May 25, 2013

It's only just occurred to me, 5 days after the event, to blog my wedding.

Hayden and I were married on Saturday in Asheville, NC. It was a perfect day - seriously. Perfect. After a thundery week, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was 71 degrees with the most important factor of low humidity.

We started the day a little hungover after a fun night at the Champagne Bar. Nearly all of the wedding attendees were present and mingling. It would have been just right if we had ended after the sing-a-long with my parents and friends in the taxi ride home, but then Hayden's friend Brandon showed up very late and wanted just a few more drinks...

Hayden went off to his parents for final wedding prep, while I went down for a manicure/pedicure in the hotel spa. I realized that until 3pm I had nothing to do. It was great. I really had time to relax on my own, think about my future with Hayden and eat a cheeseburger.

Simone, my high school friend and present day hero, arrived at 3pm to do my hair and makeup. It was amazing. She took away much of my anxiety, especially about my hair, and did a fantastic job. Kate, Cora, Alexis and little Freddie showed up and we had champagne as Simone worked away. My mom came to help me into the dress and then away we went, along the rolling back roads to the big party.

As we arrived, I started asking questions and Kate turned to me and said, "I got this. I'm a producer. This is what I do for a living." I'm not sure what she did, but I suddenly had my bouquet and was ready. We all walked down the aisle to brilliant sunshine. It was amazing to see all those faces that I love in Asheville. The huppah holders (Kate, Jeff, John and Jodi) were doing their job well, except for Jodi who teetered throughout the ceremony. I grabbed onto Hayden's hand for dear life; he was my rock.

Erin conducted the ceremony masterfully. We figured we chose the right friend. She confirmed that instinct. She kept us all organized and perfect. My dad gave a lovely prayer. My Aunt Beth nailed the Immortal Beloved reading - no easy task! And Art charmed us with the tale of the chuppah tradition.

And like that, the ceremony was over. Picture taking time was fun. At one stage Hayden's trooper of a Grandma exclaimed, "I don't know which one to look at!" Indeed, we had so many cameras pointed at us. Scott, with assistance from Erin who deserved to be retired for the day, took literally 1,400 photos! Those two DEFINITELY have another career path should they choose it. We're not worthy!

The cocktail hour was in full swing as we approached. I settled on a bourbon and strawberry lemonade, which became my drink of the night. Johnny the bartender came running over to apologize for serving me a plastic cup instead of a glass, a detail which I hadn't noticed or cared about.

Next came our first dance to Martin Sexton's Hallelujah, which is a gorgeous song. Hayden managed, with a great display of dexterity, to not step on the dress AND spin me around a couple of times. Success! We had lovely speeches from Art and Kristina, who pulled it all together for us. Kate killed me with her speech and Geoff as usual brought it together perfectly.

Dinner was great, which pleased me and the cakes spoke for themselves (delicious!) We launched the dance party with "I gotta feeling," by the Black Eyed Peas, which predictably got everyone on the dance floor. Craig the cop did an ok job. He could have played more Motown and more hip hop. And indeed there was the growing infamous "Gin and Juice" incident. He refused to play it, despite the fact that all of my Vassar friends and all of Hayden's Peace Corps friends requested it and it was on our "must play" list. It turns out there's some sort of reference to marijuana in the song that Craig the cop took offense to. Well that's nice, Craig the cop, but it's not your place to judge our music.

There were some breakout performances, including:
1. Fred, Andrea, Jessica and Jeff's impromptu family boogie down
2. The Black-Diamond kids' performance
3. Little Noah's unfazed-by-the-crowd-and-attention dance solo
4. Brandon and anyone who would's violent swing dancing
5. And most memorably, Cora's (with assistance from Inti) interpretive dance to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin"

Some people departed for the hotel with the first bus and the rest of us headed to the bonfire, which was ok, although I think most people were pretty exhausted. Also, Amanda gave an impromptu, long and emotionally charged speech.

Exhausted and happy, we departed on the last bus bound for the Biltmore Park Hilton. The bus driver was lovely, but insisted on playing super weird music videos on the bus. We got back to the Hilton and some of us stayed downstairs for a while soaking it all up. Jodi helped me dismantle my hair. Hayden attempted to smoke a cigar. And Fred, of course, was the last one to leave the party.

Expectations

The other day in my fancy hotel in tripoli I went down to the fancy spa and treated myself to a fancy pedicure. It cost about $40 but as we women all can do very well, I justified it based on the following reasons:

a.) need: the polish had chipped and it was therefore a necessity

b.) I need just a touch of pampering. A pedicure is really just a minor luxury. Right ladies? 

Well, it sucked. I should have clued in to the fact that it began with a makeshift footbath in the hallway. The cuticle removal process was more painful than usual. And then, to my surprise, despite the evidence of a nail file, exfoliating scrub and massage lotion, she went right into painting. Oh and the choices were red, redder, red and palest pink. 4 choices; three of which were the same color.

Sensing disaster, but in need of new polish, I let her do it. But then she wanted to do the rest of the pedicure. She wanted to massage and exfoliate and my nails were still wet. Oy. Without a common language I was forced to grunt and flee. Luckily the receptionist picked up on this and didn't charge me.

I was floored. This place looked super schmancy. But I realize I forgot one thing. I was in Tripoli. There is this weird veneer of elegance and, well, money. Underneath that, however, is pretty severe underdevelopment (and insecurity...) Of course I could point to my many discussions about politics and women's rights to make this point. Yet, this moment in the salon, while certainly not more poignant or complex, was perhaps more personal. I wanted to relax a bit and that was shattered by incommunicable incompetence.

Exhibit A: My gnarly foot made worse by coloring outside the lines and no filing.

Libyan Women's Rights

Today I listened to 25 Libyan women discuss women’s rights. There were some points that were non-negotiable. For example, there is no question that Sharia law will be the law of the government. We may debate this from the outside, but in this conference room, it was not debated by these women. 

The biggest consternation came on the topic of hijab – the head scarf and covering. Libya is certainly becoming more conservative. In many ways this is a reaction to the Gaddafi regime. Hijab was frowned upon if not sometimes forbidden. Therefore, several of the women linked hijab wearing to the revolution. They were now free to wear it!

Here are some of the comments:

“I don’t care if you wear hijab or not. It is your choice. I want to dress modest. But I will not wear the full covering some women wear.”

"It is clear in religion that we must wear hijab."

“Wearing Hijab is between me and Allah”

While I enjoyed the raucous debate, I didn’t feel I had a dog in this fight. For me, as long as someone isn’t telling me to wear it (ahem, Iran), I think women should be free to choose. I have nothing against women who choose to wear hijab.

However, I did drop my jaw at the suggestion that women support polygamy. Here’s the dilemma: polygamy is accepted in the Koran. Men can have four wives.

Judgy von judgenstein!

Ich don’t think so!

Shocking!

Furthermore, it turns out that the alarm I had been sounding from my last trip was misrepresented. I came back with the dramatic tale of the Prime Minister’s first official act. Despite all of the democracy building and security chaos, he passed a new law decreeing that men no longer need the permission of their wives to take another wife. Obviously, my Western, Judeo-Christian values reject that. But here’s where it gets complicated…

Apparently he did this because there was overwhelming support from men AND WOMEN. Indeed, an unmarried woman in Libya is dealt a pretty crappy hand. She cannot move around on her own or even open a bank account. In Libya, women need the permission of their husbands or fathers or, eek, brothers for many things. So my moral judgment is diluted by the reality for women here. Who am I to get on my high horse? I don’t have to face that reality!

The debates continue within Libya and between Libya and the region and Libya and the world about the rights of women. One thing I noticed though was that, although there may be some nuances about the exact rights to be included or excluded, there is a common conviction that women are equal to men and should be treated that way.

PS: Did you know that in Libya, men and women have equal pay?!!!

Women's Leadership Training - Libya

Yesterday, I gave part of my women’s leadership training to 20 women leaders in Tripoli. It was, as always, a fascinating day of conversation. I am always amazed at the strength of women. It emanates when they are gathered together. They come from a variety of backgrounds from across the country. Most wear hijab, but a few do not. Some are in their 50s and some are in their 20s. Some speak English, but most do not. All are pretty educated and passionate.

As we reviewed the basic definitions of sex and gender (“women have babies: biological fact, women must be the main caretakers of their families: socially assigned gender role), there was an immediate surge toward debating gender equality concerns. Many issues raised were the usual facts of gender discrimination: women work longer hours for little credit and men are the decision-makers. But a unique spin on the usual frustrations of gender inequality was the post-Arab Spring atmosphere. There has been some news that post-Arab Spring is not exactly the picture of democracy that the West was hoping for. Egypt is an obvious example, where Morsi continues to retract rights of everyone, especially in the public sphere.  The debate about women’s rights in Egypt is underscored by very public and verified physical and sexual assaults.

In Libya, while a majority of the post-Arab Spring’s spotlight is focused elsewhere, there has been a steady erosion of women’s rights and freedom. Women were active during the Revolution. For the first time in Libyan history, women were out on the streets, regularly protesting and fighting for their freedom. Now this space is shrinking. There are legitimate fears that a lack of centralized security makes it dangerous for women, so there is self-imposed restriction of movement. Few women travel on their own and especially at night. One woman told me, “I used to go out up until 11pm before the revolution, but I am on my own in Tripoli and now I try to be home by 7pm.”

There is also, however, a growing conservative movement, influenced brusquely by Salafist extremists, who have instigated tales of women being hassled when on their own, especially those who do not appear “Islamic” enough.

Perhaps less obviously but potentially more devastating is the systemic erosion of women’s rights that is happening in Libya. When the new government formed last year, one of the first official acts was to allow multiple wives for men. One would think that in the dawn of Libya’s democracy there would be priorities ahead of this.

It continues. 

Last week, a new law was passed to re-instate the High Electoral Commission in Libya. In the prior version there was a clause that stated that women must be present on the HNEC. That clause is absent for the law that just passed. Voila, the absence of women is now an institutional fact, or, more accurately, the presence of women is no longer required.

The energy of the women in the room is unbridled, but the space to channel this energy is closing. It is a race against time. Yet, much of the conversation is about what happened or the current state of things in Libya. Can these women look to the future? Can they pull together and plan an equality offense?

The role of the two week training is to empower women through skills building and networking. Today’s review and debate about equality will be followed by a comprehensive list of desired topics: leadership, communication, ethics, crisis management, advocacy, etc.

Along the way these skills will be greatly enhanced by the rich conversation, debate and experience of these 20 women.

Long time visitor, first time patient

So I had a laparoscopic myomectomy the other day. After a couple years of suffering, it was determined by my doctor that the best idea would be to remove an orange-sized fibroid from the lining of my uterus – an “intramural” fibroid.

I was told it would be minimally invasive and that recovery could mean out of the office for two weeks, which did not sound minimal. I was also told I’d go under general anesthesia. I would go all the way under: intubated and on a respirator. This of course was the primary source of my anxiety in the lead up to the operation. I did watch every single episode of ER.

On the day of, in the hospital room with Hayden and my mom (how very very odd for both me and my mom to have the tables turned), I grilled the anesthesiologist, Dr. Chen.

“So, I’m going all the way under?” “I’ve never had anesthesia before. I’m worried about waking up.” “How do you know I’ll wake up?” “What are the risks? “Yes, I understand I could get xy and z, but what are the risks that I won’t wake up?”

She stared at me blankly and then perhaps with a tinge of annoyance. They gave me a lovely shot of some sort of “pam” drug. I instantly recognized it as a drug related to my beloved Xanax. I said, “great, yes, let’s take the edge off. Oh, this is like Xanax.”

“How do you know what Xanax is?” she asked.

I said, because I used it sometimes when I fly in crazy places like Sudan. I don’t remember leaving the room, but apparently I made Hayden kiss me twice and I said to Hayden and my mom, “later bitches.” I do remember the operating room. The last thing I remember saying to the anesthesiologist was, “What do you mean, you don’t know who Bono is?!”

I woke up in serious discomfort and very very VERY grumpy. I would snap at the nurse and then apologize and then snap again. All while feeling super drugged. Hayden and my mom were giving me some details – apparently everything went well, no need for a blood transfusion, there are pictures (wtf?!), I can go home…

I can go home? That seemed odd to me as I fought the nurse for my clothes.  Why was it taking her so long to help me get dressed and why the hell did she put ice and a straw in my cup of water? Just give me the damned water woman! Upon hindsight, that might have been a bit brusque.

The recovery has been more or less ok. I’m taking it pretty slow. Other than bloating and some minor twinges of pain, I don’t seem to have any complications one week out. My four “keyhole” incisions are looking good. God, I hope they don’t scar too badly.

My surgeon, Dr. Robinson, will be pleased that my Burma trip has been postponed indefinitely. I was planning to head out next Wednesday, which admittedly now would seem a bit premature. He did tell me he currently has friends traveling there. I told him they could check in on me.

He looked at me like I was batshit cray cray.

Are you a lion or a kitten?

I led my first training since coming to IFES on women's leadership and advocacy for our women's network in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. It was exhausting but great to do something concrete that I think was also useful for the women.

The biggest barrier, besides the usual anxiety about whether or not a training will go well, was the wee fact that I do not speak French. When I made this announcement in the first minute of the training, there was a collective sigh and minor protests that did nothing to allay my anxiety.

Nonetheless we powered through. We started with some basics on gender equality and women's empowerment and it was clear many of the women were quite knowledgeable. When we rolled our sleeves up and got into the nitty gritty of women's empowerment, things got interesting.

My favorite moment of the training came midway through the first day when we did an exercise called, "What is your expertise?" The idea is that women tend to underestimate their strengths out of humility, but this can be counterproductive. As a woman, it is important to know what you are good at so that you can use your strengths to be better at your work. I asked the women to write down on a piece of paper one or two things that they thought were their strengths and then tape them up on the wall in front of the room. The second step was to choose someone else's expertise, read it and explain why it appealed to you. This would also help the women validate and reinforce the importance of each women's skill.

As if on cue, there were protests and many many questions about the exercise. I could see women gazing around sheepishly around the room while tentatively, furtively writing down a few words. I saw several women fold the paper and then fold it again and again until it became a tiny ball. With lots of questions and hesitation, I finally got the women to put up their strengths and choose someone else's strength to read aloud.

As they were reading the skills, I put up a picture of a kitten looking into the mirror and its reflection showed a lion. I asked them women what they thought about this picture. Again, I couldn't have cued it any better. There was an onslaught of protests. "If that kitten goes around thinking he's a lion, he's going to get EATEN!!"

We all burst out laughing, but then I reminded them that there's another way to look at it. Sure, boasting and bragging can get us into trouble. But so too can underestimating our strengths and skills. It was a great moment and meeting of the minds. I think it set me up to earn their trust for the rest of the training.