I have a vested interest.

We all have this vested interest, maybe this will help us understand that.

Tenure, She Wrote

In the fourth grade, I was obsessed with marine science and sonar technology, and I’d spend Saturday afternoons watching The Hunt for Red October instead of Saved by the Bell. That summer, I toured a Navy sub in dry dock– my first time! — and I asked the officer leading the tour when we’d be going to the sonar room. “Sorry, kid. It’s classified,” he said. Masking my disappointment, I replied that it was okay, because I was going to be a sonar technician when I grew up, and I could wait until then. “But they don’t let girls on subs,” was the officer’s surprised reply, as he looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. When I asked why not, he told me I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a sub with a bunch of smelly guys anyway. My “Then…why aren’t there submarines for just girls?” got no reply.

So, I have a vested…

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To The PTA Moms at My Son’s School

I’m so sad and sorry that this is the state of things, and that you must spend your hours educating people in compassion, understanding and other basic elements of humanity.

Raising My Rainbow

Last week I published a blog post about things said during a PTA meeting I attended at my youngest son’s school. I wanted to shine a light on the homophobic, transphobic, insensitive, hateful and hurtful things that some moms said during the meeting and show that as far as we have come in LGBTQ acceptance and equality, there is still much work to be done. And sometimes that work needs to be done in heavy doses at places much closer to home than we’d like.

Almost immediately, PTA moms from our school started commenting, messaging and reacting viscerally on social media.

As they did, I stared at the PTA tagline: Every child, One voice. I’m not convinced that our PTA as a whole cares about every child and some of the voices I heard that night are not voices I want speaking on behalf of my child. That being said…

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Neil Humphreys – This Dad Really is for Life, Not for Weekends

Me too.

Dads for Life Toolbox

From Picking up a Penguin’s Egg Really Got Me into Trouble. Used with permission. From Picking up a Penguin’s Egg Really Got Me into Trouble.
Used with permission.

There is usually a nod of feigned sympathy. If I’m lucky I get a doleful look and a sad smile. Occasionally, I’m treated to a sympathetic hand on the shoulder as friends rally around to help me deal with my loss.

It’s not easy for them either. They also struggle to come to terms with my predicament; their eyes darting around the room as if seeking a solution, kind souls struggling to find the right words, scrambling for a suitable reaction to my loss, my handicap; my unbearable circumstances.

I do not employ a foreign domestic helper.

I know. I know. The depravation must be unthinkable, unfathomable. My daughter is being raised in a Dickensian sweatshop. Her every waking moment is like an audition for Angela’s Ashes. She spilled some Ribena on the kitchen…

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Feminist Friday: How Valuable is the Bechdel Test?

Hmmm, scratches chin and looks diagonally to sky. Makes mental note to self to figure out a practical manner in which to affect change in this area. This will take some work.

Victim to Charm

Think about the last movie you saw. Were there two or more female characters? Did they talk to each other about something besides men?

The Bechdel test, created by Alison Bechdel, examines female roles in movies by asking three questions:

  • Are there two or more women in the film?
  • Do they talk to each other?
  • Is their conversation about something other than a man?

alison bechdel, dykes to watch out for From Alison Bechdel’s comic strip “Dykes to Watch Out For” (1985).

The test seems simple—women talk to each other about things besides men all the time in real life—yet a surprisingly high number of movies fail to represent this basic activity.

5540832_origThe test is so basic because it’s a standard that should be easy to pass. The fact that so many movies fail to achieve one, two, or all three of the test’s clauses highlights the rampant misogyny of the film industry. If a movie can’t…

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If I Have Gay Children: Four Promises From A Christian Pastor/Parent

I’m not religious but I have considered this and my son is not even 2 years old. I already know that I’ll love and support him whatever the outcome. As long as he doesn’t support Everton FC we’ll be fine.

john pavlovitz


Sometimes I wonder if I’ll have gay children.

I’m not sure if other parents think about this, but I do; quite often.

Maybe it’s because I have many gay people in my family and circle of friends. It’s in my genes and in my tribe.
Maybe it’s because, as a pastor of students, I’ve seen and heard the horror stories of gay Christian kids, from both inside and outside of the closet, trying to be part of the Church.
Maybe it’s because, as a Christian, I interact with so many people who find homosexuality to be the most repulsive thing imaginable, and who make that abundantly clear at every conceivable opportunity.

For whatever reason, it’s something that I ponder frequently. As a pastor and a parent, I wanted to make some promises to you, and to my two kids right now…

1) If I have gay children, you’ll all know it.

My children won’t…

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The Illogical Protagonist and Why Your Story Needs One

Insightful. Something I’m mulling over now.



In the movie The Godfather, two characters in the opening scenes are presented as possible protagonists:

Vito Corleone, the presumptive title character, who from the first scene is shown as the powerful head of a Mafia family.

Sonny Corleone, his hot-headed son, has been groomed as his father’s successor and loves the Mafia life.

On the surface, both seem a logical choice as protagonist of the story. They are the ones who fit into the world of the story, who want to prevail in it. In the beginning, it’s easy to assume that the story will be primarily about one of them.

Then we are introduced to Vito’s youngest son, Michael.

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The Cycle

This should be read and absorbed, shared and promoted.

Teri Carter's Library


Apparently the easiest way to start blogging again is to say you’re done blogging.  Kind of like writing.  Kind of like running.  Kind of like everything.  Last time I said “I’m done with men!” I got married.  See how it works?

Anyway.  Yesterday.  The whole Ray Rice video thing.  And here I am.


When I was 16, my high school boyfriend backhanded me across the face, with a beer bottle in his hand.  We were in his baby blue car, on our way to his house, and his father was the first to look up from watching golf on TV and notice my newly forming bruise, the swelling next to my eye.  His father lost it.  My boyfriend cowered and slunk down to the basement; his dad, apologetic about his son, drove me home.

It was never mentioned again.

But we dated for another year.  Because, of course, I…

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