My Two-Year LA Anniversary is this month. Someone asked if that was a big deal, I didn’t hesitate. It IS a big deal.
January has been quite the month of reflection for me. When I think back to two years ago, I remember I had locked myself in a bedroom for 3 days for fear that a man who claimed to care for me, would physically hurt me. The emotional and financial damage had already been done.
Two years ago I didn’t have cell service or a working car. Two years ago, I had late payments due on all of my bills and a foggy memory of the last time I had performed stand up comedy. I had no idea when or how I was going to get to my dream of moving to Los Angeles to pursue stand up comedy. Two years ago...I was dealing with this.
I’m resourceful and recognized what I did have...friends. I leveraged the power of social media to send out an SOS to get me out of danger. I posted that I needed help and the encouragement poured in. Friends, family, and even fans I didn’t know offered their airline miles, small amounts via PayPal, and one even called relatives near me to come and get me.
Luckily, I got out. Not untouched...but I got out.
Looking back on being in LA for two years: I’ve managed to do quite a bit. I’m proud of the places I’ve been, people I’ve met, stages I’ve told jokes on, the progress, the hard work and the memories I’ve made. I’m even proud to tell the story of how I am a domestic abuse survivor, because not everyone is so lucky. I am not so ashamed anymore to tell the story of locking myself in a bedroom for 3 days...because it just makes the last two years more impressive. To me at least.
So, is a Two-Year-Anniversary of moving to Los Angeles a big deal? It is to me...until it’s been three.
I chose Alanis Morissette's "Thank You" because I am grateful to those people who reached out, those who still do, anyone who will listen to me try tomake sense of it all, and continue to cheer me on. Thank you.
I started seeing someone, kind of on the hush hush; it’s
been a really enjoyable secret. Our public outings rarely see much PDA, which
is fine because despite the size of Los Angeles, this town sees and knows
everything and likes to gossip ad nauseum. Despite my very public persona, I am
not ready to be the center of gossip.
One evening, we were out at a bar that I’ve been to several
times, enjoying some live music. I’m no regular but I do recognize a handful of
people who are kind and welcoming.
Every single one of these people, all genders, touched me in
a way that I suddenly felt very strangely about. A man, accompanying me on an outing, was surely
watching me interact, and normally these hugs that sometimes meant a kiss on
the cheek, a lingering waist grab, extended hand holding, shoulder grooming,
hair fluffing….and did I mention another kiss on the cheek…surely these moves
must have made him uncomfortable. Because I felt that my body, and all its secrets, I reserved for him, yet suddenly, it was not
mine. It belonged to anyone that felt they wanted to comment, flirt, or just
touch me. (I mean, my hair is amazing, I get it…but do you need to touch it to
believe it’s real?)
In that evening, I became acutely aware of how my body was
not my own.
Could I just be projecting my insecurities on to a new
person I’m trying to impress? Perhaps. But here’s another example of how my
body, NOT in my date’s presence, doesn’t belong to me.
I walk into my place of business and am greeted by a sales
person who comments on my short shorts, “Damn girl, those legs for days!” accompanied
with a lingering hug.
My body is not my own.
Other female comedians have grabbed my hands and wrists just
to share a discussion of our sets.
My body is not my own.
I finished a speech at a Planned Parenthood fundraiser and men
and women would hug, put their hands on my shoulders, or hold my hand to share
their similar experience.
My body is not my own.
I walk into my mother’s house and she comments on how
healthy or thin I look.
My body is not my own.
Friends will say “Your face/arms/neck/stomach looks so thin!”
My body is not my own.
This amazing body moves about different spaces, stages,
stores, homes, mountains, sidewalks, parties, concerts and yet, simultaneously,
it is as if it is free to be touched or commented on at any time.
How can this be? After all, I am the one that walks around
in it controlling where it goes. I am responsible for this body. I feed it,
clean it, exercise it and dress it regularly. I am the one to take care of this
body and yet, somehow, my body is not my own.
And that is some bull shit. All that care...is a lot of work.
To take back my body may mean complete isolation, which
would be awful for the soul that this body carries around. The only thing I can
think, is how much more aware I am when I touch or comment on other’s bodies. “Girl,
I know you’ve been working hard…you look great!” or touching a waiter’s arm to
get a closer look at his awesome tattoo may not be the best way to connect to
another human. I don’t know what the best way is…but everyone is different. And
I can at least ask.
Because your body belongs to you, and how you take care of
it isn’t up to me.
Olivia Newton-John "Physical"
I couldn't really find any songs that had to do with the topic on hand, so anything body-related was going to take the cake. There are so many songs about women wanting to get-it-on, which is amazing. I chose Olivia's song becase the music video is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
As an after-thought to this writing, I cannot imagine the
frustration plus size people feel. They take care of their bodies too, but now
suddenly these bodies are not just portals for connecting with other humans,
they are the targets of negative comments and inappropriate grabs…and not just
on the body itself, but how that individual chooses
to take care of that body.
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
I love my body because it carries around my brain.
The best words a dear friend of mine has ever said to me.
Because that’s where the good stuff is, right? And your heart. Smarts and soul is what makes a person beautiful, yet, I spend so much time staring into the mirror wishing I didn’t have these ‘awful’ love handles. I secretly envy women who have hips that are slimmer than mine. I see pictures and think “That’s what my arms look like when I don’t pose? gross.” It’s exhausting and time consuming.
The worst part is...I NEVER think that about any of my friends and I know they go through the same thing.
Men and women alike, spend too much time worrying about The Beverly Hills standard, and not enough time on the “You Standard.” I can go for a run and have these beautiful, crystal clear thoughts of how absolutely grateful I am for a working set of legs and lungs. I went for a run today and zipped by houses I dreamed of owning and gardening one day on streets lined with purple and yellow-flowered trees….and I felt lucky. Lucky to smell those flowers. Lucky to have the time to enjoy them. Lucky to have the forethought of dreams and goals and aspirations. I finished that run feeling strong and proud of myself. Yet, the second I got into the bathroom to undress for a shower, I immediately despised the reflection and started making plans on what I should eat for the week and how I could fit in an extra workout.
This is an EXHAUSTING process!
Why do we do this to ourselves? I sit and listen to my best friend go on and on about how guilty she feels for not working out “enough” because she’s busy raising a beautiful family; and my other girl friend gets so surprised when I tell her how thin and gorgeous she looks like somehow she didn’t earn it.
My male friends are just as guilty. Running to the gym at 11p at night, cutting their diets extremely, and hiking everyday. EVERY DAY?!
What is this standard are we trying to live up to? Because The Beverly Hills Standard looks impossible without a lot of money and surgery...neither of which I have time for. Nor do my friends.
My friends make some really cool stuff. They paint, they write, they act in plays, they film the world exactly as they see it. In that world...are all of us, exactly the way we are...sitting reading this blog. Hunched over our phones or computers with little adorable belly rolls that no one notices but ourselves.
I don’t have the answers here, because body issues are really tough and I’ve been faced with A LOT of them lately. But there is a difference between exercising because you love yourself and wanting to take care of you, and exercising because you have to burn enough calories to make up for the ice cream date you had last night.
Feed your soul whatever that looks like (a run, a meditation on the beach, a Korean BBQ night out with friends, a chocolate bar, and binge watch session, etc). Because your soul is what makes the art you create thus making this world so beautiful. And whatever your body looks like...remember...that’s what carries around your brain and your heart which creates all of that amazing art!
I love you, exactly as you are.
A little Ed Sheeran to help you remember...even HE is in love with your body!
A lot of my friends exist outside of the radio world and
their questions about what it’s like on the ‘inside’ are fascinating. Most
wonder what their favorite personalities are like in ‘real life’ (as if we
exist in another dimension).
A favorite recent tale of describing a radio personality to
a friend surrounds a morning show that is just on fire in the Los Angeles
market. The Woody Show (ALT 98.7) is by far my friends’ favorite to listen to
and they quote verbatim the jokes, stories and information shared by the team. “Maggi,
have you ever met Woody?” I work during the afternoons so although we share the
same building our schedules rarely coincide to chat. I have, however, met
Woody. I was with my boss who introduced us in the hallway and this is how it
went.
Me: Nice to meet you finally, Woody. All of my friends just
love you and your show. High praise!
Woody: (Vending machine sandwich in hand and clearing his
mouth) Well, you can tell them how unimpressive this was.
This is generally what it’s like to meet most radio people. We
are hungry for attention and grateful that you pay attention. But if you catch
us with a vending machine sandwich in hand, well, the smoke and mirrors of our
wanna be rock star status are revealed. The point is…we eat vending machine
sandwiches too. We aren’t any different than most of our listeners.
What people don’t think to ask is all about the regular
callers. The people who call almost everyday to chat about…nothing it feels
like sometimes. Our voices come through their speakers and we become their best
friend without knowing it. These are the people that are far more fascinating!
Recently, a woman called asking for Mark, my boss. She
wanted to ask him a question. Well, it’s my job to field these kind of callers
so as not to disrupt the ‘process’ of our oh-so-talented host. Reluctantly, she
began to ask me her question.
Listener: How many days belong to a year?
Me: Oh, well, 365.25?! Leap year…am I right?!
Listener: No, only 325. The other 40 are Lent.
Me: Crickets.
Listener: You don’t get it. See….can I talk to Mark please?
Mark picks up the phone and she repeats the riddle. I’m
laughing in the background because I know he won’t get it either. She gives the
punch line and he politely laughs.
Listener: See, you get it Mark. That other girl on the phone
didn’t get it.
Mark: Oh, well, that’s probably because she’s Jewish.
Listener: (Laughing) Oh, well, she didn’t sound Jewish on
the phone.
I’ve never been more tickled by a listener, than I was with
her!
Stories like this are just one of many regarding the super
radio fans. You are excited or nervous to meet us radio people…trust me, we are
just as excited and nervous to meet you.
Buggles-Video Killed The Radio Star
Think of all the times you met a radio person in 'real life' and they look nothing like you imagined. Well, now with social media, radio people are quite available. Our listeners on the other hand, we have no idea what they look like until they show up to a live broadcast.
So, you're an activist, huh? How exciting! Whatever your cause, yours is a role that helps to bring a voice to a group of people who otherwise wouldn’t
be able to speak up for themselves. Even if that group does have a large
support system, acting as an ally is still important because the group has not
achieved full equality to the majority population and they need you to help
spread the word and normalize the ‘outsiders.’
Activism is a lot of work. It takes patience, persistence
and a hell of a lot of love. Our political climate certainly does not allow for
a lot of the aforementioned, rather it breeds divisiveness, anger and fear; in
other words, a recipe for hate.
The unfortunate truth is that more often than not, hate is
met with more hate.
"Apple Doesn't Fall Far" A father takes his son to the LAX protests after the initial announcement of the 'travel ban.' IG:@maggimayfield
I do not claim to be a good activist, or even a good ally to
any marginalized group. For example, when the travel ban was first initiated
and many immigrants (legal or not) were held at airports around the country, I
was one of many that decided to make a sign and march at the Los Angeles
International Airport. I was angry and I wanted to be around others who were
also angry. (My mother always taught me that there is strength in numbers,
right?) So, proudly I went and held my sign and demonstrated that this kind of
legislation wasn’t okay with me. I know, how narcissistic. Who am I? How did
this really affect me? The bottom line…this didn’t affect me. It had nothing to
do with me. However, my actions came from a place of love and support for how I
believe all humans should be treated. You know, with kindness and respect.
My activism that day was short-lived and I went on to perform at a
stand up comedy show later int the evening without making mention of my actions
earlier in the day while I was on stage.
Social media is supposed to be a safe place for the merging
of those two worlds. The Internet: a haven for activists to spread their wings
and find the funny in our “Second Lives” because the real thing is just dark,
daunting and seemingly hopeless.
But, I’m not sure that anyone is a perfect activist or ally
as I watch my comedian friends work out material online; they explore ideas
regarding a lot of the new legislation (usually affecting marginalized groups
who need us well-meaning activists) and confusing “fake news.” We write these
jokes as a feeler, to see what our friends think before we get crazy and bring
them into the real space. Nothing is worse, as a comedian, than trying a new
joke that you are so proud of and it falling flat on an audience. Okay, perhaps
the audience hating you a little for telling that joke…that would be much worse.
The problem with trying to find the funny and help normalize
a marginalized group online is that again, no activist is perfect. No ally is
perfect. When we write these jokes, no matter how basic or lame they may be, it's still a step towards helping to normalize the ostracized. Yet, I continue to
see fellow comedians call one another out for a seemingly harmless idea with
hate and anger, calling the joke “stupid,” “too easy,” or “at the expense of
the marginalized.” It's a nasty brawl that leads to name calling and the reassurance that "I am a comedian" so you know how much I can take a joke and that yours, was in fact not-a-joke.
Even if any of those things were true about the joke, why
are we attacking the writer? Perhaps this activist isn’t as up to speed on all
the issues the group may face. Perhaps they need a little nudging and ground zero education into
developing the joke/idea more.
No one is a perfect activist. However, it is a job, that if
you decide to take on, you can never get tired of. You can never get tired
explaining to a new audience WHY their way of thinking is mean and hurtful and
does not treat other humans with kindness and respect (regardless of the one
quality that the majority deems lesser than). You can never become exhausted
with loving someone despite their shortcomings in trying to help. You have to
love. You have to explain, a lot. You have to really listen to help guide. And
most importantly, you have to practice what you preach and love.
Continue to explore these ideas and jokes, my fellow
activists. I may not think your joke is funny, but rest assured, I’ll just not ‘like’
it on Facebook. But if it’s offensive, I’ll explain to you, in private, why I
think you need to restructure the joke and how you can be a better activist to better help the marginalized population you care about so much.
No idea is a bad idea. It’s just an idea that isn’t great…yet.
So, help one another out online. Meet those subpar jokes with high tolerance and
extra patient activism. Then, together, we can bring these ideas into that super
scary real space and actually help make the world a more tolerant, loving
place to live.
Stay patient and loving, my fellow activists, for we have a long road ahead.
Buffalo Springfield "For What's It's Worth"
Still, one of the best protest songs of all time. The lyrics that most clearly illustrate my point:"Nobody's right, if everybody's wrong." Look for what is right, even if it that means it's not you, this time.
I've lived in most parts of the country, from New Jersey and New York, to Wisconsin, Illinois, Arizona, Southern California, even Washington state. I've been married, divorced, moved in with a man I didn't marry, I was hurt, manipulated, abused and most of all, I've been loved. So deeply loved.
Of course, I am not a relationship expert. But, I sit here, single as ever, legs crossed, computer in my lap and writing to you that despite the ups and downs, I'm still open to every kind of relationship that lie ahead. And I encourage you to be as well. Hear me out oh precious guarded one...
There is no man I have dated, that hasn't affected me in some way. Some good and others bad. One I moved across the state for, another I drove down the coast for to pick up because he was too drunk to get out of a situation. One I had to walk away from completely because I knew I couldn't give him the one thing he wanted. All have made me laugh, challenged my brain, and truly believed I was beautiful on the inside. "Then why the heck are you still single, Mags?"
First of all, single-hood, is nothing to be ashamed of. It may be a choice, or it may be because of a lack of choice. There is nothing to be ashamed of as a single person!
But, despite all the places I've lived and loved, Los Angeles is a beast all on its own. Add in the cell phone, social media and Tinder, and this is a recipe for all sorts of unexplored territory, let alone the feelings that come with them.
Oh, yeah. Feelings. I've had my fair share of those too. Not all good ones either. Jealousy. Anger. Disappointment. Loss. Grief. Love. Elation. Joy. Anticipation. Lust.
Los Angeles daters are so afraid to catch a case of the feels. The inability to admit vulnerability is mind blowing and disappointing. For a city that hosts aspiring actors, (supposed empathy inducers according to Meryl Streep) there is a lack of truth in our own emotions. We can own those, right? Admit that there is some lust, intrigue, serious crushin, and even a little jealousy or anger when desires aren't met the way we anticipate.
Good thing we are allowed to enjoy the full gambit of emotions!
Dating is difficult, no matter where you live and choose to love. Approach it with complete honesty in what you want and are looking for and it should be a really fun experience! The problem is, dating in Los Angeles, people are looking for the next best thing...always. A prevelant attitude is this:
Them: "Yeah, let's meet at this cool spot for coffee/a drink/dessert" You: "Yay! Sounds good"
And if you are lucky, they actually show up...
Them: "I'm just looking to meet people, really. I don't want anything too serious. Just some foolin' around." You: (Trying not to be too vulnerable) "Yeah, me too. Friends and maybe benefits. Cool."
Fast forward 2 months later.
Them: "Cool. Thanks for the sexy time. I'll be busy this weekend with a very vague activity with people you've never heard me mention before."
You: "Oh...okay. This feels icky. Oh, cause I like you. And I want to be invited to said vague activity and meet your friends." Them: "Yeah...um, I don't want to be monagomous. Sorry." You: "ALL THE FEELINGS....OUCH THIS SUCKS!"
Most Angelinos brave enough to do so hate a dating story that sounds something like that. So the circle of guarded walls and hurting others (unintentionally) because you are hurt continues.
The only answer I can come up with...enjoy all the feels. Own them all. Sing when you are happy. Eat if you are sad. Go for a run when he/she plans a great date for you. Cry over a rom com until you run out of tissues when you experience jealousy or anger. Call a friend when he/she makes you feel excited! Call a friend when he/she makes you feel disappointed.
Look, pain should be some sort of a testament to the relationship you just experienced, no matter how you defined it. Doing away with it would be a shame. Some things are supposed to hurt. Bottling up and becoming angry with yourself for allowing some of the darker emotions to enter into your heart space is just making it more difficult to understand why things didn't work out. You were affected because your dating partner was awesome and you could see yourself with them in the future. Take away the good stuff. Leave the bad...then go enjoy some Ben & Jerry's for me.
Being vulnerable is a part of dating. There is definite risk when you date. The downside is that sometimes you feel sad because the other (hopefully honest and vulnerable) person doesn't reciprocate the feelings.
On the flip side, giving that kind of news is also difficult, but doesn't mean that it can't be done respectfully. As long as both parties can walk away with dignity, then I'd say it was a successful dating experience, regardless of length of time together or weight of sadness when parting.
Date kindly. Date honestly. Date respectfully. And most importantly date with your heart on your sleeve. If nothing else, I promise, it makes for some excellent stories.
Happy swiping dating Los Angeles!
I leave you with this song: Jennifer Page, "Crush" Cause, if it's 'just...a little crush'...a swoon worthy, heart stopping, can't eat can't sleep crush...then...OMG...you might be vulnerable and the run the risk of things not working out. Have no fear, this tune from the 90's will make you miss all those crush's that were much easier to get over in middle school. Shout out to Dennis....he loved hockey and I adored the way he walked a little pigeon toed. #Crush
Since the election of president-elect Donald Trump, the United States seems to be going through...a lot. Liberal media boasting that there was no way Trump could win, and that “Hillary has it in the bag” convinced most of the country that our next leader would be our first female president.
Clearly, that’s not what happened. But as the country is spinning in circles scratching it’s head pondering “how did this happen?” what IS happening concurrently, has the media in a frenzy and the rest of us splitting further and further from one another. Protests, riots, over turned cars and flag burnings. The midwest and south seem to be experiencing messages of hate and entitlement from Trump supporters who feel it is okay to name call and regress from social progress because “this is Trump’s America.”
Admittedly, I woke on Wednesday morning, feeling defeated, afraid and helpless. My Facebook feed was full of statuses of grief, shock, and anger. Protesting had already started. Hate was spewing from every screen. This was the worst feeling and I knew I was not alone.
That was the secret, I discovered. I am not alone. I should stop worrying so much about the things I cannot change, and take action in the things I can. Right?! So, I cannot change the electoral college. But, I can tell someone that I will stick up for them no matter what. I can show my support for the LGBTQ community and purchase goods and services from their stores. I can help immigrants by helping them decipher a map or a sign. I can prove that Latinos and the black community are important by speaking up when another person uses derogatory language. I can write messages in chalk on the sidewalk in my neighborhood letting them all know we will be OK and that everyone of us is loved and important.
Today, (Saturday 11/12) I awoke to a live feed on Facebook of thousands of protesters in Downtown LA. The media has made these protests seem violent. Fellow Republican friends make these protests seem unnecessary, too soon, and that the people marching are “whiny little bitches.” I wanted to see for myself. For a couple reasons, really. 1, Who doesn’t like to see a little drama (hello ‘reality’ tv), and 2, how many times do you get to be a part of something that is bigger than yourself?
However, I have felt uncomfortable with the language these protesters were using. #HesNotMyPresident and #DumpTrump seemed to ignore the fact that this was actually happening. I don’t like it because I understand that turning my back on him will not accomplish anything. Rather, it will only makes things worse because my side will never be heard.
My best friend and I made signs to carry at the protest filled with love. I really felt people needed to know that everything was going to be OK! We wrote out in bright colors, “Free Smiles,” “Free High-Fives,” “Free Hugs,” and “United In Love” to help people realize that this may be happening and as long as we stick together, everything will be just that...ok.
We walked the mile to the subway station and rode into downtown, smiles on our faces and curiosity in our hearts.
What I wasn’t prepared for (besides the INSANE amount of walking...I wore chucks...bad choice) were the amount of people that just wanted to talk. I listened intently to their stories of shock and fear and how their mama’s raised them to be gentlemen. They told me about where they went to school, how they got to Los Angeles, and their confusion of lack of leadership in these protests.
But, when we finally reached the City Hall, there were police officers lining the top of the steps making sure things stayed calm. There were more onlookers across the street taking photos and people watching. Protesters gathered in a big circle listening to speakers discuss how to stay united. They spewed off organizations that support the groups that were most afraid of the leader-to-be. Onlookers and other activists stood by with signs that said “Electoral College Reform,” “LGBTQ Equality,” “Love Trumps Hate,” and “Better Together.” People that asked for a hug whispered in my ear that it was a tough week and that that hug was the best part of their day. My response? “Pay it forward.”
People of all colors and religions marched in circles following the news helicopters to find the big crowd. They stopped on street corners, shared jokes, and laughed. They exchanged Instagram accounts. Dammit, they even took selfies.
It dawned on me that the people here were not expecting a revote, or for Trump to step down. Everyone came out because they were afraid in one capacity or another. Nobody wants to feel afraid and alone.
This was not a protest in Downtown Los Angeles today. This was a peace rally. A reminder to everyone that their fear must not consume them, rather, it should push them forward into conversations with someone else who does not look like them and get a little bit of understanding of how this beautiful world turns.
I went to this protest thinking I was going to see fighting, pushing, yelling, chanting and a lot of anger. I was delightfully surprised to see instead, that love was all around. It was in the signs, the speakers, the conversations and in those hugs that people desperately needed.
As I hang up the computer to go rub my sore feet before a stand up showcase show tonight, may I leave you with two thoughts?
One, if you aren’t sure about what you are reading or seeing, go look it up for yourself. This is painful to admit as I am part of “the media,” but the media really does a terrible job of giving you context or the full scope of news and news coverage.
Two, name calling only makes things worse. If you can’t have a discussion in real life or online with someone without calling them a: racist, biggot, misogynist, facist, uneducated, whiny, meaningless, stupid, or any derogatory name that you wouldn’t call your grandmother, then walk away until you are ready to listen as much as you talk.
Please, my Trump supporting friends, half of the country is still grieving. However silly you think these peace rallies and protests are, please know that they are helping us grieve and get to a point of acceptance. I, for one, am sorry I missed something. Everyone at that peace rally missed it. Something very important. I implore you to fill the rest of us in. Calmly, and with a steady heart, discuss what it is you see in our president-elect. We want to stand with you; for two is always better than one.
If these aren't faces of hope and love...then I don't know what is!
Expanding my musical education, the Youngbloods "Get Together" embody exactly what I hope for in the country. Get together, try and love one another., however that looks to you. Volunteer, peace rallies, helping an old woman down the steps, reading to children, smile at a stranger...the little things add up. Just. Stick. Together.
