Of course, I don’t believe in “the man.” I believe in institutions and systems that work together in tangible, identifiable ways that could be targeted and transformed if we weren’t so exhausted engaging in debates that ultimately have nothing to do with policy. I include myself in this “we” because here I am, responding to Time magazine’s RIDICULOUS cover story, which asks: Are You Mom Enough? And features this image on the cover:

I don’t want to care about this AT ALL. I am a firm believer in parenting based on your child, not parenting based on an idea or theory. In my case, this means I breastfed my child for two years, and that she still (at age 3) sleeps in the bed with us. She also eats Cheetos and ice cream at will, watches tv, plays catch in the house, and takes a bath whenever she feels like it (which turns out to be pretty often.) That works for us. Other families thrive on routine and discipline, and that means something different for everyone. I used to be one of those people with a lot of ideas about What I Would Do If I Were A Parent and now I am one of those people who says Is This YOUR Child? Cuz If Not, You Should Shut It. Unless the person offering an opinion is one of my parents, in which case I take careful note and do the opposite of whatever they are suggesting. [Just kidding, My Parents...]

This magazine cover caught my eye not for its sensationalism, but because the woman on the cover is fabulous! When I was nursing, one of my boobs was (literally! NO EXAGGERATION!) twice the size as the other one and I had to wear a falsie to even it out. I also had frizzy hair and was constantly covered in baby goop, which you know when you see it. Is it spit? Milk? Something else? Who knows? It just gets on you. So good for this lady.

In the long run, though, this article is just making a big deal out of nothing. The real question is, why is there so much social pressure on individual parents to defend our parenting choices, when the larger problem is systemic and institutional? We don’t make decisions in a vacuum. We do what we can with what we have, and that means that most of us are making compromised choices. By getting caught up in these debates, or defensive about our choices, we’re playing into a political strategy that isn’t, in the long run, going to pay off for any of us. I want to argue about policies, not vague theories. I mean, come on! Are we going to vote on this?

Well… maybe. There are a lot of policies that would make things like extended breastfeeding easier to access for a wider population, but when the standard representation of breastfeeding is that it is something done by hyper-privileged “fringe” type moms,  it is harder to garner support for legislation that facilitates access.

That’s The Man for ya… always turning molehills into mountains. And no, that’s not a boob joke. Well, I guess it is now.

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Last month, I performed a piece at 2nd Story, and it is now available in podcast form! Listen online on their website, or download it on iTunes.

Here’s the blurb: Fourteen year old Coya has spent her whole life trying not to emulate her activist parents, but finds this almost impossible when biology class collides with an unexpected sex scandal.

These are totally different pairs of shoes!

Yesterday, I was minding my own business when I got a text from my housemate. It was a picture of a shoe rack and he’d captioned it, “you need this.” Fast forward four hours, and I’m kneeling in the hallway outside of my apartment. I’ve pulled out every pair of black boots I own and I am shaking them, one after another, at him while I yell things like “Does this one look like this one? I mean, do you think they serve the same FUNCTION? Do you think I could wear them with THE SAME OUTFIT?!” And then I went into the bathroom and cried.

Somehow what had started as a (SEEMINGLY!) relaxed conversation about shoe storage turned into a not-at-all relaxed argument about how I needed to get rid of shoes. My partner joined in, the two of them standing in the doorway, trying to tell me that I have too many shoes. Why don’t you just throw some out, they asked? I HAVE, I argued, pointing out that I got rid of EIGHT PAIRS of shoes just two months ago. But how many new pairs have you bought, asked my partner? JUST TWO. Why do you need so many shoes, they kept asking?

This is a fair question, though it is one no femme would ever ask. Those two are butch as hell, and own fewer pairs of shoes than I pack for a weekend away. To my logic, the minimum number of shoes NEEDED in a well-rounded wardrobe is around 17. (Need here is an obvious exaggeration, as I am fully aware of the class privilege embedded in being able to own shoes for fashion and not basic function, but bear with me.) I *need* at least three pairs of black boots: a flat boot, a casual heel, and a dressy heel. Ditto brown boots. Plus, a pair of snow boots and a pair of rain boots. That’s 8 pairs of boots, which does not include nods to trends – an ankle boot, perhaps (I own two pairs of black ankle boots, a flat and a heel, TOTALLY DIFFERENT SHOES) or maybe a “fun” colour (like my favourite blue boots or my lace-up khaki boots). It helps to have at least two pairs of closed-toe heels, one black and the other whatever colour goes best with your non-black clothes. I mean, you cannot wear boots to every occasion. A pair of closed toe flats is reasonable as well, right? In the summer, you need at least one pair of black open toe heels and another pair (probably brown) of open toe heels. You need at least one casual heel (a platform, maybe) and one casual flat sandal. And some flip flops. Plus, on top of all of this, you need at least one pair of workout shoes.  17, not counting the “it helps to haves.” In fairness to my housemate and my partner, I own WAY more than 17 pairs of shoes. I probably own about 40 pairs of shoes, and I don’t think this is unreasonable and I definitely don’t think this makes me, to use a word that got tossed around a few times yesterday, a HOARDER, or anything like that. I’ll venture to say it makes me a fairly normal femme-presenting person. If my friends Amy or Sue ever told me they thought I had too many shoes, I’d listen. But you know what? THEY WOULD NEVER TELL ME THAT! Because I don’t.

I definitely-DEFINITELY-overreacted yesterday, but the idea of someone trying to get rid of my shoes made me a little bit feral. I don’t know why I love shoes so much. Maybe it’s because as a curvy size 12, shoes (and hair and makeup and accessories) feel like the one place where I can have fun, free from the tyranny of clothes that are designed for a size two and sized up with no consideration for boobs, bellies, or butts.Or maybe I just love shoes.

In the end, I apologized for yelling at them, and we agreed that the solution was more storage, not fewer shoes, though I promised to cast a more discerning eye at the shoes I am holding on to in case they come back in style in a few years. But I already know: The turquoise laser cut flats I bought on clearance at Target last summer and have only worn to take out the trash? Those can probably go. My vintage black pumps that I like to look at because they are pretty but never wear because they are also totally uncomfortable? Those I’ll never part with. Why? I don’t know. I just love them. Am I alone in the world? I doubt it.

By the way, I just bought these. You know, to replace the rain boots I threw out in the last purge. Because you know what? Turns out it that even though it didn’t rain much last Spring, this one is damp as hell. This is my theory: YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT SHOES YOU’RE GOING TO NEED!

Photo by Jazmin Corona

This month, I am doing a triple-play as The Lovely and Talented Coya Paz, solo artist, after having just closed the third of back-to-back ensemble projects. The sad thing about solo work, though, is that I’m all alone (cue Patti LaBelle)! So I’d love to see some of my favourite friends, acquaintances, people I’d like to be friends with, and people I admire from afar in the audience! Here’s what’s on:

The Free Street show I’ve been working on just got extended for one more weekend. That’s TWO more chances to catch LOL OMG WTFAY #Distracted!

Friday, March 30 at 7pm

Saturday, March 31 at 2pm.

Tickets at FreeStreet.org

This is a very funny piece about the impact of social media on relationships and revolutions, created by youth ages 13-17. I have absolutely loved working with them, and I really think the piece is adorable. That risks sounding totally patronizing, but don’t get me wrong – I think the youth that made the piece are FIERCE, too. But the play is just SO SWEET! And smart. And kind of fascinating.

To celebrate the extension, I’m posting my own ode to facebook. It is just an audio file because my hair just doesn’t know what to DO with this weather!

Here’s me reading the poem: presente, on facebook (and the text after the break in case you’d rather read. Or read along.)

presente, on facebook

I want to know if people like it, I want to know if people like me where else in life is there such instant affirmation yes yes good job very interesting my bien sabes que yo tambien he pensado eso you aren’t alone in the world not now not here at all hours 3am 9am 2pm someone is watching someone wants you to know they are awake alive presente aqui estoy aqui estamos miles away apartments away countries away we have so much to say about our lives, our likes, our wishes, the people we could be the people we are in our heart of hearts always smiling like our favourite pictures in love with our cats and our children and bonding over juanes, mary poppins, how much we hate that legislation how easy the conflict when it is just words back and forth no slammed doors no tears no sound of jagged breath after crying, how we can filter our lives and find we have done okay for ourselves not like ex-boyfriends with their bland blonde wives and ugly houses no more wondering why why why did you leave me why why why don’t you love me I mean imagine the relief you do not live in a suburb you do not wake up every morning to a man who wears khakis on the weekend you have funny friends witty friends friends you have never met but have friends in common and they like it they like you aqui estamos aqui estoy. presente.

(c) coya paz, 2011

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Anyway, you know what else contains not one iota of natural ingredients? Revlon Super Lustrous Lip Gloss in Shine City!!!! Oh my gosh! Oh my GOSH!!!! I am so in love with this lip gloss. I know that recently I was touting L’Oreal Le Gloss in Naturally Nude as the perfect clear gloss, but Shine City is winning it this week because it is a very (very!) light pink (not noticeable as pink once you put it on) with flecks of glitter in it, and it gives you megawatt shine. I mean, both of these are awesome, especially for their price point, and it looks like Revlon is re-releasing their Super Lustrous series with SPF 15, which makes is double great. Also, for my less rosy lip gloss lovers, Revlon has an almost identical (though much harder to find) product called Sparkling Champagne with gold undertones, and it is similarly gorgeous.

Sigh…I really, really, REALLY love these lip glosses. But I feel like such a jerkwad buying them. I mean, under no circumstances are these products good for the environment or for animals being held captive in a laboratory. I know that. And I keep trying to get with some all natural, organic, vegan lip gloss and I keep running back to the makeup aisle at CVS, clutching a handful of Revlon to my chest and weeping in relief at being reunited.  It’s just that all natural lip gloss just does not deliver the same long lasting, high wattage shine. I know… I know… have I tried Burt’s Bees? Yes! Yes to Carrots? Yes! Zuzu? Yes! Arbonne? Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Trust me. You are lying to yourself if you think any of these delivers even half the bang as my babies above. My favourite all natural lip gloss, so far, is the stuff they make right here in Chicago at Mojo Spa, but I recently found out that the one I have been using for years has lanolin in it. I could have probably figured this out earlier if I’d actually read the ingredients, but you know, I see stars when it comes to lip gloss. It is a little bit arbitrary to avoid lanolin since I still wear wool, but I am, you know, a little bit arbitrary in general!

Baby...!

I am really struggling with this! Of course, as evidenced by Oreos, “vegan” and “all natural” aren’t at all the same thing, but I’m not an uniformed consumer. I’ve read a million studies about the dangers of ingesting all of the chemicals used in mass market make-up. Still, I haven’t reached my tipping point. Or found a swap that makes me happy. Honestly, I’m more concerned about animal testing than chemicals, but still lose my damn mind when it comes to glitter flecks. Oh well… I have my eye on Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics’ Lip Tar (though am not optimistic about the words “goes on slick and moist but dries to a satiny finish”). And until then, I know… change takes time. And I honestly believe there are worse things than loving Revlon, though I’m sure every addict on the planet has a version of that sentence to get them through the day. Have you made the switch? If yes, what’s working for you? If not, whoo whee… you’re gonna love Shine City!

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I don’t mean I think I’m all that, all of the time. Not at all. But insecurity about looks is its own form of vanity. I do so much day-to-day upkeep that it is a small wonder I have time to do anything else. I will not leave the house without concealer, mascara, blush, earrings, and (duh) lipgloss. That’s a look I call “no makeup,” and it is reserved for the flu or Sundays. Usually I also curl my eyelashes, add bronzer, highlighter, and eyeshadow or eyeliner. I wear shaping garments daily. I must have my nails painted and if they chip I can focus on nothing else until they are fixed (see easily distracted, above). And my hair is the bane of my existence – it is (per me) frizzy, simultaneously puffy and limp, and always looking crazy. I spend all of my disposable income on my hair – fancy ombre colour and cute bangs are not cheap. Neither are the million products I put in it (shampoo, conditioner, colour restorer, leave-in conditioner, curl enhancer, and finish-spray.)

Yup. Fake Hair. Photo by Jazmin Corona

I also wear fake hair all of the time. Not for special occasions or anything. Just because it’s, you know, a Tuesday. So you know what I would never, ever, ever do? SHAVE MY HEAD!!!!!!

Which is why I am so impressed with the folks over at St. Baldricks, an organization committed to raising money to fund pediatric cancer research. They organize head-shaving events world-wide, and fund more in childhood cancer research grants than any other entity besides the U.S. government. But back it up. People are SHAVING OFF THEIR HAIR to raise money for research and to show solidarity with children who are fighting cancer?!?! Dang! That has “no makeup” beat by a mile.

I found out about St. Baldrick’s because I am a friend and supporter of Donna’s Good Things, an organization that works to “provide joyful opportunities for children facing adversity, be it economic, familial, social or health related.” Simple things – dance lessons, music classes, a party – that help make a long day-to-day struggle easier to bear. The foundation honours my pal Sheila’s daughter Donna, who I never got to meet but who seems like she was my kind of kid: silly, sweet, bright, and fond of tutus. Their motto is “choose hope.” Not just hope for the future, but today – finding and choosing the thing that will help you get through, even love, today. Hence, the “good things,” the small(ish) gestures that make today a good day. Because for some, today is all anyone can guarantee.

Donna Quirke Hornick

Donna’s Good Things is participating in a St. Baldrick’s Shave-A-Thon in a few weeks, and this week they have an anonymous donor who is matching every donation to the event. For me, this is a no-brainer. I have been known to regularly spend $15 on an “emergency” manicure or a pair of “emergency” lip glosses (in case the one doesn’t “go” with what I’m wearing). And since I don’t think they’ll be having a “Dramatically Rip Out My Weave-A-Thon” any time soon, this is as close as I’ll get to participating in the event. Maybe you’ll join me? You can find information about the event (which, BTW, is taking place at my favourite pizza place!) here.

In the meantime, let me know… what’s YOUR “Good Thing?” You’ll never guess what mine is… Ja ja ja…

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Photo by Ali Weiss Klinger

I’m a semi-regular contributor to Paper Machete, a live news magazine that happens (for FREE!) every Saturday at the Horseshoe Lounge here in Chicago. Basically, what it is is a bunch of mostly funny people getting together to perform short pieces about the news of the week, plus some cultural commentary and musical acts. The way it works is that performers “choose” a topic and then go for it. I have to put “choose” in “quotes” because I am always strongly encouraged to “choose” a specific topic that is always THE LEAST FUNNY THING A PERSON COULD POSSIBLY BE ASSIGNED TO WRITE ABOUT! I’m not even joking. First, it was LESBIAN TORTURE CLINICS IN ECUADOR! And last week, it was Chicago Is Most Segregated City in America. Weirdly, it was MUCH easier to make a funny piece about torture clinics, because I am a lesbian, I grew up in Ecuador, and I happen to be an expert on torture, if by “expert” one means “I got a PhD by writing about the role of torture and violence in shaping U.S. national identity,” which is exactly what I mean when I say expert. But segregation is a more difficult topic, because to talk about it honestly is to implicate the very kind of audience who stereotypically attend performance events in Lincoln Square or who listen to WBEZ, where this show is also podcasted. WHY, Chris Piatt, WHY? (Chris Piatt, btw, is the man who got me into all of this, and I’m just telling you right now… it is very hard to say No to him. He is charming, and exuberant, and clever, and also will not take no for an answer.)

I guess one, if by “one” you mean “Chris Piatt,” would ask “who better to perform essays about segregation and lesbian torture clinics for than the ones implicated in your critique?” Actually, that’s just me making up that rationale, but I’m sure he would agree.

If you’re curious about how I handled a semi-funny piece about Chicago segregation, you can check it out right here, on the WBEZ page. And lesbian torture clinics in Ecuador? Here. For the record, I don’t make jokes about violence. Or segregation. That stuff is for real for real serious. Instead, I make fun of myself, jealousy induced arson, insurance fraud, and Change.org, throw in a few line-dancers, and wrap it all up with a few lip gloss one-liners. Easy, peasy. What you got next for me, folks? War? Poverty? Health hazards of gel manicures? WHAT YOU GOT?!

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In real life, I don't smoke. For real.

Well, Amores, lately I’ve been a little bit on the down low. Oh sure, you can catch me live and in person in any one of about a zillion-trillion meetings, classes, panels, workshops, or rehearsals, but alas… the internets have been quiet for me lately. Someone even complained that I haven’t been posting on FB! Ja! Usually the main complaint I get about my FB is “do you really think about racism that early in the morning?” (Er… my partner likes to tell this story that once when we were first dating, I woke her up at 3 in the morning to talk about how Glamour magazine’s coverage of international genocide was really headed downhill…so… yeah…)

But I’ve also been self-censoring. Sure, I have lots to be overjoyed about. Over at Free Street, the youth are in the home stretch of creating a performance about how social media shapes relationships and revolutions. LOVE! And my other project, Unnatural Spaces, kicked off two weeks ago with the most dynamic, charming, right-on group of poets the world has ever seen. (We’ll live up to that promise, I promise!) And I have a collaboration with the Poetry Foundation coming up in April, where they’ve paired me with a composer to make a new piece based on my poems and his music. And I’ll also be debuting at 2nd Story in April. And I’m still popping in at Paper Machete. And Vocalo. And I’m in fundraising mode for the Mutant Chihuahua play, which we’ll be doing in January 2013. And and and…

So why self-censoring? One of my many recent gigs has been to “comment on” the production of Race at The Goodman, and some of my comments were quoted in the Sun-Times, and I have just been shocked (re-shocked? I mean, this isn’t a new realization for me) at how many people think that to name white racism, or even race at all, is in itself racist. Say wha? Huh? For real? And I have been, of late, thrust into so many one-on-one conversations about race with people who fundamentally do not share the same language, or knowledge of history, or (as my brilliant friend Mica Cole puts it) same basic facts that I’m exhausted. It’s all of these arguments based on rhetoric, and while I was a debate team aficionado in my youth, now that I’m old and tired I do not want to have arguments with no foundation in reality. This isn’t an attempt to throw away dissenting opinion– it is possible to note the same facts and data and come to different conclusions, and then we can have an awesome argument. But so many of these “conversations” are based on affect, on feelings, and how many conversations with a perfect stranger can I have about how their “feeling” that as white people, they are “damned if they do, damned if they don’t?” That POC are “so angry.” That it is “harder to be white now than black.” Etc etc etc, all direct quotes I’ve heard about a dozen times each in the past 3 weeks. I get it. I really do. But the time to have these “conversations” is not for 5 minutes after a panel or, worse, in ugly Comments Page exchange where it is clear nobody is reading your thoughtful, took-you-20-minutes-to-write-and-includes-a-dozen-citations-and-links-to-further-reading response to their vitriolic statement that all “you people” want to do is complain. I am, in fact, a white person, but I won’t make the obvious and ugly connection (well, not too explicitly) because I really do care about interracial dialogue. I really do think it is hard. I really do think “well-meaning white people” (hear THAT all the time, too) need a space to work stuff out, to process, to feel anger, grief, denial, to come to their own conclusions – based  on real information. That takes time, and space, and I don’t have that right now (see above). So instead I keep getting into these highly charged exchanges that make me tired, and crabby, and want to write mean twitters, and say snarky things on FB, and scowl at strangers and you know what? I am not (self) called The Lovely and Talented Coya Paz for nothing. I really try to be lovely as much as I can. You know, kind. Smiley. Open. It doesn’t always work, but when I feel I am losing that aspect of my personality, I think it is important to retreat into happy spaces… Rehearsals with my awesome casts. My Hip-Hop (in) Theatre class. A snuggle with my baby. L’oreal LeGloss in CLEAR, aka Naturally Nude. It is, seriously, amazing. And appropriate for all shades and temperaments. A unifying kind of lip gloss, if you will….

So that’s what’s up, y’all… I’m tired. A lil’ crabby. And trying to work it out with some grace. What you got?

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Well… here’s a review of Windy City Queer that just happens to call my piece “hilarious.” Yay!

Coming soon… I’m a vegan, but I hate all-natural makeup! I’ll tell you why when I finish giving feedback on a dozen scripts. Uff.