screaming for his sippy cup? And will I be wearing beige chinos and an oversized T-shirt with a company logo on it? And will I look and be so tired that I won’t even care?
It reminded me of the Sex and the City episode when Miranda volunteers to frost her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s birthday cupcakes, and she calls Carrie in tears. Carrie’s like, Why are you doing that? and Miranda kind of flops around, not knowing what to say. Then Carrie gets serious and tells Miranda to step away from the cupcakes.
After trying to talk me down three or four different ways, Glen finally told me to get out of the store. And even though he was three thousand miles away, and just a bunch of little sound waves coming through a piece of plastic, I did.
June 7
Spent a few hours today having my portrait taken by Marion Ettlinger, who has taken so many amazing author photos. She took the image of Lucy Grealy I like so much, with the bird on her shoulder, and the stunning portrait of Jhumpa Lahiri. Marion was great, warm but not overly so. We talked, but her eyes did most of the work, quietly taking me in. Her studio felt like a writer’s study in Paris circa 1920, very Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, all dark velvet chaises and antique wooden side tables, thirty-five-millimeter cameras and natural light.
While she was shooting, we talked about getting married. She loves her guy and wants to tie the knot, but feels she’d be selling out her feminist roots. I laughed and said, It’s official, female ambivalence has reached an all-time high, it’s an epidemic! I told her about how long I’ve wanted a baby and how scared I am. I told her that the only way I’ve been able to do it has been to choose my persistent, irrational, very human yearnings for closeness with other human beings over admittedly valuable feminist ideology that wasn’t born of my own experience. I asked, If the relationship is healthy, is there ever a reason to let ideology keep us from committing more deeply to the people we love?
I can’t say I have the answer, but I do think it’s a legitimate question.
When we were done, I headed downtown to my friend Trajal’s dance performance. Afterward, a bunch of us went to dinner, where the baby and his name were the main topics of conversation. The response to “Milarepa” was lukewarm, but people liked “Tenzin,” after the Dalai Lama, which I’ve been throwing around for the last few weeks.
Tenzin Walker, our playwright friend Brooke said, that’s strong. Trajal took to it right away, and started to include Tenzin in all our future plans. Well, when Tenzin is born, we’ll have to have a party, and, I can’t wait to go to Paris with Tenzin.
Paris with Tenzin!
I felt like the belle of the ball. Even though it was Trajal’s night, being pregnant makes every night my night. Not long ago I heard Dr. Christiane Northrup speaking about yin wisdom, and how the egg waiting for the sperm is full of it. The egg just calls out to the sperm and then waits, knowing the whole school is going to come calling. I feel like that. For the first time in my life, being is effortless. My job is to sit and glow. All I have to do is wait and the whole world, the whole big life experience, is going to come and land right at my feet.
Tenzin Walker!
June 8
Met with John Vaughn today for lunch. He’s directing a project for the Twenty-First Century Foundation called the Black Men and Boys Initiative, focusing on the status of African-American men in our culture and what can be done to change it. The statistics are disheartening. Forty percent of African-American men drop out of high school. One in every four is incarcerated. I can’t help but think of the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr., Medgar Evers, and Malcolm X. The dissolution of the Panthers through COINTELPRO. The marginalization of African-American men in every segment of American culture but hip-hop, jazz, and sports. How few African-American men I see at
It reminded me of the Sex and the City episode when Miranda volunteers to frost her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s birthday cupcakes, and she calls Carrie in tears. Carrie’s like, Why are you doing that? and Miranda kind of flops around, not knowing what to say. Then Carrie gets serious and tells Miranda to step away from the cupcakes.
After trying to talk me down three or four different ways, Glen finally told me to get out of the store. And even though he was three thousand miles away, and just a bunch of little sound waves coming through a piece of plastic, I did.
June 7
Spent a few hours today having my portrait taken by Marion Ettlinger, who has taken so many amazing author photos. She took the image of Lucy Grealy I like so much, with the bird on her shoulder, and the stunning portrait of Jhumpa Lahiri. Marion was great, warm but not overly so. We talked, but her eyes did most of the work, quietly taking me in. Her studio felt like a writer’s study in Paris circa 1920, very Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, all dark velvet chaises and antique wooden side tables, thirty-five-millimeter cameras and natural light.
While she was shooting, we talked about getting married. She loves her guy and wants to tie the knot, but feels she’d be selling out her feminist roots. I laughed and said, It’s official, female ambivalence has reached an all-time high, it’s an epidemic! I told her about how long I’ve wanted a baby and how scared I am. I told her that the only way I’ve been able to do it has been to choose my persistent, irrational, very human yearnings for closeness with other human beings over admittedly valuable feminist ideology that wasn’t born of my own experience. I asked, If the relationship is healthy, is there ever a reason to let ideology keep us from committing more deeply to the people we love?
I can’t say I have the answer, but I do think it’s a legitimate question.
When we were done, I headed downtown to my friend Trajal’s dance performance. Afterward, a bunch of us went to dinner, where the baby and his name were the main topics of conversation. The response to “Milarepa” was lukewarm, but people liked “Tenzin,” after the Dalai Lama, which I’ve been throwing around for the last few weeks.
Tenzin Walker, our playwright friend Brooke said, that’s strong. Trajal took to it right away, and started to include Tenzin in all our future plans. Well, when Tenzin is born, we’ll have to have a party, and, I can’t wait to go to Paris with Tenzin.
Paris with Tenzin!
I felt like the belle of the ball. Even though it was Trajal’s night, being pregnant makes every night my night. Not long ago I heard Dr. Christiane Northrup speaking about yin wisdom, and how the egg waiting for the sperm is full of it. The egg just calls out to the sperm and then waits, knowing the whole school is going to come calling. I feel like that. For the first time in my life, being is effortless. My job is to sit and glow. All I have to do is wait and the whole world, the whole big life experience, is going to come and land right at my feet.
Tenzin Walker!
June 8
Met with John Vaughn today for lunch. He’s directing a project for the Twenty-First Century Foundation called the Black Men and Boys Initiative, focusing on the status of African-American men in our culture and what can be done to change it. The statistics are disheartening. Forty percent of African-American men drop out of high school. One in every four is incarcerated. I can’t help but think of the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr., Medgar Evers, and Malcolm X. The dissolution of the Panthers through COINTELPRO. The marginalization of African-American men in every segment of American culture but hip-hop, jazz, and sports. How few African-American men I see at
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