Two Spicy Meals

The other day my daughter's reaction to dinner reminded me of an important meal I had in Mexico in 1995.

As a rule, I feed my now 30-month-old daughter whatever I make for myself and her dad. She doesn't have to eat everything, but she won't be offered any alternatives either. I try to mix it up with a lot of variety partially so I don't get bored and partially so she doesn't get stuck on a couple favorite foods.

The other night I was excited to try a new recipe for white beans, sausage, and kale over rice with a side of baked sweet potato strips. I used spicy Italian sausage - something Lysistrata had never tried. Dinner was running a bit late, so she was especially hungry by the time the food reached the table. She happily climbed onto her chair ready to chow-down. Looking into her bowl, she smiled and exclaimed, "Meatballs!" I explained to her that it was "sausage" and "a lot like meatballs". I also explained to her what the other bits were, which she rejected with a shake of her head. She took a big bite of just the sausage, and then things took a turn.

Lysistrata's face turned red as her mouth slowly opened and she simultaneously spit out the food and began to wail. "It's too hot!" I told her to drink some water, which she did. I also encouraged her to try the white beans, kale, rice, and sweet potatoes, but she refused. Instead she put another piece of sausage in her mouth. Her reaction was the same, only this time she swallowed the piece before wailing. She ate a third piece before shifting into full-on tantrum mode. She pushed the plate away, grabbed a huge handful of sweet potato strips, and screamed, "I don't want that!" I grabbed her hand just before she threw the sweet potatoes on the floor. She glared at me, then let out a primal scream. It reminded me of orc battle cries in Lord of the Rings.

On the surface, I remained calm. In as soothing a tone of voice as I could muster, I told her she needed to be in time out, and when she felt better she could come back to the table. Then I gently lifted her and placed her on the couch as she broke into tears. Inside I felt a wreck. Was I a terrible mother for expecting my toddler to eat spicy food? Should I break down and heat up some frozen meatballs? I kept reminding myself that she had eaten beans, rice, and sweet potatoes all before. There was plenty of "safe" foods for her to eat if she wasn't feeling adventurous about the kale and sausage. And she'd had kimchi for the first time at 18 months, and many other ethnic foods that have some heat, Besides, as far as spicy foods go, this sausage was relatively mild. I would stick to my guns and calmly wait for her to return to the table.

It took about five minutes for her to calm down and return. Her face streaked with dried tears, Lysistrata picked up her spoon and began to eat. As before, she started picking out the pieces of sausage to eat first, only this time she seemed to enjoy them. Then she added a piece of white bean or kale and rice to the spoonfuls, and when the sausage was gone, she kept eating the rest until the bowl was empty, at which point she reached for the sweet potatoes. Her mood shifted back to pleasant, and she told me dinner was "tasty." I quietly thanked her for the compliment, but inside I was doing a victory dance.

Witnessing this whole scenario unfold I was reminded of a meal pivotal to the development of my taste and enjoyment of food. As a child I avoided spicy foods, and I had to avoid them because my dad was a huge fan and they were frequently around. But when I was 17 and my family went to Mexico for part of the summer, avoiding spicy foods became much more challenging. I had managed to maintain my preferred mild diet rather well until the summer program I attended went on a field trip to a "traditional" bar-restaurant. A sign on the outer wall of the building read, "No women or children." We were, however, permitted to sit in the outside courtyard at rustic, wood tables with umbrellas to block the harsh sun. There was no menu. If you were hungry, you could order the meal. This turned out to be several courses of the hottest food I'd ever tasted. Of course not eating was an option, but it was late in the afternoon, and I was starving. My hunger far outweighed my aversion to spice, and I forced myself to eat. I wanted to whine and cry about it, beg my teacher and fellow students to go somewhere else to eat, but I was too old to act so sophomoric. The only beverages available were bottled water and carbonated soda, which provided little relief from the intensifying fire in my mouth. I just had to let it burn.

This was the most physically painful meal I have ever endured. But it was probably also one of the best. After it I wasn't afraid of spicy food, and this has encouraged me to expand to a wider range of foods. The thing about spicy food is that it still has flavor to be enjoyed and substance to satisfy hunger. Over a decade later I still have specific memories of some of the wonderful flavors in the courses from that firey meal. Not to mention the many wonderful spicy foods I have been able to enjoy since then.

Watching Lysistrata shove piece by piece of that sausage into her mouth despite the heat, I realized that she was learning a valuable lesson - that there can be joy and pain, attraction and aversion, at the same time, and that sometimes enduring a little pain proves worth the effort.

Barefaced and Beautiful Campaign, a Lame Distraction

Today kicks off National Eating Disorders Awareness Week. Certainly eating disorders are a point of concern for many western parents, especially if they have daughters. I have known three young women who suffered from rather severe eating disorders for a time, and have suspected it of quite a few other friends and acquaintances. I am abundantly aware that anorexia and bulimia can lead to serious health problems, including death. (No doubt I know this because of past awareness campaigns.) So continuing to raise public awareness for upcoming generations of body-conscious young people seems like a wise and reasonable idea.

What I don't get it what this has to do with makeup.

The Renfrew Center Foundation which treats and conducts research about eating disorders is using this week to present "Barefaced and Beautiful", a campaign where they encourage women to go without wearing makeup Monday, March 27, 2012, post pictures of their naked faces on Twitter and Facebook, and spread the word to family and friends.

This campaign is in response to a survey of women conducted by the Foundation that revealed that 44% of women experience negative feelings without their makeup on, such as insecurity or self-consciousness. Almost half use makeup to hide flaws in their skin. Also, more than a quarter of women who wear makeup began doing so between the ages of 11 and 13.

I read this and I think, ummm, so?

Makeup, like clothing and jewelry, is adornment, not disguise. I imagine lots of women would feel uncomfortable and less attractive walking around in public with bed head or without a bra, but that hardly means they think their hair or breasts are ugly. Of course women use makeup to hide flaws in the skin. I remember desperately trying to find the right color to conceal that occasional mega-zit in high school. It had no reflection on my sense of self worth. And of course girls often start trying on makeup around the age of 12; that's when puberty kicks in. They're getting breasts, their first period, and developing crushes.  It is obvious that girls going through such transformation will be interested in picking up some of the habits and rituals of grown women. What exactly is harmful about dabbling in makeup?

Nowhere in any press coverage of this campaign can I find mention (much less evidence) of how makeup is directly connected with unhealthy body image issues or eating disorders.

Whether a woman wears makeup or not is largely a choice of personal style, similar to deciding what sort of shoes to wear or purse to carry. Also, as with clothing and jewelry, makeup is highly personalized expression. Through its use a woman can choose to blend in with convention, but she can also rebel or align herself with a particular subculture (think Goth), or make a bold and memorable impression (think Tammy Faye.) A woman can choose to make a certain shade of lipstick her signature in the same way some women exclusively wear a certain scent.

On top of that, the social pressure to wear makeup isn't all that strong or overt. I write this as a woman who hasn't worn makeup since high school (and even then only a handful of times), and no one has ever said anything to me about it, or even seemed to notice. The women I know who wear makeup seems to relish "putting on their faces" in the same way I enjoy picking out a pair of earrings and a necklace to wear for the day.

This campaign suggests that women who wear makeup are both insecure and victimized by a culture that pressures them to not be themselves. It also suggests that women like me who don't wear makeup are somehow rebels, throwing off convention even if the consequence is that we'll be perceived as less beautiful by most people. This bothers me.

What bothers me more is that I fail to see any meaningful connection between wearing makeup and having an eating disorder. Of the three women I've known with diagnosed eating disorders, two didn't wear makeup. In both cases, they associated with a subculture of women who didn't wear makeup (one was the sort of hippie-vegan type, the other was a butch bisexual.) And finally, this campaign places the focus exclusively on women since men conventionally don't wear make up. However, many men do have body image issues and eating disorders. This whole Barefaced and Beautiful campaign strikes me as a distraction from the real problems women and men with eating disorders deal with, and that's a shame.

Great Outdoors Vital to Children's Health and Education

As a city-mom shopping around for preschools, I've noticed several programs touting the kids' regular access to several acres of wilderness. One nursery school's website even features a large, colorful photograph of children running full force through a field dotted with mature trees and strewn with freshly-fallen leaves.

This emphasis on the importance of free play in nature has inspired my curiosity. Is there any hard evidence that children benefit more from playing in forest and field opposed to gym or playground? If so, what are those benefits?

One seemingly obvious benefit is to physical fitness. Indeed, there are great benefits to be had with certain types of video games, websites, board games, and many other indoor activities. But they are mostly sedentary activities. Simply being outside where there is much more space to move around in, and in nature where there tends to be more space in between points of interest compels a person to get more exercise.

In a couple of her articles on babycenter.com, anthropologist Gwen Dewar cites a few studies and provides some analysis of a potential connection between health and time spent in the great outdoors. In Kids outdoors: Beyond team spots and PE, she writes about how children in Amish and Mennoite communities tend to be leaner and stronger, and she suggests this is because of physically-engaging chores such as hauling water and chopping wood. Although Dewar is quick to point out that American children who merely live in more rural areas do not tend to be more physically fit. The idea, she insists, is to just get them outside doing anything, such as biking or hiking, rather than exclusively depending on organized sports or physical education classes to keep kids in shape. And in her article Parents stifle kids' active, outdoor play, Dewar discusses studies which suggest that more formal, adult-guided activities (opposed to free play with peers) results in kids being less active.

Much has been written about how adults in cities tend to be more active than their suburban counterparts. The simple fact that city folks have access to public transit or live within walking distance to many stores, banks, post offices, and such means that they at least walk more average steps in a day. When Morgan Spurlock went on his McDonald's diet for a month for the film Supersize Me, he also restricted his movement to that of the average American, and living in the city that meant often taking cabs where normally he would have done a combination of walking and public transit. However, does this mean city kids are also more active than rural and suburban kids? One study suggests that the opposite is true. As reported in this article:

The report, published in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, used data from a 2006 survey of school-aged children from grades 6 through 10 (ages 11 to 15). It looked at the physical activity patterns of 8,535 students from 180 schools across Canada, and then compared it to the 5-kilometre area surrounding each school. 

The study found that youth in the neighbourhoods of highest density and most connectivity between streets were less likely to be physically active outside school.

The problem is that, especially for younger children, adequate adult supervision in densely packed, narrow streets with numerous moving vehicles is difficult. Indeed, raising my toddler in the city I've found that I am not comfortable even walking a couple blocks to the pharmacy without putting her in a harness to prevent her from suddenly dashing into a busy road. (I get some funny looks doing so, but I'll take that over her getting hit by a car because I wasn't fast enough to grab her in time.) Children in suburbs and more rural areas tend to have large yards and can more safely take over quiet cul-de-sacs for biking, roller skating, and casual games of soccer. 

Beyond exercise, what other benefits could there be to children spending more time in nature? Recently a report in Scotland indicated that the creation of "Urban Jungles" (trees, boulders, and tunnels, opposed to more traditional playground equiptment) resulted in not only increased physical activity of the children, but less accidents and less bullying. 

Over a two week period in 2009 there were 76 accidents, one incident of bullying and 53 other incidents, which include pushing, hitting and slipping. 

A follow-up study in 2011 recorded six accidents and two cases of bullying. Both cases of bullying occurred when the natural play space was closed. 

Others are raising concerns that an increasing disconnect with nature leaves serious gaps in children's education that might diminish their ability to understand many concepts in science and environmental concerns.  One professor in West Australia has spoken out against the problem, particularly for city children

Dr How, who is also an adjunct professor at the school of anatomy and human biology at the University of WA, said the issue was a significant challenge to biodiversity education. 

He said this held serious consequences for children's health but also environmental conservation because the next generation could not protect and appreciate what they did not understand.  

There the State Government is spending two million dollars on a "Nature Play" program to encourage children to experience and learn about the outdoors. 


Recently, Michael D. Barton expressed many of the same concerns in guest article for the Foundation Beyond Belief's blog, titled Humanist Perspectives: Connecting Children to Nature. Barton writes about his concerns that education about evolution, the environment, and developing a personal connection to nature through first hand experience is lacking in public schools, and that as a parent he feels it is his responsibility to supplement his child's education in those areas. He does this not only by having lots of relevant books about, but by taking advantage of local parks and trails as well as nature programming at libraries and museums. He writes: 

To feel that we are a part of nature is crucial in thinking about how we want to treat this planet. 

It begs the question, can we learn all we need to know about the natural sciences from books, or is some amount of direct experience necessary? It is one thing to know something in theory. It is another to have experienced it. This is why we have children conduct hands-on experiments, dissect frogs and turn celery stalks funny colors by immersing them in cups of dyed water. Direct experience provides visuals, tactile sensations, sounds, smells, and tastes that allow us to more personally engage with the information we are taking in. These experiences also leave us with a more vivid memory. 


The more I read, the more I'm drawn to that preschool where the teachers and administrators brag about how the children go outside to freely roam the grounds every day, regardless of rain or snow. I love the city, and I'm proud and enthusiastic about raising my children in a place with so much culture, diversity, and sense of community. But I also want my kids to regard physical activity as something spontaneous and joyful, not only as scheduled, formal activities. I want them to know what it is to catch a fish or swim in a lake. When I teach them about Darwin and his theory of natural selection, I want them to be able to easily imagine the experiences that lead to the ideas, such as obsessively collecting beetles, and comparatively examining finches and tortoise shells on the Galapogos Islands. And I want my kids to experience the unique sense of awe and humility that comes with staring up at a sky full of stars, or standing in a forest of tall trees, or witnessing a gorgeous sunset, or gazing out at the endless blue of an immense body of water. I want them to love this earth with a deep and honest passion, so that acting to preserve our planet in its current state is not only rational, it's personal. 

On the Film "Forks Over Knives" and Plant-Based Diet Advocacy

With Thanksgiving, a holiday centered around food coming up, it seemed most appropriate to write about Forks Over Knives, one of the latest of many documentaries (not to mention books) about the role of diet in health.

This film advocates for a heavily plant-based diet. At least mostly vegetarian (using meat and other animal products very sparingly as flavoring, and big increases the whole grains, legumes, fruits, and veggies), and ideally strict vegetarian (no meat, dairy, or eggs.) Normally I have avoided films and books that have advocated for vegetarianism, especially strict vegetarian (vegan) diets.

A recent speaker advocating such a diet at one of my local humanist group's program meeting reminded me why. Too often, advocates of vegetarianism, especially veganism, support their message with a bunch of self-righteous moralizing about a level of animal rights that simply doesn't jive with my (or most people's) moral compass. I would happily stab a thousand cows in the face if it would cure a loved-one of cancer. And while I am concerned about the inhumane conditions of much factory farming, there are alternatives of buying and consuming meat from local farmers, and these are becoming more and more accessible. The animal rights approach swiftly dismisses the cultural, psychological, and practical hurtles many must overcome to be vegan, and likens even the occasional meat-eater to puppy torturers. The lecture I recently heard definitely took this approach, and I left the meeting highly annoyed and desiring a cheeseburger just out of spite.

Forks Over Knives does NOT take this approach. Animals rights aren't even mentioned. In fact, the term "vegan" seems to be deliberately avoided in exchange for the phrase "plant-based diet", presumably to distance itself from the association with groups like PETA. Instead, the film focuses on the personal health benefits of a plant-based diet, particular a whole foods, plant-based diet. And it backs its claims up mainly by profiling the research and conclusions of two doctors: T. Colin Campbell and Caldwell Esselstyn. Campbell is a biochemist and one of the lead researchers in the China-Oxford Cornell study that looked at nutrition and disease in 65 rural counties in China over two decades. Campbell wrote about his research and findings in a best selling book The China Study, published in 2006.  Esselstyn is a physician at the Cleveland Clinic who had success treating heart disease patients through diet and wrote about it in Prevent and Reserve Heart Disease, published in 2008. I had previously read both of these doctors' books and had been heavily persuaded by them, while maintaining a few grains of skepticism. After all, the role of nutrition in health is incredibly complex and difficult to study, and both Campbell and Esselstyn make some pretty far-reaching claims about how well a plant-based diet can eliminate many "diseases of affluence" (as Campbell puts it in his book), in particular heart disease, stroke, and cancer.

After reading the books in 2008, I attempted to eat a diet that was mostly in-line with what they advocated. Indeed, I felt good, still enjoyed food, and combined with regular exercise I dropped 25 pounds over 6 months.

But then I got pregnant. (Indeed, the reason I was trying to get all healthy was in anticipation of pregnancy.) It was amazing how much months of persistent nausea and vomiting, as well as hormone-induced cravings for ham salad, cheeseburgers, ice cream, and a total disgust for all things vegetable quickly converted me back to my old way of eating. Actually, much worse than my old way of eating. Things improved a bit after the first trimester, and after having my baby, my love of vegetables returned and I started replacing processed foods, meat, and cheese, with more fresh fruits, veggies, and legumes. But while breastfeeding and eventually introducing a baby to solid foods, I also kept butter, milk, and eggs in the fridge at all times, and made meals with meat at least once or twice a week.

I read Michael Pollan's book In Defense of Food, which can be summed up in his mantra "Eat food (as in not overly-processed Frankenfoods). Not too much. Mostly plants." And I was feeling pretty darn good about my family's diet. Then comes along "Forks Over Knives" to remind me of all that stuff I read and started to believe 3 years ago, and I started questioning whether I should be buying a dozen eggs and some sort of free range meat or fish every week.

After watching the film, I poked around the Internet looking for criticisms. I am automatically skeptical of these sorts of documentaries that heavily push a particular political, social, or philosophical point of view. They have a tendency to gloss over important criticisms and utilize a good number of fallacious arguments. And indeed, I found this lengthy but humorous, even-handed, yet heavy critique of the film's scientific claims. The author, Denise Minger, is a young person without any academic credentials in a related field. However, her research and arguments are rather thorough and startling, and I found them quite persuasive. Once again I'm feeling pretty good about allowing my daughter her meatballs and "eggie pie" (quiche) a couple times a week since, after all, she eats just as much beans and brown rice, oatmeal, a wide variety of steamed vegetables, and whole fruits on a daily basis.

For this Thanksgiving I have pre-ordered a free range, local turkey. As a couple of my guests are vegan, it will be accompanied by a wide assortment of plant-based side dishes including strictly vegetarian green bean casserole, mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy, sweet potato casserole, cranberry salad, and pumpkin pie - all made with fresh ingredients.

But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to that bird.

"Highest form of art"? I don't think so.

This is an addendum to my last post about Marni Kotak's performance art piece The Birth of Baby X. The artist successfully gave birth to a baby boy in the gallery this morning to an audience of maybe 15 people. I'm not sure why this is news. Most of us have known or will know people who are pregnant. A huge number of us women will some day be pregnant and experience birth. A huge number of men will have a partner who gives birth and be able to play a supporting role in the birth process. People can read about it, find books and videos that show all the details. Those who want to have a more intimate understanding of the process of birth can discover and attend gatherings of women who tell their "birth stories". This isn't exactly something shrouded in mystery anymore, as some would like to pretend. Which probably explains Kotak's small audience.


Really, what was the point here?
Rhetoric that attempts (and fails) to give higher meaning to this performance abounds. One spectator was quoted saying,

I feel like the entire audience accomplished this together with Marni, using the commonly created positive energy. 

Obviously the artist would have accomplished giving birth whether the audience was there or not, so I'm not sure what their supposed "positive energy" contributed.

The artist herself contributed more empty blather:

Kotak has said she hopes people will see that giving birth is what she calls "the highest form of art."

Forget Michelangelo's Sistene Chapel ceiling, the compositions of Mozart, the plays of Shakespeare. Doing something that only women can do, but which requires simply a fully functioning reproductive system and being sexual active is not just art, but the "highest form" of art. Huzzah for womanhood! Who knew surpassing Picasso could be so easy!

Forget the caves at Lascaux and the creative explosion, a time when modern humans evolved beyond all other species in a flurry of creative activity never seen before on earth. According to Marni Kotak, there is nothing that special about us humans. Apparently, something that just about every female of every sexually reproducing species on the planet, including roaches, rats, and worms can do is not just art, but the "highest form" of art.

No. Art is a response to our life experiences, not the experiences themselves, and not the mere documentation or witnessing of those experience. Art is creative. It transcends our experiences, gives them meaning.

As far as I can tell, all this performance was made up of was the artist documenting and engaging in aspects of her regular life on display for an audience. Maybe that would have been cutting edge stuff that pushed the boundaries of what is considered art many decades ago, but these days, who cares? What profound meaning comes out of this that didn't already exist without it?

Bad Art: Marni Kotak's "The Birth of Baby X"

Majoring in fine art and having to form an opinion about it, I long ago concluded that anything presented as "art" is appropriately categorized as such. Found objects such as Marcel Duchamp's Fountain (literally a urinal) or the rock and driftwood sculptures on view at Mokseogwon on Jeju Island: art. Chris Burden crucified on a Volkswagen, Marina Abramovic starring silently across a table at total strangers for over 700 hours: art. The scribblings and clumsy drawings of millions of children hanging on countless refrigerators: art.

Not to say all (or even most) art is good art. Just that it is art.   

So now that I have that out of the way, I can write about some crappy art. Specifically, artist Marni Kotak's latest performance piece: The Birth of Baby X. For this piece, the artist has transformed Microscope Gallery in Brooklyn into a sort of home-birth space to give birth to her baby in view of the public. 

Women turning aspects of their births into public affairs is nothing new. Numerous women have allowed video footage of the birthing process to be used in documentaries and educational films, viewed by high school students in biology classes and couples in birth classes around the world. The "Feminist Breeder" Gina Crosley-Corcoran turned her birth into a live blogging event with updates, photos, sound clips, and more. Chiropractor Nancy Salgueiro recently invited the public to view the live stream of her giving birth. For anyone interested in the progression of the natural childbirth movement, a performance such as Marni Kotak's is hardly ground-breaking. On the contrary, it was inevitable.   

While Kotak cites established performance artists such as Vito Acconci and Carolee Schneemann as her inspirations, her work is not nearly as creative or provocative.  In an interview with The Village Voice, Kotak says, 

I am driven to hold onto an authentic personal experience in a world that has essentially become consumed by an unreal hyper-reality.

But the performances of Acconci, Schneemann, Burden, and Abramovic aren't public displays of their real, day-to-day lives. They are creatively tailored. Certainly both the artist and the participating audience have an "authentic personal experience", but so does an actor playing Hamlet on stage, or a theater goer moved to tears by his performance. From what I can tell, there is as little creativity as possible in Kotak's performance. Instead, in her attempts to make the piece as "authentic" as she can, she has turned it into little more than a live documentary. 

The Birth of Baby X seems to be more an extension of the natural childbirth movement than the performance art of her claimed inspirations. In The Village Voice interview she also states:  

In "The Birth of Baby X," I will be completely engrossed in the act of giving birth before a live audience. I will be focused on delivering my child into the world in the healthiest manner possible, rather than on how I look or what the audience may think. Everything I have learned about the birth process is that the more you surrender your mind and don't try to control the event, but let your body do what it naturally knows how to do, the better your labor progresses. 

Here Kotak seems to be taken in by some of the unscientific claims and rhetoric of the natural childbirth movement. There is no evidence that surrendering your mind results in a better labor process. Letting your body do what it naturally does will not prevent abnormalities in the size or position of the baby or in the pelvis or structures that support it. It will not help if the cord is wrapped around the baby's neck or if the placenta does not have enough oxygen stored to supply the baby during labor. It won't prevent infections that pose a danger to the child. Women surrendering to their bodies isn't what has drastically reduced the number of women and babies who die in childbirth. Indeed, the places in the world where access to modern medicine is limited, women and babies continue to be at great risk.   

The more I read about Kotak's motivations, the more it seems to be a self-aggrandizing political stunt rather than a challenging or transcendent work of art. In an article published in Hyperallergic, we see more typical pro-natural childbirth rhetoric: 

Childbirth is treated like an illness,” Kotak said. Hospitals are often a sterile place to have a child, with multiple rules and regulations forbidding visitors. “You get the sense that people are afraid of birth and female sexuality.” In other cultures outside of the United States, having a baby is more integrated into the culture and having supportive friends and family around is the norm.

The natural childbirth movement began in reaction to conventional practices in medicine that often were sexist and which typically did make the process of childbirth more stressful and isolating for women. However, it isn't the 1960's anymore. Today, a growing number of obstetricians are women, certified nurse midwives working in hospitals are on the rise, partners play an active role, and breastfeeding is encouraged. Not to mention the countless books written to educate women on childbirth and the ample Internet resources available at the click of a mouse. 

In popular television shows and movies, hospital birth is most typically presented as painful, but endurable, safe, and resulting in a sweaty-but-smiling woman holding a healthy newborn in her arms moments afterward. Such was the case in one of the latest episodes of the television drama Parenthood when the character Kristina Braverman gives birth to her daughter Nora. Unable to get a hold of her husband, a nurse takes charge and is the one to pressure her brother-in-law to stay in the room with her to provide a supporting role. Meanwhile, the rest of the extended family soon gathers outside to congratulate her and welcome the new child into the world. I don't really know how the experience of childbirth could be painted in a more positive light without glossing over the very real physical pain, exhaustion, and perfectly realistic fears parents have about complications that routinely occur in a minority of cases. 

Kotak claims that "... the ultimate creation of this life performance will be a living being!" No. The ultimate creation of this life performance will be a bump to the artist's career and ego, and further dissemination of some more foolish sentiments of the natural childbirth movement. The living being will be the result of a biological function that most human women are capable of for most of their adult lives. 

The most authentic experience is not a performance of any kind. When real life is presented to an audience as art, both the viewers and performers end up having an experience that is mitigated by the self awareness and analysis invited by it also being a performance. The performance aspect does not elevate the experience. Rather, it cheapens and objectifies it. 

Review of Snowball Earth by Gabrielle Walker

This isn't a book about parenting or even necessarily for parents. It is a book written by a professional science writer, for the layman, about a recently developed and controversial hypothesis: that the earth can become, and has at least once frozen over completely, and that one such "snowball" likely played a role in the development of complex life on earth.

I see this book (and books like it) as relevant to humanist parenting in that this is the sort of book that has the potential to intensely pique the interest of how science works for any teenager or child old enough to read it, as well as, of course, adults. Unlike textbooks, in addition to giving all the relevant and hard scientific details, it tells a story, complete with dramatic build up and fully fleshed-out characters. As I read, I often found myself laughing out loud, tearing up, felt my muscles tighten with suspense, or experienced that sinking feeling we all have during times of despair.

Gabrielle Walker did extensive interviews with all the living players in this true-to-life drama, and in some cases seems to have developed a deep personal relationship with them. She refers to them by their first names, "Paul", "Brian", "Joe" etc.  Each is introduced to the reader through physical descriptions and anecdotes from their lives that give us a sense of their overall personalities. Geologist Paul Hoffman, an "obsessive man espousing an extreme theory" is the obvious hero of the story. The book begins with a novelesque telling of his running the Boston Marathon as a young man, a tale which - at least the way Walker tells it - reveals all his basic characteristics which would later become necessary to his development and championing of the Snowball Earth hypothesis.

The scientists in the story are real people with varying amounts of ego and ambition, unique senses of humor, specific sensitivities, and lenses through which they view the world. We see how these men's biases shape their initial conclusions or responses to the ideas of others in their field. For example, in the 1830's, Swiss researcher Louis Agassiz became the first to champion the idea of widespread ice, though he has a religious reason for doing so: he believed the ice was God's chosen mechanism for clearing the stage for humanity's occupation of earth. Sometimes the craziest ideas pan out, or the most passionate critics end up providing additional evidence for the very idea they intended to refute. What moves the process along, what ultimately brings everyone together, the universality, the objectivity of the scientific method. As Walker puts it:

"What distinguishes science from pseudoscience is not whether your theory originated with some particular conviction about how the world works, or whether you feel an emotional attachment to it. What matters is the evidence you find to support it, and whether you are ultimately prepared to accept that it could be wrong." 

And so, among scientists, there should be no shame in feeling great passion or excitement for particular ideas, and imagination and rebelliousness can be great assets. So long as at the end of the day, they follow the science.

Walker also paints an incredibly vivid picture of the remote geological locations where these hardy geologists find and study the rocks and fossils to develop and then support their ideas. This is partially because she has traveled to most of these places herself, from Africa to the South Pole, just so she, and by extension her readers, can get a real feel for the heat or chills, the light, biting insects, or hazardous snakes and elephants that are part of a typical day in the field.

Too often scientists are stereotyped as dispassionate oddballs hiding away in labs and offices. In this book, the reader is brought to realize the most heroic unique personal characteristics necessary to become a geologist in the first place, and which inevitably shape the culture, and at time the politics, of their profession.  These realizations hopefully establish an admiration for geology that is based in more than a general respect for all hard sciences, but also extends to geologists' passion, perseverance, and intimate connection to the earth, especially the particular areas of land they as individuals examine and excavate.

In summary, books like this make the work of science riveting, and perhaps that is the best approach for spreading its popularity among our children, ourselves, and in the mainstream population.