Saying Yes to Small Moments of Happiness: Why We All Need a Robot Servant

By Robin

It’s been a rough year, y’all, and March is only halfway over. 2020 has brought us disappointing presidential candidates, unseasonably warm weather, and now a global pandemic. In these trying times, I’ve decided the best way I can pursue self care is to start saying yes to small things that seem silly, but have a huge impact on my mental health.

Some background: I have two large dogs and three cats, and my house is always full of fur. I am also from New Hampshire, where the culture that is ingrained in you from birth is essentially “if you can do it yourself, you should”. Therefore, I have spent years of my life futilely keeping up with (or failing to keep up with, more accurately) a near daily regimen of sweeping, vacuuming, rug beating/washing, and ultimately quiet acceptance of my disgusting floors. It doesn’t seem like a big thing, but years of living in a house where I hate taking off my shoes because my socks immediately pick up a thick coat of hair and being self-conscious about having people over have taken a toll. My anxiety would spike every time I saw yet another dust bunny in the corner, especially after having just swept. I toyed with the idea of a robovac for a long time, but something always stopped me. Sometimes it was the price (Roombas are EXPENSIVE), but mostly it was that idea that “I should be able to do this. If I can’t sweep every day, it’s because I’m lazy. I don’t deserve to take the easy way out.”

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a friend’s house. She is big into streamlining life wherever possible, and she makes it look easy. Most of the things she does to simplify her routine I tend to shrug off auomatically, assuming they just won’t work for me. But as she told me about the Eufy vacuum that keeps her floors free of cat hair, I was intrigued. When she told me they routinely go on sale for $150 or less, I was REALLY intrigued. And a few days later, tax return in hand, I took the plunge. I found a robovac on sale for $150 and clicked “order now”.

We’ve had Rufio (I was watching Hook the night I unpacked him) for just over a week, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit how much better my life is. This little guy is so INDUSTRIOUS. And HELPFUL. And he PERSEVERES in the face of hardship! I run him around the house once a day, twice a day on weekends, and I have not swept my floors since. They look great. My floors are clean, and all I did was push a button. I get entertainment value by watching my pets’ reactions to him. I’m fascinated by his simple little operating program and how it translates into such a profound impact. I talk to him and encourage him and am grateful for his efforts, even when it means he gets stuck trying to get past the baby gate into the kitchen. And my stress/anxiety is noticeably lower.

I know this all sounds a bit ridiculous. I can best explain it like this: I work with older adults, usually those who are trying to age in place. I spend a lot of my time talking to people who are slowly losing bits and pieces of their independence; driving, shopping, cleaning, socializing, and many more activities become much more challenging with age. I will sit with someone and offer resources for say, cleaning services, or grocery delivery, or a cooking service, or I offer to help make time consuming phone calls so they aren’t spending all day arguing with their insurers. And what I hear over and over again is “I can manage”, “I can still do that, it takes a lot longer but I’m handling it”. To which my response is, of course you CAN do these things on your own. But how much energy is it taking up? Is that energy you would rather spend visiting family, or going to fitness classes, or reading? Just because you CAN do something doesn’t mean you HAVE to do it. If you can throw a little bit of money at this problem, what would you like to do with the time you get back? This isn’t only good advice for the elderly, although maybe if we all got in the habit of letting things go we’d be better prepared for successful aging. This is something we should all be considering, especially if that thing you’d be giving up can be done by a $150 robot. My dad, who works in tech, said it best: “It’s so rare for technology to actually just make our lives simpler. How many new devices, programs, apps, actually make things easier, and how many are a struggle to set up or install or update? This is exactly how it should be.”

Now I’m looking for more simple things I can just throw a little money (or time, or whatever) at to make my life a little better. A fancy steaming basket so I can make Thai sticky rice at home? Why not. Actually organizing my closet so getting dressed every day isn’t a wild blur of throwing cardigans around until I find one that isn’t rippd? Let’s do it. Let’s make 2020 a year where we stop making life harder for our future selves, and say yes to the “lazy” solution. We’re all quarantined anyway, we might as well have robot friends!


TERF Wars: Prescriptive vs. Descriptive Feminism

By Robin

I had an interesting experience the other day. I got into a Facebook argument (I know) with a friend of a friend of a friend (I know) about feminism (I KNOW, mistakes were made okay?).  This debate took place because the friend of a friend had posted a petition calling for a boycott of Teen Vogue’s recent article about the basic how-to’s and why’s of anal sex. The friends of this friend of a friend were all arguing some pretty odd things: that this amounted to forcing young women to engage in unwanted anal sex, that anal sex is inherently painful, degrading, and undesirable, and most bizarrely that the lack of mention of clitoral stimulation and the referral to people as “prostate havers” and “non prostate havers” was…female erasure?

It was at this point that I should have realized that nothing good could come of confrontation and walked away. But dammit I am an optimist and someone who does not cotton to transphobia or people who are against positive sex education. So I helpfully and politely pointed out that referring to “prostate havers” and “non prostate havers” is a way to be inclusive to trans folks. After all, not all people with prostates are men, and not all people without prostates are women (I mean, even setting aside trans men, some cis men have to have their prostates removed and that doesn’t make them magically stop being men). This, as you might imagine, did not go well. I was called, among other things, an MRA (men’s rights activist, which is ridiculous because this is actually me every day), and a TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist, also preposterous, because I was literally arguing against TERFS about their…TERFing? TERFitiude? TERFocity?). I was even told that intersectional feminists like me want to create a hierarchy that places men’s rights above those of women??? This, you might recognize, is ludicrous given the actual meaning of intersectionality.

Intersectionality, coined by civil rights advocate/feminist scholar/lawyer/badass Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, is a way of describing how different identities come together to result in unique experiences and oppressions. The basic idea is that two members of the same oppressed group (for example, women) will face some similar struggles based on that shared identity and different struggles based on other identities (race, sexual orientation, ability). In short, the way a black queer woman moves through the world is different from the way a straight white woman moves through the world. Both will experience gender discrimination, but only one will face homophobia and racism as well. This is NOT, as is popularly suggested by anti feminists, a way to establish who is “most oppressed”. The Great Audre Lorde herself famously said “There is no hierarchy of oppressions”. No true intersectional feminist is here for Oppression Olympics. What we are here for is a fight against the systems of oppression that supports ALL of us in all our glorious differences. When Lorde says there is no hierarchy, she describes how it does no good to her as an activist to fight for queer rights if the queer movement does not support her blackness. Likewise, there is little point in her participating in black activism that refuses to acknowledge her queerness or support her feminism. She writes that she cannot separate her identities, as they are all a part of her. All issues of social justice are feminist issues, because women are affected by all of them. If you are engaged in a discussion with someone and they start to get salty about how your experiences differ, or start trying to engage you in Oppression Olympics, that’s your cue that this probably isn’t going anywhere helpful. I find I get a lot of push back on this from White Feminists, usually in response to them being called out for ignoring the intersections of sexism and racism, or sexism and really anything else.

I did eventually walk away from the ever-increasing ridiculousness of the Facebook comment argument, because by the time that kind of name calling comes out you know you’re not getting anywhere, and I felt I had made my point. Plus I was hangry, which never lends itself to productive conversation. However, this nonsense percolated around in my brain all day. How could someone call themselves a feminist and be so bigoted and hateful? How could anyone argue that an article that doesn’t include information about clitoral stimulation (amid lots of others that do) claim “female erasure” with a straight face? How can radical feminists argue that trans women want to rape them while simultaneously minimizing the epidemic of violence against trans people? I let all these thoughts simmer for a while and pretty soon I had come up with my favorite thing in the whole world: an analogy.

There’s a debate that comes up in linguistics about whether the field should be prescriptive (telling people how they should communicate) or descriptive (documenting how people actually communicate). You see this rear its head every time a new slang word is added to the dictionary, and is described by someone with far more expertise than I will ever have on this subject here. Basically, there’s a struggle between people who think language is rigid and fixed and should be strictly maintained in terms of right and wrong, and people who think language is fluid and malleable and should be allowed to evolve and grow. (I used the word “hangry” earlier, so no points for guessing which camp I’m in.) I see this applying to gender theory as well. We have our radical feminists/TERFs, who argue that gender is a strict binary defined by biological sex, and that trans women somehow usurp “real” women’s experiences and struggles. Then we have our intersectional feminists, who aren’t jerks and believe that gender is a social construct totally separate from biological sex, and that we have to be inclusive of trans peoples’ experiences in order to truly be advocates for justice. (Again, no cigar for guessing which school of thought I subscribe to.)

It’s not that prescriptive linguistics (feminism) is inherently evil or bad, more that it’s outdated and limiting and can result in people being hurt and left out of crucial discussions. And descriptive linguistics (feminism) is not just a bunch of hippie liberal morons with no sense of decency or morality, they’re just new and excited about all the possibilities. The one came from the other, and took it further. Improved on it. Saw ways to include more voices. Wants to broaden the discussion.

I think this analogy bears out well when looking at the example of the “cotton ceiling” and how it was twisted by TERFs to create fear and backlash against trans lesbians. Basically, there’s a common idea circulated among some TERFs that trans women want to force cisgender lesbians to have sex with them. This fits in well with the TERF narrative of trans women as “men” who want to dominate and rape cis women. The problem is, it simply isn’t true. No one is saying people aren’t allowed to have preferences, or that you should force yourself to have sex when you don’t want to. What trans women are saying (to cis men as well as cis women) is that it is imperative to examine WHY we have these preferences, and to explore them and the ways they might be rooted in transphobia/transmisogyny. Much like people of color throw shade at white people who won’t date them because of “totes not racist” preferences, or how I roll my eyes at people who “just aren’t attracted to fat people at all”. Trans people, particularly trans women, face incredible amounts of stigma, invalidation, and even violence from their romantic partners. Obviously you don’t have to be attracted to everyone. You don’t have an obligation to sleep with anyone (prescriptive). But you can’t pretend that socialization in a world that prioritizes thin, white, cisgender, able bodies didn’t help shape those preferences. You do have an obligation to examine your biases. You do need to take note of how your environment shaped you and what that might mean for you and your relationships (descriptive).

So, the next time you hear a TERF doing their TERF thing, think critically about what they’re really saying. Are they setting rules and strict boundaries that leave people out? Are they using pseudo science to back up their hateful claims? (Looking at you, Laci Green.) When you hear intersectional feminists sharing their stories, think about that too. Think about how freeing it is to describe our lives rather than limit them. To embrace new ideas and new ways of connecting and being in solidarity with each other. Think about feminism like language, something that grows and breathes and changes with each generation. Something that has historically left people of color, poor people, non-native speakers behind but is stretching to include them. And remember that just as every non progressive movement has given way to something better, TERFs too shall pass.



Ghost Stories and Other Reasons You Don’t Want to Invite Me to your Party

By Casey

I have enough self-awareness to know, without anything remotely resembling doubt, that I’m the worst party guest you’ll regret inviting to your small gathering. I’ll very likely demand to bring a friend* just so I have someone I feel comfortable chatting with. Left to my own devices it’s likely I’ll have any or all of these conversations with strangers:

  • Culturally appropriate domestic and sexual violence prevention and services, complete with the latest Department of Justice statistics
  • Running
  • How much I hated Gone Girl (both the book and the film)
  • Mountain Lion sightings in Lower Michigan
  • Scottish Terriers, presidential dogs, canine allergies, and my recently departed Scottish Terrier, Drama image1
  • My miniature panther masquerading as a housecat, Dartanianimage2
  • Ghosts

Yes that’s right: ghosts. And before you try to tell me all the logical reasons why ghosts don’t exist, know that I don’t care. My religious views are best described as apathetic atheism with a pinch of passive superstition. Unless we’re talking about Tom Waits, I don’t believe in God, Heaven, Hell, or souls that could be left behind to deal with unfinished business. Moreover, I’m highly critical of organized religion—especially Christianity—and all the shit storms they’ve started over the years in the name of faith. And even though I only have a very basic understanding of science typical among those in the Social Sciences, I’m still far more willing to put my faith in science than general woo. Your microwave will leave you with shitty tasting food but definitely not cancer, you don’t need to go on some ridiculous cleanse unless you get your jollies from shitting your pants and being hungry all the time (which sounds terrible), and anti-vaxxers are a deadly combination of willful ignorance and assholery. Yet despite all this I remain steadfast in my belief in ghosts, even if all logical evidence points to the contrary. At the very least I know that if I’m wrong I haven’t done any undue harm to anyone else, unlike that measles outbreak at one of my favorite grad school diners, or conversion therapy.

Recently I’ve been reading Sherman Alexie’s latest memoir, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me . A common theme throughout his writing is walking between two worlds but never quite fitting comfortably into one or the other. This is a common point of contention between himself and his mother, about whose life and death are the subject of the memoir. Laudably, Mr. Alexie recently cancelled much of his book tour, citing that this book and subsequent tour brought up too many painful memories to continue. In the book he talks about how he doesn’t believe in ghosts, but sees “ghosts” all the time in the form of small reminders of his mother. Many cultures have teachings tied to ghosts, spirits, and the supernatural. These ghost stories still serve practical purposes, ranging from pure entertainment to cautionary tales of the types of people and situations that can lead to harm. They provide a link to the past and help to keep cultural practices alive. For marginalized communities with a long history of colonization, these ghost stories, for lack of a better term, can be seen as an act of resistance against Euro-Christian powers meant to assimilate and destroy. They are a way to proclaim that we are still here, despite attempts to get rid of us. Odd as it is to think about, our reverence for our dead is part of what keeps our cultures alive today. For instance, consider New Orleans Voodoo Queen Marie LaVeau’s lasting legacy: she was a mixed race woman in the South alive during the 1800s who managed to rise to prominence across all socioeconomic statuses. While it’s hard to parse out what is fact or fiction about her life, what remains is that she was able to gain enough trust (fear?) from the social elite to obtain the status she had, using ancestral knowledge as a healer and voodoo practitioner. Whether or not her legacy is comprised of tall tales, the stature she has within New Orleans history is still incredibly relevant. In a lot of ways it doesn’t matter whether or not she was possessed by spirits, her immortality extends far beyond the hot mess that is American Horror Story: Coven.

As a small child I had two imaginary friends. There was Sneaky, who was some sort of magically growing and shrinking, shoe shaped creature who I know definitely didn’t exist and only proves that, even as I small child, my obsession with shoes was very real. Then there was That White Girl, a temperamental girl a bit older than me, dressed in a white Victorian dress, who would run around in my mother’s garden and would occasionally slam doors in the house. That White Girl stories are some of my mom’s favorite creepy anecdotes to share from my childhood. It’s very important to note here that my mother is about as skeptical and scientific as they come, but still gets the willies talking about her First Born’s strange connection to the spirit world. In that sense ghost stories are fun. They’re fun to tell and they’re a whole lot of fun to listen to. In my adult life I’ve gone on at least two walking ghost tours in major cities (for the record, nothing paranormal happened). I’ve listened to every episode of Snap Judgment’s Spooked special and am impatiently waiting for the latest installment this fall. I’ve seen enough episodes of Haunted History, My Ghost Story, Klingon Ghost Adventures starring Worf, son of Mogh, and the inaccurately titled Celebrity Ghost Stories to give me all the anecdotal evidence I need. Knowing the lore behind some of America’s most famous haunted locations made reading Colin Dickey’s Ghostland even more interesting. For instance, did you know that Sarah Winchester of Winchester Mystery House fame wasn’t actually being haunted by all the ghosts of people killed by a Winchester rifle, but rather kept adding onto her home because she rather enjoyed architecture and, as an added bonus, used constant home renovations as an excuse to never entertain visiting relatives? (Author’s note: I mean, there could have been ghosts, or she could have just been an eccentric introvert who didn’t want her  family visiting all the time and touching her stuff.) Abandoned prisons, defunct hospitals and asylums, battlefields, crime scenes—places where some sort of traumatic event took place—tend to have their own ghost stories. I admit that I can’t even begin the explain the existence of ghosts on some logical level. I don’t know what they would even be or why they’d stick around. That said, even if you don’t believe in ghost stories, it’s important to acknowledge that history as a way to show respect to those who have been historically mistreated while striving to not repeat the mistakes made by our ancestors. Whether or not you believe in ghosts is irrelevant, though what is important is looking at the meaning behind the stories and what that represents. 

So, do you have any ghost stories? I’d love to hear them sometime.  

*This friend is very likely Robin. We’re unfriendly, awkward, and will likely eat all your snacks. 

Why a blog?

By Casey

Welcome to Migwetth Kvetch (#migvetch for the young and social media savvy, or those among us who enjoy word play). Robin asked me if I wanted to write the introductory piece, explaining why we decided to start this blog. Self-important asshole that I am, I naturally jumped at the chance.
Recently, I was bemoaning the lack of mainstream Native American writers and noted that what the world really needs is a Native American Roxane Gay–someone who could write about privilege, intersectional feminism, race, class, and popular culture, from an indigenous perspective. There are plenty of excellent Native American writers, (more than just Sherman Alexie or Louise Erdrich, though both very talented), there are plenty of women of color writers, but I have yet to find any author whose work spoke to me the way Roxane Gay’s does. From this, Robin and I decided to embark upon this journey in blogging to help fill in some of the gaps in intersectional feminist blogging. We spend a lot of time bemoaning the present state of the world and figured we’d put those words to paper (well, virtual paper. Virtual paper? Sure, we’ll go with that). At the very least this will be our chance to bitch to a larger audience. Here’s hoping this is as entertaining for you as it is for us.