TURKEYS, BULLYING, AND VAGINAS
2014 is drawing to a close more rapidly then I had thought it would. The long anticipated days where I had completed all my projects never materialized. I was no closer to having more free time on my hands than I was before we opened The Foundry. Waking this morning to the realization that we are 2 weeks out from the new year, yet I had still not decided on a topic for my next post, got me doing what anyone in my shoes would do – procrastinate. What better way to procrastinate than by going to church? After church it was time to take the rug rats to the park to see Santa Claus. Next there was dinner and then, well, there was no more avoiding it. I needed to make a decision.
So I opened up my computer and started searching for tractor parts. That extremely important search for tractor parts somehow brought me to facebook, which brought me to my topic.
One of my 550 very, very close and dear FB friends shared an article that made the claim that by referring to vaginal birth as, “natural birth”, society was doing damage to women’s psychological well being. Their theory was that the term, “natural”, was generally viewed positively. Thus vaginal birth, being refereed to as natural birth, held a powerful positive message. They went on. If vaginal birth, only, was called natural, every other means of birth must then be thought of as, “unnatural”. Therefore, according to them, all forms of birth other than vaginal are viewed by people as, unnatural. These intellectual heavy weights went on to talk about how sexist the term, “natural birth”, is and that women are being repressed. Indeed – all by using the term, “natural birth”.
I was angry.
It made me think back to a sign I saw. I hadn’t actually seen the sign myself. A friend of mine sent me a photo of it. The sign was hanging in a hockey rink. It was reminding parents that they shouldn’t shout at referees because it was, “bullying”. I’m not joking. In a hockey rink in the United States of America there is a sign that tells parents not to bully referees.
I was sickened.
It made me think of a sign I saw while standing in the check out line at Wegmans on 13 November. I had thought that maybe I was in a line for persons that have physical challenges. But no, the same sign was hanging at each line. I checked. What could a sign hanging at a Wegmans check out line say that made me mention it in this Rant?
Every single checkout had that same sign. Sweet mother of God! I was shocked. “What the hell was going on”, I thought to myself muttering like a grumpy old man as I stomped, incredulously, out to my truck.
And now here I sit writing about it as TRex and the Rock crawl across my legs and smack each other in the head with blocks of wood, sippy cups, and Christmas ornaments. Bare with me, I promise I will steer this ship back into the harbor of physical and mental fitness.
When did this country start down the path of victimhood? It’s a lucrative market, for sure, to coopt people into thinking they are victims and getting them to rely on those that would have them believe they are powerless. I don’t believe that’s what’s behind any of the three things of which I wrote above. Far simpler and far worse than that, it’s the by-product of a society too long being told that one’s failures are the fault of everyone but one’s self.
I think I know all of you pretty well. Some more than others, but I have had the opportunity to see a side of all of you not everyone you know may have yet seen. There is just no hiding when you are under the barbell. There is no mask that can be worn, no make up that can obscure, no façade that can be maintained when the clock is ticking, your heartbeat is raging, and the fire is filling your lungs with each breath. We are all naked when we suffer at Athletes Unleashed. Having seen you all in your nakedness I just can’t imagine any of you falling prey to the shills trying to foist victimhood upon you. And that’s the real beauty of what we do together at AU.
The toil, the strain, the pain, the grinding, the pushing, the competition, and that damn, “Einstein minute” (you know, the one that never seems to end) – it prevents victimhood. The man or woman that throws around the iron like candy at a parade, and flings their body through space with reckless abandon cannot be a victim. We know better. We are better. We are moms, and fathers, and policemen, and doctors, and educators, and lawyers, and students, and firemen, and engineers, and paralegals, and insurance brokers, and homemakers, and chief operations officers, and investigators, and financial counselors, and plumbers. We are everything but victims. We are UNLEASHED. So keep pulling up your big boy and big girl pants, get into the gym, and make yourself HARD TO KILL. You are no one’s victim.
And you better believe I took my damn turkey out of my basket and placed in on the conveyor belt.