Angel Anxiety

I participate in a Christmas Angel project, where I purchase presents for children who have an incarcerated parent. It's fun, and meaningful to know I'm doing it on behalf of someone who won't make it to a store this year. At least that's what I think at the moment when I pick up the child's name...

Then comes the shopping. Did I say this was going to be fun? It's horrid. Long lines at the toy stores, long lines at the clothing stores, and the inescapable anxiety that comes from wondering if the kid will even like what I've picked out. I shouldn’t worry so much – they can always exchange it (gift receipts are a brilliant slice of technology) – but I always stress myself out.

I spend hours stalking through store aisles, bypassing perfectly acceptable gifts in favor of something I can’t put my finger on. I convince myself that when the right gift appears, I'll know beyond a shadow of a doubt. Usually it happens eventually – I'm struck by a bolt of certainty, and I feel free to approach the register. Whether it's divine intervention, or sheer exhaustion talking, I will never know.

During the holidays, people always talk about the joy of giving. When I buy for family and friends, I do feel it. Finding the perfect item is thrilling, and it’s truly joyful to watch someone open your present and be excited by what they find. With my Christmas Angels, I don’t get to see that moment of surprise, so the joy is rather diminished for me. Is it selfish to feel that way? Sure. But it’s true. And it also makes me realize that the joy of giving isn’t in “here’s something I bought.” It’s in “here’s something I bought just for you.”

I struggle through Christmas Angel every year, because even though it’s un-joyful for me, there’s a chance that my gift will bring joy to someone else. Knowing that fills me with a different kind of happiness, one that is worth all the anxiety.

How do you experience the joy of giving?

Give the Gift of TWM

The holidays are not only a season of celebration, but also a season of giving. In that spirit, we're asking you to consider giving the gift of TWM to the rockin' chicks in your life. Because TWM is a non-profit organization, we need donations to keep us running. By supporting TWM, you're helping us create more programs and doing your part to sustain our community here at CHICKS ROCK!

There are a number of ways you can give to TWM:
Become a member and get the perks of membership -- discounts to events, special offers throughout the year, preference for posting as a guest blogger on CHICKS ROCK!, and more!
Purchase a TWM Gift Membership for somebody else to let them receive all the perks of membership.
Make a tax-deductible donation in any amount -- remember every penny counts, so there is no gift too big or too small!
Buy a CHICKS ROCK! t-shirt and be stylin' like the rest of us -- simply enter a donation for $25 and indicate your t-shirt size S-XL in PayPal.

Thank you for your support!

The "New" Me

CHICKS ROCK! wants you to welcome our latest guest blogger, Heather:

Heather Floyd owns Whole Web Impact, which helps sole-proprietors get more clients and more visibility from their websites and online marketing. She publishes a weekly e-zine, Web Impact and blogs at HeatherFloyd.com.


If you would have asked me a year ago whether I would hire a personal stylist, I would probably have said – sure, when I have a million bucks and nothing to do with my time but shop! But believe it or not, in May of 2008 I did hire a stylist (Monica Diaz of Style Matters, Inc., in case you were wondering).

So, what caused such a change of heart? Believe it or not – it was business. Specifically, my own. I was planning out a change to my business model and doing some rebranding. “Why not upgrade my own image as well?” I thought. (Besides, isn’t it always easier to justify spending the money if it’s “a business investment?”)

The process was actually a lot of fun. Though there were some squirming moments while Monica pulled out decades-old clothes from my wardrobe and gave me that look – “Have you had this since high school?” (“Yes…” I mumbled sheepishly.) We also went shopping and she picked out dozens of outfits for me to try – many things I would never pick off the rack for myself before meeting her. She was able to be an objective voice in the fitting room: “No, I don’t like how that bunches,” “You are definitely not that pant size! Go one smaller.”

I ended up with several new professional outfits, along with a new haircut and a quick make-up routine, but more valuable was re-awakening my own interest in fashion. Now when I pass boutiques on the street, I pay attention to what’s in the windows. I have a better idea of what sizes and styles I should be looking for based on my body shape. And I have new confidence when I go out to meet clients or attend networking events.

When you have your own business, as I do, you always have to remember that you ARE frequently the business, and you need to represent that visually. Just like a website conveys your brand, so does your personal presentation.

And if you don’t want to hire a professional, call on one of your style-savvy girlfriends to go shopping and suggest some new looks for you. Even if you don’t end up with a new look, you will have a fun afternoon.

Tales of a Cultural Outsider

Like many children of immigrants, I grew up trying to reconcile elements of my parents’ culture with my own American experiences. It has been a challenge, because I never felt like I belonged in the American Desi community or in the predominantly white suburban town where I grew up. I have accepted that my brown skin and Indian features will always label me as "different" and "foreign" in my New Jersey hometown. What surprises me the most are the chilly encounters I have experienced with many Indian strangers, acquaintances, and even certain members of my extended family. Ever since I can remember, I have always been a cultural outsider.

I recently experienced this "cultural bias from within" on my bus ride home. An Indian man sitting behind me fell asleep and dropped his cell phone in the process. After returning the device to him, he ignored me completely and expressed gratitude to another passenger (who was white) for waking him up. My instincts told me it was more than just rudeness; I have noticed this type of unspoken coldness, which I think stems from a combination of cultural insecurity and arrogance. It is like an updated, watered-down version of the caste system, which is practiced beyond India’s borders.

My parents are cultural outsiders themselves: they never quite belonged to the South Indian Catholic community they came from. Certain relatives have criticized my parents for the way they raised my siblings and me. My mother and father encouraged us to make friends from all races and religions and to question authority with intelligence, ideas that are seen by some of my family members as too “American” for their tastes.

There are many exceptions to this, obviously. My best friend happens to be Indian, but she is a self-proclaimed outsider herself. I have also met many Indians who feel the same way I do, in varying degrees. Some of them, like me, make no apologies for being a cultural outsider, and will remain open to people of all nationalities, cultures, and beliefs.

Do you feel like a cultural outsider? Why or why not?

'Tis the Season to Be Stressed

Even though the holidays are supposed to be a fun time with family, friends, and lots of yummy food, I've never been a big fan. I do love Christmas music, but that's about the extent of my fuss over the holiday season.

Mostly, I can't take the pressure. In my family, you spend weeks perfecting the menus, the shopping lists, and the who, what, when, where for each day. My mother is even [slightly obsessive] over our outfits and believes that not wearing new clothes for the holidays leads to a horrible new year.

I was excited when I moved out and thought I'd be able to break all the rules without feeling as bad. (It helps that my guy's family doesn't have a "new outfit only" rule.) What I did not anticipate, however, was an added layer of stress -- whose house will we be going to?! We want to share the time with our families, without leaving anybody alone. We've considered hosting one of the dinners ourselves, but our apartment is too small to fit everyone. So now after several conversations we're back to square one and have no idea what to do.

So here is the point where I plead with our dear readers over some advice. How have all of you handled this with your own families? Does it at least get easier as the years go by?

If not, I might have to lock myself in every year and sleep through the entire holiday season. With Christmas music to keep me company, of course.

To Gym, or Not to Gym

Over the past few years, I’ve definitively proven two things: I have enough discipline to daily schlep my laptop twenty blocks to my favorite library, sit down and write a book, but I lack the discipline to slip on sneakers and walk one block to the gym. Hmmm.

This fall, I bit the bullet and bought a gym membership. I even signed up for some personal training sessions, a first for me. Yippee. I’ve taken the first steps on a road that supposedly leads to better health, more energy and greater happiness. Unfortunately I find that this road too frequently intersects the highway of do-these-pants-make-me-look-fat?

Generally speaking, I’m not a very appearance-focused person. I don’t care whether my clothes are baggy or awkwardly matched, I wear tank tops (despite flabby arm fat), I don’t always shave (even when people are going to see my legs), I can give or take makeup, and things like that. But when I make an effort to focus on exercise, I end up looking in the mirror more often. I poke myself to check for firmness. I consider buying a scale to keep track of progress – a purchase I’ve resisted for years because I don’t like focusing on how much I weigh. All around, I feel less good about myself, in the midst of doing something that’s supposed to be good for me.

I do think it’s important to exercise for health reasons, but I also don’t want to cultivate in myself any new self-consciousness about my appearance. Yet, I can’t seem to separate the two. What can I do? If I don’t exercise, I feel guilty, but happy in my skin. When I do, I feel a sense of accomplishment, but chubby. Is there a middle ground?

Friday Forum: Holidays Around the World

With Thanksgiving memories fresh in our minds and in anticipation of the holiday season, we were curious about how you spend the holidays.

Are there any special traditions you share with your family and friends? Are these traditions common in your community and culture, or are they unique to you?

Share your experiences in the comments, and have a happy holiday season!

Link Love for 12/4

There have been a lot of interesting posts in the blogosphere these past few weeks, and we wanted to highlight some of them with link love.

Girl with Pen examines how the global economic crisis affects women, complete with some great links.

Change Everything explains why the "change" mantra must include a change in women's participation and representation in government.

This Is What a Feminist Blogs Like shares some thoughts on the opinion piece by a California Professor refused to complete a mandated sexual harassment training.

Savvy Ladies has money-making tips to help us get through this rough patch in the economy.

Change.org's Women's Rights Blog highlights the issues important to Gen Y women, based on new research findings.

Sociology Eye tries to tackle some of the layers in the discussion about sex workers, trafficking, citizenship and decriminalization.

NYWSE has a post up to help women get back to work after having a baby based on personal experience.


Check out these posts and share your favorite links in the comments.

My Siblings and Me

My mother tells me that when my brother and sister were born, I was the opposite of jealous. I always watched out for them, showered them with plenty of attention and affection, and willingly let them play with any of my toys. I almost don’t believe the story, but my father has begrudgingly confirmed it. I do know that I was never one of those vindictive older sisters who teased or roughed up my younger siblings. My parents counted on me to watch out for them, and I always did so, even when they made it hard for me.

Sometimes I think my kindness and generous nature were seen as weaknesses by my siblings and other family members, but I have shown over the years that I am no weakling. When my father underwent an emergency quadruple bypass surgery, I was the one who comforted my brother and sister, because I knew that everything would be alright. They would agree that in many respects, I am the strongest of the three of us.

When I look back on our childhood together, I realize that as good a child as I was, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today if it wasn’t for my brother and sister. I learned to stand up for myself more, because they challenged me. Ultimately, I am a stronger person because I had a brother and sister who taught me how to be an effective human being, whether they are aware of it or not. Even today, I am still learning from them: my brother’s vivid imagination and aptitude for knowledge continues to inspire me to explore my creative side, while my sister’s relentless pursuit of personal and professional success helps me resist my nature to be complacent, so I can focus on my future.

It is a relationship that I think many of us take for granted, because we are born into it. We can’t divorce our siblings... they are ours for life, whether we like or not.

Do you have any sibling stories to share?

The World on the Stage

In the past few months, I've become completely obsessed with In the Heights. So I was the happiest chick in the world a couple of weeks ago when my sister got us tickets! The music and lyrics are great, and the energy of the show really comes through. Plus, you have to give it up to Lin-Manuel Miranda for creating a brand new musical not based on a book, movie, or play. Their success despite this is a testament to what an incredible piece of art and community it is.

But moving beyond its artistic merit and down-right fun times, I have to comment on what it feels like to be a Dominican immigrant watching this show. Without getting into too many details of what my family does, let me just say that the culture of bodegas and salons is as close to "home" for me as my actual place of residence. And the story of the heroine, Nina, is one I strongly relate to.

For my sisters and I, not going to college or dropping out for whatever reason was simply not an option. My parents worked too hard to bring us to this country to live out their dreams. Straying away from that course feels like adding a weight to their shoulders they just do not deserve. Even now, there is an immense pressure to keep on studying and settle down into a profession, and I really do feel I am letting them down whenever I tell them that I still don't know what I want to do. Add to that family, their friends, old neighbors and everyone else who feels they have a vested interest in my future, and that's a whole lot to live up to!

The feelings are similar for people from other backgrounds, but I think experiencing all of this as an immigrant adds a layer that many don't fully understand. So, seeing that story played out on the stage by people who have an inkling of what that really feels like makes me connect with it so much more.

Can any of you relate to this struggle? How do you think your background and that of your parents' play a role in it?

Religious or Spiritual?

In a sermon preached at my church once, the minister commented rather snidely about people who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.” He seemed to be saying that to label oneself simply “spiritual” is a serious cop-out, and that without the discipline of a structured belief system, it wasn’t possible to have a true faith.

His comments were phrased in such a matter-of-fact, offhand way that it was clear he thought he was preaching to the choir – after all, everyone listening had dragged themselves out of bed on Sunday morning to come to church, and what better evidence of religious discipline is there? Ahem. Well, I, for one, was rather irritated by his words. Despite the fact that I’m fairly active in my church, I don’t actually consider myself to be terribly religious. That probably sounds a little weird.

In my mind, religion is merely a concrete belief structure, complete with things like rules and creeds and holy texts and worship of a higher power. Spirituality, on the other hand, I experience as a connection to something larger than myself, even when what that larger thing is remains mysterious. An effective and meaningful religious practice, of course, will have spirituality behind it, but I don’t ever feel that I’m striving to be better at my religion. What I am striving for is spiritual connection, and for me that does not solely come out of religious practices per se.

If I want to think of myself as spiritual, not religious, what’s the big deal? I suppose this is one of those chicken or egg issues: Is all spirituality that I feel somehow based in my religion? Does it rise up in spite of it? Do I accept the idea of religion only because I feel something spiritual? The only thing I know for sure is that, within me, the two are not one and the same.

I’m curious whether this is something other people struggle with or if these definitions come naturally to everyone else.

Would you call yourself spiritual or religious, or neither, or both?

Gobble Gobble!

For our American readers, we wish you all a safe, healthy, and happy Thanksgiving. We'll be on vacation for the long weekend, but you can join us again on Monday as we return to our regularly-scheduled blogging.

A Temp's Life

Since I got back from my ESL teaching gig in Indonesia at the end of 2006, I have been thrown into the world of temporary workers and contractors. Before that time, I always had permanent positions where I didn't have to fill out timesheets every Friday, and wait for supervisor approval. My current state is shared by many, especially during this unstable period in our economy. I feel a strange combination of uneasiness and freedom: I work for two companies, but have no allegiance to either one of them. It is all about the paycheck and the work experience. If anything, I have learned that I have to make serious changes in my life, so I am not doomed to go from temp job to temp job.

Being a full-fledged freelancer is something else entirely: you are your own boss, you make a name for yourself, you market yourself, you negotiate your own salary, and the money keeps coming in... hopefully. In addition to freelancing, I am also considering careers with much more financial stability attached to them.

Recently, a fellow contractor told me that she overheard a full-time employee at one of the companies we work at saying that we were "not important" and "easily disposable." While I was annoyed by the comment, I also know that a secure person wouldn’t say that. Is he afraid of becoming one of us? Does belittling us give him a false sense of superiority?

While I am thankful that my contracts at both companies have been extended until the beginning of next year, I also know that I can’t get too comfortable. I need to think strategically about my future plans now: will I go back to school to get another degree? Should I switch careers? Will relocating be necessary? I have much to ponder in the next few months.

Do you have any temp stories to share?

Me Time

About a month ago, I wrote about my chaotic schedule and the effect it's having on "me" time. I figured you were about due for an update, so here goes.

On the work front, things are as hectic as ever, but I'm starting to get into a groove and not letting it get to me. One thing I've started is getting to work about a half hour earlier so that I can ease in. This is just to put me in a different state of mind, because I'm not particularly productive during this time. But it's my little mind trick. Also, one thing I do every so often is walk to the train station instead of taking the subway after work. It's about a 20-minute walk, but I enjoy getting lost in random thoughts and listening to my iPod. It helps me unwind after work. I've been walking more in general, even in the cold! All I need now is a good winter coat to keep it up.

I've become more focused on my health. I started working out again, making it fun by using Wii Fit! Now, instead of dreading working out, I look forward to having fun with my work-outs and my "treat" is ending with some hula hooping - quite the work-out in itself. My diet is still mostly take-out, but at least I incorporated some regular food into it. I even made an appointment for the doctor!

The best part is that I'm going to take a few half days at work so I can take some yoga and dance classes. Kristina very kindly gave me a few passes, so I'm going to take advantage -- you can't say no to a gift, right?!

So things are certainly not perfect, and I'm really just starting to focus on my goals, but I think it's a drastic improvement from the road I was heading down.

How have you all been doing with your "me" time?

Passing the Turkey

My parents are coming in for Thanksgiving again this year. Thanksgiving has become my holiday, ever since I cooked my first turkey for my parents and brother in my tiny NYC studio apartment eight years ago. Ever since, I've remained the host of our T-Day meal. Even when we've been at my parents', it's still my show. I cook, carve, bake, and serve. And I love doing it.

I have fond memories of the big extended family Thanksgiving, cooked by mom and aunts and grandma, while the other adults watched football, and we kids scrambled around in the backyard until called. We set a cheerful table and the food appeared – a warm, delicious smorgasbord of dishes not to be seen again for a year.

The original magic of Thanksgiving is somewhat gone for me, now that I know how the stuffing gets into the bird, so to speak. But in its place, I've come to cherish the ability to create something pleasing for people I love. I've done it enough to feel comfortable, even confident, and to put most of my performance-anxiety aside. I no longer worry about ruining the bird (wouldn’t be the end of the world) or keeping people waiting to eat (it can ever be perfectly timed). I have finally hit my stride.

Each year, I find myself begging less and less wisdom from my mother’s experience. My mom doesn’t enjoy cooking, so she was happy to hand this off to me. Neither of us looked back. But I notice something larger going on. The rolling of generations. Soon enough, it’s likely I'll be "mom," and she'll become "grandma," and though those titles seem far away, we have already taken the first steps down an inevitable road.

I contemplate this while chopping and basting: the passage of time, and the changes we must go through. It’s a good feeling – nostalgia for what was, and anticipation of what might be ahead. A torch is being passed, from one generation to the next. Though, I guess in our case, you could say we're passing the turkey.

Friday Forum: Giving Thanks

With Thanksgiving quickly approaching - this month is going by quickly! - we were wondering what you're all grateful for this year? Family, friends, a new job, a new home?

Share your gratitude in the comments.

YOU Rock!

We want to start off by thanking everyone who has been keeping up with us, reading, subscribing, and commenting. We appreciate your support and value your presence (whether silent or outspoken) in our community.

Having said that, we'd love to hear from you even more!

Now that a few guest bloggers have gone before you and you've gotten a sense of the blog, please consider submitting a post of your own. Write about your personal experiences, making sure to read our guest blogger guidelines, and email us your post.

If you'd rather speak up behind-the-scenes, you can do so by sending us an email with your suggestions for Friday Forum questions, or things you'd like to see more or less of at CHICKS ROCK!

Remember that this is a community for the bloggers AND the readers, and we want you to feel a part of it.

Post Mortem of a Friendship

When we met in college, my former friend was a talented theater major with an angelic singing voice. We had a very interesting friendship: she introduced me to industrial/goth and opera music, and I discussed books, movies, and philosophy with her. While some of my friends were put off by her eccentric behavior and quirky sense of humor, I found her endearing and genuine. Even when she moved from New Jersey to Florida to Arizona, we remained close. When I was in Java, Indonesia and an earthquake struck the island, she was one of the first people to call me to check on my safety. It did not matter that we lived on different continents; our friendship seemed indestructible.

After four years of not seeing each other, we decided to reunite at my best friend’s wedding in India. During the week we spent together, I was troubled to discover that my friend had become emotionally unstable and extremely angry. Maybe I should have known that her personal insecurities and dysfunctional relationships with emotionally abusive men, family members, and some friends would lead to the demise of our friendship. Hindsight is always 20/20, I suppose.

Soon after we returned to the U.S., I expressed my concerns to her as delicately as possible. She abruptly ended our friendship as a result. Our first serious conflict became our last. In the end, I told my friend that I wished her well and would always remember the good times we had together. She didn't seem to understand or appreciate the sentiment at the time, but I hope she will in the future.

It has been almost a year since we last spoke, but I still have lingering feelings of loss mixed with nostalgia when I think of her. She was one of my closest friends, and I will never forget the impact she has had on my life.

How do you handle the end of your friendships? Have you made peace with the past?

Musings of a Latina Immigrant

While I've admitted that my identity as a woman has often defined me more than being Latina, I've been more connected to the issues of immigrants and Latinos lately, especially with the case of Marcello Lucero.

In case you haven't heard by now (although it has finally started getting more attention), Lucero was murdered by a group of teenagers in Long Island, and one of the primary reasons cited is because he was Latino. I think there's a strong connection between fear of immigrants and violence against Latinos, and the details of this case make it clear, at least to me, that this is a connection being swept under the rug. By looking at instances of violence, harassment, and discrimination as isolated incidents, it allows us to ignore the conversation we so need.

This case has touched me much more than I expected. For starters, I went to college in Long Island, where we were aware of the tension around us, but had no idea how bad it was or how to deal with it. But on an even more personal level, being an immigrant myself has always been challenging. I've often felt excluded, despite being a naturalized citizen. I've heard it all, from being called a spic, to being told to swim back home.

But rather than be held down, I educate others about what it means to be an immigrant. I've tried to be a good citizen, voting in almost every election I've been eligible to vote in, becoming an activist, and striving to make this country better.

So I share this story with you not to bring you down, but to make you understand how these cases affect others. And while anger, rage, sadness, etc. can all be driving forces for us, I want to use this as a stepping point to move forward. I think we need to channel the initial emotion episodes like this spark to open up the discussion. I believe it's time we bring up all the misconceptions and realities to better understand all sides and close this chapter in our history.

Recognizing Beauty, The Zambian Way

In college, I made a presentation about differing cultural perceptions of beauty and body image. I was reminded of it recently in Zambia. With the women, we spoke a lot about our bodies, and how they're viewed in our respective worlds. The women we encountered were as intrigued by our cultural quirks as we were by theirs. They were fascinated by the idea of plastic surgery, Botox, and our perpetual quest for thinness. But, fat is good, they said. Fat means well-fed, and well-fed means rich. Wrinkles are good. Wrinkles show age, so all who see you will know you are an elder. Sagging breasts are natural. Sagging breasts show you have nurtured your children well.

Next, they wanted to know if American men demanded these procedures of us. No, no, we said. All of us agreed that most men are far more open-minded about how women should look than we tend to give them credit for. This further baffled the Zambian women. If not for practicality and not for men, then why are we going through these drastic machinations? Many of us ended at a loss for words about it. How do you explain to someone with limited access to television that images and media can shape the way we look at ourselves? How do you tell a woman who has never had a doubt about her beauty what it is like to feel ugly and imperfect?

Zambian women, of course, have their own set of expectations to live up to. But body image is not their problem, at least as far as I can see. To them, the inherent power of femininity is enough to make every woman beautiful. They are not ashamed of their bodies, of sexuality, of the physical realities of life and love, as we are. They take pride in every bulge of fat and roll of skin because they know there is something of greater importance within us.

If we could learn to see ourselves through their eyes, we might all be better off.

How do you feel about your own body image?