Rape and Wikileaks: Strange Bedfellows

I've been meaning to write a post about Julian Assange for a while, but #1 I haven't had the time, and #2, I wasn't sure I had enough information to speak about the whole situation without sounding like an idiot. I've come across a few articles and tweets and Twitter campaigns, even, in the last few days, though, that make me feel like it's finally time to join those that are writing/talking about what all has gone down in support of both the freedom of information and rape accusers. In other words, in support of the truth.

So here's the deal. When the news about Wikileaks first broke, I didn't understand the significance of the story. I mean, I understood that the story was significant, but I couldn't decipher - like most people, I think - whether or not what Wikileaks is doing by releasing government cables was harmful or helpful. I've come to understand that it's helpful, courtesy of Arianna Huffington's insightful post recapping the recent Symposium on WikiLeaks and Internet Freedom at which she spoke. In it she makes three key points:

1. "Too much of the coverage has been meta -- focusing on questions about whether the leaks were justified, while too little has dealt with the details of what has actually been revealed and what those revelations say about the wisdom of our ongoing effort in Afghanistan...."

2. "Nobody, including WikiLeaks, is promoting the idea that government should exist in total transparency, or that, for instance, all government meetings should be live-streamed and cameras placed around the White House like a DC-based spin-off of Big Brother...."

3. "A final aspect of the story is Julian Assange himself. Is he a visionary? Is he an anarchist? Is he a jerk? This is fun speculation, but why does it have an impact on the value of the WikiLeaks revelations?"

Taking into consideration points one and two (and reading the entire article) helped me see the value of Assange as a whistleblower. But to Huffington's third point, I have to say, "jerk" is putting it mildly.

Julian Assange has been accused of rape, something the title of Huffington's post tries to dismiss. "The Media Gets It Wrong on WikiLeaks: It's About Broken Trust, Not Broken Condoms" is her way of "disconflating" the identities of Assange as rapist and rogue. I understand the sentiment, but it's much better expressed by Twitter user FeministHulk:

AS SURVIVOR, HULK DISTURBED BY ASSANGE COVERAGE. HULK GLAD WIKILEAKS EXIST. HULK SMASH RAPE SHAME. AT SAME TIME. - via PopWatch

Granted, it was unclear based on initial media coverage of the incident what exactly Assange was being charged with in Sweden. On December 7, Jezebel published a great post about the generic "sex by surprise" concept, stating that if Assange had sex with a woman without using a condom when he was explicitly asked to use one, that qualifies as rape. (I agree.) That same day, The Guardian revealed that Assange had never been charged with "sex by surprise." His case was never about a broken or missing condom, but rather it was alleged, as Jezebel discussed on December 10, that he "held one woman down using his body weight to sexually assault her and that he raped another woman while she was sleeping."

Huffington wrote her post using the broken condom angle five days later, on December 15.

I expect better from the likes of Arianna Huffington, and feminist bloggers around the web are demanding respect for rape accusers from fellow media celebs Keith Olbermann and Michael Moore. Moore appeared on Olbermann's show on December 14, calling the rape charges against Assange "hooey" and reinforcing the erroneous idea that Assange faced the charge "that his condom broke during consensual sex." Again, it had been made clear a week prior that Assange was in fact being accused of rape, and as I just found out, apparently hasn't been officially charged with anything. The tag #mooreandme is being used on Twitter to urge Olbermann to correct Michael Moore's obfuscation of the truth. Sady Doyle, who started the online protest, has done an excellent job of pointing out that Moore is a professional truth-seeker, so his hypocrisy here is flabbergasting. Which is why I'm writing this post. Because I want to ask:

Why does the truth not matter when it comes to the victimization of women?

Why? Women suffer day in and day out at the hands of men who lie, cheat, manipulate and steal. I've seen it. I've experienced it. How is that okay? Why is it still acceptable? Asking these questions isn't about hating men - it's about loving women. I don't understand. I don't. All over Twitter you see statements like:

"Washing one's hands of the conflict between the powerful & powerless is to side w/the powerful, not to be neutral" - Paulo Friere

@KeithOlbermann You failed. By spreading lies and holding women up for public mockery, you contribute to the shaming of victims.

"DO NOT SMEAR PEOPLE WHO REPORT RAPE" is not "ZOMIGOD ASSANGE IS GUILTY!" Really not hard.

Here's the kicker: neither Michael Moore nor Keith Olbermann have come out to correct the misinformation that they both helped spread on December 14. Instead, Olbermann has continued to do harm to Assange's accusers by linking to an article that reveals their identities. Meanwhile, Moore proved this week that he does in fact read The Guardian, but only when it's convenient to him. He didn't read their article about the accusations against Assange, but he was emphatic that they correct a post about - guess what? - a cable published by Wikileaks that had to do with the popularity of his film Sicko in Cuba. (Moore's link to the original Guardian post brings up an error message, but the corrected post, which The Guardian took pains to Tweet at Moore, is here.)

So let me get this straight. What is important to Michael Moore is that people know his film was praised by the Cuban government and beloved by the Cuban people. What is not important to Michael Moore is the safety of two women who were possibly raped by a man who - I will come right out and say it - has the luxury of hiding behind his pseudo-righteousness as a "truth-seeker."

What is the truth here? These three men - Assange, Olbermann and Moore - these supposedly righteous men, speaking out against the abuses of the U.S. government, leaking cables, making documentaries about our shitty healthcare system, speaking truth to power. Let me give you a taste of your own medicine:

None of you give a fuck about women. Fuck all three of you. Fuck you.

That's real truth to power.

Live-Blogging the Great Present-Wrapping Marathon of 2010

Wrapping some presents for early Christmas. Adriana is going to her Dad's for the day itself, so we're having a family celebration tomorrow. I've decided to give her some presents from me to open, then have Santa come Christmas Eve morning before we drop her off. That way, I can tell her ours is the first house he stopped at on his trip around the world. (Yes, we're that important. Or, rather, I want my kid to feel that special.)

Looking at the things I bought, I felt really compelled to write them down. There's something particular about the presents you get a kid each year of their life, and I feel like this year's crop really captures the essence of what being 5 is all about.

The first box I wrapped contains:

Snoopy t-shirt

Paul Frank 7 pack Days of the Week undies

Hello Kitty hair clips

Aces. I'm really good at buying gifts, probably because I really enjoy it. I'd so much rather watch Adriana open a present than get one myself.

I wrapped some ZhuZhu Pets for my mom, when suddenly Adriana had a night terror. I went into her room and stood over her bed, praying like I always do when that happens. "Dear God, make it stop. Let my daughter know she is loved. Let her stop crying, Lord." Thankfully, it was pretty short and not too intense. The last time she had one, a few months ago, I think, she called out for me and I was standing right next to her. "Mommy! Mommy!" It's much worse on the parent than the child, so I'm told. I sure hope so. There's nothing more heartbreaking than not being able to reassure a child who is literally reaching out for you in a blind stupor of sleep. Well, maybe one thing is worse: having to swallow the bitter pill that if you talk to them or touch them while they're in the midst of terror-ing, you'll only make it worse. Every parent learns that the hard way. If you've stumbled across this post while Googling "night terrors," don't worry. They are very common in pre-schoolers and wane over time. My professional advice? Take some deep breaths and have a drink. It won't make you feel better about the night terror, but it will at least change the subject.

Back to presents:

Folding Llama Llama Holiday Drama and a Curious George matching game up together. I'm so glad Adriana still likes George. As we watched Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas last night, I felt so at peace being able to still enjoy a remnant of her babyhood. Parenting is such a paradox: we urge our children to grow up and be independent, then we don't understand why they put on adult airs at 10. I want my daughter to learn and grow, but I want her to keep her innocence as long as possible, and to shed it only gradually and when absolutely necessary. When she's 21.

Boxed up some amazing Nick and Nora designer PJs from Target. Flannel, rad owl design in purple/green/orange/gold 70s tones and an unbelievable army green pirate map/ship themed pair. So proud of the non-traditional gifts I picked this year. Just a few, but they make a statement, I think. She's got tons of pink and purple and I'll never stop buying her that stuff, but my kid loves pirates, and I can't wait to watch her go ape shit over these pajamas that are probably meant for boys but oh well.

Just got a nice email from a friend. How sweet. Glass is almost empty as I listen to Sarah McLachlan sing about exactly that. About to wrap some clothes: a purple and grey checked tunic, purple cable-knit hooded zipped cardigan and.... drum-roll please... a grey and hot pink fur-lined shrug. What?! I'm a cool mom, I get it. I may have lost all my own cool, trading it in for cool mom, but I don't think so, actually. I've gotten soooooo much better with age, and certainly with, um, experience (to put it kindly). What I mean is, I like being a single mother. It forces me to be the best version of myself, which is like a low-rent version of people who really know what they're doing.

Which brings me to a point I've been thinking of making here on this public diary to myself: my life is exactly where I want it to be for the first time ever. So enjoy that, me!

Shrug is too thick and needs its own box. Don't know what I'm gonna do cuz I don't have a box! Will wrap purple goods and think on it. Must have another egg nog...

Okay, it's not really egg nog. It's a vanilla Bailey's martini. Except it's not made with Bailey's, it's made with Brady's. Why? Because my family is bootleg, son, and this booze is leftover from Thanksgiving. I've never been the type to keep actual liquor in the house, but I have to say, this holiday treat is hittin' the spot, and has made present-wrapping a lot easier. When I sat down (19 hours ago) to wrap all of these gifts, I felt a little ornery. My iTunes wasn't working (because I've never used it before because I'm a neanderthal who drinks Brady's) and then Sarah McLachlan's calm voice just felt like it was taunting me. "Ooooh, look at me, I'm so relaxed. You have all these presents to wrap with shitty dollar store wrapping paper while I get to just sit here and barf all over the keys..."

Anyway - what about this shrug?! I think I'm gonna look downstairs for a box. Hang on...

HO-OOOOOH! GUESS WHO JUST FOUND A MUTHA FLUFFIN' BOX??????????? And it doesn't even need to be wrapped because it's the kind with a weird fake watercolor painting of Santa on it. What?!

OMG the ice in my drink just snapped in celebration and scared the shit out of me. Okay. Shrug in box. Moving on.

Sarah's singing What Child is This and River, two songs I sang to Adriana tonight at bedtime. Typically she sings with me and then says goodnight, still awake when I leave her room, but for the past two nights she's fallen asleep to the sound of my voice, which is such an honor as a mother. Feeling like you have the power to sing your kid to sleep is pretty amazing, as if it hearkens her back to hearing my voice in the womb or something.

I am such a sentimental idiot. I can't tell you how often I think, "That - among several other excellent reasons - is exactly why someone should be falling head over heels in love with me right now." And yet, and yet... I honestly don't know if I have any interest in love. My relationship with my daughter is the best one I've had so far on this Earth. I'm not so sure I should be looking to supplant it. Not that a boyfriend would do that, you know, I'm just sayin'. Maybe we can only experience one great love at a time. I mean, after all, most people aren't into polyamory for a reason. It's jealousy-inducing, and a man isn't gonna put up with being jealous of my kid, and I would never subject my kid to being jealous of a man in my life. My friend John (who sent me the aforementioned email) wrote a nice blog post about that on Strollerderby recently, about his step-daughter giving him permission to marry her mom. Aww.

Okay - bagged some boots, along with a hat and gloves, stockings, sort of a random bag for Adriana. And now it's stocking stuffing time! Adriana has shown a particular interest in stockings this year, so I decided to get some small things and fill the old stockings my Dad used to hang for us when we were kids. I just remembered that throughout my childhood some of the best presents I ever got were in my stocking - which is the perfect size for a jewelry box. I didn't get Adriana any jewelry this year - she has plenty, and all of it is probably toxic, anyway. Instead, my mother got her some lotion and lip gloss (formerly known as mip mop) and I bought her some gumballs for her gumball machine, some matchbox cars, a Christmas rubber duckie and a teeny bit of candy. The best part is, now my niece is getting a stocking, too!

Making ornaments now. Or, rather, adding photos to the ornaments Adriana and I already made.



Today we finished our Christmas crafting by decorating a Santa that allowed me to teach her an alternate meaning of the word fierce:


Do you see those gems? The glitter? Fierce! Hey Santa - feel free to ask and tell - you've earned it!

Okay, the stockings have been hung by the chimney with care - literally, and almost every gift is wrapped, except the one for my niece. The ornaments are made. Let me wrap this last present and set it in place!



After all that, it sort of looks like nothing in this photo. A few boxes underneath a Charlie Brown tree. But what they represent are joy, hope, self-reliance, love, resilience and a sacred bond that is irreplaceable, between mother and daughter, siblings, aunts and nieces, Grandmother and Granddaughter, cousins, family. You can't really package that.

Merry Christmas to you and yours from me and mines.



XO,
ckc