Tag Archives: feminism

BULLIES

Angelo Sr. and daughter Louise Annarino

I grew up in an immigrant community in a very poor area of town. Inevitably, the inhabitants who claimed this impoverished neighborhood as their own resented the Italian-Catholics so unlike them. Bullies played a large role in my childhood. They roamed the alleys and streets looking for victims. I refused to become one.

My Great-Uncle George Annarino was a champion Bantam-weight prize fighter. His cauliflower ear was a marvel to me, especially when he explained how he got it as we sat together on bar stools at my family’s restaurant. He had retired from boxing and opened a gym, complete with a boxing ring in his garage, by the time I was born. He had taught my teen-aged father to fight. Dad won his first 22 fights. He lost his 23rd. fight and retired; only to learn that his opponent went on to win a national championship. He chuckled aloud stating to me, “I think I retired too soon.”

Dad hung a boxing bag in our garage, and gave us child-sized regulation boxing gloves. He taught his children how to throw a punch. He provided weights and at the age of ten I could lift 150 pounds above my head. I sparred with my Dad and brothers. Dad thought girls should also know how to protect themselves and showed me how a well-placed jab to the nose or eye, a well-placed kick where it would hurt most could disarm an attacker. We were taught to never start a fight, to walk away if possible. And, we were taught to never take a punch without punching back.

I was a lucky girl of that time in our history, a girl whose Dad knew her worth was equal to that of his sons’ worth. This was definitely not the norm in 1950’s America. Dad included me when he taught us to play baseball, football and basketball. My brothers played sports with me. Neighborhood boys allowed me to joint the games knowing I could play as their equal. Childhood ended with menstruation when playing with the boys became forbidden by my mother. Another battle ahead as a woman in a sexist society. But, I retained the athletic ability I had honed. I retained my fighting skills. More importantly, I retained my knowledge of my inherent self-worth. I knew how to stand up to bullies.

I still shadow-box, although not on a regular schedule. I still fight, although not with my fists. I know the value of a well-aimed punch and used it when cross-examining witnesses in court as an attorney. I learned to use the law to fight. I learned to use politics to fight. I organized voting efforts, went door-to-door on behalf of political candidates I admired, using the skills I learned about fighting an oppressive bully to good effect. I worked as a poll worker.

I still try not to start a fight. I have too often been told I am responsible for a fight, simply because I refuse to back down from a bullying conversation. I shall not start the fight. But, I will finish it. I prefer gloves in a ring; but in alleys and across dining tables are sometimes the only choice I’m given, with all gloves off. It may not look pretty. It feels good.

I want our politicians, educators, religious leaders, CEOs, labor unions, and fellow citizens to fight with me. I want them to stand up to the bullies. Not all of us had Dads like mine. Not all of us were trained to defend ourselves against bullies. I understand that. But, too often through my life I had to stand alone in the fight; only later in private to have others who stood back secretly thank me. I would have preferred them to stand alongside me in the fight. So, even if you cannot fight, for whatever reason, will you please stand alongside those who are willing to take on the fight? Is that too much to ask? I hope not. We need every single one of you to stand in solidarity with those of us fighting power-hungry, disgruntled bullies who claim they’re making America great again as they destroy it and us… “We the people.”

Cousin Georgie, Grandpa John and Great Uncle George Annarino

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MY FIRST AND ONLY CONFESSION

Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

Confession is good for the soul.

I have been told.

My first confession

at the age of seven

Took Sister Mary Claude,

whose diligence I applaud,

months to abate my fear.

First in line, I strode near

the confessional where Fr. Torre

waited to hear blood and gore

from little ones whose blame-game

only recently became a cause of shame.

With whispering words I began to confess.

“Father, forgive me.”( I felt such stress.)

“This is my first confession.”

Father stopped me right there

as I sat on the edge of the chair.

He was behind the screen,

a solemn, still figure barely seen.

“Please speak up so I can hear.”

And, so I did, and started to enumerate

all my sins, expecting him to strongly berate.

His words caused me even greater fear,

“Louise, not so loud, or all will hear.”

No longer did I worry who heard what.

He knew me, when I had been taught,

confession is anonymous.

Now, I felt infamous.

How could I face him across my Mother’s table

when he came each week that he was able

to eat her suga and Italian food;

and feel like family, with buoyant mood.

My only sin that day

was what I confessed every single Saturday,

“I disobeyed my Mother 10 times a day,

every day, of every week, of every year.

I was a disobedient child who shed no tears.

And over these many years

I have never changed my insolent creed

My father told me as I stood at his knee,

“Every man puts his pants on one leg at a time.

No one is better than you; (I liked that line)

and you are no better than anyone else.”

Equality set my soul free, made my heart pulse.

Equality became the base of all courage.

Equality kept me from being discouraged.

As a woman in a man’s world and profession.

I learned to speak up and out loud in my first confession.

Photo by August de Richelieu on Pexels.com

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NO KINGS DAY

Acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino

The day begins with signs

Of all that any patriot finds

In need of expression

To resist oppression.

We line the streets

Feet deep

Only to meet

Aggression

From those who seek

Our suppression.

Gerrymandered districts

Are incomplete,

Unable to meet

Fair representation,

Denying the nation

one person one vote,

Intimidation afloat

In every state.

We pray it is not too late.

We pray our efforts matter.

We pray our mad-as-hatter

Administration

Stops destroying our beloved nation.

We sing. We dance. We shout.

This is what democracy is about.

No kings today.

No kings in any way.

No kings over courts’ justice.

No kings over any of us.

Every king eventually falls.

We do not want a king at all.

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IF ONLY

If only I were a bird

Fluffing feathers to increase my girth

And insulate my true worth

Staying warm this way instead,

Despite the bitter cold and dread.

But I am no bird. I am but a girl

Old enough to know better

On such bitterly cold days,

Watching my freedoms iced over,

Under Nazi salutes

And executive dis-orders.

Instead of fluffing feathers

I reach for carbs to increase warmth

And fill a need birds too feel

When cold grips the air we breathe

And hot words blow smokily

To cover the lies and foolery

Meant to limit our ability to fly.

We have a lot in common, the birds and I.

We are both on endangered species lists,

Fearing our days of flying free are numbered.

We both try to increase in size

That we may create warmth and strength inside,

And fool bullies not so wise,

Who would block our way

On freedom’s journey to better days.

If I were a bird, could I simply fly away?

Instead, I wait and fuel my body.

I wait in trust for better days.

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HOMELESS WOMEN

Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

untitled women 

work the fields

ply the streets

rock the cradles

cry and weep

unnamed tears

forgotten smiles

un-styled hair

weary feet

arms akimbo

grace denied

homeless

but not heartless,

mores the pity,

where none resides

beside the curb

where hope dies

as titled women

simply pass by

and by

and by

and by

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Mahsa Amini

Too loose the covering over her hair

enraged the men who could not bear

a woman’s power of feminity

threatening the control of their masculinity.

It is not women they fear, is it not?

But their dissatisfaction with their lot.

Too weak to accept the challenges they face

they blame women for their own disgrace.

Powerful men stand side-by-side,

partners with women and feminine pride.

Only the cowardly weak attack women.

How do we find love enough to forgive them?

They ought to worry as they fight in the streets

against those who refuse to accept defeat

of human rights and freedom of choice,

and the right of women to raise their voice.

Mahsa Amini! Remember her name.

Iranian women, and men, her courage we claim.

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Restless Night and Day

Good morning yellow-beaked robin redbreast.

I see you quenching your thirst in the bird bath of cobalt blue,

Your brown feathers closed and at rest.

You look toward me wondering why

I am not digging earth to reveal

The worms and insects for your next meal.

Like you, I must first

Have breakfast and quench my thirst.

Some mornings start late after hard nights

Catching the painful dreams in my fists

Anchoring my body to the bed as I twist

The anger and fear as shells fall

On Ukrainian apartment buildings,

Killing the old and the very small.

As a young Black man with a traffic violation

is cut down in volleys of bullets on an Akron street,

Joining other Black men and women throughout the nation.

As nine year old rape victims must flee

to another state to be made well,

and women no longer are free where they dwell,.

As thought police with hateful derision of history

block teachers with facts from teaching truth.

In truth, I cannot rest,

dear robin redbreast.

And you, little bird, may already sense the threat

against you and all creatures of earth

from man’s annihilation.

How can anyone rest with such frustration?

Soon, soon, I will join in the garden,

Weeding and dead-heading, disturbing the earth

and drawing the earthworms nearer to you.

Be kind, dear robin, only take what you need

and never, never, be guided by greed.

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Weak Cores

Saving face

By creating truth

Is the only means of escape

From harsh reality

For those whose core

Is thinned and weak

By lack of moral exercise.

Bread and circuse

Did Rome in.

History ignored

Is repeated evermore.

Distraction through attraction

Diverts the gaze, the ear, the tongue.

This is who we live among.

Doing what is correct

Does not reflect the Right

Constantly claiming false

It’s moral might

Over those whose outrage

Threatens their control,

Their wealth, their privilege.

New faces in new places

Where they were not allowed before

Distort the world view

Of the autocratic few.

It takes strong core

Muscles to stand tall

Before the attack of falsehood

Destroys us all.

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There is No War on Women,by Louise Annarino,1-25-2014

There is No War on Women,By Louise Annarino

 

There is no war on women. What we are watching play out is an age-old phenomenon of men who fear women’s sexual expression. Whether it is the Taliban, fundamentalist Muslims-Jews-Christians,or Mike Huckabee, the chastisement and need to control women springs from men’s fear of loss of their own control. I refuse to allow their fear to become my burden. I suggest they learn to handle it all, as I must handle my own fears. Their fear, their loss of control, is not my problem; but, they insist on making it so. I don’t call that a war. I call it fear mongering.

 

We use the word war too loosely. We enjoy hyperbole because it grabs our attention,holds our imagination, and allows us to believe we are heroes(another word used too loosely)fighting some grand battle. Anyone who has ever experienced war is insulted by this cavalier use of the word. Anyone who have ever acted heroically is appalled by its frequent use in today’s lexicon. As William Tecumseh Sherman who marched on Atlanta destroying all in his wake said in his address to the Michigan Military Academy in June 19, 1879, “You don’t know the horrible aspects of war. I’ve been through two wars and I know. I’ve seen cities and homes in ashes. I’ve seen thousands of men lying on the ground, their dead faces looking up at the skies. I tell you, war is Hell!” (Battle Creek Enquirer and News,Nov.18,1933). I cannot use the word “war” to describe anything but war. Fear is not war; and, unless we name what is happening correctly, we cannot address the problem we face correctly.

 

This fear of male loss of control when faced with female sexual expression has biological roots. http://www.webmd.com/balance/features/how-male-female-brains-differ Men’s brains are structured with less ability to maintain rational thought while in the throes of emotion. Of course they fear women whose brains allow them to cry,laugh,orgasm and think at the same time. Whom should we blame for this? The Hebrews tell a story of the first man and woman, Adam and Eve, in the Garden of Eden. Most of us have at least heard that story a time or two. There are two elements to that story: obedience to the male deity transferred to obedience to the first male, Adam. Who was to be obedient to these male prototypes? The woman. What do fig leaves have to do with the story? They are used to cover up human sexual expression, and thus control sexual expression which becomes sinful when the woman does not obey the man. That is what is going on today!

 

The Hebrews were not the first to tell such a story. Earlier cultures and religious traditions acknowledged the power of female sexuality; some accepted it and used it as an avenue to spiritual awakening a la the Vestal Virgins. Others fearfully suppressed it, a la female genital mutilation. We see vestiges of these practices today throughout our world. It is not only Mike Huckabee and Republican men who fear women. Democrats,Libertarians,Independents and a host of other men do, too. The men who do not fear women are able to trust and appreciate women, able to understand the biology of male/female differences without feeling inferior, and able to see diversity as an enriching experience,not one to be feared. There is that word “diversity” which too many of us fear. Such men exist within all political parties and religions.

 

Although I do not see such fear of women as merely a Republican issue, one must acknowledge that the Republican Party platforms have opposed Affirmative Action,our ONE effort to practice diversity; while the Democratic Party platform has embraced diversity.The Republican Party platform opposes women’s right to birth control and abortion,to freely manage her health needs to freely express her body’s sexuality; while the Democratic Party has embraced a woman’s right to choose how she uses her body sexually and how to protect her health. We cannot ignore that these two party positions are different, even though men are the same biological creatures, dealing with the same fears in both parties.

 

As a woman,I am not satisfied with the behavior of men in either party. It is not enough to add women to the mix, when the men make all the final decisions, and too often ignore and disparage our female voices. When women’s only strength comes from a separate women’s caucus, whose leaders are the strongest and wisest and most experienced political activists I know, rather than being hired into positions of political power we know we still have a long way to go. We may have “come a long way baby”,finally being allowed to participate in the race; but, the race officials-funders-judges are still men who too often control our political expression. The words men use to describe their view of women is not the problem. Their fear of women’s full and free use of her power is the problem. Huckabee apologists are busy trying to reframe how to control women as if male manners need fixed. Instead, they should focus on facing their own fears and finding their courage in the face of female power and sexuality.

 

 

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Will Tribalism Trump Citizenship?

Will Tribalism Trump Citizenship? By Louise Annarino,2-22-2013

 

My Mother’s side of the family is planning our first ever family reunion. That this is happening during a time when I am wrestling with the differences between being part of a tribe or being a citizen of a nation indicates the synchronicity which operates throughout the multiverse. What does it mean to be part of a tribe? What does it mean to be a citizen?

 

My first struggle for identity was between two tribes: my Father’s and my Mother’s. Was I Sicilian like Dad; or,Napolitan like Mom? “Half and half” Mom explained. In our house we referrred to two other larger tribes: our paisans (which included Siciliani,Calabrese, and Napolitani etc.) or “the Americans”.

 

The American tribe seemed stranger to me than the paisan tribe, and trying to fit into that tribe was quite confusing. For example, when visiting Americani one had to wait one’s turn to speak,slowing down conversation, but creating time for reflection. Portion sizes were miniscule at meals. I once had dinner at the home of a school chum and each person was allotted 1/2 a pork chop. I was starving when I got home and dug out the cold lasagna,because of course we always had left-overs in our over-stuffed fridge. But, my friend’s family had money to attend the symphony,go to the art museum and attend ballet. Mom could sing an aria as well as Maria Callas, or a pop ballad as well as Frank,and we danced around the kitchen together every day. She had won a jitterbug contest at radio City Music Hall at age 16 and music and dance filled our home. Each tribe had a lot to offer and I understood adhering to tribal dictates would have been a mistake.

 

I did not like the sound of English.Italian was much more musical and passionate in its delivery,using hand movements to extend and deepen meaning.English seemed drab. When I asked my Mother to teach me Italian and speak it more often so I could understand the adult conversations of my older extended family better she offered my first instruction in the difference between tribalism and citizenship when she stated, “You are an American now. You will speak English and learn to be an American. I will not teach you Italian.It will not help you become an American;it will only hold you back.”

 

When I responded that maybe I did not want to be an American she strongly set me straight. “It is America which protects us and gives us a chance to have a decent life, and to live in peace and prosperity.” As a woman particularly, she warned me that I should be greatful to be an American. “It is not so easy to be an Italian woman,” she explained. We are lucky to be Americans and living in the best country on earth. Italy was the “old country”;America is our country now. At Thanksgiving, Mom cooked turkey with all the trimmings, plus antipasto, lasagna and garlic bread. At Christmas and Easter we ate ham plus ravioli. Tribally, we were both Sicilian and Napolitan,both Italian and American. As citizens we were all-American.

 

When I listen to fundamentalist,tea-party,NRA furor I hear tribalism trumping citizenship. When I read about the Taliban, AlQuaeda in the Magreb and other such groups I see tribalism trumping citizenship.Tribalism is a threat to peace, and must be kept in check. The Soviet Union was an horrific and failed effort to reduce tribalism. The United States of America is the wondrous and best example of a successful effort to reduce tribalism. How do we do so? Through our Bill of Rights which covers every single citizen,even though we are still trying to make that a reality in fact.

 

We end tribalism through citizenship. The nation becomes larger and more meaningful to a citizen whose rights and freedoms are protected and preserved, than his allegiance to a tribe, especially one which tramples upon human rights and fails to protect the human rights of every member of the tribe. This is why the Soviet-Union failed, why Al Quaeda will fail, why any tribe seeking to assert its authority over a nation instead of under a nation is doomed to fail.

 

Which brings me to immigration reform. We must never approve an immigration policy which focuses on controlling tribes and creating an underclass through work visas, or one which allows women to be denied full freedom. The centerpiece of any sound immigration policy must be a path to citizenship. Do we really want to allow various tribes to live within our borders without citizenship? Do we understand that this would endanger our democracy?

 

This is a real danger. Tribalism is a threat to those outside the tribe,and often to those within the tribe. The only reason America has been able to peaceably self-govern and overcome the tidal wave of tribes,with all their differences, is through offering full citizenship to those willing to pledge allegiance to our constitution and to our Bill of Rights, which often flies in the face of the tribe’s belief system. For example,The Violence Against Women Act is being opposed by Republicans in part because it affords protection against violence for immigrant women. Do we understand the tribalism which perpetrates such violence, under a veil or not? Do we understand the tribalism among some Republicans which would deny a human right to a woman outside the American tribe? Tribalism is a threat both from tribal Americans and from tribal immigrants.

 

Citizenship carries rights and privileges, but it also demands allegiance to an enlightened set of principles laid out in our Constitution and Bill of Rights. We can’t have one without the other.Those who would zealously guard such principles, must also demand such allegiance.However, if they do not offer the rights of citizenship, they cannot demand allegiance to America. For over 200 years we have not invited tribes to settle here;we have invited citizens to settle here. That has kept us safe.That has kept us free.

 

We cannot understand the importance of immigration policy unless we understand the difference between tribalism and citizenship.

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