As you might recall, my New Year’s resolution was to do something good every day. In January, I just about succeeded at that. I missed a day here and there, but overall, I made progress on my resolution. In January, I helped build the world I believe in.
It hasn’t been entirely easy, and every day I fight against feeling overwhelmed. But I remember Mark Bezos’s quote and push myself to make someone else’s life better, even in a small way.
“It’s so easy to dismiss the opportunity to do something good because you’re hoping to do something great.
Don’t wait. If you have something to give, give it now.”
Over the weekend on Facebook, I saw a photo that made me furious. It showed the storefront of a local Spencer’s store, which included a display of Trump t-shirts. One in particular—pretty sure you can guess which one—was so offensive that I went on the offensive.
I tweeted, talked and shared with anyone who would listen or read the following message:
Sexual assault isn’t funny, and using it to sell a t-shirt is disgusting.
Today more than ever, we need to raise our kids to be world-changers. For us, that means we are committing to take kids to a protest, even if it’s not always convenient. That also means we’re raising our girls to be nasty women—a title I wear with pride.
The night before I took Peeper and Kiwi to their first demonstration, I didn’t know what to expect. But I wanted to prepare, so I asked some friends and activist parents I know how to take kids to a protest.
I followed their advice, and I’m happy to report our family activism went great! Both Peeper and Kiwi did great at the protest, and I put into action all the wonderful tips I got.
I’m usually not huge into New Year’s resolutions—I prefer writing gratitude lists and making incremental changes that don’t overwhelm me (or disappoint when I don’t follow through). But in 2017, I wanted to do a kind of resolution that feels imperative: to do good every day.
Sure, I could resolve to exercise every day or cut out sugar or lose just enough weight so I feel comfortable in jeans again. But this year I need to put my values into action and make the world a little better.
Chances are, if you’ve seen me in the last, oh, four or five months, I haven’t been wearing pants. I have officially embraced the no-pants revolution and am rocking leggings just about erry day of the week.
Unfortunately, my new way of life is being attacked on all sides. First, there was the blog post heard ’round the world—you know the one I’m talking about, in which the writer vowed to abandon all stretchy fabric to avoid inspiring lustful gazes.
(Is it just me, or does that justification fall dangerously close to the she-deserved-it argument that says a woman’s outfit triggered her rape?)
Now, lawmakers in Montana want to ban yoga pants in public—at least flesh-covered ones (which, insanely, would make that transcendent video of Sergei Polunin dancing to Hozier illegal). I hesitate to call upon the Right’s go-to argument of the slippery slope, but HB 365 would pave the way to legislating my sartorial choices and comfort, regardless of the color of my leggings. After all, Republican David Moore added that yoga pants “should be illegal in public anyway.”
Perhaps women should go back to wearing floor-length skirts at all time—heck, they should just stay in the kitchen, where they definitely won’t risk giving any men-folk impure thoughts. Maybe that’ll be the next bill.
In the meantime, though, I’ll continue wearing leggings because I damn well want to.
I’ll wear leggings because they allow me to chase after my daughter and because they don’t have belt buckles that dig into her back when she sits on my lap.
I’ll wear leggings because they’re comfortable and they feel good. Even if pants and skirts aren’t exactly corsets/Spanx/Chinese foot binding, they’re not always the most comfortable thing to slip on, and I reserve the right to pass on them.
I’ll wear leggings because I want to show my daughter that women should wear whatever the eff we want. We are responsible for ourselves; we are not responsible for others’ feelings and thoughts. We do not have to restrict what we wear to moderate what someone else might think.
I’ll wear leggings because sometimes it’s all I can do to brush my teeth and hair, and getting dressed in an actual outfit is just too much.
I’ll wear leggings because politicians and prudes don’t want me to.
Join me—or not—but let’s all call out ridiculous attempts to legislate women’s bodies and what we decide to put on them.
PS – I loved “How Accepting Leggings as Pants Made Me a Better Feminist.” (To wit: “My leggings epiphany has shown me that I need to tell my Creepy Subconscious Slut-Shaming Cave Dweller to shut up. Judging a person based on what they wear is weird and wrong. And in the case of women, it furthers sexual objectification and the idea that appearance is a woman’s most important characteristic.”) Yes, yes, yes!