WORLD VOICE: MISSING WOMEN’S RIGHTS

WORLD VOICE: MISSING WOMEN’S RIGHTS

We_Can_Do_It!The UN recently sent a delegation of human rights experts to the US to report on this country’s overall treatment of women. The result? This is how the preliminary report concluded:

“The United States, which is a leading state in formulating international human rights standards, is allowing its women to lag behind international human rights standards. Although there is a wide diversity in state law and practice, which makes it impossible to give a comprehensive report, we could discern an overall picture of women’s missing rights. While all women are the victims of these missing rights, women who are poor, belong to Native American, Afro-American and Hispanic ethnic minorities, migrant women, LBTQ women, women with disabilities and older women are disparately vulnerable.”

The report touches on these “missing rights” in the realms of reproductive health, wages, politics, and violence- particularly gun violence- against women.

One of the delegates, Frances Raday, told reporters “The lack of accommodation in the workplace to women’s pregnancy, birth and post-natal needs is shocking. Unthinkable in any society, and certainly one of the richest societies in the world.”

As I read their conclusions, which will be further developed in a more comprehensive report in 2016, I felt a familiar sick feeling overcome my being. It’s the same sick feeling I’ve gotten used to since moving back to the US, every time there is yet another mass or accidental shooting. The two questions that come with this feeling are when and why? When will enough be enough? Why not yet?

As a woman and a mother – both to a male child and a female child – the urgency of full and true equality for women and girls is plain as day, not just for me and my daughter, but for the well-being of my son and all boys and men. Everyone is harmed by inequality, and I agree with Ms. Raday, that it is unthinkable in the context of this nation.

After I sit with when and why, I have to move to what. What can be done? What can I do, each and every day in my life, to make a difference? I’ll admit to feeling totally overwhelmed by that question at times, but I’ve found that it can all be boiled down to two things: stand up and speak out. Stand up for what is just and speak out about what needs to change. Or, as Susan B. Anthony said: Organize, agitate, educate.

At times I’ve let my fear of being perceived by others as a downer keep me from standing up and speaking out, but at this point in my life, the stakes are too high to be afraid. The stakes are too high for me and my family and for the millions of families who are affected by the situation of women in this country. So instead I choose to organize (build community) agitate (speak out) and educate (stand up).

I imagine my grandmother at the time of my birth thinking about what a different world I was being born into than the one she had known, and yet she never lived to witness true equality. The dream of full equality has been shared by several generations of women now. Do I dare hope that it will be achieved by the time my daughter comes of age? Will I meet my granddaughter and welcome her into a world where she has no “missing rights”?

Were you surprised to hear the findings of this delegation?

This is an original post written for World Moms Blog by Ms. V.

Image Credit: “We Can Do It!” by J. Howard Miller, artist employed by Westinghouse, poster used by the War Production Co-ordinating Committee – From scan of copy belonging to the National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution, retrieved from the website of the Virginia Historical Society.. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons 

Ms. V. (South Korea)

Ms. V returned from a 3-year stint in Seoul, South Korea and is now living in the US in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her partner, their two kids, three ferocious felines, and a dog named Avon Barksdale. She grew up all over the US, mostly along the east coast, but lived in New York City longer than anywhere else, so considers NYC “home.” Her love of travel has taken her all over the world and to all but four of the 50 states. Ms. V is contemplative and sacred activist, exploring the intersection of yoga, new monasticism, feminism and social change. She is the co-director and co-founder of Samdhana-Karana Yoga: A Healing Arts Center, a non-profit yoga studio and the spiritual director for Hab Community. While not marveling at her beautiful children, she enjoys reading, cooking, and has dreams of one day sleeping again.

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USA: Call me MOMPRENEUR, I don’t mind.

USA: Call me MOMPRENEUR, I don’t mind.

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Photo credit: Iryna Ishchenko Photography

Sometime ago, I opened my email and saw this subject line in my inbox: “Mompreneur. Worst word ever.” At first it made me kind of irritated, and I almost moved that email to the trash without reading it. Then I actually read it. I wanted to see who and why would say that a word that describes a business woman who wears way more hats than anybody else, should be so shameful for using that word. At that point in my life I was very proud of using this word to describe myself, and I was curious, because maybe, just maybe, I was missing something. (more…)

Ewa Samples

Ewa was born, and raised in Poland. She graduated University with a master's degree in Mass-Media Education. This daring mom hitchhiked from Berlin, Germany through Switzerland and France to Barcelona, Spain and back again! She left Poland to become an Au Pair in California and looked after twins of gay parents for almost 2 years. There, she met her future husband through Couch Surfing, an international non-profit network that connects travelers with locals. Today she enjoys her life one picture at a time. She runs a photography business in sunny California and document her daughters life one picture at a time. You can find this artistic mom on her blog, Ewa Samples Photography, on Twitter @EwaSamples or on Facebook!

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NETHERLANDS: Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

NETHERLANDS: Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

lather.rinse.repeatMy life is busy.

I get up in the morning and get myself ready before I wake up the kids. My oldest kid is sweet and cooperative in the morning. He just gets up and does his thing.

I wake up my middle kid. Up and down the stairs I walk, greeting my youngest with a smile and waking up my middle child, again.

I check on my son who’s on his way down for breakfast and have my daily discussion with my young fashion queen. Then I wake up my middle child. In between giving instructions, brushing teeth and combing hair I tidy up and load the washing machine.

Then I wake up my middle child.

By this time my waking her up is accompanied by a series of serious threats. Usually that does the trick.

Lunches are packed and I make sure the kids eat before rushing them out the door on their way to school.

As I drive back home after the last drop off, my hand reaches for the radio.

Daily. Same button, same action, same feeling.

My life consists of routines and familiarities.

Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, into months, into years.
Little things shift and change. I don’t have to buckle up my kids in the car, they do it themselves, I no longer pick out all the clothes. If they want a drink they pour it themselves.

It is almost impossible to imagine, but one day I will miss these routines.

I have to remind myself frequently not to take them for granted.
And I have to force myself every now and then to pause, look my kids in the eye and not rush by them on my way to the next chore.
What I have right here and now is amazing.

But because it is here every single day, I tend to forget.
My days are so busy with tasks that they go by far too quickly.
And ever since I started working outside of the house more,
it seems the pace of my life has doubled in speed.
I start my week on Monday and before I can even blink it’s already Friday.

So when I’m folding laundry I pause to look at my kids.
When I’m cooking, I take a second to stop and smile at them.
If I walk past my kids I take a moment to hug or kiss them on the forehead.

And after dinner we dance, I always have time to do silly dances with my kids. Because how ever fast my life goes by, I do have the power to pause it in those little moments.

Do you take time to pause?
How do you make sure life doesn’t pass you by too quickly?

This is an original post to World Moms Blog from our mom of three in the Netherlands, Mirjam.

The photo used in this post is attributed to McKay Svage. It holds a Flickr Creative Commons attribution license.

Mirjam

Mirjam was born in warm, sunny Surinam, but raised in the cold, rainy Netherlands. She´s the mom of three rambunctious beauties and has been married for over two decades to the love of her life. Every day she´s challenged by combining the best and worst of two cultures at home. She used to be an elementary school teacher but is now a stay at home Mom. In her free time she loves to pick up her photo camera. Mirjam has had a life long battle with depression and is not afraid to talk about it. She enjoys being a blogger, an amateur photographer, and loves being creative in many ways. But most of all she loves live and laughter, even though sometimes she is the joke herself. You can find Mirjam (sporadically) at her blog Apples and Roses where she blogs about her battle with depression and finding beauty in the simplest of things. You can also find Mirjam on Twitter and Instagram.

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Singapore: Letter to an Imperfect Mom

Singapore: Letter to an Imperfect Mom

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Dear fellow mom,

Thank you for being who you are.

Thank you for your love, devotion and sacrifices, even when there’s no words of appreciation.

Thank you for your strength, gentleness and faith in the little ones entrusted to you by God.

Thank you for hanging on no matter how tough the situation might be, because you love and care enough.

Thank you for what you do for your kids and family – especially the mundane, it does call for dedication.

I acknowledge you for all that you’ve done. Know that what you do matters, even when you don’t feel that way. Take heart, the ‘small’ tasks do add up.

Thank you for being the mom that you are, with all your warts and imperfections. Even during moments when you feel like you’re a lousy, imperfect mom, remember, in the eyes of your little ones, you are the best mom ever.

After all, who you are is not dependent on what you do, what you have or what your credentials are.

So be patient with yourself, forgive yourself for your mistakes, and love yourself more.

Let go of your expectations; focus on being, rather than on doing.

The truth is, you are right now the best mom that you can be. Yes, there’s always room for improvements. But that’s not the point.

The point is you are doing your best, and that’s what matters. So stop being so hard on yourself and start showing yourself a little more compassion.

Remember, motherhood is a journey. Enjoy the process, grow through the challenges, and create beautiful moments that become cherished memories long after you are gone.

And I write this not because I’m a perfect mom. I am as imperfect as you are, often feeling guilty that I’m not good enough or have not done more. But often in one of these moments, my son would come and wrap his arms around me (as if he’s read my mind) and tell me how much he loves me and that I’m the best mom in the whole world.

So dear fellow mom, relax and breathe a little deeper. Smile at your imperfections, knowing that none of us is “there yet”. Take time to celebrate you today, because you do deserve it.

This is an original post for World Moms Blog  from our blogger and mother of one, Ruth Wong in Singapore.

The image used in this post is credited to the author.

Ruth

Ruth lives in Singapore, a tiny island 137 kilometres north of the equator. After graduating from university, she worked as a medical social worker for a few years before making a switch to HR and worked in various industries such as retail, banking and manufacturing. In spite of the invaluable skills and experiences she had gained during those years, she never felt truly happy or satisfied. It was only when she embarked on a journey to rediscover her strengths and passion that this part of her life was transformed. Today, Ruth is living her dreams as a writer. Ironically, she loves what she does so much that at one point, she even thought that becoming a mom would hinder her career. Thanks to her husband’s gentle persuasions, she now realises what joy she would have missed out had she not changed her mind. She is now a happy WAHM. Ruth launched MomME Circle, a resource site to support and inspire moms to create a life and business they love. She has a personal blog Mommy Café where she writes about her son's growing up and shares her interests such as food and photography.

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WORLD VOICE: Lifting Myself Up With Strength Training

WORLD VOICE: Lifting Myself Up With Strength Training

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Me and my boys on one of my very first training sessions. And on our very first training session on an island!

“You’ve got big muscles, Mom!” my six-year-old giggled as he poked at my legs.

“I’ve got muscles like you too,” he flexed his biceps and smiled proudly. He has been watching me get stronger physically through strength training, but he’s observing much more than me building muscle.

On September 26, 2014, I made a commitment to myself and my boys. I walked down a long gravel driveway to my first outdoor strength training session unsure of what to expect. All I knew is that I wanted to take care of myself and become as strong physically as I already was mentally. If I could take care of myself – mentally, physically and spiritually – then I could be the best mom for my kids.

The previous seven months were long and hard. I separated from and divorced my husband, made some incredibly tough decisions, sold my house, moved into a much smaller rental with my two boys, changed my name, worked on my book and started a brand new life.

I was happier than I had been in a long time, but I was worn out. There were days that I felt like I should have been wearing war paint. In the process of all this change, I lost weight. They say the divorce diet either makes you eat more or not at all. I had to force myself to eat during the hardest months because I was in survival mode for so long, my body never told me to nourish itself.

My first workout at WolfPack Fitness was intimidating. Training is done outside or in a barn, and the equipment is unconventional. I had very little arm strength and could barely lift a wooden beam with two arms for a landmine press or control a lightweight sledgehammer to smash a tire. My form was terrible, and I had a lot to learn.

It took time, but I learned. I learned proper form. I learned how to master basic movements we use in everyday life. I learned what my body was capable of. What I was capable of.

In the process of this learning, my kids were watching. My gym is also a wonderful, supportive community. I made instant new friends and so did my kids. They often come with me when I work out. They can explore nature or they can join me. Either choice is an enriching experience for them.

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My boys spray painting cinderblocks, our home gym equipment.

Today, I can easily do several landmine presses with a weighted beam and smash the heck out of a tire with a heavier sledgehammer. I can even do pull-ups off a tree branch and wield a cinderblock over my head.

I have gained a solid ten pounds of lean muscle. I am strong, not only for a woman, but for a human being. My body has never looked better, and I have never felt better.

I’ve gained the muscle, as my six-year-old likes to note, but I gained much more than that.

Lifting weights has brought me closer to friends I have known for years and introduced me to new friends who have loved and accepted me from day one. It has given me the energy to jump with my kids at a trampoline park for two hours as other parents sit and look on.

My training has grounded me, allowing me to handle all the wonderful things the universe has thrown my way over the past year. It has given me a level of self-worth that I have not had in a very long time.

As mothers, we do whatever we need to do to take care of and protect our kids. Too often it’s our own self-care that suffers in our quest to be the best mom we can be.

I choose to lift myself up through strength training. How do you lift yourself up?

This is an original post by Jennifer Iacovelli of anotherjennifer.com for World Moms Blog.

Jennifer Iacovelli

Jennifer Iacovelli is a writer, speaker and nonprofit professional. Based in Brunswick, Maine, she’s a proud single mom of two boys and one Siberian husky.  Jennifer is the author of the Another Jennifer blog and creator of the Simple Giving Lab. Jennifer is also a contributing author of the book The Mother Of All Meltdowns. Her work has been featured on GOODBlogHerUSAID ImpactFeed the Future and the PSI Impact blog. Her latest book, Simple Giving: Easy Ways to Give Every Day, is available everywhere. Her passions are writing, philanthropy, her awesome kids and bacon, though not necessarily in that order.

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TAIWAN: Where Breastfeeding is Protected, but not yet Normalized

TAIWAN: Where Breastfeeding is Protected, but not yet Normalized

I recently met with a Huffington Post columnist at Howard Plaza Hotel in Taipei. She is writing a book that tells the story of how culture has influenced the breastfeeding controversy. She asked me what is it like to breastfeed in Taiwan.

I thought carefully when answering her question. Today’s Taiwan seems to be a very breastfeeding friendly society: Taiwanese government adopted International Code of Marketing of Breast-milk Substitute in 1992 and then started to promote Baby-Friendly Hospital Initiative in 1998. Today, there are nursing rooms literary everywhere in Taiwan. From big cities to small towns, nursing rooms can be found in government buildings, in shopping malls, in libraries, in banks, in metro stations, in parks, and in restaurants. (more…)

To-Wen Tseng

Former TV reporter turned freelance journalist, children's book writer in wee hours, nursing mom by passion. To-wen blogs at I'd rather be breastfeeding. She can also be found on Twitter and Facebook.

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