Merling, Pilar and So Many Others

More and more, I think about the women who don’t have the chances I (rather accidentally) had. For me, it was the intersection of Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society, an excellent public high school guidance counselor, and a small, liberal arts college with deep financial aid capacities. Inevitably, as I think of the serendipity that made my life what it is, I think of all the women I have met in the Fair Trade system for whom the happy accident was Fair Trade. One of them is Merling, the head of one of the largest (and oldest) coffee co-ops in Nicaragua. When I asked her about how she came to be the head of such a large co-op in such a male dominated culture, she said, “When they asked me to take the job, they told me that they were afraid I would cry if they gave me bad news. I told them, I won’t cry, if you don’t. So far, I have not made them cry and they have not been able to make me cry.”

Another woman of whom I think is Pilar—her picture is below. I have not met Pilar yet, but when our bilingual Category Manager, Sarah Connolly, brought her story back from the Dominican Republic, I felt as if I had talked with Pilar myself. In this season of reflection and gratitude, I’d like to share her story with you.

Pilar Vilorio is a young mother of two sons who owns her own plot of land and is part of the CONACADO Fair Trade Certified™ cocoa association. This 10,000 member association recently launched an eco-tourism program, Tour de Chocolate, and Pilar is one of its pioneering guides. While hosting Tour de Chocolate, she speaks eloquently of how Fair Trade has benefited her business, her community, and her family.

Pilar is helping to diversify the ways her community is supporting itself and looking towards the future. She has aspirations to one day take on a new role at CONACADO - that of the first female regional president! Pilar’s story is a testament to the life-changing empowerment possible with Fair Trade. As you might imagine for someone who once dreamed of being the first woman on the Supreme Court, I find that Pilar’s aspiration resonates deeply. More than once it has given me an extra dose of tenacity as I wrestled with recalcitrant corporate attorneys who couldn’t quite see their way clear to signing one of our contracts without eviscerating it.

I invite you to help spread the benefits of Fair Trade by supporting TransFair USA this season. Give Gifts of Fairness to family and friends that change the world by changing opportunities for Fair Trade farmers like Pilar.

My personal favorites among the gifts of fairness are:

--The gift of a gavel for a woman (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_gavel ),

--The gift of a vote for a factory worker (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_vote), and

--The gift of shade for a coffee tree (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_shade).

I’m thinking of giving my mother a virtual version of the gift that the Great Society and Wesleyan University gave her 35 years ago in real life:

--The gift of an invitation to a graduation for a mother (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_diploma )

If there are those on your holiday gift list who would enjoy these or any of the other wonderful gifts of fairness you see on the TransFair website, I hope you will take a moment to send one to them. These truly are the gifts that keep on giving!

With affection, gratitude, and every wish for a joyous holiday season,

Joan

Scaredy Cat

Ours is a long line of scaredy cats--for as long as I can remember, from as young as I can remember, there were endless admonitions. Watch out. Be careful. Don't take a chance. Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

I suppose, in part, that was because my grandparents were so central to my growing up. They were the children of immigrants, survivors of both World Wars and of the Great Depression--all of those things had to have left deep, deep scars. Then, there was the fact of Nana's fragile psyche. God knows what sorts of scars that left on the psyches of us all. Whatever tangled skein of nature, nurture, ancestral memory, and assorted life experiences gave birth to the aging woman I am today, I know that I approach all new experiences with a fear and trembling that far exceeds whatever small amount of anxiety the situation might warrant.

I suppose I should be glad that the key word in that last sentence is approach. For Nana, it was fear. How I held on to my willingness to step forward instead of freezing in place is a complete mystery. Maybe it's the other side of the family coming out, maybe it's a wild piece of DNA. I only wish there was more of it and less of the fear.

Take this trip to Germany. When your company sends you to a meeting in a country to which you have never been, it only makes sense to take advantage of the trip, right? See the country--or at least see a slice of it!

Being logical, I did just that. I stayed for three days, took trains hither and yon. Saw all the sights I could locate--phrase book in hand. Mostly, it's been fun.

The good thing about being alone is that I can gawk for as long as I like at whatever I like. Which today meant I spent about 2 hours in the Friedensmuseum in Remagen--a minor stop for most people, but a strangely captivating one for me. The short walk back to town along the fast-flowing Rhine will stay with me for a long, long time. Who knew the light green velvet of the German spring was so soft, so welcoming, and so sensual?

The bad thing is the internal hysteria, my constant companion. Miss a street sign...I'm lost on the moon and my air supply is running low. Depart from my pre-planned schedule and decide to take a later train...immediate and inescapable sense of doom. What if there are no later trains? The fact that I read the schedule 20 times and know perfectly well that the trains run all night does nothing to take the edge off the terror. Suppose the schedule has changed? Suppose it changes today? My heart rate doesn't return to normal until I am safely disembarking at the station in the town in which I am staying. No wonder I fall into bed exhausted when another day has miraculously come to a safe end!

Every once in a while, I glimpse what it's like to be unafraid, to let things happen. The idea that other people live this way is incomprehensible to me. Or it would be, if it were not for my darling husband. Among the things that drew me to him 30 long years ago next January, was his utter ignorance of the 10,000 yawning chasms that open under my feet with every other step I take. If the waiter doesn't understand your stumbling attempts at German, don't panic. A little sign language will do the trick. If you can't catch your breath on the 509 steps up to the top of the bell tower at the Kolner Dom, stop until you can. The other people can walk around you.

It's a whole different way of being.

Crossing the Rubicon

How long does it take to change a world view? Apparently, it takes decades. And, contrary to biblical stories, it happens in nearly imperceptible increments rather than in a single moment of blinding light on the road to Damascus.

First, the e-mail account. Then, tentatively touch the water with a toe--participate in professional and community list servs. A long hiatus, followed by another step: Author a blog at work. A not-so-long pause this time and then I inch forward again...a personal, invitation-only blog.

Abandon the blog--not enough time to write. Proceed down a different fork. Almost accidentally, I set up a Facebook page. Living out loud does not come naturally.

Take a breath and, with more deliberate intention, set up a Linked In profile. Post a picture? That takes a while, but yes, okay... I'll try it out on Facebook. Nothing bad happened, so why not post one on Linked In? Still thinking about that. Questions abound. How different can the professional face be from the personal, how congruent should they be? How old can the picture be and still be considered truthful? Is truth even important in this exposed, alien world?

Very deep breath. The next steps are leaps and the footing is uncertain. Once the genie is out of the bottle...

Solicit recommendations, open the blog to any viewer who clicks on the link? Freeze in place for a long, long time. Look back over my shoulder at the fast receding, well-hedged, illusion of privacy I am leaving behind. Click through to the blogs of younger, less fossilized friends. Still temporizing, I opt for universal viewing, but no search engines. What a funny little fig leaf that is!

For a long time, I've nodded sagely when people said "There is no such thing as privacy any more." It's one thing to say it, it's another thing to believe it, but deliberately moving out of what's left of the shadows means the gates of Eden are shut forever. Welcome to the matrix, old woman, what do you think about Twitter?

My only consolation as I take my place in the fishbowl is the inescapable fact that there are so many fish in here, all but the shiniest ones are invisible. Maybe I really haven't travelled very far after all.