eat junk food because they love to eat junk food. Poor people eat junk food because junk food is what's available to them and they don't get a lot of say in what is ultimately on their table at the end of the day.

If you don't think that there's any conceivable way that could be true, let me give you a snapshot of what it's like to be poor in Washington D.C.

You probably are the single head of a household in a family of three or four, and you're probably female. You probably work at least two jobs, one at $9-10 an hour, the other at $7. You probably live in Southeast, an area of the city that is frequently compared to certain parts of Atlanta, Detroit, and South-Central Los Angeles for its rates of poverty and crime, in a one-bedroom apartment. Chances are, you rely on Section 8 vouchers to help you pay your rent, and chances are, that is not the only form of public assistance that you recieve. You might be helping to support one of your parents, or a sibling. You're probably paying at least something for daycare, but you get some assistance from vouchers as well. Maybe you have a sister who watches your kids at night, or a parent.

You probably rely on public transportation, because you've never owned a car or learned to drive. In your neighborhood, there are probably a dozen carryout restaurants and at least that many convenience and liquor stores. There are check-cashing services, and maybe payday advance outlets. There might be a bank. There is no grocery store.

Let me say that again. There is no grocery store in your neighborhood. There isn't one within walking distance. You have to take two buses to get to the nearest grocery store, and walk 3/4 of a mile. On a Saturday, your only day to shop, it might take you an hour to get there if the buses run on schedule. An hour there, an hour to shop, and an hour home.

Remember, you are poor, so you're probably not in the best of health. Hypertension? Probably. Type II diabetes? Possibly. That mile and a half you walk round-trip to get to and from the grocery store is a major effort for you, especially in the winter, when it might be icy, or in the summer, when it's most definitely hot and humid.

But you have two or three kids to feed, and most of your food budget comes from WIC or other public assistance. The convenience stores in your neighborhood don't accept food stamps or Bridge cards, and even if they did, that pound of bananas that cost $.49 at Save-A-Lot? They're $1.89 in your neighborhood. A gallon of milk costs $2.99 at Shoppers; Joe's Convenience Store has that same gallon of milk priced at $4.19. A small can of vegetables is $1.49, but in your neighborhood, there isn't anyplace to buy fresh vegetables. And you have to pay cash.

So you might shop once a week at one of the bigger discount grocery chains, making that walk with your kids and your folding grocery cart, then taking the two buses. Say you've got two kids to feed for a week, plus yourself. Your kids qualify for free breakfasts and lunches at school (and don't even get me started on the quality and nutrition available in school lunches), and you carry your lunch and eat dinner at work (your second job is probably in food service somewhere), that's two breakfasts times three people (6), five lunches times one (5) and two lunches times three (6), five dinners times two people (10) and two dinners times three (6). That's 33 meals and no snacks. Count on ten bags of groceries.

So are you buying organic carrots for $3.99 a pound? Local produce at three times the cost of commercially-farmed? Of course you're not! Produce is expensive, and heavy, and doesn't stretch very far, even if there's anything like that available in the grocery store where you shop. This isn't Trader Joe's. Plus, your kids might not eat it, and that's a waste. So you're buying potatoes and rice and pasta and dried beans, maybe some canned veggies, fruit, peanut butter and jelly, cheaper cuts of chicken and meat. You might have an hour or two at home in the evenings to feed your kids before you go off to your second job, so things like TV dinners and frozen pizzas and lasagnas are quick and your kids like them. The WIC nurse says that your kids need dairy products for calcium, so it's milk and cheese and eggs and maybe yogurt. White bread, because it's cheaper. Individual bags of chips for snacks, maybe Fruit Rollups, maybe Kool-Aid or off-brand sodas. Sugar, flour, and other staples.

You've got a grocery cart which carries three or four bags of your heaviest groceries. Some grocery stores have riders out front--unauthorized taxi services that will take home shoppers and their groceries for money, usually in the $10 range. You need your $10 though, so you're taking the bus. Your oldest kid carries a couple bags, your youngest might carry a bag for you too. That leaves you pushing or pulling your cart and carrying the last three bags as well.

The bus is late. Hope it's not summer, because if it is, you're sitting in the sun with all that food--chicken, meat, milk, cheese, eggs, frozen food. It's all going bad while you wait.

Could you bake your own bread? Sure, maybe you'll get time for that someday, but not this week. Could you grow your own vegetables? Where? The fire escape? You don't have a yard.

I'm not making this stuff up or exaggerating; this is modern hunting and gathering for poor urban families where I live. Of course poor people eat junk food! Of course they're not in good health. Of course their kids don't do well in school. Of course this lifestyle contributes to a cycle of poverty that is hurting millions of people every day in very profound ways.

Food isn't like driving a nice car or having high-speed internet access. Think about how you would feel about your kids going to bed hungry at night, or being contacted by their teacher because they're falling asleep in class. Just think about how helpless you would feel at having to choose between keeping a roof over their heads or giving them the basic nutrition that they need to break this impossibly ugly cycle of poverty and dispair.

I shop at a comfortable suburban grocery store and I seldom worry about the cost of my food. I know what to give my husband and my son and myself and how to prepare it to keep all of us healthy and functioning at optimal, and I don't have to make impossible choices like keeping the lights on or keeping my kid from being too hungry to concentrate. I have the opportunity to shop for locally-produced, sustainably grown goods and organic vegetables, fruit, and meat, and as often as I can, I take advantage of it.

But this stupid goddamn elitist attitude of bragging about where our food comes from and then looking down our noses at people who genuinely don't have the luxury of making the choices that I make is absolutely the worst, stupidest, most ass-backward form of knee-jerk liberalism anywhere. It's bad, and not in a good way. It's unproductive. It's biased and sad.

And I see so much of it in reading about food. The nerve of chastizing people who struggle every month to feed their kids and keep the lights on and the roof over their heads for not owning a bread machine with which to bake their own bread or a yard in which to grow their own vegetables is staggering to me. Practically demanding that poor people cease eating meat left me speechless.

I think we should have a real discussion about the politics of food in America's poorest communities, but I think that when the focus of this discussion is about why America's poorest communities aren't growing their own microgreens or baking their own bread, we are missing the point so massively that it makes me sick. I want to talk about why there aren't incentives for major grocery stores to move into neighborhoods where accessability to fresh, affordable food is a major roadblock. I want to talk about the correlation between food and education, especially early childhood education. I want to talk about why people whose food budget exceeds $1200 a month think it's okay to tell someone who doesn't own a car that they shouldn't eat junk food and only does so because that person is stupid.

I want people to understand something about modern poverty: the solutions to this problem aren't fixed by organics. They're fixed by understanding what the problem really is.

So far, the people who are doing virtually all of the talking don't seem to be able to wrap their heads around it.

NaBloPoMo Day 28: Prohibited

Did you know that...

• In Belvedere, California, one City Council order reads: "No dog shall be in a public place without its master on a leash."
• In Long Beach, California, it is illegal to curse on a mini-golf course.
• The city of San Francisco is the only city in the nation to have ordinances guaranteeing sunshine to the masses.
• In Denver, Colorado, it is illegal to drive a black car on Sundays.
• It is illegal for barbers to give massages to nude customers unless they are for "instructional purposes" anywhere in Colorado.
• Clamming at night is illegal in Connecticut.
• In D.C., the federal government says that it is illegal to give false weather reports.
• The following things are illegal in Florida: unmarried women parachuting on Sunday, farting in public after 6 p.m. on a Thursday, oral sex, having less than $10 on your person (but only in Pensacola), and sex with porcupines.
• In Georgia, you are permitted to commit simple battery but only if provoked by "fighting words", but it is illegal to change the clothes on a mannequin unless the windowshades are lowered.
• In Hawaii, you may be fined for not owning a boat.
• In Boise, Idaho, it is illegal to fish from a giraffe's back.
• Should you be overcome by an urge to copulate in your car in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, you needn't worry. Police officers aren't allowed to walk up and knock on the window. Any suspicious officer who thinks that sex is taking place must drive up from behind, honk his horn three times and wait approximately two minutes before getting out of his car to investigate.
• Chicago law forbids eating in any establishment that is on fire.
• In Normal, Illinois, it is against the law to make faces at dogs.
• Also in Illinois, it is legal to protest naked in front of City Hall as long as you are under the age of seventeen and have the proper permit.
• All males aged 18-50 must work six days per year on public roads.
• The following things are illegal in Indiana: passing a horse on the street, a liquor store selling cold soft drinks, for a man to be sexually aroused in public, for barbers to threaten to cut off kid's ears, to sell cars on Sunday.
• You can, however, satisfy any obligation to pay for a dependant's medical care in Indiana by praying for him/her.
• In Marshaltown, Iowa, it is illegal for horses to eat fire hydrants.
• There is an ordinance prohibiting whale hunting in Kansas.
• It is illegal in Kentucky to marry the same man more than three times.
• In Lexington, it is illegal to transport an ice cream cone in your pocket.
• By law, anyone who has been drinking in Kentucky is "sober" until he or she "cannot hold onto the ground."
• Also in Kentucky: "No person shall sell, exchange, offer to sell or exchange, display or possess living baby chicks, ducklings, or other fowl or rabbits which have been dyed or colored; nor dye or color any baby chicks, ducklings or other fowl or rabbits; nor sell, exchange, offer to sell or exchange or to give away baby chicks, ducklings or other fowl or rabbits, under two months of age in any quantity less than six, except that any rabbit weighing three pounds or more may be sold at an age of six weeks. Any person who violates this section shall be fined not less than $100 nor more than $500." (Did that remind anyone of Lloyd's speech from "Say Anything" about not wanting to buy, sell, or process anything?)
• Mourners at a wake in Louisiana may not eat more than three sandwiches.
• In Maryland, it is illegal to sell condoms from vending machines with one exception: prophylactics may be dispensed from a vending machine only "in places where alcoholic beverages are sold for consumption on the premises."
• Also in Maryland, it is illegal to give or receive oral sex.
• In Massachusetts, bullets may not be used as currency.

You know, I'm going to stop right there. You never know when I might be short a blog post.