What's KP Thinking?

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  • Author Archives: kpodulka

    • Inside Out

      Posted at 9:40 am by kpodulka, on May 17, 2018

      My shield has cracked,

      My heart has split.

      Real is seeping out.

      Quick! Should I clean it up?

      What if it makes a mess?

      Yes…what if?

      But it’s my mess! Aren’t I the only one who can clean it?

      Isn’t it just easier to not make the mess in the first place? Keep it all in, neat and tidy?

      But it’s too late for that.

      My walls are leaking.

      Real is seeping.

      Once it starts to ooze, it can’t be forced back it.

      It’s so unruly.

      So, I guess for now you’ll see my mess.

      What’s that you say?

      You have your own mess too?

      Everyone does?

      oh.

      My mask is shattered.

      The floodgates are open.

      Real is seeping out.

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      Posted in advice, life, love, poem, self, soul | 2 Comments | Tagged inner beauty, inner strength, self love, soul, soul searching
    • When I’m Queen of the World

      Posted at 6:28 pm by kpodulka, on March 29, 2018

      At some point in the future, I plan to be in charge of everything. No idea exactly how that’s gonna go down, but minor details are such a bore. And just so you know, the world will be run much differently. As the self-proclaimed Queen of the World, this shall be my decree:

      People will be valued by their integrity first and foremost. Honor will be bestowed to the most honest and charitable people across the lands.

      Teachers, nurses, doctors, child and elderly caretakers, scientists, environmentalists, researchers, and those who care for the underprivileged will be the highest paid jobs. Entertainment jobs (professional sports players, TV/movie stars, musical stars, authors, comedians, etc.) will all be unpaid and voluntary.

      Guns will no longer exist.

      In order to apply for any job, resumes, LinkedIn, networking, nepotism, back-room deals, and who-you-know will all be obsolete. The only application accepted for a job will be submission of your astrological birth chart. Resumes lie–the stars don’t.

      People will go back to living in open villages instead of single-family homes. Living in isolation with lack of humanity and community has destroyed us as a species. We are communal creatures. We are not meant to be held captive in houses and buildings of brick and glass, staring at electric screens all day. Nor are we meant to be away from nature endless hours every day driving alone in our enclosed vehicles of steel and rubber. It’s made us angry.

      Nuclear weapons will no longer exist.

      Women will be cherished for their ability to give life. Their menstrual cycles will be treated with regard and respect, not mocked and ridiculed. Pregnancies will be treated like the miracles for which they are. The birthing process will be a celebration of life for both the baby and the mother, filled with love and support, not guilt and anxiety. No mother will be forced back to work until she is ready, no mother will be made to feel guilty for how she chooses to feed her baby, and no mother will be shamed for the glorious way in which her body changes after creating a life.

      Freedom of religion will be a real thing, not a political talking point. No wars will be fought over who we pray to, which book we worship from, or what we believe in. The point is simply to believe.

      Happiness in life will be measured by what we cannot see. It will not be measured by status, wealth, stature or material possessions.

      Our water and air will be clean, our food will be chemical free, our children will be safe, cancer and all other disease will be eradicated, overpopulation won’t be an issue, crime will stop, racism will end, pets will live forever, heartbreak won’t hurt, flowers will bloom every season, Birthday wishes will all come true and love will conquer all.

       

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      Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, life, love, Parenting, social media, Work Life Balance | 0 Comments | Tagged advice, believe, body image, breastfeeding, diet, double standard, feminism, food, hollywood, kids, love, Parenting, Sexism, travel, women's movement, Working Women
    • Facebook Detox

      Posted at 1:49 pm by kpodulka, on March 24, 2018

      I deleted the Facebook app off my phone today. It felt waaay too much like chopping a limb off my own body, so yeah, pretty good sign I made the right choice. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like delete-delete my entire account. Don’t be insane. You can’t just break a 10 year addiction without professional help. I can still log into my account from a desktop, but ugh, that takes so much effort. So deleting the app is a solid first step in my recovery process.

      cat

      I leave this here so no one has to go cold turkey without my cat FB posts. I’m not heartless.

      There are obvious reasons for going on a Facebook elimination diet, and this is just off the top of my head: election interference, foreign hackers, data theft, privacy violations, trolls, bots, fake news, manic influx of news, FOMO, humble-bragging, straight-up-bragging, cyber bullying, cyber stalking, cyber adultery, super-creepy targeted ads, emojis replacing emotions, time-wasting, brain-sucking, soul-sucking, the juxtaposition of feeling both connected to people and disconnected from people at the same time, fake profiles, and real profiles which portray perfectly curated lives that make us feel horribly inadequate even though those people totally have problems too but who’s gonna post about a shitty life so it’s all just fake anyway.

      OH MY GOD WHAT ARE WE DOING TO OURSELVES??? THE VERY FABRIC OF SOCIETY IS SHREDDING IN FRONT OF OUR EYES!!!

      I had every intention of following the list of awful things with a list of good things, but now I’m at a loss. Seriously. I was going to say I love Facebook because it connects me to long-lost friends, but email and phone calls do that. And I’d argue they do it better–they are intentional and personal. Whereas a Facebook post is mass communication. OK, sure, you post on “your” wall to “your” friends–all one thousand four hundred and twelve of your “friends”. And maybe 12 comment. Awesome. Great connecting with you Jane from high school–I feel totally caught up on your life and can see that you’re doing well by the thumbs up you placed below the photo of my cat. Ahh, the warm fuzzy of human connections, am I right???

      And I was going to say I love Facebook for all the fun banter and photos of friend’s lives, but you know where else I can have fun banter and see my friend’s lives??? IN REAL LIFE. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get off my couch now and reintroduce myself to the world.

      Maybe detoxing Facebook isn’t going to be nearly as difficult as I thought…

      tenor

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      Posted in advice, life, social media, Work Life Balance | 0 Comments | Tagged #deletefacebook, detox, fake news, social media, trolls
    • Rude Feminist

      Posted at 11:33 pm by kpodulka, on March 17, 2018

      I’m getting the message loud and clear from men in my life that I am in fact being a rude feminist these days. Gasp! They say this to me with very serious, pointed faces–like they expect me to do something about it. To apologize and fix the “situation” tut suite. The situation of course being my rudeness itself, and not the actual issue we’re discussing. Oh no, it’s the way in which I’m discussing the topic that is causing their frustration. And I’m finding that the men in my life do not like feeling frustrated. I understand this is all new for them.  This whole “a-woman-speaking-her-mind-how-dare-she-but-of-course-I-support-her-it’s-just-she-doesn’t-have-to-use-that-tone-of-voice-or-get-emotional-geesh”. Let’s see if I can help the guys a bit with this whole new-fangled feminist thing, shall I?

      “But what about MY feelings????”, an actual man in my life

      I guess I’ll be the one to break it to you guys: the feminist movement isn’t about you. I really thought this was obvious, but christ-on-a-cracker, apparently it needs to be said. The fight for women’s equality does not take into account men’s thoughts, opinions, or feelings. At all. I don’t care if you think mansplaining is a real thing or an impolite term. Because it is real to me and I’m done being polite. I don’t care if you’re annoyed when I say “do not interrupt me”. If you stop interrupting me, neither of us will be annoyed. Women are 50% of the U.S. population and leading the feminist movement. We are coining the terms, writing the books, organizing the groups, raising the money, and creating the change we want to see. We got this. Honestly, we don’t have the time, energy, nor inclination to run everything by you first. We welcome men as allies of course, but to be clear, an ally is someone who stands by our side and says “how can I help?”. An ally is not someone looking to prove their point, argue their side, or question the cause. Either get on board or get out of our way.

      “So you’re just giving up on your looks then?”, another actual man in my life

      Apparently I can be a feminist as long as I keep up appearances.  At least according to one man in my life who noticed (and felt the need to comment) on the fact that I don’t wear as much makeup as I used to. He accused me of “giving up”. He chose a child’s birthday party to say this to me, and being the polite feminist that I’m supposed to be, I did not unload on this guy in public. (I’m just blogging about it for the whole world to read now. I know, SO RUDE!) Here’s what I wanted to say: Yep, you’re right. I’m giving up. I’m giving up spending thousands of dollars a year on an industry which thrives on women’s insecurities. An industry run by wealthy men, perpetuating women’s fears of growing old, and valuing looks over all else. An industry which teaches women that their identity is about how their outward appearance appeals to others…How to be “presentable”, to “put on their face”, to “cover their imperfections”, to “appear ageless”, to “turn back time”, to “restore a youthful glow”. What an utter load of crap. Women age. We all age. It’s natural and I’m choosing to embrace it. In addition to saving money by not buying makeup, I’m saving time. I used to spend hours each day putting on and taking off makeup. It was a chore for me and I loathed it. So, yes, I am giving up. I’m giving up fighting mother nature and the inevitable splendor of aging. I’m giving up a daily routine that drained me in more ways than one. So if you’ll excuse me, I hear there’s a pinata at this party and I need to smash something.

      “But do you have to be crass about it?”, some guy I don’t have time for

      It was recently pointed out to me that having my period each month is rude. More specifically, asking a co-worker if they have a tampon in an open office space, with both male and female ears around, is rude. It’s crass to ask in a normal volume voice for sanitary supplies. I guess I’m supposed to be embarrassed and shy, whispering only to my female colleagues, like a 12-year old girl spreading gossip in class. That way she can slip me a tampon like a $50 bill given to the maitre d for a table near the window. TOP SECRET! I call bullshit on this one big time. How is asking for a tampon any different from asking for a Kleenex or band-aid? All 3 are used to soak up blood. Just because men don’t use tampons, they’re taboo to speak of in a professional setting? I didn’t saying anything gross. I simply asked for a tampon. Besides, men talk about periods whenever they want to, and it’s socially acceptable in any setting. Any of these sound familiar ladies: “Why are you crying, are you on the rag?”, “She had blood coming out of her wherever”,  “She’s totally pms-ing”, “You’re so hormonal, must be that time of the month”, “I think you must need some chocolate”. Double standard be damned. I will continue to openly talk about my menstrual product needs. Now pass me a neon pink wrapped tampon, so I can non-discreetly hold it on my way to the bathroom.

      “You used to be much easier to talk to”, a guy I used to know

      I know, right? What a bummer that I’m now asserting myself, and actually saying whstrengthat I’m thinking. It’s super off-putting and inconvenient for the men in my life. The poor guys! “I’m afraid to set you off,” they cry. I totally get it dudes. A woman with an opinion is a scary, unpredictable thing. Two-way communication–whaaaaat????? I’m sure you had it much easier when I agreed with everything you said. When I listened with rapt attention to your stories. When I blindly let you explain things to me which I already knew. When you answered questions for me that I never even asked. When you interrupted me so much that I just gave up and let you take over the conversation. When I let you tell me my opinion was wrong and why. When you gave me directions that I never asked for. When I told you I had to leave but you kept talking for 20 minutes because my time is worthless. When I cooked you an entire meal and as you ate it proceeded to explain the recipe to me. When you talked right over me, drowning out the sound of my own voice and dignity. When I worried if my tone would offend you even though yours was condescending as hell. When I made sure to smile at you the whole conversation. When you repeatedly said, “you understand, right?” and I just smiled and nodded. Yes, I can see how losing all of those past pleasantries are hard for you. In fact, I’m sure you find this entire post irritating, condescending and bitchy. I promise you it’s not out of intentional rudeness or retaliation. It’s out of a new-found freedom in my feminism. And as I stated at the beginning, it’s not about you. It’s only about me.

      “What must your husband think of all this???”, a modern-day caveman

      No comment.

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      Posted in advice, Equal Rights, feminism, life, misogyny | 0 Comments | Tagged ally, double standard, feminism, mansplaining, misogyny, Sexism, women's movement
    • International Women’s Day–The Day After

      Posted at 10:51 pm by kpodulka, on March 9, 2018

      My latest video explains why the women’s movement needs more than just one day in which we come together and demand change. I outline specific issues and actions that each and every one of us can begin doing today! Comment below or email me if you’d like to learn more. Join the movement–every single effort matters.

       

      International Womens Day 2018The Day After (1)Trim

      International Womens Day 2018The Day After (1)Trim

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      Posted in Equal Rights, feminism, life, misogyny, rape culture | 2 Comments | Tagged advice, ally, body image, Corporate America, daughters, diet, double standard, hollywood, International Women's Day, Intuitive Eating, meetoo, misogyny, rape culture, ReeceWitherspoon, Sex Ed, Sex Education, Sexism, timesup, Wage Gap, women's movement, Working Women
    • Dear Men

      Posted at 4:42 am by kpodulka, on October 19, 2017

      I’m gonna need your full, wait listen, I said your full, don’t interrupt me, can you just, hold on, I was talking, are you still there, like 3 minutes, this is important, CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR A GOD DAMNED SECOND?!?!?!?!?!?!

      Thanks.

      mad_men7

      You need to know a few things. Starting with, it’s not my job to help you understand feminism. It’s not my job to make you care. It’s not my job to explain why it’s just harder for a woman. That’s all on you.

      Next, stop saying that you’re one of the good guys. That you treat both men and women the same. You do not. It’s so subconscious and ingrained in everything you do, that you don’t see it. Don’t make me cite research here, I’m too tired. You witness women being treated as the lessor gender on every TV show you watch, in every Hollywood film, at every male-dominated sporting event, in every executive level business meeting you attend. Honestly, it’s happening in like 80% of the conversations you have each day.

      So here’s the ask: let us women point out sexism to you when it happens, in real-time. Let us shine a light on it so you can see it clearly. Let us say “Did you hear what you just said? Do you wanna think about how that’s sexist?” Or “Your tone of voice sounds condescending to me. It may be unintentional on your part, but I need to point out how you’re coming across”. Just let us make our point, and be humble when we do. Simply hear us and acknowledge our point of view.

      And please try to understand that we do not have to acknowledge your POV in these situations. There’s no need for these instances to turn into arguments. Because guess what? Your point of view is already acknowledged, it’s assumed. As the non-oppressed person in the conversation, your point of view is the baseline, the starting point. So there’s no need to argue for it, no need to share your own story. Your point automatically wins. WE are the ones fighting to be heard. So please listen.

      Finally, If you think choosing complacency is the neutral position to take on this, you are wrong. Doing nothing is the same as supporting misogyny. Staying silent says you support our current culture, and worse, throws away your privilege. Use that privilege to create change. You have that power, we don’t, so please use it. If that sounds vague and complicated, I’ll give you this: the best place to start is to simply become aware that it’s on you to listen to women, support women as we struggle for equality, and insist that other men do the same.

      No go out there and be a good human.

       

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments
    • I Know This Much is True

      Posted at 7:56 pm by kpodulka, on September 6, 2017

      I look at my kids and I’m in awe of their existence. It blows my mind that I created human life. They remind me every single day that miracles are possible.

      I’ve had 4 pregnancies. I have 2 children. The losses are devastating and stay with me.

      My sister is my foundation in this world. She’s my anchor, my stability, my safe place. I would jump in front of a moving truck to save her life. Literally.

      There are a few times in my life when I’ve felt the angels guiding me: the night I met my husband, the day I decided to leave home, and the morning I knew I was pregnant. I know the angels are always around, but it’s only in the special moments that they make themselves known.

      feet pic

      Learning to be gentle, forgiving and accepting of myself is the best gift I have ever received.

      I see God in nature–the ocean, the forest, the sky, the rain, the sun, the moon, the stars. That’s who I pray to. That’s who listens to me and answers back.

      I moved away from home almost 20 years ago. I’ve only recently stopped apologizing for doing it. I moved for me, and me alone. It was the single most terrifying thing I have ever done. No regrets.

      I’m a recovering control freak. Since breaking my ankle I’ve had to let go. It was soooooo hard to do at first. But now, I’m leaning in to asking for and receiving help from others.

      I think a foreign-exchange program should be mandatory for all humans. Living somewhere completely out of your comfort zone forces you to examine the world, your home country, and yourself in ways that change you forever.

      These are the songs I’d like to be played at my funeral:

      • “That’s what friends are for“, Dionne Warwick
      • “Good Mother”, Jan Arden
      • “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me“, Gladys Knight
      • “Only a Dream”, Mary Chapin Carpenter

      I used to exercise as punishment. I’m now tuned into my body and move it in ways that make me smile from the inside out.

      My husband and I are old souls, linked together for eternity. I had a healer tell me once that he and I have been connected for a very long time…in this life and in many, many past lives. We have always, and will always, find each other. I know this in my soul.

      I keep the poem, “Desiderata” in my night stand. I read it often. It is my life’s mantra.

      It’s easy to see just how small and insignificant we are when standing at the bottom of a million year old canyon, in the middle of Utah. It’s good for us to remember just how small and insignificant we are.

      My blue eyes are from my Grandma Hirvo. I thank her often for them. I miss her all the time.

      There’s a line in the song “Circle of Life” that haunts me: “From the day we arrive on the planet. And blinking step into the sun. There is more to see than can ever be seen. More to do than can ever be done.” Because I want to do and see it all.

      lake

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      Posted in advice, life, love | 0 Comments
    • Why I Broke Up with Corporate America

      Posted at 10:11 pm by kpodulka, on August 25, 2017

      It’s true–we’re over. I broke up and I’m not looking back. Like most abusive relationships, it took me way too long to get out. Twenty years to be exact. But this week was the final straw. Things got so bad that I’m having tee shirts printed which read, “Life’s too short to be crying in a conference room”.

      But wait you say, hasn’t Corporate America supported you for all these years? Put food on your table? A roof over your head? A car in your driveway? To which I must quote my dear friend by answering, “I’d rather eat just one meal a day for the rest of my life than sit in a drab office another day”. And yes, I am fully aware just how privileged I am to be able to quit. My sacrifices will be small compared to most. I understand that it’s not possible for everyone. But what is possible, is for us to acknowledge how we’re treated by the companies we work for and try to improve it.

      Here’s a list of reasons why I broke it off (in no particular order):

      • Sexism/Boys Club/Bro-Culture/Golf
      • Wage gap
      • Bosses taking credit for my work. Literally hours and weeks and months of work. Then presenting it as their own on a call with 100 people dialed in and not one mention of my name. While I’m sitting right there.
      • No respect for boundaries (curse you smartphones!)
      • Feeling like I should be thankful for a job offer and being literally scolded for asking for a higher wage, “Are you negotiating with me???? Look, do you want this job or not?”
      • Lifeless, colorless, soul sucking, cubicles with no windows and recycled air.
      • Sitting for hours straight, forgetting to pee or eat all day
      • Being a full-fucking-grown adult yet asking “can I go to lunch?”, “can I go home now?” “can I just pop into the bathroom?”
      • Performance reviews. UGH! Is there anything worse than having a boss tell you your worth? Literally–by way of bonus, and figuratively–by listing off your successes and misses for the year. Kill me now. I’ve had both good and bad reviews in my career, and they both suck. Good ones reward you with a new title and money, but punish you with a disproportionate increase in responsibilities and a false sense of security. A bad one crushes your confidence and will to live.
      • Backstabbing/Ladder-climbing/Name-dropping/Ass-kissing/Posturing
      • Team building activities, a.k.a forced fun
      • Sneaking in when I’m late and sneaking out when I’m leaving early. Like a freaking criminal. SMDH!
      • Not giving the slightest shit about increasing profits, selling more cars, or clothes, or mutual funds, or greeting cards. But having to pretend 8 hours a day that I do.
      • Business jargon/acronyms/lingo/industry-speak…honestly it’s all absurd.
      • Inflated egos and unrealistic sense of importance. I’m sorry, but unless you are a doctor, pilot, firefighter, police officer, or anyone who FOR REAL works with life and death, sit the hell down and chill the fuck out. There’s no such thing as a “marketing emergency”. I promise you.
      • Missing time with kids and husband and friends. Missing sunny days. Missing the beach. Missing traveling. Missing LIFE outside of 4 walls.

      Now you’re probably thinking, damn girl, what took you so long to quit? You sound like you’ve had a fucking miserable work life. The short answer is I was afraid to quit. The long answer is because working in Corporate America is just what I did. It’s what I went to college for. It’s what 99% of my friends do. It’s the first thing you get asked at a party, “so what do you do?” It was a huge part of my identity. Who am I if not a marketing manager? And I couldn’t wrap my head around quitting without having solidified what happens next. Aren’t we supposed to have a plan in life? Isn’t that what responsible grown-ups do? Well my friends, I took a leap of faith yesterday with no new plans. I quit because it was time. I have outgrown Corporate America. I feel brave and anxious and terrified and exhilarated. I’ll be writing a lot more, that much I know. So stay tuned. Until then, remember my wise words, “Life’s too short to be crying in a conference room”.

      KP out.

       

       

      pic kp
      lose

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      Posted in Work Life Balance | 7 Comments | Tagged Broke Up, Corporate America, Quit Job, Sexism, Wage Gap, Working Women
    • Two Worlds

      Posted at 9:03 pm by kpodulka, on August 25, 2017
      (As previously published on the EROC blog: http://endrapeoncampus.org/eroc-blog/)

      I watch my 7-year-old daughter play and I want to freeze time. Not because I want her to stay little forever, but because I want her to live in her 7-year-old world forever. Her world is a much nicer place for girls to live in than my world currently is.

      In my daughter’s world she is free. Free to run topless on the beach, to express her opinion openly, honestly, and loudly. Free to smile at boys, to earn the same allowance as her brother, to raise her hand in class and confidently give the answer. When she looks in the mirror she smiles. She will proudly tell you what she’s best at. She will color a picture, show it to you, and say, “Look how great I did!” She’ll choose clothes to wear because they’re comfortable. She’ll pass gas and excuse herself, treating it like a normal bodily function. She’ll join in a football game at recess, because she likes to run. She’ll eat food because it tastes good. She’ll gladly be in photos. Her only thought when making a decision is, “Will I like this?”

      She doesn’t wear makeup or shave her legs or wax her bikini area. She doesn’t second-guess her outfits wondering if they’re appropriate. She doesn’t wear a pinching bra or painful high heels. She doesn’t color her hair to cover up greys. She doesn’t spend thousands of dollars a year on skin cream to avoid wrinkles. She doesn’t starve herself to be an “acceptable” size. She doesn’t get Botox. She doesn’t read self-help books. She doesn’t question an emotional outburst wondering, “Was that too much?” She doesn’t talk incessantly with her girlfriends about their weight or their exercise routines. She doesn’t suck in her stomach when taking a photo. She doesn’t second-guess herself all the time.

      I think about the things she doesn’t know yet about my world. The things I never want her to learn. The things that will literally break my heart to teach her.

      I don’t want to tell her that she’ll be paid less than her male counterpart for doing the same job. That her career advancement will be tied more to her gender than her skills. That speaking her mind will earn her titles of “bitch” or “drama-queen.” That reporting an inappropriate incident to HR at work will only cause her grief.

      That history books are filled with stories of our founding fathers, but leave little room to acknowledge the women who shaped our world. That the U.S. has never had a female president or vice president. That women make up less than 5% of company CEOs.

      That she can’t go for a run at night without a rape whistle. That she can’t get publicly drunk without being at risk for sexual assault. That she’ll need a buddy-system to get home safely from parties. That she can’t smile at a guy or he may “get the wrong idea.” That she’ll have a dress code at school as to not “distract” the boys. That her college campus will have a “rape phone.” That “boys will be boys” but girls will get the blame for it.

      I don’t want to tell her that she’ll fake orgasms because her partner’s pleasure outranks her own. That boys can talk about masturbating and it’s socially acceptable, but girls have to pretend they don’t masturbate. That movies will freely show a naked woman, but not a naked man. That a man who sleeps around is a “stud” but a girls who sleeps around is a “slut.”

      That her periods are private at best, dirty at worst. That she’ll be judged for how much or how little weight she gains if she gets pregnant. That she’ll only get six weeks maternity leave. That if she gives up her career to be a mother she’s “not contributing” to society. But if she goes back to work as a mother she’s “selfishly” prioritizing her career over her family. That breastfeeding her baby will be a shameful activity that she’s meant to cover up. That her body is her worth, so she’d better get back her to her pre-baby weight right away. That her partner will want sex again soon, so she needs to be ready. That if her vagina stretched too much during delivery, she’ll need “vaginoplasty.”

      This is my world. The world I grew up in, since 1975. How, in good conscience, can I introduce my amazing, daring, free-spirited, daughter to this world in which I live? I can’t, is the answer. So I must fight for her world to prevail! Because her world is a much, much better place for us all to live equally.pic Em swing

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      Posted in Equal Rights, Parenting | 0 Comments | Tagged daughters, double standard, kids, Parenting, rape culture, Sexism
    • The Women’s March on Washington

      Posted at 10:55 pm by kpodulka, on January 25, 2017

      I was there.

      I awoke at 4 am. Grabbed my suitcase and kissed my daughter and son good-bye on their sleeping heads as I headed out. This trip was as much for them as it was for me.  I drove thru darkness and torrential rain to collect 3 friends on my way to the airport. My car was filled with damp morning air and anticipation. My phone was filled with messages of encouragement, love, and appreciation from friends near and far.

      I was there.

      I flew 3,000 miles across this great country of ours. I was thanked by the flight crew for what I was about to do. I met new friends, one row over, and we bonded over all-to-common stories of women’s struggles. I saw pink hats. I high-fived women as I walked thru the aisle. The gravity of where we were going was dawning on me like the sun rising that very morning.

      I was there.

      I chatted with my taxi driver on the drive from the airport to the hotel in D.C who told me the inauguration traffic was minimal that day. He said it was a slow day for him. He said in 2008, at Obama’s inauguration, the traffic was much busier, the crowds were much larger.

      I was there.

      I checked into an over-sold hotel 1 hour outside of D.C. I met up with 15 women, from 5 different states. We introduced ourselves through mutual acquaintances. Instant friends. We passed out signs, made plans to meet in the morning. We hugged each other and went to bed.

      I was there.

      I headed out the next morning. My stomach full of butterflies and purpose. I entered a crowded Metro station at 8:00 AM. I saw more signs. More pink hats. I felt the underlying energy of the morning bubble to the surface. I squished onto an over-crowded train car. A sea of smiling women holding signs. Holding hope.

      I was there.

      I got off the train almost 2 hours later. I was 9 blocks from the start of the march. I used a port-a-potty and heard a woman shout into the crowd, “I need a tampon”. I saw 3 women offer her one. I watched a lactating mom relieve her swollen boobs filled with milk into the shrubs—her baby at home. We walked 2 blocks straight into a wall of women. It’s as far as we got.

      I was there.

      I was close enough to a TV screen and a loud-speaker to hear every word of the rally. From the first drum beat to the last “thank you for being here”. I witnessed the expressions of awe and amazement on every speaker’s face as they climbed onto that stage and looked out at the masses. I heard their determination, their drive, their passion pour out with every word, every song, poem, and rally cry.

      I was there.march

      I watched my friend’s faces. I read their expressions. I saw their tears. I heard their chants. I was surrounded by thousands of strangers–whose expressions, tears, and chants also enveloped me. We all held hands and clapped and cheered. We were a crowd of half a million human beings, but we were one.

       I was there.

      For 5 hours we stood together, this crowd and I. Each and every individual was full of love–oozing love into the air. You could practically see it, it was that substantial. A crowd which hushed when each speaker spoke. A crowd which politely parted when a wheelchair needed through. A crowd which offered snacks to one another. A crowd with zero violence, zero drugs, zero angst. A crowd with signs that touted love, equality, decency, and fairness. A crowd of strangers that felt like family.

      I was there.

      I was forever changed that day. I had never felt unity until January 21, 2017. I didn’t truly know the good that exists in this world until I saw it for myself. I didn’t realize the power of love until I saw it floating thru the air. I didn’t understand that hope could bring together a nation and the world. These realizations now guide me–push me forward. Though I am no longer physically at the march, though my feet are back on California soil, a part of me will never leave D.C. That day is forever tucked deeply in my heart, quietly chanting in my head, and gently guiding me forward. Because…

      I was there.

       

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments
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