Some Things Just Have To Be Said

I had a rather shocking experience on the subway this evening (don't worry, Mom, nothing dangerous happened). I was riding home on the 5 from work (a personal favorite line of mine as the trip is a little shorter), and though there were a lot of seats when I got on at 59th street, it filled up quite quickly. Once you get farther down in central Manhattan, lots of people are always piling on and off at each stop, and this time I debated grabbing a seat for the rest of my ride to Brooklyn. That is, until I saw the pregnant woman getting on at the end of a crowd of people...there would be enough of a rush for seats, I figured, so I might as well not take one that should go to her. Well, to my shock, a number of people getting on before her made a beeline for the empty seats, and this woman was just left standing there. The grad student type sitting directly in front of where she stood holding the support pole briefly woke up from his snooze, looked around, and nodded off again. The woman next to him also seemed to look at this woman, then put in her earbuds and closed her eyes. The young teenager I assumed to be her son just sat there eyeing her occasionally. At this point, I'm almost overwhelmed with how ridiculous this situation is. There are enough people on this car that all of the seats are taken, but not so many that the standing crowd is packed in; there is NO way to miss this woman. Now, I understand that a lot of times, you can think someone might be pregnant, but not know for sure, and feel awkward offering a seat. But this was a seriously pregnant woman; I wasn't wondering whether or not she was indeed with child, I was wondering whether she would go into labor in the subway car. I just stood there, stunned, against the back door, appalled at the behavior of my fellow seated subway riders. I'm not in any way from New York, or any place remotely close to having even a moderately-used public transportation system, but even I know that when you are on any form of public transport--train, bus, subway, you name it--if you see an elderly individual, a pregnant woman, or anyone who is visibly strained from standing, you get your tush out of your seat before karma bites it off; this is not something you mess with. I was so close to saying something, I can't even tell you how thick the lecture was on my lips. If you know me, you likely know that I don't really have a problem telling somewhat what's what if I think they need to hear it (provided of course that they're not a professional or academic superior of mine). "Excuse me," I wanted to say--and rather loudly--"but is it not immediately obvious to the majority of you that you should be hopping up to offer this woman your seat?! Isn't this common courtesy?! Do you not hear them announce it ten times a day over the car loudspeaker?!" The only thing that kept me from doing so was an insecurity about how socially acceptable it was...there are some things that are done, and there are some things that just aren't, and before I could decide that it was just too ridiculous and embarrassing (you know, for humanity) to let go, we were at the next station and a number of people were leaving the train and the pregnant woman headed for one of the vacated seats. Two people came from behind us at the end of the car, walked right by her, and sat down, while another woman, about to take the final seat, looked up, saw her, made a face that clearly said, "ohhhhh woah now", and gestured for the woman to take the seat, which she did gratefully.

I mean really, I thought we were at a point in this world where adults with extensive public transportation experience could be counted on to look straight at someone who clearly deserves to be sitting down more than they do and offer up their seat, but evidently I was wrong.

On a similar note, Jezebel (a personal favorite blog of mine) ran an article today that talks about the difference between 'gender' and 'gender roles' and how they operate as constructs of our society in general. There is lots of interesting commentary after the article, which you can see here, but it really got me thinking about some of these things. I heard someone today complaining about women who rage against a double standard and then expect to be treated like princesses, never paying for their own food on dates, expecting to have money spent on them constantly, always wanting the door held, etc, essentially turning themselves into hypocrites. I've seen this, and it bothers me as well, but what really irritates me is how that behavior can color people's view of all 'feminists'--or whatever people who dislike the gender double standard wish to call themselves, because we all know what a loaded term that can be. I've had guys say to me on numerous occasions, almost always after some conversation about feminism or gender roles or double standards or something related, "Oh, so if some guy holds a door open for you, you're saying you don't want him to do that because that's chivalrous and chivalry is sexist?". My response always starts, "No, BUT," and before I can finish they're jumping on me for having said, 'no'. Because before I even finish my sentence, I must be a hypocrite, too. Here's the thing, though, the 'BUT', really matters. I don't have a problem when someone holds the door for me, but I don't want them to hold it for me because I'm a woman, I want them to hold it for me because they would hold it open for whomever happened to be coming through a door directly behind them, and were the roles reversed, I would hold the door for them as well. Should a guy pay on a date? Well if he did the asking I think he should offer, but I can't guarantee I wouldn't insist on paying for my food in that situation, and if I'd done the asking, I would offer to pay for the whole shebang. I don't think of things like that as 'chivalry', I think of them as manners.

We're at an odd place right now in our society with all of this navigation of ever-changing gender roles. Between trying to fight them as a stereotype enforced by one gender upon another, and dealing with the fact that we sometimes enforce them ourselves (don't even get me started about slut-shaming), I just hope we're not headed for a social climate like that I experienced on the subway car today, where manners are mistaken for chivalry and everyone tries to avoid it, lest they earn a rebuke for being sexist; perhaps instead of limiting our 'chivalry', we can do away with the term altogether and just extend manners a little more liberally to everyone, regardless of their gender identity.

West Coast Weekend, Part Two

Continuing our seriously packed weekend, we spent Wednesday morning at the Storm shootaround prior to the game (don't ask me who that is, just go educate yourselves: www.wnba.com/storm). We got to sit courtside while they ran through plays for the game, shooting drills, and got some great feedback from their coaches. It was funny, because I'd forgotten all of the little smells and sounds that go along with being up close and personal with the game itself. You don't notice them when you watch a game in a big, crowded gym or arena, but when you're in a more intimate, practice setting, the sound of the ball against the net and the hollow, plastic thunk of the players' fingers catching passes ring out very clearly. It's been four years since I last touched a basketball/coached, and I'd forgotten these simple things that were part of my life for such a long time. Add to that the fact that I was sitting and watching some of the best players in the league (and some of the women I watched play college ball as a little girl--hello Sue Bird, Swin Cash) running through their game day paces, and I was just about the most psyched person on the planet. The ten-year-old inside me was squealing like nobody's business and the twenty-two-year old in me tried to be a wee bit more subdued and was fascinated (and a bit in awe) watching the whole thing.

If that wasn't enough, we sat courtside at the game that evening, which was honestly one of the coolest experiences I've ever been lucky enough to have. Unfortunately, the Storm didn't have their best game--Atlanta had some seriously big women on that team, and I think their pushing everyone around (plus the fact that seemingly ever shot landed, no matter what) just wore our defense down. I'm excited for the ever-awe-inspiring Lauren Jackson to get back from her hip injury rehab and show of some serious skills in time for the end of the end of the season and the playoffs! Despite the loss, I had a phenomenal time, and I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

On my last full day in Seattle we had fabulous sushi and went to a John Legend/Sade concert. Sade was fabulous music, though went veeeerry late, but John Legend opened and man, let me tell you, that guy can SING. He can also flirt with an entire arena via microphone and megatron like nobody's business and is likely the King of Wooing in real life. If Gilder went the way of Marhsall's HIMYM Lily fantasy and died of a rare, incurable hiccuping disorder just after asking me to move on and find some studly man, John Legend, you would be he.

West Coast Weekend, Part One

Many of you probably know that the weather in New York has been generally questionable. The weather people reported that we would, "finally be getting a break from the heat," and the thermometer dropped down to 86. Me? Not a fan. Fortunately, I skipped out on both the heat and the apparent rainpocalypse by jetting out to Seattle for a long weekend, which actually turned out to be the best weekend*.

(*sidenote: yes, I'm aware there may or may not have been some wescrew merriment this weekend, and I'm taking this into account in assigning my superlatives. true story.)

I left work early on Thursday and was in Seattle by a reasonable hour (well, Pacific time) that night. We had a seriously full weekend planned, though, so no rest for the weary!

On Friday, we did that whole sleeping in business and decided it would be the perfect time to start our homemade tiramisu adventure that we'd only been planning for months. A quick trip to the grocery store and some internet research revealed that making your own tiramisu is actually pretty easy (and not too pricey). We went with an online recipe from the food network, and even made our own ladyfingers to achieve real 'homemade' status. We soaked them in espresso and were on our way.

Yum!

Anyone who's ever had tiramisu knows it's all about layers of cookies and that oh-so-delicious mixture of mascarpone cheese and a certain something that never seems to identify itself, but makes things ever so fluffy and wonderful. Turns out it's various and sundry whipped egg components, a little bit of gelatine and, you know, sugar. Construct the whole thing in a pan with cinnamon and shaved chocolate, chill, and you're ready to enjoy the fruits of your not-very-strenuous labor.

We were pretty popular. Or unpopular, depending on you feel about having delicious, unhealthy food tempting you from your fridge!

On Saturday night, I went to my second ever MLB game, this time in Seattle where the Red Sox were in town. Having been kept awake by many a Mariner post-game show, I was excited to see these guys in person. I have to say, I'm not a big fan of baseball on tv...with just the one point of view at a time, it gets a little boring and I just lose interest unless it's a World Series final. Watching a game live at the ballpark is a lot different. It's dynamic, it's exciting, and there are lots of fun people with great energy. Of course, we showed up two hours early to watch batting practice so, as I soon found out, a bunch of fans exhiting various levels of crazy (and some certain levels of awesome) could yell as politely as possible at a bunch of outfielders who didn't seem like they wanted to throw any balls into the stands. We met a guy visiting from NH who clearly thought I was crazy when it became clear I was the girlfriend sitting in the stands holding the bags, tickets, etc, while he and Gilder chatted it up. A ball was acquired however, with questionable reaching in front of a small child....I made some guilt-inducing comments, and though it was offered to me, it was not offered to said child (who got his own a few minutes later). The whole thing was almost more of an anthropological culture study than my day at the beach club! Needless to say it was a great time, and we actually had pretty excellent cheap seats, too. I managed to get a shot of the Mariner Moose who came up to dance in the rows behind us (any team with a moose mascot I can definitely get behind). Oh, and those blue shirts you see? Ichiro-designed, baby. Mine's a little big, but like I care.

Proof! I can officially live in New England now that I've been to a Sox game (even if it was in Seattle). And I'm only 15 years late!