It only takes an episode or two of Mad Men to remind you how far women have come in carving out a place for themselves in the previously male-dominated landscape.

Today did not display that. And who am I kidding–men still dominate many spheres of life.

To celebrate their prodigal son’s (my brother) overnight stay at home, my parents decided to have a carne asada, or a barbecue. As if on cue, the men (my dad, brother and an uncle) sat down at the table while the women (my mom and aunt) got to work. The men watched a lousy fight on TV. The women sliced the ripe avocados. I, however, observed.

I don’t like watching fights, in person or via a screen, and I don’t like slicing things. I also don’t like shifting my behavior or my actions to take on pre-defined gender roles. Hence the intentional distancing of myself from this typical gender bender, this collision of expectations and inclinations.

I sat there taking mental notes. The women didn’t even eat with the men. They ate outside, where they were grilling the meat. The men stared at the TV. At one point, my brother asked the women “Why don’t you eat?” (He hadn’t noticed that they already had.) I, in my deliberately snarky way, answered “Why don’t you cook?” Nobody heard me. The TV was too loud.

It reminded me of when I came back home after my first year of college, and having taken a sociology class on race and gender and having learned what the “F” word meant to me, I was a changed woman and not afraid to stir things up a bit.

An opportunity quickly presented itself when my mom asked me to make my brother’s bed, in addition to mine. What, doesn’t he have hands? I thought. And then I voiced it. I told her that in instructing me to do so, she was further perpetuating these gender roles that we were conditioned to play since birth. I told her how she was a victim of it, and how I, because of her own ignorance of her situation (think Beauvoir’s La Femme Rompue, think Plato’s Allegory of the Cave), had been subjected to live up to these nonsensical expectations.

She was taken aback by my brazen explanation (most likely because it was a bit impassioned, which is common for me because my beliefs and emotions are inextricably linked). Since then she’s been much more aware of her own servile condition, the one her mom and most prominent women in her life taught her and the one her father, her husband and other important male figures only served to reinforce. Fortunately, because of this little incident, we’ve talked about it and debated it at length in a cliche girl-power type of way as well as with a more serious tone.

She’s no longer the naive 21-year-old she was when she got married. Yes, today she cooked and served the men present, but I must admit my mom LOVES cooking, so it’s not really a burden for her.

But she’s come a long way.

21/90

Thoughts lurking in my head today:

1. Did I ever believe in their mission? Maybe yes, but not the organization. I didn’t feel at ease with their propaganda in the end.

2. Rifle sightings today: 3

3. This is Facebook on steroids.

4. Did he really just say that companies are not employing people because the execs are waiting for Obama to leave the White House?

5. What would I do without my mom’s tiramisu?

6. Ugh, I’ll miss my mom’s cooking.

7. Am I supposed to use all of these three social networks at the same time? Kind of a pain.

8. Lentes!

9. I really admire how well she takes care of her mom.

10. Why aren’t their handles popping up? Maybe they blocked me.

11. Thanks, Dad, for ruining the ending to “The Old Man and the Sea. “

12. I didn’t know he worked there.

13. I hope they don’t misunderstand my LUsers circle. Can they even see how I label my circles?

14. Que es esto?

15. How did he think my name was spelled Liss? Has he never heard of the name Liz?

21/90

I’m incredibly overwhelmed with thoughts about a number of topics and now I don’t know what to write about. I’d even planned out one post, but I’m just lacking motivation (and it’s one of those you-have-to-feel-it-in-the-moment type of posts, if not, there’s just no point in writing.)

So, instead of me doing the talking, I will leave you with two messages from two drastically different people–one from Yemen (or at least based there), one from Mexico.

I wish I were the one to have said what you’re about to read or listen to, as many do when in awe of powerful and truthful words and actions. But, I realize that if I try to explain their messages in my words, I will be doing a disservice to you and I will not do them, the writer and orator, justice, and so I leave you this:

From Raja Althaibani, retweeted by Andy Carvin :

From Emiliano Salinas:

After reading and listening to this man and woman, what are your thoughts on violence?

20/90

I didn’t celebrate the 4th because I was on the Mexican side of the border, which got me thinking a lot about…a lot. Bear with me. If it doesn’t make sense, it’s because I don’t make sense.

The notion of a country, to me, is hazy. As I was ranting to my mom yesterday (I think I scared her because she told me, nicely, that I live in a fantasy world, and, well, maybe I do) that borders are so arbitrary, I was further convinced that we’ve taken the modern concept of a nation for granted. Or, really, that we don’t understand it and its purpose. We get to watch great displays of fireworks and chow down juicy hamburgers, all while claiming to celebrate independence and this collective entity we call a country.

Yes, we are independent. From Britain (anybody see that poll? sheesh people). We’re free to do whatever we want as a nation. We decide our laws, our customs, our norms, our everything. And for the past 235 years, since the moment (and perhaps even a bit before) we declared independence from King George’s taxation without representation, we’ve been doing things our way, the American way. (see that our? I’m identifying with Americans. It comes and goes.)

The matter, however, ceased to be about independence a long, long time ago. Today, it’s about codependence and about nourishing it.

Now, I know the word has a very negative connotation. What I mean is a dependence on each other as citizens, as people with one shared goal (not one common trait) given that we are geographically confined to a certain piece of land.

Here is where patriotism comes in. I’m not a huge fan of it. I feel it’s often a blind, unquestioning and superficial faith, at least in how it is expressed, and when dispersed by the masses. Like Karl pointed out, it can be displayed as jingoistic chanting as in the case of Osama Bin Laden’s death.

Most countries are plagued by this kind of patriotism. I’ve seen it in Mexico, whether in groups of people or in individuals. I’ve participated it in this zealotry, only to regret it later. This type of modern-day patriotism, though very much visible, it is ultimately a flashy hindrance to our collective potential.

(You will note that I do not want to say, “our country’s potential” because I feel that in using the word “country,” we separate ourselves from it, when truly, we American citizens are what make up the country. The country does not make us.)

The type of patriotism that is vital to any country, though for the purpose of this post I will narrow it down to the U.S., is not the one where we chant “U.S.A. All The Way!” It is the one where we continually ask ourselves, “Have we built the nation we wanted?”

A particular example, at least for me, of someone who displays these qualities is Ashley. She believes the American prison system is flawed.  From her June 29 post:

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Last night, on my way to pick up some tacos, I discovered these messages all over my hometown and decided to document them today.

I have never seen any of them. Maybe because they’re new, or maybe because I wasn’t paying attention, but they had escaped my eye for the past month. For those of you who don’t speak Spanish, “paz” means peace. In the other two pictures, you’ll read “El mundo se acabo” or, the world has ended, and “se vende Mexico,” or “Mexico for sale.” Below the latter is the name of one of the richest men in Mexico and the world, Carlos Slim. He owns much of Mexico, hence the message.

How would you interpret them, in context and together? Or simply how do they make you feel? Tell me.

18/90

Still, no inspiration. Je ne sais pas. Je suis en panne. It was just a very mediocre day, what can I say.

Yesterday morning, I left home early to cross over to the U.S. Nothing about the day could have warned me about the events that were to unravel in the following hours.

After meeting my friend for coffee to discuss our living situation, my mom called me and told me to meet her at a restaurant, where she had been for the past few hours at a bridal shower. The restaurant was nearly empty, save for a table crowded by aunts and cousins.

Then my mom received a phone call from my dad. He told her things were dangerous back home and that we should stay in Brownsville. I, of course, turned to Twitter to verify this.

The #matamoros search resulted in many confirmations, including the streets that had been blocked by the military (the military has replaced the police in my town). And then, a tweet about a priest who had been shot and, consequently, had been taken to a nearby hospital caught my attention.

I announced the disheartening news to the group of women in front of me, and like me they were in disbelief.

An hour or so later, somebody called my aunt to tell her that Marco Antonio Duran, the priest, had just died.

—–

So many questions sprung up in my mind upon learning about his death. As Silagh questioned, is there nothing sacred? It could have been anyone else, but it was a priest, and a very well known priest at that for he had a show on TV. But what about those who are not well known, what about those who are not associated with the Catholic church?

The answer, sadly, is that it would have been just another day in my hometown. Wrong place, wrong time.

The point is that every human being is sacred. I’m not trying to take away from Marco Duran’s death. He was loved and cherished by so many, including myself. But why does it take a well known person to “publicize” the ongoing warfare in my hometown and Mexico? Every death, from stray children to politicians, should be treated equally, in my opinion.

(Am I contradicting myself by writing about this priest and then declaring that every cartel-related death should merit the same amount of attention?)

I can imagine that the death of a man of God is a blow to the president and to local and state officials, considering that Mexico is a very religious country. People will be further convinced that Calderon’s offensive is not working. They should have been convinced long before. And this is where I’m no longer sure what is best for my country.

I do believe that the president’s attempts at combatting the cartels are well-intentioned. He is not the reason cartels have such control over the government and over the country. The problem was deeply rooted in Mexican politics long before even he was alive. He, with a certain naivete, is trying to eradicate this corruption. His strategy, though, is claiming more lives than triumphs. So, do we go back to the old Mexico? Less violence, more “stability”? Or do we fight it and create the Mexico we desire?

Tell me.

17/90