prepone

Food For Thought on the Campaign Trail--When will the pundits begin to be honest and discuss this? When will the media stop and ask themselves if they are upholding the most basic tenet of journalism?

That is, is their reporting and coverage fair and balanced? It isn't when it comes to the gender split in how the media report on female vs. male candidates. After watching the continued double standard the news media and other pundits and self-described experts hold H. Clinton (or any female in a position of power) to I am compelled to write. As a former political reporter I know it was considered a breakthrough to have women reporters on the campaign trail only about 15 years ago

Later, many speculated that as more women would cover politics (previously the domain of male reporters) that coverage of women candidates would change. I am not seeing much of that...especially today as the media continue to cover H. Clinton in a sexist way. The more the media continue to measure Clinton by her "emotional quotient" EQ the more my vote and support her is galvanized.

Like many women who are experienced, wise, strong and OVERLY qualified for job after job after job, we are expected to walk the tightrope of demonstrating we are "human" by showing emotion and vulnerability that in men is considered weak. But we are "too" emotional? If so, then we are no longer qualified. How many of us experience this in our own lives? Also, how many of us have been losing jobs and other positions of "power" to men we're old enough to have given birth to?

I hope the media continue to treat her differently, hold her to some EQ standard the men are not held to by the media (do ANY of the male candidates appear all warm and fuzzy? no!) it's going to galvanize the vote of ANY woman with a brain and a heart. And it seems N.H. women said the same thing...not only did Clinton win their vote, but it was especially high among women around age 50 who don't have children...hmmmm, maybe women working hard in factories, restaurants, offices whose "experience" clearly outshines male counterparts...but who have to greet everyone with a "warm" smile each morning or face being labled, "chilly".

Is our voice warm enough? Our expression warm enough? Do we speak with too much confidence or do we appropriately "qualify" what we know by saying, "well, I think...." etc. etc.

I challenge the media to stop this double standard. Stick with the issues. If you're a political reporter, cover politics and policy, or get a job writing for People Magazine.

By, Karen Louise Boothe—Karen Louise Boothe is a writer and international communications, media and civic engagement consultant based in Minneapolis. You can reach her at, preponeconsulting@gmail.com or via, www.preponeconsulting.com

“Meditation is to be aware of every thought and of every feeling, never to say it is right or wrong, but to just watch it and move with it.” –Krishnamurti

In the small western Africa country of Sierra Leone the usual greeting—spoken in Krio, the Creole-based language— is “How de body?” Often the reply is “we de fol don an git up,” (we fall down and then get up). It was with this same resilience the country’s citizens, lucky enough to survive, endured a brutal civil war between 1991 and 2001.

This same resilience and perseverance shown by the people of Sierra Leone is what led to peaceful and successful national elections last fall. The voter turn-out rate of nearly 70 percent rose out of harsh conditions that most voters in the U.S. would consider as insurmountable odds against voting including a 35 percent literacy rate, 70 percent unemployment rate, life expectancy of only 40 years, heavy rains, lack of transportation and walking distances—in many cases—exceeding 5 miles. Even so, Thousands of citizens waited in long lines to vote, demonstrating their personal commitment to peaceful elections. In Freetown and the provinces voters lined up as early as 3:00 a.m.to cast their ballots when the polls opened at 7:00 a.m. The general election conducted August 11, 2007 and subsequent run-off election conducted a few weeks later were the culminating events to my 4 months of work serving as a long term elections observer there.

Election observers are instructed, by an internationally agreed upon code-of-conduct, to remain neutral in their work and neutrality is perceived as achievable only by creating distance and separation. To observe is to see. But can one really “see” across such divides? As a veteran journalist the privileged role of perching oneself on the periphery, is a familiar—albeit uncomfortable—one. By acting as an observer—or the seer— one distances oneself, if you will, from other people, their identities and their experiences. It runs in direct opposition to the thought that knowledge is the annihilation of the separation between oneself and another—Swami Prajnanpad.

In fact, I have often wondered to myself if rendering one invisible—as many privileged, western, white travelers do when they seek out so-called, culturally exotic experiences— is to brush away that person and, in doing so, committing an act of violence against that person.

The most telling example of this was the nightly drive to the hotel from the office in Freetown. Invariably, we’d get stuck in heavily congested traffic making what should have been a 20 minute drive an hour-and-half journey during the city’s infamously congested drive time. All along the route people would approach stopped and slow moving vehicles selling everything from phone cards to sponges to radios to chewing gum and cigarettes. Dozens more would knock on vehicle windows with their amputated limbs—the results of war torture— begging for money. Sensing my internal struggle over wanting to reach out and give away a few coins and knowing the little difference it would make to anyone’s life, Mohammad, the driver, barked, “don’t roll the window down! Don’t even look! We’ll be surrounded and stuck in a mob. I won’t be able to help.” I sensed his own panic over the prospect and respected his command. That’s when I remembered something my friend Laurie had once told me. She had instructed me on what she said was a Buddhist practice of healing. I lean toward being more pragmatic than spiritual but her advice popped into my head, I am quite sure, out of my own need to wrestle with such an internal struggle. I didn’t remember the exact details so I’d acknowledge the person’s existence, without looking at him or her directly, while breathing in. Upon my exhale I’d send that person a blessing.

I made this my daily practice during my 4 months in Sierra Leone while encountering so many people along the journey that I didn’t have the courage to lock eyes with or acknowledge directly.

And then, one day, the unexpected happened. A small girl, about 4 years old, exercised the most loving gesture anyone has ever made toward me. While Sasha, my observation partner in the eastern Kono District, and I were standing in sweltering heat and sun in a small village up-country a tiny ebony figure of no more than three feet tall meandered toward us along the dusty, pebbled main street. She walked right up to me and, looking into my eyes, reached up toward me. I kneeled down and took her hand into mine. Together, we turned to Sasha and he snapped a picture. Then as quietly as she approached she dropped her hand from mine, turned and slowly walked away back down the street toward her mud and thatched-roof home.

The wordless exchange taught me a lifelong lesson and imbued in me a deeper knowledge about human connection. In this small child’s very simple act of truly seeing me I became blessed.