Stand Up. Straighten Your Crown. Carry On.

Love did not trump hate. Hate has made a temporary win. We are in for the long haul. I wept. For hours. I expected a tough election. I will be humble and I will admit: I did not expect to lose. Not because a website or a poll told me the chance of Clinton winning was very high. I did not expect to lose because I did not realize the level of disgust, hatred, and fear within American society. I did not accept that a little bit less than half of the voting population support or, in the best case scenario, brush-off sexism, racism, homophobia, and so much more. So I wept. I knew that my son and my daughter would wake up and would ask "who is the big boss?" And I knew I didn't know what to say. So I called out for advice and help on Facebook. This is what I posted: Van Jones on CNN "I'm hearing about a nightmare. It's hard to be a parent tonight for a lot of us. You tell your kids, "Don't be a bully." You tell your kids, "Don't be a bigot." You tell your kids, "Do your homework and be prepared." And then you have this outcome and you have people putting children to bed tonight and they're afraid of breakfast. They're afraid of "How do I explain this to my children?" I have Muslim friends who are texting me tonight saying, "Should I leave this country?" I have families of immigrants who are terrified tonight. This was many things. This was a rebellion against the elites...but it was also about something else." I'm open to suggestions for how to explain - in a way that does not scare him even more - to my 5 year old tomorrow morning that the man who says mean things about mommy and sister and papa and our black and brown friends is now the boss. And to my 3 year old daughter too. If you can. Thank you. So many people answered. This is my public thank you to you. You reached out from all over the world with messages of strength, love, compassion, and support. Your acts of together-ness and caring matter. I took a number of your suggestions. I took the day off of work. I meditated. I drank a quite coffee. I let the tears roll. The Mr. and I agreed on how we would start the conversation; where it would take place; and what we would emphasize. As soon as PJ woke up, we all four of us cuddled onto our bed together. The Mr. and I both took a deep breath and then we told them both that the man who says mean things about mommy, sister, and papa won. My son, like so many adults, couldn't understand why. Mean people don't win and being kind is 'very important'. The Mr. and I were honest and stayed with our messages: - we don't understand it either. - we don't know exactly what this means for our immigrant family. - we won't stop working towards love and kindness for everyone. - we won't stop protecting our friends and our family. - we won't chose hate. - we love them, we love them, we love them, we love them. And then we got pancakes. The US has entered into a trying time and - like many - I am concerned of my place, my foreign-born husband's place, and my dual-citizen children's place. I am devastated by how many people cast their vote against common decency, inclusion, progress. I am disturbed by how many more sat this entire opportunity out. I am shaken by how little we really know of each other and of how surprising the result is for almost the entire world. I am confident, however, that in many years when my children ask what I was doing, where I stood, what actions I took I will answer, "I was on the right side of the history and I was doing everything I could." On November 8, I wore my orange pant suit for both gender equality and gun violence prevention and then I knocked on over 100 more doors. I did so with joy and hope in my heart because I believe in the goodness of humans. The end was heartbreaking and I am proud of the work that I did.

And the work continues. This is the long haul. I won't stop and I won't slow down. I may not be a little girl anymore -- I am raising two little ones instead. I will work so that they "never doubt that [they] are valuable and powerful and deserving of ever chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and to achieve [their] own dreams." - Hillary Clinton

Stand Up. Straighten Your Crown. Carry On.

Love did not trump hate. Hate has made a temporary win. We are in for the long haul.
I wept. For hours. I expected a tough election. I will be humble and I will admit: I did not expect to lose. Not because a website or a poll told me the chance of Clinton winning was very high. I did not expect to lose because I did not realize the level of disgust, hatred, and fear within American society. I did not accept that a little bit less than half of the voting population support or, in the best case scenario, brush-off sexism, racism, homophobia, and so much more.

So I wept.

I knew that my son and my daughter would wake up and would ask "who is the big boss?" And I knew I didn't know what to say. So I called out for advice and help on Facebook. This is what I posted:

Van Jones on CNN:

"I'm hearing about a nightmare. It's hard to be a parent tonight for a lot of us. You tell your kids, "Don't be a bully." You tell your kids, "Don't be a bigot." You tell your kids, "Do your homework and be prepared." And then you have this outcome and you have people putting children to bed tonight and they're afraid of breakfast. They're afraid of "How do I explain this to my children?" I have Muslim friends who are texting me tonight saying, "Should I leave this country?" I have families of immigrants who are terrified tonight. This was many things. This was a rebellion against the elites...but it was also about something else." I'm open to suggestions for how to explain - in a way that does not scare him even more - to my 5 year old tomorrow morning that the man who says mean things about mommy and sister and papa and our black and brown friends is now the boss.
And to my 3 year old daughter too. If you can.
Thank you.

So many people answered. This is my public thank you to you. You reached out from all over the world with messages of strength, love, compassion, and support. Your acts of together-ness and caring matter.

I took a number of your suggestions. I took the day off of work. I meditated. I drank a quite coffee. I let the tears roll. The Mr. and I agreed on how we would start the conversation; where it would take place; and what we would emphasize.

As soon as PJ woke up, we all four of us cuddled onto our bed together. The Mr. and I both took a deep breath and then we told them both that the man who says mean things about mommy, sister, and papa won.

My son, like so many adults, couldn't understand why. Mean people don't win and being kind is 'very important'. The Mr. and I were honest and stayed with our messages:

• we don't understand it either.
• we don't know exactly what this means for our immigrant family.
• we won't stop working towards love and kindness for everyone.
• we won't stop protecting our friends and our family.
• we won't chose hate.
• we love them, we love them, we love them, we love them.

And then we got pancakes.

The US has entered into a trying time and - like many - I am concerned of my place, my foreign-born husband's place, and my dual-citizen children's place. I am devastated by how many people cast their vote against common decency, inclusion, progress. I am disturbed by how many more sat this entire opportunity out. I am shaken by how little we really know of each other and of how surprising the result is for almost the entire world.

I am confident, however, that in many years when my children ask what I was doing, where I stood, what actions I took I will answer, "I was on the right side of the history and I was doing everything I could."

On November 8, I wore my orange pant suit for both gender equality and gun violence prevention and then I knocked on over 100 more doors. I did so with joy and hope in my heart because I believe in the goodness of humans. The end was heartbreaking and I am proud of the work that I did.

And the work continues. This is the long haul. I won't stop and I won't slow down. I may not be a little girl anymore -- I am raising two little ones instead. I will work so that they "never doubt that [they] are valuable and powerful and deserving of ever chance and opportunity in the world to pursue and to achieve [their] own dreams." - Hillary Clinton

Here. Together.

On the eve of the American election cycle -- when we don't yet know if the voters will prove that Love Always Trumps Hate or if we are in it for the even longer haul -- I find myself called to share a small glimpse into my heart. 

I've written about it before: we owe our children safe schools; safe movie theaters; safe places of worship; safe streets. We cannot remove every single danger - and we shouldn't - but we can prevent gun violence. We can take common sense steps to protect our children and ourselves. This is a mountain I am quite literally willing to die on (though I would really, really, really rather not). 

I am dedicated to this cause because I have two children who deserve a chance at a glorious future and unlike far too many parents throughout the United States, I still can help them create those futures.  

We knew that moving to the United States dramatically increased the risk of gun violence impacting our small family directly. We knew the data - though, honestly, we didn't understand it really and we also didn't have the whole picture, like the prevalence of lock down drills in all schools - and we assumed the risk. 

(Side note, isn't it ridiculous that a place like the United States has that type of risk?!) 

I already had three years of experience calling and emailing. I was somewhat excited to hook into the local chapter of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. So I did. First, I ran a race.

 ...and the entire family wore orange to represent our commitment to gun violence prevention on June 2. 

I even found a hilariously loud pant suit in bright orange. I bought it. I rock it. 

Then, as the election cycle heated up, some very scary trends started to emerge. Like calls for violence and gun-based intimation. Hatred. Fear. 

Also some very scary things took place. On June 12, 49 people dancing in a night club were massacred. On June 13, I attended a memorial at a local club. And we left the orange light of gun violence prevention shine for many nights. 

 

Once again, no change. Well, except that now 42,000 people who identify as LGBTQ and their allies are organized and activated. I remained committed to gun violence prevention and now I had another reason to be so.

I signed up to talk to community members about BeSmart.

Then one of the candidates proudly embraced his NRA endorsement and claimed he could stand in the street and shoot someone and not lose a single vote. He was wrong but still, millions cheered. And the other candidate embraced common sense gun violence prevention policies.

My choice was very clear. Not only is my husband foreign-born; my extended family and circle of friends boasts all sorts of fantastic people with different abilities, sexuality, religions, creeds who are every bit as equal as anyone else; healthcare is a right; and my children deserve to live without the fear of gun violence. 

I went into even greater action because of all that and because I am a Gun Sense Voter. 

I got active on the local as well as national election level. For the first time. Ever. 

Sometimes, the choice was made very easy for me, like fantastic advertisements like this: 

I knocked on doors. Sometimes in groups, most of the time alone. I went to "bad neighborhoods" where people are directly impacted by bad policies on income, health insurance, and gun violence. Areas that are struggling and have an especially difficult time voting. Boy, was I rewarded with hugs and high fives and "thank you" in about five different languages.

So I went again..



and again..




and again...



I went so many times I stopped taking pictures.



I made signs. I carried signs.



I registered voters. I encouraged people to vote. I even started making calls.

Because, here's the deal: I am not alone. There are many of us. Some of us have an awesome sense of humor.

"Run like Trump is trying to grab your pussy"

Others are all fired up.


Some have always been optimistic.





Some are shaking with anxiety and have been running more often than usual (me).

And we are all here. Together.

Hillary Clinton, our gun sense & family leave sense & minimum wage sense & foreign policy sense & health care sense candidate, may not win tomorrow. She may.

Our 200 local candidates that stand up for gun violence prevention may sweep into their new offices. Or they may not. 

 And we will still be here. For our children. For ourselves. We are stronger together.

 

XO

Dancing Queens

It isn't easy to meet new people in Germany. In part because the culture is based on a much stricter definition of "inside" and "outside" relationships; friendships are taken more seriously, and most people don't move around too often. Put together, this means the vast majority of people already have their support structures, friends, family, hobbies, etc, and they don't really need a new person nor do they think they have time to dedicate to a new relationship.* All in all, it takes much longer to really get to know people, let alone get invited to their home or into their group.


Of course these are generalizations and should be taken with a grain of salt.** But before we move on and you think I'm just pulling it from thin air: two personal stories to highlight my experience: 


How people don't need a new person part one:

Years ago my now-husband invited me to meet some of his friends at a party. I was very nervous because my German was almost nonexistent at the time and I was walking into what I thought was a German-only environment (turns out they all speak great English - learned that years later). The apartment was packed with people and my then-boyfriend introduced me to a few of them. They shook my hand and then didn't talk to me. Seriously. Not even the usually annoying get-to-know-you small talk questions like: "where are you from?" or "how did you meet?" or "want a drink?" I sat on the couch, drink in hand, while people literally spoke over me but not at me. They weren't trying to be rude - I now know these people and these are decent people - but they didn't know me and so they just didn't talk to me. Nothing personal.***

How people don't need a new person part two: 

About three years ago in a conversation with my now-father-in-law about how I wanted to meet new people, I asked him how he meets new people. He looked at me with real confusion on his face and finally answered, "I don't need new people." End of conversation. Right-o. 

Anyways, all of this to say that I shouldn't have been surprised when I walked into my first German mommy group and no one talked to me. They looked up, knew they didn't know me, and then turned back to the people that they did know. I tried as hard as I could to break through that barrier, reaping a handful of answers and a few questions, but I was a new mom struggling with being a new mom and just didn't have the strength. 

I left each attempt - four in total - so lonely, so full of failure, and so empty of hope. I was already dealing with a lot and each experience made the dark seem so much darker.   

But then when PJ was six weeks old - and by rather strange turn of events - I learned about a mommy group hosted by the US Army. I sent an email to ask if I could join and got a welcoming response. So against my instinct, I drug myself to my first Mothers of Pre-Schoolers (MOPS) meeting. 

Lets be frank here, I felt and looked awful. PJ was miserable, crying all the way to the meeting. I was expecting to be ignored in the best case and rejected in the worse. With trepidation I walked into the church and before I was more than two feet through the door, a stranger turned to me and exclaimed with joy in her voice and a smile across her face, "Well, I don't think I knew your face!"

I'm not too proud to admit that I cried. In relief. In hope. In oh-thank-god-I-came-here-ness. PJ liked it too: he slept through the entire meeting.

It has been about four months since that first meeting. I now know that I have stumbled into a group of supportive, encouraging, goofy mothers from all over the world. I look forward to seeing these women every two weeks and I'm so thankful for the friendships I'm building outside of the meetings as well. Frankly, I think I am a better mom because of them. 

Which brings us to the point of this blog entry: this weekend we had a mommy's-night-out. There was a Wii with some sort of dancing game. I learned that Britney Spears has nothing on us.

The original video for Hit Me Baby One More Time was so lame in comparison. Next time we should seriously sell tickets.

xo

*Of course there are always exceptions. For example, when I first moved to Germany I met a lovely German woman. Over the series of a couple of months we slowly grew a friendship. Then I hit a rough patch and even though she lived in a tiny one room apartment, she let me sleep on her flip-out bed for countless nights. She loaned me money when frankly she was struggling too. She pulled me out into the world when I just couldn't. She called me, sent me encouraging text messages, and just constantly let me know she believed in me. Since then life has thrown us both a number of curve balls that floored us and some beautiful pitches we hit out of the park. We've lived in different countries for years but she remains such a wonderful friend. And she is an amazing example of the incredible reality of what German friendships can be. 

**There is an awesome book that goes into much more detail and with all sorts of footnotes called Germany: Unraveling the Enigma if you want to know more.

***There is one exception and I am so grateful to him that he may always get away with bullshit in my book. Including, but not limited to, shoving his naked butt into my face while drunk; pointing out that my boobs are huge in front of about five male friends; and licking my neck for some unknown reason while sober. What was up with that?