Harmless Office Supply Or Identity?

I'm slowly coming to grips with my newly purchased planner.

I finally went to Staples and bought a 2010 planner. I'd asked for an academic one from work back in September but kept forgetting to follow up with the guy who does the shopping. And by November's end, an academic year planner just seemed silly. And then New Year's came and went, and with each passing work day, I've been using that teeny-tiny "future planning" yearly spread in the back of my 2009 planner. This past Sunday was the day I finally decided things had to change.

Even though my old planner was a mere 'weekly' calendar with no bells or whistles, I had gotten used to it--used to not having the monthly spreads every four weeks or so, used to not having the super helpful month tabs on the side, used to the pre-printed meeting hours not matching up with my usual workday/week. If I was going to spend my own money on 2010 planner, though, I wanted to get the planner of my dreams.

So after about 10 minutes of ogling the aisle, I am deciding between a small brown weekly/monthly and a tall handsome green weekly [only], and I decide to go with "size." Saying that I went with vanity makes it sound like I am a beauty-over-brains kind of girl, but I knew that by choosing the green one, I'd get both vanity and size. I'd get to be business but not boring. And that makes me practical, right? A more-bang-for-my-buck thing.

And then I notice a smaller, same shade of green, monthly [only]. I'm thinking: I could get both weekly and monthly [yes], have vanity [yes!] , and spend twice the money for the inevitability of not wanting to lug TWO planners around [no]. So I tell myself again that I'm being practical and decide to take the weekly green planner up to the register.

And yet, three feet before the register is a small table touting a bunch of planners for the new year. I owe it to myself to look. I skim over everything quickly, still clutching my green goddess, and then I see the words "weekly/monthly" printed on one of the larger ones. I flip it open, and it has monthly tabs as well. Examining the 'week' pages, I see that a workday goes from 7am to 9pm--good enough hours for my unusual schedule. Everything about this new planner is screaming "I'm The One!" Every thing, except for the hot pink cover. It's Staples brand, so I quickly go back to the aisle, surmise that yes, indeed this planner is one of only two Staples weekly/monthly's left in the store--both 'pank'--said in my thickest Texan.

Part of me, a large part, doesn't want to look at a hot pink planner for an entire year. I don't want to see it on my desk, I don't want to pull it out of my otherwise sophisticated Timbuk2 during meetings with school principals or intern interviewees.  In short, I don't want to be the girl with the pink planner. I don't want everyone in 2010 who sees me to think I chose pink, and what a shade it is, over all the other possible colors available to me, as if I'm some sorority princess turned law school student. I may have once been blond, but I am not that girl.

I wanted the muted, olive green planner.
But my shame in my own vanity made me buy the pink one. Who am I to care what other people think (perhaps my biggest character flaw)? I don't have to fall prey to the simple gender binary. So what if I'm not a girly-girl. By owning one thing that's pink, even owning and loving one pink thing, I am not redefining my gender. It's just a pink planner.

(If you've read this far, then you probably understand why this detail has turned into a blog entry. No matter how many times I think it, this post is evidence enough that this pink planner is not just a pink planner.)

Maybe I have it wrong. Maybe my choices weren't spurred by vanity after all but by self identity (probably both), and I've been giving vanity all the credit. Maybe I needed to write about my Elle Woods planner to confirm for myself that my gender identity is not made by things that surround me, that I can still feel and be the girl who likes green even though I'm also the girl who sports pink.

And then somewhere in this thought I can't help but see this analogously, minutely, to how some people feel all the time. Some people, whether they identify as transgender or not, feel consistently let down by their circumstances. Maybe the clothes they have to wear match society's views about how they should dress but don't match their internal sense of self. And once I'm here in my thought process I start to fester about how crappy society's gender prescriptions can be and about how I support folks being true to themselves as frequently as they can. And then that thought of course leads me back to feeling bad about my pink planner purchase. Pink isn't me, so why did I let myself not follow my self? And then I feel doubly the schmuck because now I've tried to liken my trivial office supply list to a person's experiences with gender variance or gender nonconformity. Will the self shame ever end?

So, as I'm trying to come to grips with my purchase of the hot pink planner, I am forced to remind myself just how deeply Gender effects confidence.

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I used to think my planner said I was stressed but well time-managed, organized and yet fun. Now, I'm not so sure. What does your planner look like? What features are a "must?" What does your planner say about you? Is this an accurate description?

Head versus heart: When does passionate explanation go too far?

One of the most rewarding parts of my job is getting to speak about GLBT human rights issues and with Long Islanders at school and in their places of work. I am always excited to see faces that had been stern or questioning come out on the other side of a workshop with smiles and understanding--even if the understanding isn't complete and some of the smiles are semi-forced. This happens often, but not always.


Last December I went to a faculty training, which went so well, that they invited me back for their next meeting. That was this past Monday. It was again an awesome meeting, one where hard questions were asked and discussions between thoughtful adults ensued. However, as with many workshops, we didn't have time to discuss ALL the questions. So, I've decided to email to the school my written response to the last question. As it is, I'm worried that it's a bit sharp, so, before I send it to an albeit 95% supportive school faculty/staff, I'd like to test the waters here. 


Is the following question and answer set-up too "I used to teach argumentative writing for college students" in a bad way or a good way? The question originally in paragraph form, broken up into parts, reads:

1 Why are we addressing human sexuality issues with 10, 11, and 12 year old children?

2 Should we not give these children a chance to figure this out for themselves without putting labels on them and putting them into a situation that could cause them to be harassed and humiliated? 

3 Are we not defeating the whole purpose of trying to protect these children from such [harassment and humiliation]?

In response to part1, part of reminding ourselves of heterosexual privilege means we need to remind ourselves of the pitfall of reducing GLBT issues to simple sexuality.  Each straight person knows that his/her relationships and families are a HUGE part what we call our “lives.” GLBT people have spouses, mothers, and children too. GLBT people, as well as their family members no matter their ages should not be ignored or left out of times when it is expected or anticipated that we share about our families. And to speak specifically to 10, 11, and 12 year olds, don’t those children of GLBT parents have the right to see their own family structures represented and supported in school and society as well as the children of straight parents? So, we are not exactly talking about human sexuality, in terms of sexual acts. Indeed, I’m hard pressed imagining a time when middle school GSAs or classroom discussions of GLBT issues need to discuss acts of sex in any way, although I allow that there might be.

In response to part 2: First of all, I find the idea of letting the children fend for themselves, without guidance or support, is a very odd suggestion from an educator. Many people would agree that we shouldn’t just let a small child try to learn her ABCs or try to tie her shoes the first time, or try to brush her teeth for the first time without ANY assistance, support, or role models. As a society we don’t generally for anything let our children just fend for themselves (at least not right away). My experience shows that children understand faster when they receive encouragement and support and basic knowledge from adult models.

Secondly, GSAs (and classroom discussions around GLBT topics) are not places to LABEL the gay students as to separate them from others. I teach that every one has the right to label or not to label him/her/zie self; in fact, by definition and NAME, a Gay-Straight Alliance is a safe space where we come together and enjoy our differences and our similarities in a judgment free, harassment free zone. Most middle school GSAs are not political discussion groups or worked up about making waves in a school district. Middle school GSAs across the nation tend to be more socially focused. They are similar to other clubs: a space where friends with common interests and values can learn socialization and leadership skills by hanging out and or planning and implementing events together as a team. GSAs focus on eradicating the isolation and harrassment many students feel in adolescence.

(In response to part 3:) So no, I don’t think silence or ignoring the identities of students or their families is the way to promote an open honest space in which to grow and learn. NOR do I think that silence is the way to “protect” children from harassment or humiliation. This is how the world has been doing it, and it hasn’t worked yet. The truth is that we cannot protect children from their own inevitable sexuality. At this point in time, children are harassed and humiliated every day whether we ignore the GLBT issues or not. And yet, we have seen across the nation, that schools with GSA clubs and faculty/staff trainings tend to have more positive campus climate perceptions than schools without clubs or faculty/staff trainings. It is only with education, open minds, and visibility that we can begin to undermine the ignorance that causes people to harass and humiliate children based on some GLBT-related idea. 

I am used to being asked questions that in most situations would be offensive (and sometimes are intended to be offensive), but these workshops are set up as safe spaces so that people CAN ask questions like this. It's better to get an answer instead of stewing in silence, hardened. Normally though, I get to respond in person with my own inflection and pacing. But I wonder, might this written response do a disservice to what attempts at helping this question-asker understand? Is possibly putting him on the defensive worth helping possibly numerous others?