#Resist -- and how: Revolution is boring

There. I’ve said it. The elephant in the room has been addressed.

It’s not always boring. In my lifetime, I’ve never seen the opposition mount as quickly and in as organized a way as this past weekend as people protested Donald Trump’s immigration ban. Not just here in New York City, but also in Portland, Oregon; DC; Chicago; Boston; San Francisco; Denver, Colorado; and Dallas.

Hold on a second there, missy! Have you forgotten the Arab Spring? Social media has definitely changed the way and the timeframe in which things happen around the globe.

One of the important lessons learned in the Arab Spring is that it is not only the demonstrations that count. There needs to be continuous and often less exciting and glamorous activities happening between protests. (Although it is true that the Donald is not giving nearly enough time for anything to happen between protestable events.)

Yet, some of the boring things are already happening. A lively conversation has begun in the media and citizens are starting to take local action. This is a trend that has been slowly growing and may just have reached that tipping point.

I attended the American Public Health Association annual meeting in Denver last fall (just before the election) and was amazed at the number of sessions teaching people how to be activists. Methods included writing opinion pieces to be published in local papers, attending town or city council meetings—and asking questions, letter writing campaigns to legislators—both local and national, using story telling in public settings to get the story right, and the big one: take to social media.

If truth be told, these are a lot of the methods that the Tea Party used so successfully. If my history is correct, they started organizing shortly after President Obama took office—and then overwhelmed at the mid-term elections. I’m just saying, I think we’re on the right path.

#theresistance #thisiswhatdemocracylookslike #womensmarch #weareseeds #blacklivesmatter #nobannowall #apha

#RevolutionaryHeroes Hidden Figures

Wow! I’m not just saying that because I am a woman scientist who has not always been treated fairly or kindly over the course of my career by male colleagues. Absolutely, that does not predispose me to LOVE this movie. Right. Of course, it does! That out of the way, let me sing the other praises of this amazing film with a knock out cast that hits it out of the ballpark.

This is the story of three brilliant Americans fighting to do what they do better than most of the people they work with and for. Oh yeah, they’re black and it’s at a time when the civil rights movement is just picking up steam. You KNOW how unpopular civil rights can be, particularly at certain times in history (cough, cough). Did I mention they were also women?

I saw this movie the week that Mary Tyler Moore died. Her death reminded us that MTM influenced an entire generation of women—through a TV show. She let us know, week after week, that we could go out and succeed at being independent career-minded women. ‘You’re going to make it after all.’ I was a kid when I was first introduced to Mary Richards, TV news producer. Watching her, it never occurred to me that there could (and would) be limitations on what I could do with my life. MTM would have loved this movie and all it stands for.

It was quite the week. Just before I went to the cinema (where I laughed, I cried, I shook my head in anger, I fell in love with the love story), I read a study published in the medical journal Science. It turns out that in 2016, by the time they turn 6 years old, little girls don’t really believe that women can be brilliant. At age 5, girls identify women as more likely to be brilliant (and boys identify men as the more likely). One year in school and that idea gets knocked out of little girls’ heads, regardless of income, race or ethnicity, or other factors investigated in the study. http://nbcnews.to/2jmRQPS
The very fact that the three women have remained Hidden Figures for over 50 years, despite their significant contributions to the space program, gives us at least one clue as to why little girls (and grown women) continue to doubt that we are just as smart as men.

#MTM #blacklivesmatter #womensmarch #thisiswhatdemocracylookslike #theresistance #HiddenFigures

#Resist -- and how: So now what?

That’s the overarching theme. The Women’s March is over. The anti-reproductive health March for Life is happening today, with support from the second in command, Mike Pence. The flurry of shocking and confusing executive actions continues unabated. Even Mikhail Gorbachev, former head of the Soviet Union who led the world out of the ‘Cold War’ in the late 1980s, is freaked out by what’s going on. In a Time article he says 'It All Looks as if the World Is Preparing for War' http://time.com/4645442/gorbachev-putin-trump/ That’s scary stuff from someone who knows an awful lot about war.

Is this what it’s come to? ‘1984’ by George Orwell, originally published in 1949, is the new runaway hit on Amazon (which also bears a striking resemblance to Big Brother). Can a resurgence of ‘Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb’ be far behind? Here we were all worrying about health care, reproductive choice, immigration, the environment, and social justice. Mere pebbles in the pond! No, we’re galloping towards the four horsemen of the apocalypse, a feeling confirmed yesterday in the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists by advancing the ‘Doomsday Clock’ (also begun in 1949 at the beginning of the nuclear arms race) to two and a half minutes to midnight. Is it 1949 all over again? It’s enough to make a gal throw her hands up in despair!

As I was despondently pondering this future, I wondered if anything actually good came out of that disheartening year. It turns out that the Geneva Convention outlining the treatment of prisoners was signed, the color TV was invented (and the Emmy’s broadcast its first awards program), the world's first commercially available computer (the Ferranti Mark 1) was released and Bruce Springsteen was born. Even when things look their darkest, good things that hugely benefit the world and the people in it are happening.

The need for everything the Women’s March stood for is still there. Some pundits say that identity politics that separate out and focus on individual issues like women’s health, are a sure way to doom organizing efforts. Others say that it is the ONLY way and that we should take a page from the strategies used by the Tea Party. The truth is that ANY strategy that gets attention is likely to advance the issues that we hold so dear. After an amazingly united and HUGE start, it’s time to get out hands dirty—one finger at a time, if that’s what it takes.

#thisiswhatdemocracylookslike #theresistance #womensmarch #1984 #MikhailGorbachev #DrStrangelove #doomsdayclock #NotOkay

#QuirkyNYC: Free (or incredibly cheap) Year of the Rooster

Looking for lots of noise and a strong tang of gunpowder in the air? Look no further than the Sara Roosevelt Park located on Chrystie Street and Forsyth Street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It’s the New Year's Day Firecracker Ceremony and Cultural festival to celebrate Chinese Lunar New Year on January 28, 2017.

This is the year of the Red Rooster! According to reliable (and apparently more accurate) sources: ‘According to the Chinese Horoscope theory, Chicken [sic not rooster] is a Female Metal. Female Metal is related to gold, precious gem or jewelry. That means Chicken implies luxury, beauty, and wealth. Red Fire of 2017 is related to the light bulb. When the light comes on the top of jewelry, Chicken can show more value from its outlook. That implies we will deal with financial events in the year of the Chicken.’ You can find the complete 2017 horoscope—and a dynamite one for Donald Trump—at this site: http://www.chinesefortunecalendar.com/2017/

It’s unclear why the Chinese New Year Parade is scheduled to take place a week later on February 5, 2017, but it is. Festivities start at 1pm but best to get there around noon if you want to have a hope of seeing dragons and tigers and dancers (and a slew of local politicians). Come hungry for some excellent Asian food of all kinds in the many reasonably priced restaurants—but do prepare to wait on line. Don’t worry, it’s worth it!

#chinesenewyear #chinatownnyc #freenyc #yearoftherooster

#Wednesdaywomen Eleanor Roosevelt--New York City

#RevolutionCookbook Red Lentil with Greens Soup

Hearty Red Lentil with Greens

Revolutions are time consuming. They can also be expensive, since they eat up time that could be spent earning money.

In the spirit of making your money go a bit further, I share with you the recipe for Revolution Soup #1:


Ingredients
• 2 small onions chopped
• 3 to 4 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 pound red lentils
• 3 bay leaves
• 8 to 10 cups of hot water
• 6 cloves of garlic chopped
• 2 to 3 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• Few pinches of cayenne pepper
• Salt and pepper
• 2 to 6 cups (lots) of chopped/shredded green leaves
• Lemon juice

Heat the olive oil over medium heat. Sautee onions about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add bay leaves and red lentils. Stir for one minute then add water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer and cook for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, it’s time to deal with the greens, which can be spinach or escarole or heartier greens like kale, dandelion or collards. Wash the greens and remove stems if big or tough. Chop them crosswise into relatively bit sized pieces.

After the lentils have simmered, add the garlic, oregano, cayenne, salt and pepper. If you’re using heartier greens add them now. Simmer for another 20 minutes. (If you’re using milder greens, add after the spices have simmered for 15 minutes and cook for another 5 to 10 minutes.)

Just before serving, squeeze on lemon juice. I always use the entire lemon, but do it to taste. Enjoy!

This hearty soup also freezes very well.

#Resist -- and how: Doing the numbers game

The Women’s March is Washington, DC grew from a statement into a movement yesterday as 600 marches took place around the globe! It may have been called the Women’s March, but here in NYC it was the everybody and every issue march. I have never seen my home town come out like this for anything before. Not for sports teams. Not for astronauts. And, although I didn’t see any of the end of war celebrations (since we haven’t had one in a while), the numbers were not there for that either.

The truth is that all of those marches were celebrations. Despite the palpable unity across people, across race/religion/creed—whatever you want to call it, across genders, across generations, the women’s marches were not a celebration. They are the beginning of a call to action. A call that we can’t let the current feeling of success override.

There were millions of us out there! Let’s celebrate that: 500,000 in DC and another 500,000 in LA, 400,000 in NYC—these are city government estimates, not those of the march sponsors. The media is reporting that almost one million people marched in the United States. Excuse me, does everyone have as poor math skills as the newly inaugurated president?

The biggest (or should I say huge-ist) difference between the president and the movement energized by the women’s marches is that the president has an existing institution that is not going to go away. It is organized. It is officially recognized by others. It has rules and agendas that make people—us—pay attention. Our new movement is still really young. Really young. And because of that, it is vulnerable.

The strength that I see so far is the inclusiveness of community. We have to rely on each other, trust each other, accept differences and move forward together. How we do that will be through a multitude of strategies. Start small. Start local. KEEP GOING! I’m speaking to myself as much as to anyone who will listen to me.

THIS IS ONLY THE START!

#womensmarch #nycwomensmarch #whyimarch #thisiswhatdemocracylookslike

Resolution blues

Done. It’s over. The last of my new year’s resolution has faltered. I know. I know. I’m just another statistic. But I didn’t believe it could happen to me. My resolutions were so modest: 1) lose 20 pounds (by tomorrow)--unsuccessful, 2) after an exuberant holiday season, participate in Drynuary (a dream that died on inauguration day), 3) write my blog every single day—actually, that one was doomed from the start since I started on January 2nd and finally (but related to number 3), 4) change the world through social media.

The thing that really gets my goat is that I do this every year—without fail. I tell others that I don’t make resolutions. But I do. ‘Hold yourself accountable.’ That’s what the resolution advice gurus say. But if I do that I’m still going to fail—only everyone’s going to know about it. No. Thank you very much. I’d rather continue to have my private understanding where I reach for unattainable goals and then recognize how ridiculous I’m being. On my own terms.

I was driving the other day—a relatively rare event as any passenger in a car I’m driving knows—and listening to the radio. I had developed carpel-tunnel syndrome in my pointer finger from pressing an uncooperative scan button too many times, so finally settled on an NPR talk show. Michelle Obama came up, as she often does. At first I didn’t realize that the advice being dispensed was originally from her and not at all related to resolutions but to LIFE. She said (I’m paraphrasing, of course) that whenever it pops into your head that you feel like something about you should change, you need to first consider if you can change it. If you can, go ahead and make that change; if you can’t, you better start accepting it because not accepting it is going to make you pretty darn unhappy. I’m going to miss that woman.

#newyearsresolution #michelleobama # Drynuary

#QuirkyNYC: Free (or incredibly cheap) Flash Pitch

Want to see New Yorkers at their crazy most innovative? Come to Flash Pitch or, as I call it, Shark Tank Junior. Flash Pitch is sponsored by Future Labs, NYU Tandon. It’s their one year old entre into the innovation/entrepreneur space. Every university is starting to have one. (And they’re hiring!) The demographics were telling. The group in attendance skewed young—most were in their 20s—male, but ethnographically diverse. As a glasses wearer, I was pleased to see an over-representation of my fellow bespectacled nerds out there.

The way this interactive spectator sport works is that six entrepreneurs sign up to pitch their projects to three bona fide venture capitalists. Every entrepreneur gets two minutes to pitch a product, followed by three minutes of questions from the venture capitalists, who then provide professional summaries of the strengths and weaknesses of the pitch and the product. (I was particularly impressed with the venture capitalist who wore a black jacket sporting a glittery gothic LOVE on the back.) The audience then votes on their favorite pitches and their favorite venture capitalist. (LOVE won the day.)

The entrepreneurs presented a HUGE range of products from visual search engines to find women’s designer looks for a fraction of the cost to crowdfunding real estate investment to streaming media targeting the black community. And the winner was…the guy who had the business to business (B2B for those in the know) window and door sales product. What? To be honest, he had me at ‘I know this isn’t the sexiest product.’ Apparently, sex DOES sell, even indirectly. He was already raking in the millions—after only 18 months. Also, did I mention the informal, impromptu, open-mike pitches? Ah what New Yorkers can do with a microphone.

What will this set you back? A mere $10 for an evening of cutthroat fun! But wait, there’s more! The night I went both the pizza and the beer were plentiful and free. That’s New York hospitality for you.

Flash Pitch is a monthly event with the next one scheduled for February 16. See you there! http://futurelabs.engineering.nyu.edu/

#FlashPitch #NYU #startup #entrepreneur #quirkynyc

#Wednesdaywomen Jenn, Jo and Nikki--Central Park at night, NYC

#RevolutionaryHeroes MLK Day In Eastville, VA on the Eastern Shore of Virginia

I went to the MLK breakfast with my mother this morning in Eastville, her adopted home. She has lived here for much of her life after leaving Brooklyn almost 30 years ago. This morning’s breakfast was held at the local high school. It was packed. Someone said there were 400 people in attendance—that’s a lot for a town of 175.

What struck me over the course of the morning was how many times the word ‘community’ was used. It was as if by repeating it, a community would arise. On this damp, gray morning in rural America, repetition did create a true community. Every group present within this diverse southern community was given an opportunity to contribute to the day. Each local minister and pastor, the politicians, the sheriff, the educators, the director of Citizens for a Better Eastern Shore—no one was excluded, all were rewarded for their efforts.

A brief mention of the police violence experienced so harshly by so many throughout the many years of civil rights advancement hushed the crowd. All eyes turned to the sheriff and his deputies—male and female, black and white. Even as we stared, the minister acknowledged that the Shore was fortunate enough not to experience these tensions. They’d all gone to school together, after all, and they knew each other’s mothers. Not so for many in this nation.

Music was generously mixed in with the many presentations. However, it was the Mount Calvary Male Chorus that consistently stole the show. People clapping, feet tapping, bodies swaying, some were even moved to stand, sing and dance.

It was a friendly but worried place on this, the last King’s day under the Obama presidency. In fact, the entire event took place under the watchful eyes of both MLK and Obama. The big question of the day and one that brought fear to all: What will happen to the dream now?

#Wednesdaywomen Me--South Island, New Zealand

#QuirkyNYC: Free (or incredibly cheap) Whispering Gallery

I love Grand Central Station. When I was a kid, it was filled with homeless people. When my mom was a kid, it was filled with refugees. Now it is filled with commuters and tourists. Who knew that one day it would become a destination!

While there are many secret spots, (though alas the legendary Campbell Apartments cocktail bar closed this past summer), one of my all-time favorites wreaks of spies and hidden assignations. Located in a semi-subterranean spot—very likely the architectural center of the entire building—just outside of the world famous, though boringly named, Oyster Bar Restaurant is the ‘whispering gallery.’ It is the stuff of childhood dreams.

One person slinks to the far corner arch, the other to the one diagonally opposite. Who will be the one to first utter secrets? You furtively turn to face the inside corner of the arch, hands cupped on either side of your mouth sealing the communication channel. Your partner nonchalantly stands sideways at the opposite arch, hand cupping ear, leaning in to hear the private message, whispered softly from such a distance that she couldn’t possibly hear without the aid of some mechanical intervention.

Yet, the breathy giggle confirms that your message has been heard. Your turn to receive secrets through the mystical whispering gallery.

The First Snow Fall

There is nothing like the first serious snow fall in New York City. It’s the quietest—and cleanest—this city ever gets. It’s almost like being in a sensory deprivation tank, relative to the regular New York, that is.

People who know me, know that I despise both winter and cold. I am a three-season kind of person. Yet, my all-time favorite first date was during a snow storm that shut the city down. I was lucky to get back in time, having been in the Caribbean for a conference (ahem).

Yes, I was on a dating site. Yes, I had finally connected with a reasonable man. NOTHING was going to stop me getting back to NYC—except the weather. The night before our first date ever, my return flight was cancelled. I got rebooked again and again and then to a different airport as one flight after another was first delayed then cancelled. I got on the very last flight going to NYC. All I can say about my arrival home is ‘Are you kidding? They should NEVER have let our flight take off!’ I would only say something like this in hindsight.

We agree to meet at noon at one of the main entrances to Central Park. It’s still near white out conditions and I’m almost on top of the guy before I actually see him. See him is a bit of an exaggeration. He is wearing one of those parkas that has a tunnel for a hood. I can see that he has a face, but that’s about it. Somehow, we establish that we are who we say we are and I run into the park with him following. We jump on benches, slide down rocks, make snow angels and have the most wonderful time, all the while yelling very interesting things at each other. It was love at first play.

Are we still together to this day? This is New York, not Hollywood! But damn it was fun. If only it could be like that all winter long.

The stars are out

I was downtown last night, just minding my own business. When I turned the corner, I spotted the tell-tale Haddad's trailer and knew that the stars could not be far behind. That is one thing I love about New York. There are always movie and television crews blocking off sidewalks letting pedestrians know that they are witness to greatness. My favorite Hadded trailer has 'Lucy' and 'Ricky' written on the doors, presumably to protect the identity of the real starts hidden within. Then there is the other door that may as well say riff-raff when really the people inside would rather have their names trumpeted with glory on that door. So what, it's shared by 5 people!

#WednesdayWomen Nenneh--Yekepa, Liberia

#RevolutionaryHeroes #SanctuaryCities

I never noticed this poster, located next to the entrance of the hardware store on my corner. That is until just after the 2016 election. How long had it been there? I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that New York is a sanctuary city. In fact, I was embarrassingly ignorant of the term Sanctuary City. President-elect Donald Trump changed all of that for me.

I’ve lived in my neighborhood for a very long time—so long that I don’t care to put a number to it. When I first moved here, the corner store sold clothing then it sold falafel then it was a video rental place (that also traded in heroin, oops) then it became the hardware store. In the many years that the hardware store has been there, I can’t tell you how many lightbulbs I’ve purchased there, keys I’ve had made, people I’ve directed to shop there. I also can’t tell you the original country where the proprietor and his employees come from.

Part of the reason is that it is really none of my business. Another part is that it’s not something I actively consider when interacting with my fellow New Yorkers. What does it matter if they’re from Ohio or Ontario, Syracuse or Syria? That’s all changed now. Now I’m embarrassed that I don’t know which country my neighbors hail from. Were they themselves refugees? Do they employee refugees as they resettle into what must be a very foreign, but I’d like to think friendly, new environment? Is that selfish of me—or respectful?

This is what I do know. I went to get a key made (see above) and suddenly a song I love came on. The problem was that since I’m not a millennial (or younger) I had failed miserably in my efforts to identify the artist. When the hum of the key grinder finally subdued, I asked the 20-something, vaguely Middle Eastern-looking kid behind the counter the name of the guy who sang my song. Of course, he knew. He is a young American.

There’s no place like home

That’s true if, like me, you live in New York City! (I know, such a snob.) But already, I’m getting ahead of myself.

You’re probably thinking that since I stopped sharing my adventures--oh too many years ago to really want to count—that there has been a lack of adventure in my life. Au contraire! Although you wouldn’t know it to look at this blog, I’ve been to Uganda, New Zealand, China—several times, Liberia, Egypt. The list goes on and on. Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time. Are you kidding? Of course, I will. Just you wait and see.

I’ve been thinking about picking up where I left off for quite a long time. I meant to do it yesterday—New Year’s Day—but that felt so cliché. Alright, I’m lying already AND you caught me. I had quite a bit of holiday season this year. I needed one more recovery day. Again you catch me! Ok, make that two recovery days.

In the meantime, let me leave you with this image that says the morning after like no other. Happy New Year!