Year: 2021

Ohenten Kariwatekwehn “The Words Which Come Before All Else” *

gail louise Beyond Recovery to Healing

Indigenous People’s Day is observed in the US on October 11th. I celebrated the observance with my husband Jim by enjoying a meal featuring The Three Sisters, a trio of delights: corn, squash and beans. 

These staples have fed the world. Sisters?

The story Lize Erdrich, Ojibwe-Turtle Mountain Band, tells of The Three Sisters is fascinating. I discovered the tale when reading Original Local: Indigeneous Foods, Stories, and Recipes. (Heid. E. Erdrich, 2013.) 

Kernels of corn are planted in a depressed cavity in healthy soil. Beans are then added. The corn will raise its stalks to the sky, and will be hugged by the climbing bean plants. This is an advantageous duo as the beans (belonging to the legume family) fix nitrogen into the soil. The nitrogen is fertilizer. Squash seeds are added to the duo. Tantalizing blossoms, bright yellow, both male and female emerge from the squash as they grow. Squash plants have large leaves which shade the soil, keeping the ground moist and weed free. Their vines are itchy! As a result, animal pests are not attracted to the squash. The reward is colorful fruits hiding beneath the squash leaves. Hence, The Three Sisters.

Our three sisters’ meal featured delicata squash topped with  nuggets of gorgonzola cheese and a stew rich with black beans and kernel corn.

I became interested in Indigeneous people as a sophomore in college. In 1966, I volunteered to tutor Indigeneous children attending a nearby grade school. I encouraged the children as they practiced reading and completed arithmetic assignments.

Three years later, during my dietetic internship at UWHC in Madison, I enrolled in two graduate level courses. The first course was biochemistry. I had taken biochemistry as an undergraduate and was surprised how much I enjoyed the study of the metabolism of carbohydrates, fats, proteins, amino acids and other nutrients. This was a tougher biochemistry course than my first biochemistry course, but I did alright. The second  semester course was advanced nutrition therapy as applied to diseases in humans of all ages. The research project I selected was the nutritional status of the Indigenous Peoples living in Wisconsin. I spent hours reading papers in The State Historical Library of Wisconsin, after working eight hours five days a week or more, as a dietetic intern.

Years passed.

Vacationing with our two children, Jim and I visited the Blackfoot Nation in Montana, The Lakota Nation in the Dakota’s, The Rosebud reservation in Nebraska, and the villages and cultural sites of the Maori people in New Zealand. An unforgettable adventure presented itself as we traveled into Alberta, Canada. We witnessed a dig and visited the museum at the Head Smashed In archaeological site.

While preparing food for my family, I also explored many cultures of the world. I started with my 28 volume Time Life Series: Foods of the World. My interest expanded to include the interrelationship of a people’s history, their culture and the land they inhabited as influences on foods consumed and cooking methods used. More recently I began to search for similar relationships within many Indigenous communities living in the United States. 

There is much for non-Native people, like me, to learn about First Nations mental health challenges. Having investigated Indigeneous history in the US as recorded by First Nation author Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, having enjoyed Inuit art for decades, and savored the writings of Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass) and Patty Lowe'(Seven Generations), I have learned to appreciate and respect Indigenous ways of knowing.

The needs of First Nations concerning mental health are complex and often misunderstood. 

Here are 4 take-home messages I garnered from my studies of Native American mental health concerns.

  • There are 500+ federally recognized separate First Nation groups in the US. 
  • “People get things wrong about suicide on Native Lands; non-Natives need to learn Indigeneous perspectives on suicide.” (Native Hope website)
  • Rates of suicide, the contributing factors teading to suicide and the methods to deal with  mental health problems vary with each individual Native nation.
  • Culturally aware high quality resources are available as developed by and with many First Nation peoples. 

Two resources I recommend:

 We in the United States are observing our annual fall feast on Thursday, November 25th. This abridged version of “ The Words That Come Before All Else “ gently instills in me a  thankfulness for each of the blessings bestowed upon us .

Ohenten Kariwatekwehn : “ The Words That Come Before All Else ”

We express our thanks to our Mother Earth, who provides us with all we need to live upon her.

…  to all the waters of the world, for we cannot exist without the lifeblood of Mother Earth.

…  to the animals which live within the earth’s waters for carrying out their duties in harmony with natural law.

… to the insect beings which are upon and within the earth.

… to the animal beings and their leader the deer, as we are  grateful for sustaining us.

… to the medicine plants, which give us their energy so that we may be healed.

… to the food plants which nourish our bodies, particularly the Three Sisters: corn, beans and squash.

… to the trees of the world and to the Maple tree, the leader of all of its kind, whose sap renews our spirits and bodies.

… to the Four Winds without whom life would not exist. 

… to the Thunders of the world who carry rain and energize the earth for our seeds.

… to our grandmother Moon, who gives us light and controls the movement of water on the earth.

… to the stars who give us beauty and direction and to them we return when our spirits leave this earth.

…  to the spirit beings who guide and protect us.

… to those yet unborn that we are to ensure they also have clean waters, clean air and fertile soil.

… and to the Creator for the blessing of life and the gift each one of us is to the other and the world.

So let it be in our minds.

Thank you kindly.

 

This blessing of thankfulness – *Ohenten Kariwatekwehn, “The Words Which Come Before All Else“ – was submitted to Indian Country Today  (ICT) e-news by Doug George-Kanentio, Akwesasne Mohawk, a former member of the Board of Trustees for the National Museum of the American Indian and former editor of the journal Akwesasne Notes. 

I subscribe to ICT. Reading ICT has immensely enhanced my awareness of North American Native Nations, Inuits and Aleuts. My respect for Native ways of knowing and experiencing our Mother Earth continues to increase, a rewarding journey.

Father’s Day, 2021: A Tribute to My Father

gail louise Beyond Recovery to Healing ,

My father was a flawed man.

Many would agree with this assessment, especially my siblings and my mother.

Many people are flawed, including my siblings and my mother and myself. Often our flaws aren’t as apparent as they were with my dad. We hide them as best we can.

My Dad’s flaws happened to be known and obvious. He suffered major depressive episodes, with at least 4 suicide attempts. He barely survived one. I know this as one of my psychiatrists, on staff at the hospital where my Dad was treated for that attempt, had rights to retrieve old medical records.  So my physician had reviewed Dad’s records – in particular, whether my Dad was bipolar or unipolar – to better treat me. He also said my Dad had clearly meant to end his life. 

Dad could be sharp with his criticism of my mother, my siblings and me. Sometimes all we heard were negative barbs on our competence at the task we were asked to do.

Dad once humiliated me by marching into the high school gym to literally pull me off the dance floor. I had “committed” some infraction, in his eyes. He was furious. …It was obvious to all the teens who witnessed what was going on. I was humiliated. 

He could also put us on guilt trips. The hardest guilt trip for me … that I remember … occurred during a Christmas holiday. The previous night I’d just returned home from college for Christmas vacation. I had been out late on a date with my steady boyfriend Jim, now my husband. Early next morning, with the dairy cows needing to be milked, he woke me up to help. This was our routine when I came home for weekends or breaks. But this time he threatened: “Gail, how you help during the holidays, is how Christmas will go for all of us! He meant, if I didn’t help him the precise way he thought I must, I would ruin the holiday for all eight of us, plus any grandparents and boy or girlfriends that might be invited. 

Imagine the burden Dad put on me: Everyone’s happiness – especially my Dad’s – and more importantly, how Dad would act toward the family, the amount and the severity of criticisms, barbs, pouts, etc. – depended on me. 

Dad was SO out of line, but I did not realize this until a caring psychiatrist told me straight out, thirty years later, no father has the right to say or imply such a treat. 

Never.

Dad did not need to threaten me. It was nonsense. I had always been a conscientious and careful helper with the milking, any barn chores, making hay, combining oats, etc. 

When Dad attempted suicide in 1968,, I came home to help on the farm, especially with the daily milking (Dad was in the hospital). My grades suffered badly that semester. One of my advisors, on seeing my semester grades, said “That must be when you started dating Jim.” I replied, no, I had gone home to work to help out after my dad’s suicide attempt. She never bothered me about those grades again. (Jim and I were already a couple.)

Yet, I am grateful to him for many things.

1. Stressing the importance of voting.

2. Stirring my interest in local, state and national politics.

My dad’s favorite president was FDR, not JFK, as some think.

3. Taking the older children, including me, on trips, especially to Washington, DC, where we meet our state senator and congressman, both honorable men.

There were simpler trips: to see a fish hatchery, an apple orchard to witness the apple trees in bloom, a lake side short vacation, visiting the University arborteum in early spring, and more.

4. My Dad’s eagerness and happiness to see our newborn children.  

5. My Dad’s (as well as my Mother’s) happiness for myself and my family when we traveled to New Zealand in 1986. 

At the time our daughter was 11 and our son 6. We could hear the expressed joy from my parents that we landed safely (And had connected with the company from which we’d rented our caravan!). A twenty-two hour flight with three stops for fuel, in Los Angeles, Hawaii, and Fuji, before reaching New Zealand. 

More delight and happiness was expressed by my Mother and Dad when we arrived home three weeks later, and they picked us up at the airport . We rested in their pleasure at seeing us safe and sound.  The return trip to the United States, and eventually to our state, was much more tiring than the trip out.

Mom and Dad treated us to breakfast at the airport and drove us the roughly 30 miles to our home. 

6. Taking us to church, 30 miles from our farm, each Sunday. We all were baptized and confirmed. All six of us children.

7. Emphasizing 4H as important to our development.  I had a very active 4H life: sewing, cooking, and dairy.

The best was winning purple ribbons for raising two heifers to maturity.  These were both 50/50 projects.  That is, I raised another farmer’s Registered Holstein heifers from 6 months until they were “freshened,” i.e., had calves and thus began producing milk.  I showed these two animals at the Wisconsin State Fair. Poise was required – and I and the original owner split the profits when these now productive cows were auctioned off! 

8. Hosting our holidays, especially Christmas, every year. 

9. Attending his six children’s and grandchildren’s gatherings – high school graduations, for example. Only one sibling lived far away, half way across the continent, so visits to her were infrequent. 

10. Flowers, always your love for flowers. We remember. Now our children raise your favorites: Iris, roses, snap dragons, dusty Millers!

My Dad graciously handled his diagnosis of diabetes when he reached his seventies.  He had to change his diet, of course, and after a trial with oral hypoglycemic agents, he learned how to take insulin. He tested his blood glucose faithfully and kept the records and doctor’s appointments.

Then his kidneys started to fail. More dietary restrictions, this time protein …meat … was limited along with high potassium foods, a reduction in milk, fruits and vegetables. As a retired registered dietitian, I learned in 1969 what diabetes and renal dialysis could do … a heavy impact on the individuals quality of life … fatigue … stress … and a unavoidable but constant pressure to do the right thing to prolong life. 

He was gracious also, when he had to undergo renal dialysis. I can’t imagine spending the better part of three days a week traveling: And then hooked up to a dialysis machine. 

I’ve often wondered how his life and our lives would have differed, had he had more help in the form of counseling and empathy, even from us, his children. We did not like to listen to his recounting his symptoms, for one thing.

We had little patience with him.

Now I think surviving and then tackling physical rehabilitation after open heart surgery, in the early days of heart surgery, the 1970’s, was an immense accomplishment. Think of having your chest opened up twice!!!

Twice. A few blood vessels were not tied off completely during the original surgery. He began to lose blood and all blood brings to life. So the surgeons took him back to surgery. They forcefully had to work around the breast bone, or cut it.

Science now has demonstrated that diabetes and heart disease are bi-directional with depression. Today, people are prophylactically counseled on watching for depression after major illnesses and procedures.

There was also a time he survived a near fatal reaction to a dye injected for a test.  He had to be resuscitated. I remember my mom telling me later his attendants had implored,  “Richard, hold on, hold on.”

He held on.

Father, I was not permitted or asked to help plan your funeral. I was not consulted regarding hymn selection, or asked to speak at the funeral. 

I was not asked to sing for him, although I have my father’s beautiful voice. He was a tenor. His favorite tenor was Mario Lanza. I have been singing solos since fifth grade. I still sing.

I was outraged at being left out of the planning and being left out of the service.

I called the minister at 8am the day of Dad’s funeral to ask the minister to inform my mother that I would not attend, nor my husband nor our children.

I did attend, arriving barely before the funeral began. I went out of respect for my mother.

You see, my Dad and I both had said to one another, he and I were the most alike … of the 6 children, I resembled him most. I have a letter from my dad to me, dated July 1989. He tells me we are the most similar and of one mind. He tells me he is proud of me.

I think he wrote to me because in the Fathers Day card I sent to him I had written I was proud of him.

I was proud of him. And I still am.

Dad, here is the song I sang to Mother, just after she passed at Hospice. I sang it at her bedside. I sing it to you now.

Morning Has Broken
Lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word

Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day

Asian American Mental Health and Illness, May, 2021

gail louise Real Life; Real Challenges, Shame

“From a very early age I started to sense that an individual has to set an example in society. Your own acts or behavior tell the world who you are and at the same time what kind of society you think it should be.”

    – Ai Weiwei, Chinese Contemporary Artist and Activist
     (as quoted in: The Botanical Bible, Sonya Patel Ellis, 2018)


When Jim and I were first married, we had three friends of Asian descent. 

Shu (S-h-u) was from Taiwan. Shu was serving an internship with me – I was her perceptor as a practicing registered dietitian; Shu was an intern. Two other friends were a Korean. They  were a married couple, Mr and Mrs Bae.  Jim worked with Mr B.

Shu and Mrs Bae were excellent cooks. Both women were my earliest introduction to the interaction of food, culture, politics and the limitations imposed by authoritarian regimes. Shu was from a rich family. Mr Bae’s family was poor. 

Mr B and his generation were small due to the poor diet imposed on Korea during WWII by the Japanese. In contrast, as a child, Shu C. had all the food she desired to eat. Once her skin turned livid orange from eating so many fruits rich in beta carotene, a form of Vitamin A!

The most tasty, authentic, and intriguing Asian meals Jim and I have had the pleasure to eat were those prepared by Shu and Mrs B in their home and in our home. Mrs B.along with her 1 year old son, lived with us for several months. During that time, we ate …  oh so well. To this day, rice is as frequent at our table as potatoes and pasta.  As we raised our children, we ate with chopsticks, every dinner. And Jim and I still eat with chopsticks. Eating with chopsticks is aesthetically pleasing. Chopsticks are quiet and clean. There is no clanging of silverware during conversations.  We use Korean/Japanese sculptured chopsticks.

Ah, you did not know there were different types of chopsticks? And many varieties of rice?

Do you know that Asian people do not all look alike? They do not!

Everyperson, everywhere is unique. 

I am thankful for our uniqueness.

I am thankful for our commonalities.

Hate of Asian Americans and all Asians is on the rise. The shrinking of the white male majority in America, the history of WWII, the Korean and Vietnam wars, the loss of jobs and industries to Asia, especially China, and the many misconceptions about Asians, have blighted the wonderful assets many Asians have brought to America and the world.

A tiny sampling of those accomplishments: 

Mya Lin, the architect of The Vietnam Memorial Monument. Amy Tan, the writer. Chien-Shiung Wu, the nuclear physicist … and so many others. Can we forget the laborers who constructed the transcontinental railroad, many of whom were Asian? Athletic stars such as the NBA’s Jeremy Lin, and linebacker and coach Eugene Chung. …Or quarterback Kyle Murray, whose mother is half Korean and whose father is African-American (Love it; wow!) Finally, my children’s and grandchildren’s friends, who are ethnically much more diverse than my generation’s cohort. I Think of bonsai and the art of flower arranging, ikebana. Forms I hope to learn to enhance my floral arrangement skills. The most exquisite scarves I have ever worn are shiboru, a three dimensional form of folding, stitching, and pleating, all in silk, created by Suziki Kanezo of Japan. These shiboru drape over my shoulders .. under my long hair … so gracefully. 

***

Shame dominates as the most hope and life- killing force on earth. 

For many, death is better than enduring shame. 

Ask me and ask my father.

For all of us, shame comes from stigma. 

My Dad did not seek mental health care and neither do many people of Asian descent. Suicide of young people, ages 12-24 is greatest in Asian-Americans!  Stigma stems from the fear of being identified as disabled. Societal norms and values place a premium on our ability and actual performance towards taking care of one’s own family  and in contributing to our communities.

I do not believe there are many differences here in the things that shamed my father, Asian Americans and myself. For myself, I feared I would not be able to care for our two children and be a loving wife to my husband Jim. All those fears were not in evidence, but they all overshadowed my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.  For my father, I do not know his shames, although once committed to a mental health hospital, and with the possible loss of the family farm just one serious consequence of this, I believe he endured shame as a life sentence. He never discussed his feelings, but lived through many serious suicidal depressions and suicide attempts. 

Asian Americans live with the stereotype as the model minority. The myth goes like this: Asian Americians are fully-integrated, intelligent, industrious, and have overcome racial bias. Individual Asian people feel pressure to meet these standards and expectations.

 The pressure to live up to the image as a model Asian American results in the denial of any  letdowns, failures, pain and loss … all of which we all experience or will experience. The drive for perfection can kill. I know the drive for perfection too well, and the toll it takes on family and on oneself. Thinking perfection will cure everything … can be fatal.  

Talking about mental illness/mental health challenges is taboo for most Asian Americans.. As it was in the family into which I was born and was raised.

Let us all be more than tolerant to one another. Let us begin to trust, admire and appreciate each person.

Let us share a spirit of gentleness and work toward a better society.  Many times song expresses what we have not ventured to put into conversation:

 “ Tale as old as time, true as it can be, barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly. Just a little change, small to say the least. Both a little scared, neither one prepared …  Tale as old as time.”

Thank you kindly,

Gail Louise

(Lyrics by Alan Menken 1991)

Mothers Day, 2021: A Tribute to My Mother

gail louise Parenting, Real Life; Real Challenges

Sunday we celebrated our grandson’s 16th birthday as well as Mothers Day. The birthday boy and his sister, children of our oldest child and her husband, our son and ourselves met at a local park and had a picnic. We laughed, ate really good food, and hugged each other often as it was the first time in over a year all 7 of us were together. 

My mother, Janet Alice, knew both our grandchildren before she died. I remember my Mom’s delight at our grandson’s first birthday party.  Born on May Day, his birthday party was an outdoor potluck. Our granddaughter was born four years later on Valentines Day …  6 months before Mom passed. Our daughter made sure to visit Mom at Hospice with the new baby girl well before my Mom’s final days.

My mother taught me many things.

  •  She helped me learn how to read.

Picture this:  She was tired. It was evening, after preparing a big dinner and after doing dishes by hand. Perhaps it was 8 pm. Mother and I sat on the floor of the dining room, to be near the heat register. The book was the traditional “See Dick Run, See Jane Run.”

  •  She taught me how to sew. Mom was a skilled seamstress.

Famously, she sewed the black wool cape I wore to a Big Ten University Homecoming Dance with my husband to be, in 1967. The dress was red velvet, enticing to the eye and soft to touch.

Twenty years later our daughter was invited to her first prom. The prom dress needed alteration. By this time my sewing skills were rusty so we enlisted the help of a tailor.  When our daughter donned the prom dress and the black cape, the tailor marveled at the quality of the cape my mother had sewn.

  • She instilled in me a desire to have beautiful handwriting. Every time she signed her name, she wrote carefully, be it a check, a greeting card, or a gift tag.

    … And she had a long career as a bank teller.

When senior citizens needed to cash or deposit their Social Security check, they lined up deep at my mothers window.  My Mom would serve all patiently and carefully, so they could visit briefly with her and she with them. She was astute. Mom recognized an older woman customer was about to be cheated out of a large amount of money. She alerted the supervisors of the bank who advised the elder customer appropriately. The woman’s money was not stolen.

My Dad had major depression. He could be very verbally abusive. He belittled my mother frequently, in front of all the children. I never heard or saw her defend herself. To this day, I remember vividly watching her cry in silence while sewing.

Dad attempted suicide four times: in the mid-1950, 1968, 1972 and 1979. Perhaps there were more than four times. I will never know. I never asked.

Neither did I ask her how she got through all this.

After my Dad passed in 1996, Mom began a new life for herself. She painted. She learned how to write stories describing and illustrating her past and current life. Mom began to decorate the Christmas tree the way she preferred. In fact, she invited her grandchildren to help her assemble and decorate the tree. She was talented with houseplants and arranging home decor. Mom also worked out at Curves several times a week. She became more physically fit while chatting with the younger women trainers. She had more fun.

It is extremely challenging to be a relative to someone with a serious mental illness. Did her parents advise her to divorce my Dad? – They did not approve of my Dad or my Dad’s parents. What unwanted remarks did her siblings make? Did she think of divorcing my Dad? 

My Mom remained married to my Dad to keep our family intact, even though she lost some love for him. I know this was so as she told me.

I believe for her, staying married was the right thing to do.

Thank you, Mom.

Gail Louise

Honor the Earth and Each Other – Notes on Earth Day, April 2021

gail louise Learning to Hope

From out of the earth
I sing for the animals;
I sing for them.

– Red Streaked Around the Face, Hunkpapa Sioux

Because my husband Jim and I limited our travel during 2020, I was delighted to discover acceptable flowering and foliage plants from local hardware stores. We selected two hanging baskets for our porch, identical baskets of flowering calibrachoa. Then, I could not resist two more plants: a type of sedum plus a sun loving coleus.

The calibrachoa, sedum and coleus all needed work. But each plant had promise. So I did what I had seen my father do so often. I pruned the plants … prudently and thoroughly.

Calibrachoa was just the ticket! Their flowers remind me of miniature petunias. They glowed in shades of coral, pink and red. Nature had sprinkled dabs of yellow deep inside each petal.

They thrived, and Jim affectionately named me “ The plant doctor! “

I thrived too. 

Nature can have a healing touch.

I prefer flowers, like other visual arts, to have an appeal from a distance and close-up. The bright colors of the calibrachoa beckoned to people walking by our home: Hey! Look at me! They were so intriguing I looked more closely than I intended. I peered into their depths and was rewarded by their subtle beauty.

Jim has a green thumb too. His thumb is green from raising vegetables. Wherever we lived previously, we had a vegetable garden. Sometimes a huge vegetable garden … with a rambling red raspberry patch as well! The blue jay will always remain the raspberry cane pruning bird to me. Whenever I pruned the canes, she scolded me insistently, every spring. Was I invading her space? Were her babies near?

Early each morning, you will find us sitting in our four season sunroom, observing the dawn of the new day. We follow the sun’s progress as she arcs across the eastern horizon. It is a sweet joy to attend to the unfolding season from the comfort of our sofa. The sun sweeps like a rainbow each day … everyday … throughout the year.

At twilight we walk the neighborhood, waving to folks while we witness the daylight slowly dipping westward. Each day, the sun “sets “ to brighten other continents, other countries, and other people.

Jim scans the sky nightly. Never does a day end without my husband walking outside, binocular in hand, to view the unfolding heavens.

Paul Goble describes our interaction with and responsibility for our Earth in his beautiful book “I Sing for the Animals.” As I reread his words, I am reminded what Earth and nature can bring to us, if we give her an opportunity:

“Plants and trees, birds and animals, all things like us to talk to them. They want to speak to us too, but it is not easy for them. We have to find a way to understand what they are saying to us.“

“We need not feel lonely in the fields and woods. Birds and animals, and the butterflies, speak to us. Often we are not really looking or listening. It is the same at night: the stars speak to us. We have to learn to look, and to listen. We are never alone.“

“Man’s world changes, and we hardly feel at home in the places where we grew up. The natural world is constant: the sun comes up and goes down, and the seasons follow one another and return again like a great circle. In our own changing world, it is these things which give us strength and stability.“

Let us preserve the great circle.

Thank you kindly,
Gail Louise

The Personal IS Political!

gail louise Real Life; Real Challenges

Folks, data on women with depression is skewed. 

As I read the book Invisible Women by Caroline Criado-Perez, published in 2019, I was startled to learn women are prescribed antidepressants more often than men … Two and a Half times more often than men!

Why?

It is not that women report having depression more often than men, as many of us would assume!  A 2017 study discovered that men are more likely to report having symptoms of depression than women.

Even now in 2021, we assume women are the “ weaker” sex. Therefore, we assume they need treatment for depression and anxiety more than men. Physicians prescribe antidepressants, for example, for skin pain in women, where men will be prescribed pain medication for skin pain.

So why are women given anti-depressants when they are not depressed? Physicians are socially biased and influenced also.  

  • Women are prescribed antidepressants instead of pain medication for pain.
  • Women are prescribed sedatives for pain instead of pain medication for pain.

Yentl syndrome is at work. Still.

What is the Yentl Syndrome? The Yentl Syndrome describes the phenomenon whereby women are misdiagnosed and poorly treated medically unless their symptoms or diseases conform to that of men.

This is the heart of the matter: Research on most illnesses have been done on men. Female bodies are not afforded the same degree of medical attention as male bodies. 

In addition, sometimes people say, women live longer, so women do not need the same amount of medical research. Check again. Mens longevity has increased along with their years of good health. Women live on the average only 5 years longer than men now. But those 5 years are often burdened with ill health and disability! Women are the sex as elders who more often need assisted health care

And even if women did live a lot longer than men, why would less research into women’s health and well being be justified? What !!!

We must all become more political.

During your health care appointments:

  •  Ask uncomfortable questions.

How much published research, not only clinical experience or reports, have specifically included women in all aspects of health, be it dental, physical or mental?

  • Go elsewhere if you do not have a health care provider who is willing to answer uncomfortable questions. 

I hope this is an option for you. 

Before your health care appointments:

 Research your health issue, be it something that needs addressing now or is a developing or a preventable condition.  

(It is strikingly obvious to me the more I prepare for my health care appointments and make it clear to the physician I am prepared by coming with written questions and background information, the more RESPECT I obtain from the physician. I get better treatment and more options presented to me. My goal is to be on equal footing with the health care team be it mental, dental or other physical health care. )

If we persist with less data on women’s health, things do not look rosy for women.

If we persist with less research into the health of Latina, Black, Asian, Indigenous and other minority groups, things are still darker.

— Let us remember and celebrate all of us —

Thank you kindly,

Gail Louise

  • The book Invisible Women, Data Bias in A World Designed for Men was the Business Book of the Year in 2019 by the McKinsey and Company Financial Times, the winner of the 2019 Royal Science Book Prize, a finalist for the LA Times Book Prize and The Orwell Prize, and longlisted for the Andrew Carnegie Medals for Excellencein Nonfiction.
     
  • Antidepressants have been life-giving for me in the past. I advocate for antidepressants to be prescribed judiciously and for limited time periods. 

We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For … A posting for March 8th, International Women’s Day

gail louise Real Life; Real Challenges

International Women’s Day began in the early 1900’s.

Today is International Women’s Day, IWD, an official holiday in Afghanistan, Angola, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Burkina Faso, Cambodia, China ( for women only ), Cuba, Georgia, Guinea-Bissau, Eritrea, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Madagascar ( for women only ), Moldova, Mongolia, Nepal, Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uganda, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Vietnam, and Zambia.

Notice the United States and the United Kingdom countries are not on the list. Neither are the often enlightened Scandinavian and other European countries. Nor Latin and South America. Nor Africa. 

Unbelievable. It is 2021 after all. Not the Dark Ages. 

Perhaps.

You may ask why I am writing about gender equity? 

For the good of all of us. You and me.

COVID has increased unfairness to and damaged the lives of women of all ages, all around the world.

  • Women account for 70 per cent of frontline workers, yet women are left out of many COVID-19 response and recovery plans, according to the World Economic Forum, 8 February, 2021 survey.
  • Just 20 percent of the WHO emergency committee are women. And there is other ongoing damage exacerbated by COVID 19:
  • Domestic violence is rising
  • Women are taking on more duties at home, again

47 million women worldwide fall into extreme poverty – living on less than $2 a day – in 2021 they are over-represented in hard-hit sectors, such as domestic and restaurant workers, per the UN. All this has been made worse by our global epidemic. 


How have the women in your life been affected by COVID?

How have the women in your life been affected by gender inequity?

What will be the consequences for  your children and grandchildren?


Women make up fewer than 10 percent of national leaders worldwide.  Behind this eye-opening statistic lies a pattern of unequal access to power.

Being elected and staying elected to leadership positions is paramount for positive change to occur in the lives of all citizens, for the good of all.

Women promote equal access and distribution of resources and better health care to all – medical, dental and mental. Women must design and conduct research to insure that research will be with women as subjects by women physicians, public health doctors,  and epidemiologists. 

Do you know that most research of disease has been done exclusively on men? 

Do you know that most research on other mammals, say mice for example, is done on male mice?

It is undeniable that the female body is different from the male body, functions differently, recovers differently, not just in regard to our reproductive health but we differ in other body systems as well.

So to learn more about gender bias and why there are not more women in leadership roles, I will be reading from my copy of Women and Leadership: Real Lives, Real Lessons,  published in 2020, by Julia Gillard, former Prime Minister of Australia and Ngozi Okonjo-Iwela, Nigeria’s two term Minister of Finance.

Ngozi Okonjo-Iwela is now head of the World Trade Organization.

Other contributors are: Jacinda Ardern, Prime Minister to three terms in New Zealand and still Prime Minister, who gave birth while governing, Thersa May, Christine Lagarde, Michelle Bachlet, Joyce Banda, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Erna Solberg and Hillary Rodham Clinton.

The GOOD NEWS is the vast majority of men and women around the world expect their leaders to take action to advance gender equality.


In closing, I offer a poem written in commemoration of the 40,000 women and children who, in 1956, marched to protest South Africa’s racist Pass Laws and presented at the United Nations, August 7th, 1978
A Poem by June Jordan ( 1938 – 2002 )

Poem for South African Women

Our own shadows disappear as the feet of thousands
by the tens of thousands pound the fallow land
into new dust that
rising like a marvelous pollen will be
fertile
even as the first women whispering
imagination to the trees around her made
for righteous fruit
from such deliberate defense of life
as no other still
will claim inferior to any other safety
in the world

The whispers too they
intimate to the inmost ear of every spirit
now aroused they
carousing in ferocious affirmation
of all peaceable and loving amplitude
sound a certainly unbounded heat
from a baptisimal smoke where yes
there will be a fire

And babies cease alarm as mothers
raising arms
and heart high as the stars so far unseen
nevertheless hurl into the universe
a moving force
irreversible as light years
traveling to the open
eye

And who will join this standing up
and the ones who stood without sweet company
will sing and sing
back into the mountains and
if necessary
even under the sea

We are the ones we have been waiting for

Let us all be the “Sweet Company ” 
Thank you kindly.

This poem can be found in “ We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For: Inner LIght in A TIme of Darkness ”  by Pulitzer Prize author and human rights activist, Alice Walker, 2006. 

Tips for Responding to Someone Who Tells You of A Sexual Assault

gail louise Beyond Recovery to Healing

There is no timetable when it comes to dealing with sexual violence. Remember it is violence. It is ugly, it is the gift that keeps on giving, if others are unwilling to be of real help. Men who are close to and love women who have been assaulted by other men can and should provide the comforts below. Regardless of how much time has passed, the feeling was recent. I sincerely hope and pray that those who read this post will respond to sexual assault victims with compassion. I invite you to be a person who responds compassionately. Compassion acts.

Follow the steps below.

*** What is essential is for the victim to be believed, to be listened to
and to learn how to get further assistance. ***

Since it is always difficult and challenging to talk about sexual assault, the listener MUST be as non-judgmental and and as supportive as possible. If you, the listener, him or herself has also been abused, raped or assaulted – please hold off telling your own story. You need to listen to the victim first and foremost.

Visit RAINN. Online at http://www.rainn.org ( Y en espanol a rainn.org/es)

RAINN is the Rape, Abuse, Incest National Netwtwork that has recommendations for assisting someone, a male, a female, off any age, no matter if the assault was recent or long ago.

Yes, I visited RAINN for an hour of online chat this week. It was helpful to chat with someone experienced helping people who have survived sexual assault.

It is free, anonymous, and can be private.

Say: “ I believe you. It took courage to tell me about this.”

It is extremely difficult for survivors to come forward and share their story. We can feel ashamed, be concerned we will not be believed, or worried we will be blamed.

*** Leave the “why” questions or investigations to the experts — Your job is to support the person. Be careful not to interpret calmness as a sign that the event did not occur — everyone responds to traumatic events differently.

The best thing you can do is to believe the person. Again: the best thing you can do is believe the person.

Say: “ It is NOT your fault. You did not do anything to deserve this.” Survivors may blame themselves, especially if they know the perpetrator personally. Remind the survivor, perhaps more than once, they are not to blame. I knew the criminal very well. He has not passed out of my life.

Say: “ You are not alone. I care about you and am here to listen or help in any way I can.” Let the person know you are there for them. Let the person know you are willing to listen to their story if they are comfortable sharing their story. Assess if
there are people in their life they feel comfortable talking to and remind them there are service providers who will be able to support them as they heal from their experience.

Healing is what my writing and recall is all about.
Healing. Healing. Healing. If the person, like me, does not get to discuss the assault with people she or he (RAINN was founded by a man.) he or she continues to relive the trauma, remains on high alert. I KNOW, for example I startle VIOLENTLY in dreams. If my husband wakes me to help, he must touch me gently, in an area that does not restrict my movements …. As in my violent dream I am fighting off the perpetrator. My husband must call my name quietly. I, for example, prefer during those times to be touched gently at the hip, not in the face, hands, or arms as was occurring in my nightmare – women who’ve been assaulted have a higher rate of lower arm fractures.

ALL this healing takes a tremendous amount of courage and energy. yet it must be done.

You can help!!! *** If you say, I will get back to you …. DO SO. ***

Say: “ I am sorry this happened. This should not have happened to you.”
Acknowledge the experience has affected their life. Phrases like “This must be really tough for you,” and “I’m so glad you are sharing this with me,” help to communicate empathy.

I prefer and recommend compassion over empathy, as empathy is so passive. It lets people off the hook. Instead do something … bring ready to eat healthy delicious food, flowers, a living plant, a small gift …
I see and witness people light up with small acts of compassion every day. I give people small acts of compassion myself, as often as my health allows. You will be at someone’s side when you give a reflection of your concern in an actual item.

Kindness is everything. Kindness and compassion.

CONTINUED SUPPORT IS ESSENTIAL:

There is no timetable when it comes to recovering from sexual violence.
If someone discloses the event to you, consider the following ways to show your
continued support.

● Avoid judgement
It can be difficult to watch a survivor struggle with the effects of sexual assault. for an extended period of time. Avoid phrases suggesting the person is taking too long to recover. Avoid the phrases, “You’ve been acting like this for a while now.” or “ How much longer will you feel this way?”

● Check in periodically
The event may have happened a long time ago, but this does not mean the pain has gone. Check in with the survivor to remind them you still care about their well-being and believe their story.

● Know your resources
RAINN. Online at http://www.rainn.org ( Y en espanol a rainn.org/es)
National Sexual Assault Hotline number 1-800-656-4673 (HOPE)

You are not alone.

Thank you kindly,
Gail Louise

A Measure of Our Success

gail louise Beyond Recovery to Healing

For children and young adults faced with mental illness, mental health challenges, and for children and young adults who are abused, forgotten and alone, I offer a poem by Ina J. Hughes:

We pray for children
   Who sneak popsicles before supper,
   Who erase holes in math workbooks,
   Who can never find their shoelaces.

And we pray for those
   Who stare at photographers from behind the barbed wire,
   Who can’t bound the street in a new pair of sneakers,
   Who never “counted potatoes’,
   Who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children
   Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
   Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.

And we pray for those
   Who never get dessert.
   Who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
   Who watch their parents watch them die,
   Who can’t find any bread to steal,
   Who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
   Whose monsters are real.

We pray for children
   Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
   Who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food.
   Who like ghost stories,
   Who shove dirty clothes under the bed, and never rinse out the tub,
   Who get visits from the tooth fairy,
   Who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
   Whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those
   Whose nightmares come in the daytime,
   Who will eat anything,
   Who have never seen a dentist,
   Who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
   Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
   Who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children who want to be carried
   And for those who must,
   For those we never give up on and
   For those who don’t get a second chance.

For those we smother … and for those who will
   Grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

Let us heed the admonition of Marion Wright Edelman, founder of the Children’s Defense Fund, who directs us to insert the promise, ” I TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR “ every time the phrase, “We pray”, is issued above.

Please offer your hands to all children, so that no child is left behind because we did not act.

Thank You Kindly,

Gail Louise

 * This poem excerpted verbatim from the last essay, entitled “If The Child Is Safe,” in Marion Wright Edelman’s book:  The Measure of Our Success, A Letter to My Children and Yours, 1992.

Wisdom from The Mouths of Our Youth

gail louise Beyond Recovery to Healing

Children often see, hear and intuit more than we grown-ups are aware.

When I was asked by the founding teachers of CCS ( “Children’s Community School”) – a Montessori preschool and kindergarten our two children attended – for a humorous anecdote from our children, I offered the first quote that came to my mind:

“My dentist laughs when I fart, but he doesn’t laugh too much because I don’t fart too much.”

   The quote was published.

In fourth grade, when the teacher asked if anyone knew what a loon sounded like our daughter said “yes!”  The teacher replied: “Oh, really?” Challenged, our child perfectly vocalized the call of the loon, a boisterous loud and long tremolo.

   The loon has outlasted the dinosaurs. …. So far.

Our second child, returning home from 1st grade, pronounced: “Mom, when I grow up I want to be a professional football player, so I can afford to be an artist.”

   Wow, he understood how the world works.

Greta Thunberg, the world leader from Sweden drawing attention to planet earth’s climate crisis – and it is a crisis now – was young when she began her work.

  Now, young women from the United States have joined her.

   Other teens are mobilizing for strict gun control reform.

Mental illness often starts young. Often, younger than we realize.

My Dear Mother, in her last years, called out to me one day. “Gail Louise, come here and sit on my lap.” She rocked and held me tenderly. My mother said, “I am so sorry we missed your mental illness when you were young.”

ALL of us need to learn from children and change our priorities.

Thank you kindly,
Gail Louise