For the past 30 days, millions of people have watched the Karen Read trial live. I tuned in three weeks ago on a whim. At this point, I’m relieved the closing arguments are tomorrow because I’ve even changed the dog-walk schedule to accommodate voire dire.
At first, I kept watching because I could imagine myself as Karen Read.
She was a financial analyst and former professor dating a cop named John O’Keefe in Canton, an insular Boston suburb full of peopple in law enforcement. Karen’s in her forties with no kids, and she loved John’s kids. If I squint, I can see that being my life. Especially the part about how she didn’t know the townies disliked her. Read more
Tiny Blowing a Bubble, Seattle 1983, by Mary Ellen Mark
Camouflaging is what women do to make sure no one thinks we’re weird. This means we end up camouflaging at work and being too exhausted to do it at home. But home is where we really need it, because the effect of camouflaging is to be more agreeable t0 other people. And the workplace doesn’t reward agreeableness.
We intuitively camouflage when dating; don’t do a bait-and-switch.
Once the kids were gone, I found myself choosing bras more carefully. I only have one real bra. The rest are running bras that squoosh. But I started wearing my real bra when Nino came over for dinner. We had not spent a whole dinner alone in 20 years. I wanted to look like someone he might like, so I put on makeup, but not enough for him to be able to tell that I put on makeup just for him.
It took about four dinners before it felt like before we had kids, when everything was fun if we did it together. When he met me I never wore bras – only bathing suit tops. So I quit the bra. And the makeup. Read more
My oldest kid is looking for internships.
For those of you who have not had a kid call you hysterical because their life is over, let me tell you that all the good summer internships are given away in June of the summer before. Read more
From the series Emotional Kintsugi by Glen Martin Taylor
Ever since I read Emily Oster’s first book, I’ve tried to ignore her, but her bestselling books just kept coming. I found solace reading complaints about her sloppy analysis. And I took the MacArthur Foundation to be delivering a secret message when they gave her husband, Jesse Shapiro, a genius grant for describing misinformation in mainstream media.
But I can’t hold back anymore.
The most shocking part of Sean Combs’ trial has been how many people were unmoved by the sight of domestic violence. Over and over again, we hear testimonies of people who watched Combs beat up Cassie Ventura and said nothing. Here’s the problem: what could they say? Given a horrific video of Combs beating her up and his lawyers not even denying he’s a violent abuser, how can anyone take action in the face of domestic violence? What is a person really able to do? Read more
Before there were charge cards, before there were dual-career families, there was second-grade me, shopping after school. “Charge it, please,” I’d say, like a suburban Eloise.
I shopped because there was nothing to do at home after school except fighting with my brother. And every time one of us got hurt, we’d get in trouble for calling our parents at work. The fighting got worse as we got older, and we began to understand: not even blood would get their attention. So we ignored each other, which felt worse than fighting, so I didn’t go home after school. Read more
Child abuse is distorted love. Sometimes it’s broken bones, but often it’s parents who say they care while eroding a child’s sense of safety and worth. The Menendez brothers are getting a sentencing review, and after 30 years of a life sentence they could be released from prison. But what’s really on review is our collective refusal to understand long-term abuse. The Menendez brothers are a cultural mirror: the more we understand their story, the more we must ask what we’ve normalized in our own homes.
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Nino and I sit at the table waiting for Z to come to dinner. He calls out, “One more minute!” from his bedroom more minutes than I can count. But I’m so happy he’s home on break that I wait. Read more
Some people have a bank account. I have an email list. This explains why nothing makes me overreact more than when something goes wrong with my email list. People who see me overreact regularly will probably disagree. They’ll be like, “I saw you throw a fit about [insert one of 10,000 things here].” But trust me, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen me send out 250,000 emails with a bad link. Read more
When my kids lived with me I felt like I had no control over when I could write, so I had to find happiness in helping my kids meet their goals. With both of them in college, I don’t set their goals anymore. So I’m trying to train myself to be happy when I write since that’s what I can control.
Meanwhile, I try to be an encouraging listener because I read that the thing that most influences college success (after the super-influencer: money) is parental encouragement in the student’s ability. Read more