Of course all clothing manufacturers only design for certain body types… you can’t design for every body… the size range that he chooses to design for is not the issue… it’s his statement about WHY he designs for only that size — he does not want “unattractive” people in his clothes and he only wants those who are his image of cool and attractive sporting A&F logos.  Consistent to this path, he has been sued by an employee in 2009 who was told that she was not allowed out of the stockroom because she had a prosthetic arm and just last year by an employee who was considered too old to work on his airplane — at the ripe old age of… 55.

There are others, Rachel Zoe for example, who have the same sizing — but she has said that she is a size 0 and does not feel competent to design for size 14… fair enough… it’s not that she does not want size 14 in her clothes because she finds them unattractive…. that’s the difference.

And there is the fact that A&F chooses to burn clothing rather than donate to shelters because he does not want to see them fall into the hands of the homeless… “Abercrombie and Fitch doesn’t want to create the image that just anybody, poor people, can wear their clothing.”… well, that is just a total arrogant jerk move. 

There is a YouTube video of a man who is going to thrift shops, buying up A&F clothing and giving them to the homeless to sabotage their marketing strategy. Will HS students wear the clothes now to prove that they are cool or will they think that it’s stupid and walk away? Or, perhaps, not want to take the risk that others will think that they are not cool enough to work there or wear the clothes… just another thing to feel insecure about during those fabulous awkward teenage years. The statement “all publicity is good publicity” might be tested… when it comes to alienation of people based on size, looks, disability, and age… not sure that there are many out there left to purchase their product.

It will be interesting to see where the dialogue goes from here.  He has the right to say it and I have the right not to shop there for my children or myself.  Then again…. Maybe all of my 40+ mom friends should start buying our clothes there…… I can fit into their clothes, but I am FAR from cool as my 12 year old reminds me often…. 

Alcohol abuse has AA, animal abuse has the SPCA.

But what about something far more insidious? something that can happen at home behind closed doors? something that can leave no physical evidence? or something that can be done by the very ones we trust – family, friends and neighbours?  Then what?

Elder Abuse is a blight on any society.  Emotional, financial even sexual abuse happen to our Seniors.  These people who are vulnerable because they may not be as strong to fend off the abuse, are the ones we should be honouring and respecting for having lived their lives and helped bring our community forward.

I understand that bullies target the weak, probably because they are weak, but the notions of family first or family before friends, or even blood being thicker than water need to be revisited with everyone.  Even with a dis-functional family, they are still part of you – that reality doesn’t change.  What has to change is how we look at those that are vulnerable.

Those that are vulnerable, such as Seniors, need our support.  No, they deserve our support, not because they want your help, rather because you can give it freely.

“The road is long with many a winding turn that leads us to who knows where, who knows when.
But I’m strong, strong enough to carry him.  He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.

So on we go, his welfare is of my concern, no burden is he to bear we’ll get there.
For I know he would not encumber me, he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

If I’m laden at all I’m laden with sadness that everyone’s heart isn’t filled with the gladness of love for one another.

It’s a long, long road from which there is no return.  While we’re on the way to there, why not share
And the load doesn’t weigh me down at all.  He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”

When dear old Mrs. Hay went back to town after staying with the Burnells she sent the children a doll’s house. It was so big that the carter and Pat carried it into the courtyard, and there it stayed, propped up on two wooden boxes beside the feed-room door. No harm could come of it; it was summer. And perhaps the smell of paint would have gone off by the time it had to be taken in. For, really, the smell of paint coming from that doll’s house (“Sweet of old Mrs. Hay, of course; most sweet and generous!”) — but the smell of paint was quite enough to make any one seriously ill, in Aunt Beryl’s opinion. Even before the sacking was taken off. And when it was . . .
There stood the doll’s house, a dark, oily, spinach green, picked out with bright yellow. Its two solid little chimneys, glued on to the roof, were painted red and white, and the door, gleaming with yellow varnish, was like a little slab of toffee. Four windows, real windows, were divided into panes by a broad streak of green. There was actually a tiny porch, too, painted yellow, with big lumps of congealed paint hanging along the edge.
But perfect, perfect little house! Who could possibly mind the smell? It was part of the joy, part of the newness.
“Open it quickly, some one!”
The hook at the side was stuck fast. Pat pried it open with his pen- knife, and the whole house-front swung back, and-there you were, gazing at one and the same moment into the drawing-room and dining-room, the kitchen and two bedrooms. That is the way for a house to open! Why don’t all houses open like that? How much more exciting than peering through the slit of a door into a mean little hall with a hat-stand and two umbrellas! That is-isn’t it? — what you long to know about a house when you put your hand on the knocker. Perhaps it is the way God opens houses at dead of night when He is taking a quiet turn with an angel. . . .
“Oh-oh!” The Burnell children sounded as though they were in despair. It was too marvellous; it was too much for them. They had never seen anything like it in their lives. All the rooms were papered. There were pictures on the walls, painted on the paper, with gold frames complete. Red carpet covered all the floors except the kitchen; red plush chairs in the drawing-room, green in the dining-room; tables, beds with real bedclothes, a cradle, a stove, a dresser with tiny plates and one big jug. But what Kezia liked more than anything, what she liked frightfully, was the lamp. It stood in the middle of the dining-room table, an exquisite little amber lamp with a white globe. It was even filled all ready for lighting, though, of course, you couldn’t light it. But there was something inside that looked like oil, and that moved when you shook it.
The father and mother dolls, who sprawled very stiff as though they had fainted in the drawing-room, and their two little children asleep upstairs, were really too big for the doll’s house. They didn’t look as though they belonged. But the lamp was perfect. It seemed to smile to Kezia, to say, “I live here.” The lamp was real.
The Burnell children could hardly walk to school fast enough the next morning. They burned to tell everybody, to describe, to-well-to boast about their doll’s house before the school-bell rang.
“I’m to tell,” said Isabel, “because I’m the eldest. And you two can join in after. But I’m to tell first.”
There was nothing to answer. Isabel was bossy, but she was always right, and Lottie and Kezia knew too well the powers that went with being eldest. They brushed through the thick buttercups at the road edge and said nothing.
“And I’m to choose who’s to come and see it first. Mother said I might.”
For it had been arranged that while the doll’s house stood in the courtyard they might ask the girls at school, two at a time, to come and look. Not to stay to tea, of course, or to come traipsing through the house. But just to stand quietly in the courtyard while Isabel pointed out the beauties, and Lottie and Kezia looked pleased. . . .
But hurry as they might, by the time they had reached the tarred palings of the boys’ playground the bell had begun to jangle. They only just had time to whip off their hats and fall into line before the roll was called. Never mind. Isabel tried to make up for it by looking very important and mysterious and by whispering behind her hand to the girls near her, “Got something to tell you at playtime.”
Playtime came and Isabel was surrounded. The girls of her class nearly fought to put their arms round her, to walk away with her, to beam flatteringly, to be her special friend. She held quite a court under the huge pine trees at the side of the playground. Nudging, giggling together, the little girls pressed up close. And the only two who stayed outside the ring were the two who were always outside, the little Kelveys. They knew better than to come anywhere near the Burnells.
For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind of place their parents would have chosen if there had been any choice. But there was none. It was the only school for miles. And the consequence was all the children in the neighborhood, the judge’s little girls, the doctor’s daughters, the store-keeper’s children, the milkman’s, were forced to mix together. Not to speak of there being an equal number of rude, rough little boys as well. But the line had to be drawn somewhere. It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the children, including the Burnells, were not allowed even to speak to them. They walked past the Kelveys with their heads in the air, and as they set the fashion in all matters of behaviour, the Kelveys were shunned by everybody. Even the teacher had a special voice for them, and a special smile for the other children when Lil Kelvey came up to her desk with a bunch of dreadfully common-looking flowers.
They were the daughters of a spry, hardworking little washerwoman, who went about from house to house by the day. This was awful enough. But where was Mr. Kelvey? Nobody knew for certain. But everybody said he was in prison. So they were the daughters of a washerwoman and a gaolbird. Very nice company for other people’s children! And they looked it. Why Mrs. Kelvey made them so conspicuous was hard to understand. The truth was they were dressed in “bits” given to her by the people for whom she worked. Lil, for instance, who was a stout, plain child, with big freckles, came to school in a dress made from a green art-serge table-cloth of the Burnells’, with red plush sleeves from the Logans’ curtains. Her hat, perched on top of her high forehead, was a grown-up woman’s hat, once the property of Miss Lecky, the postmistress. It was turned up at the back and trimmed with a large scarlet quill. What a little guy she looked! It was impossible not to laugh. And her little sister, our Else, wore a long white dress, rather like a nightgown, and a pair of little boy’s boots. But whatever our Else wore she would have looked strange. She was a tiny wishbone of a child, with cropped hair and enormous solemn eyes-a little white owl. Nobody had ever seen her smile; she scarcely ever spoke. She went through life holding on to Lil, with a piece of Lil’s skirt screwed up in her hand. Where Lil went our Else followed. In the playground, on the road going to and from school, there was Lil marching in front and our Else holding on behind. Only when she wanted anything, or when she was out of breath, our Else gave Lil a tug, a twitch, and Lil stopped and turned round. The Kelveys never failed to understand each other.
Now they hovered at the edge; you couldn’t stop them listening. When the little girls turned round and sneered, Lil, as usual, gave her silly, shamefaced smile, but our Else only looked.
And Isabel’s voice, so very proud, went on telling. The carpet made a great sensation, but so did the beds with real bedclothes, and the stove with an oven door.
When she finished Kezia broke in. “You’ve forgotten the lamp, Isabel.”
“Oh, yes,” said Isabel, “and there’s a teeny little lamp, all made of yellow glass, with a white globe that stands on the dining-room table. You couldn’t tell it from a real one.”
“The lamp’s best of all,” cried Kezia. She thought Isabel wasn’t making half enough of the little lamp. But nobody paid any attention. Isabel was choosing the two who were to come back with them that afternoon and see it. She chose Emmie Cole and Lena Logan. But when the others knew they were all to have a chance, they couldn’t be nice enough to Isabel. One by one they put their arms round Isabel’s waist and walked her off. They had something to whisper to her, a secret. “Isabel’s my friend.”
Only the little Kelveys moved away forgotten; there was nothing more for them to hear.
Days passed, and as more children saw the doll’s house, the fame of it spread. It became the one subject, the rage. The one question was, “Have you seen Burnells’ doll’s house?” “Oh, ain’t it lovely!” “Haven’t you seen it? Oh, I say!”
Even the dinner hour was given up to talking about it. The little girls sat under the pines eating their thick mutton sandwiches and big slabs of johnny cake spread with butter. While always, as near as they could get, sat the Kelveys, our Else holding on to Lil, listening too, while they chewed their jam sandwiches out of a newspaper soaked with large red blobs.
“Mother,” said Kezia, “can’t I ask the Kelveys just once?”
“Certainly not, Kezia.”
“But why not?”
“Run away, Kezia; you know quite well why not.”

At last everybody had seen it except them. On that day the subject rather flagged. It was the dinner hour. The children stood together under the pine trees, and suddenly, as they looked at the Kelveys eating out of their paper, always by themselves, always listening, they wanted to be horrid to them. Emmie Cole started the whisper.
“Lil Kelvey’s going to be a servant when she grows up.”
“O-oh, how awful!” said Isabel Burnell, and she made eyes at Emmie.
Emmie swallowed in a very meaning way and nodded to Isabel as she’d seen her mother do on those occasions.
“It’s true-it’s true-it’s true,” she said.
Then Lena Logan’s little eyes snapped. “Shall I ask her?” she whispered.
“Bet you don’t,” said Jessie May.
“Pooh, I’m not frightened,” said Lena. Suddenly she gave a little squeal and danced in front of the other girls. “Watch! Watch me! Watch me now!” said Lena. And sliding, gliding, dragging one foot, giggling behind her hand, Lena went over to the Kelveys.
Lil looked up from her dinner. She wrapped the rest quickly away. Our Else stopped chewing. What was coming now?
“Is it true you’re going to be a servant when you grow up, Lil Kelvey?” shrilled Lena.
Dead silence. But instead of answering, Lil only gave her silly, shame-faced smile. She didn’t seem to mind the question at all. What a sell for Lena! The girls began to titter.
Lena couldn’t stand that. She put her hands on her hips; she shot forward. “Yah, yer father’s in prison!” she hissed, spitefully.
This was such a marvellous thing to have said that the little girls rushed away in a body, deeply, deeply excited, wild with joy. Someone found a long rope, and they began skipping. And never did they skip so high, run in and out so fast, or do such daring things as on that morning.
In the afternoon Pat called for the Burnell children with the buggy and they drove home. There were visitors. Isabel and Lottie, who liked visitors, went upstairs to change their pinafores. But Kezia thieved out at the back. Nobody was about; she began to swing on the big white gates of the courtyard. Presently, looking along the road, she saw two little dots. They grew bigger, they were coming towards her. Now she could see that one was in front and one close behind. Now she could see that they were the Kelveys. Kezia stopped swinging. She slipped off the gate as if she was going to run away. Then she hesitated. The Kelveys came nearer, and beside them walked their shadows, very long, stretching right across the road with their heads in the buttercups. Kezia clambered back on the gate; she had made up her mind; she swung out.
“Hullo,” she said to the passing Kelveys.
They were so astounded that they stopped. Lil gave her silly smile. Our Else stared.
“You can come and see our doll’s house if you want to,” said Kezia, and she dragged one toe on the ground. But at that Lil turned red and shook her head quickly.
“Why not?” asked Kezia.
Lil gasped, then she said, “Your ma told our ma you wasn’t to speak to us.”
“Oh, well,” said Kezia. She didn’t know what to reply. “It doesn’t matter. You can come and see our doll’s house all the same. Come on. Nobody’s looking.”
But Lil shook her head still harder.
“Don’t you want to?” asked Kezia.
Suddenly there was a twitch, a tug at Lil’s skirt. She turned round. Our Else was looking at her with big, imploring eyes; she was frowning; she wanted to go. For a moment Lil looked at our Else very doubtfully. But then our Else twitched her skirt again. She started forward. Kezia led the way. Like two little stray cats they followed across the courtyard to where the doll’s house stood.
“There it is,” said Kezia.
There was a pause. Lil breathed loudly, almost snorted; our Else was still as a stone.
“I’ll open it for you,” said Kezia kindly. She undid the hook and they looked inside.
“There’s the drawing-room and the dining-room, and that’s the-”
“Kezia!”
Oh, what a start they gave!
“Kezia!”
It was Aunt Beryl’s voice. They turned round. At the back door stood Aunt Beryl, staring as if she couldn’t believe what she saw.
“How dare you ask the little Kelveys into the courtyard?” said her cold, furious voice. “You know as well as I do, you’re not allowed to talk to them. Run away, children, run away at once. And don’t come back again,” said Aunt Beryl. And she stepped into the yard and shooed them out as if they were chickens.
“Off you go immediately!” she called, cold and proud.
They did not need telling twice. Burning with shame, shrinking together, Lil huddling along like her mother, our Else dazed, somehow they crossed the big courtyard and squeezed through the white gate.
“Wicked, disobedient little girl!” said Aunt Beryl bitterly to Kezia, and she slammed the doll’s house to.
The afternoon had been awful. A letter had come from Willie Brent, a terrifying, threatening letter, saying if she did not meet him that evening in Pulman’s Bush, he’d come to the front door and ask the reason why! But now that she had frightened those little rats of Kelveys and given Kezia a good scolding, her heart felt lighter. That ghastly pressure was gone. She went back to the house humming.
When the Kelveys were well out of sight of Burnells’, they sat down to rest on a big red drain-pipe by the side of the road. Lil’s cheeks were still burning; she took off the hat with the quill and held it on her knee. Dreamily they looked over the hay paddocks, past the creek, to the group of wattles where Logan’s cows stood waiting to be milked. What were their thoughts?
Presently our Else nudged up close to her sister. But now she had forgotten the cross lady. She put out a finger and stroked her sister’s quill; she smiled her rare smile.
“I seen the little lamp,” she said, softly.
Then both were silent once more.

“QUEEN BEES AND MOMMY TRACKING: HOW’S AN ACADEMIC WOMAN SUPPOSED TO GET AHEAD? by DR. HELENE A. CUMMINS

“The Queen Bee believes that she got to the top by her own fortitude and through being savvy. Queen Bees are non-mentors and non-supporting of other women. In this thinking they believe women get to the top on their own. The Queen Bee has achieved high rank on the job with associated high pay and social success. These women according to Staines et al (1974) are often popular with men, have looks going for them and are married. These women do not work for equality for other women and might even oppose programs that do. Mavin (2008, p. S75) identifies the Queen Bee as “a bitch who stings other women if her power is threatened”, as she prefers to work with men (Cherne, 2003).”

There was no equivalent description of a male counterpart. Cummins speaks of the “good old boys network” where the men rise the ladder together (and will retire together which may hold promise for women in the future) but there is a lack of a “good old girls network.”

Interesting article. Nothing earth shattering but it smacks of the truth. Please commiserate or thrill us with your positive stories in your work!

Mike Jeffries on whom A&F is marketing to:
“Abercrombie is only interested in people with washboard stomachs who look like they’re about to jump on a surfboard”

On belonging: 
“A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong.”

On his customers:
“I don’t want our core customers to see people who aren’t as hot as them wearing our clothing.”

- via Amy Taylor on Huffington Post

In conclusion to that statement and other research, I have created a list of prerequisites for shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch:

• Must be under size 10 (because they don’t sell sizes above that)
• Must be fit
• Must be cool
• Must be attractive…

Ladies and Gentlemen, Mike Jeffries:

A babe ain’t he? I studied public relations and marketing in college and so I understand the meaning of a target audience. However, if your target audience is going to make a large group of people hate you and your brand I would keep that target audience solely to those developing the brand. But to be frank, the A&F target audience sucks, welcome to high school of the retail world people!

In PR honesty is the best policy, but when asked why his company doesn’t make XL and XXL sizes Mr. Jeffries was a little too honest:

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,” “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either.” “We hire good-looking people in our stores. Because good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and we want to market to cool, good-looking people. We don’t market to anyone other than that.”

- Mike Jeffries Abercrombie & Fitch CEO

As a result his statements created a social media thunderstorm. Many beautiful people have taken to Twitter to send a message to Gothmog… er, I mean Mr. Jeffries and his brand.

@Abercrombie i am beautiful because i am not a size 10 or under http://t.co/YumDwvYLcO

—
Jamiesmith (@jamiesmith44256) May 15, 2013

Not sure which is worse, the CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch saying he doesn't want ugly people wearing his clothes or that people still wear A&F

—
Karson Galloway (@KayGeeWay_) May 15, 2013

Truth about Abercrombie & Fitch http://t.co/42VYvOdC60

—
Tanarexic Belle (@TanarexicBelle) May 15, 2013

@Abercrombie You guys suck.

—
Matt Seevers (@MattSeevers) May 09, 2013

What the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch was trying to say was, "we only make our clothes for kids who think pooka necklaces are still cool."

—
Alex Hancock (@hvncxck) May 09, 2013

As if all of the above wasn’t enough the company has stated that they would rather burn clothes than give them to poor people. Oh, of course Mr. Jeffries, because by donating it to charity you would run the risk of a having an “uncool” homeless child wearing your brand, heaven forbid! This sparked an idea for a filmmaker by the name of Greg Karber who went so far as to “re-brand” the company. He went around giving A&F clothing to homeless people in the area and documented his experience in a video and called it Fitch the Homeless, watch below:

I encourage all of you to tweet @Abercrombie with your complaints or share your  #FitchTheHomeless experience on Twitter. This is wrong and people & brands like this should not be supported, and who wears A&F anyway?

UPDATE: Mike Jeffries has addressed the public on recent events surrounding his brand but of course it’s snarky and is everyone else’s fault for taking his words out of context and taking offence to his blatant comments about body type. Get a grip, dude.

A note from Mike, our CEO:

I want to address some of my comments that have been circulating from a 2006 interview. While I believe this 7 year old, resurrected quote has been taken out of context, I sincerely regret that my choice of words was interpreted in a manner that has caused offense. A&F is an aspirational brand that, like most specialty apparel brands, targets its marketing at a particular segment of customers. However, we care about the broader communities in which we operate and are strongly committed to diversity and inclusion. We hire good people who share these values. We are completely opposed to any discrimination, bullying, derogatory characterizations or other anti-social behavior based on race, gender, body type or other individual characteristics.

- via Abercrombie & Fitch Facebook Page

Apparently, New England Patriot defensive tackle Kyle Love was released from the team because he had been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.  That is simply wrong, especially in light of the fact that Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and continues to play despite his condition.

It is frustrating to live with this condition.  It is frustrating to have to check your blood sugar multiple times a day, to have to predict where your blood sugar will be after exercise or a particularly heavy meal.  It is frustrating not to be able to eat like everyone else, to simply nourish the body without thinking about its impact on blood sugar.  And it is frustrating to be told you can’t do something because of a medical condition that can be managed.

No one should be punished for a medical condition that we did not bring on ourselves.  People need to stop believing the media bull and start doing a little research.  Someone with type 2 diabetes can play football just as well as anyone else.  Perhaps even better since his focus on exercise and nutrition will be much different than someone without diabetes.

Hopefully there is another NFL team out there who can better support their team members….good luck, Kyle Love.

I am so tired of all of this Abercrombie and Fitch drama. People are acting like store discrimination is new news, as if Abercrombie is the first store in history to target a specific demographic. I see both sides of this issue.

In my opinion, the store can sell what they want. They design, produce, and sell the clothes. We are the ones that buy them (unless you are like me, and have never set foot in a store that even sells jeans for over $20).

NEWS FLASH: All stores are discriminatory. I can’t shop at maternity stores because I’m not pregnant, but maternity stores also aren’t going to burn the clothes they don’t sell because they don’t want to donate them to the poor or chase me out of the store and tell me I’m not good enough to wear their mom-jeans. Maybe I’m just “running my mouth”, but is anybody really shocked that a store like Abercrombie discriminates? I’m not. There are clearly stores that target African Americans, just like there are stores like Hot Topic that target goths and punks, Big and Tall only makes clothing for tall people, bridal stores that target brides, and stores that cater to old people, jocks, plus-size, etc…

I also can’t shop at plus-size stores because I don’t fit that store’s image. The difference is that plus-size stores don’t openly announce that skinny people aren’t wanted. The CEO of Abercrombie is a douchebag, and should have never opened his abnormally large mouth in the first place, but hasn’t Abercrombie always been this way? why do we hate them now, all of a sudden?

 Why are we choosing to speak out now? Why not ten years ago? Why not when the company first started?

A sample of 103 men in London, England, who used trafficked and non-trafficked women in prostitution were asked about their experiences and awareness of the sex industry. Almost all (96%) bought sex indoors. Many reported that they were aware of pimping, trafficking and other coercive control over those in massage parlour, brothel, and escort prostitution. These men were frequently aware of the vulnerability and risk factors for entry into prostitution including childhood abuse, lack of alternative job choices, coercive control and homelessness. The men listed effective deterrents to buying sex which included time in prison, public exposure and being issued an ASBO. They described their ambivalence about buying sex and their ambivalence about the nature of their relationships with women. Some of the attitudes expressed by the interviewees in this study have been associated with violence against women in other research.

I myself have never been subjected to gender discrimination; in fact I believed the entire system of misogyny in western, educated, evolved societies to be inexistent. Surely it cannot still be a common prejudice in a world where one would think the shared hope, is for equality, peace and prosperity. Yet upon reading Jill Filipovic’s (2008 p295) Blogging While Female: How Internet Misogyny Parallels Real-World Harassment, I unraveled my naivety on gender discrimination and was shocked at how absurdly ridiculous and to be honest, pathetic and cowardly these misogynistic, waste of space, so called ‘men’ were. They sit behind there computer screens and dare to terrorise and threaten women, who have done nothing to deserve this treatment, except perhaps choose a career in what is seen as a male dominated profession, such as law or technology as Filipovic explains when really they should be applauded for taking on such a career.

Obviously, to share my opinion, I am 100% against gender discrimination. I do not consider myself a feminist, but I do believe in equality and equal opportunity and have always had a soft spot for the underdog, so needless to say a bully or someone who preys on the weak especially in a way as cowardly as online harassment, in my eyes is the worst kind of person. A person unfit to pass judgment on anyone.

Filipovic ought to be applauded for her valor and class in writing this piece, which sheds some embarrassing truths about her experiences with gender discrimination in a male dominated environment. It is no wonder she is a feminist after the torment she has been through at the hands of some misogynistic pricks who’s only reasons for being as such were that “women who posts images on social networking sites are inviting attention …they invite harassment by posting, in other words they are asking for it (Filipovic 2008, p295)”

The above quote is too absurd for me to even breakdown or contend, for it is obviously something that needs to be ignored just as its originator ought to be ignored, there is nothing worthwhile such a person could contribute in today’s society where as stated above a common goal is and needs to remain equality. My naivety now seems a happier place, a place where hopefully one day becomes a reality and young girls can grow up and successfully prosper in any career they choose and do so without fear of being terrorised, sexually threatened or abused for being a women. You’d think we’d be there already. You would think we’d have evolved.

Here are some steps an employer should consider:

1. Use uniform and consistent screening methods: Following the same process for every candidate, makes it much easier to defend against allegations that you only engaged in your process based on the candidate’s membership of a class protected by federal and/or state anti-discrimination laws. Following a random process of only checking out some candidates on LinkedIn, Facebook or similar sites, leaves you much more vulnerable to such allegations and lawsuits. Also, use the same sites for each candidate.
2. Maintain a list of sites you use for screening: Decide in advance which social media sites you think are most relevant. You do not have to, and perhaps should not, use sites that are primarily social environments that might not contain much job-related information. Many employers therefore do not check Facebook. If however, you suddenly search Facebook, because you have heard rumors that a particular candidate has political views that you dislike, you again run the risk of discrimination allegations and/or claims. Therefore, decide in advance where you search, maintain the list, and, most importantly, use that same list in the same way for every candidate.
3. Determine in advance what information you are looking for and the criteria you will use for screening: This is very important! You want relevant, work-related information. You probably do not need to know about a candidate’s legal activity conducted during non working hours; you probably do need to know if s/he behaves violently, makes threats of violence, sends hate messages against minorities or ethnic groups, has a pattern of bad-mouthing previous employers, or has been misleading about his or her education or experience.
4. If you do not plan on screening everyone, be clear and consistent about– and document– which people, or groups of people you will not be screening– and why: You do not have to perform a social media search on everyone. Make sure then, that you can articulate or point to a written policy as to who you are and are not screening, in order protect yourself against allegations that your stated reasons are a pretext and the real motive was discrimination.
5. Appoint someone not making the hiring decisions to conduct the social media screen and filter out information that is not job-related: This is perhaps one of the best tools for insulating yourself from discrimination liability in your pre-employment screening process. An HR employee who does not make the hiring decision can conduct the search and filter out information about the person’s race, ethnicity, religion, disability, if any, political beliefs, age, etc. If you or one of your hiring managers then the candidate, you cannot have discriminated based on information that you never had.
6. If you reject a candidate based on information from a social media (or general internet) search, make sure you base it on clear, legitimate hiring requirements, and document them: Frankly, all employers do this even if they do not use social media or search engines to screen candidates to help refute, if not fend off, discrimination allegations.
7. If you use, or intend to use, outside companies/vendors for any of your screening, consult with counsel as to whether the FCRA applies, and if so, make sure you are complying: If the vendor you are using meets the legal definition of a Consumer Reporting Agency it will be subject to the FCRA (Click here for review) and, if you engage them, so will you. You will then be vulnerable to lawsuits based on FCRA violations if you are found to be non-compliant.
8. Develop written policies and procedures on use of social media in the hiring process and apply it uniformly and consistently.  If you have a set of policies and procedures that you follow consistently when using social media to screen candidates, you can at least refute, if not fend off, any claims that in screening a particular candidate in a particular way, you were treating him or her differently based on him or her being a member of a protected class under federal or state EEO laws. I know that in a number of previous posts, I have emphasized the importance of having written policies and procedures. While I do not like to sound like a broken record, time and again, I have found that many employers neglect to take this step–so I’ll take that risk!
9.  Train all staff involved in screening and hiring on applicable laws, such as Title VII, the ADEA, the ADA, GINA, the FCRA and any other similar or related state or federal laws, how these laws impact use of social media to screen candidates and your policies and procedures regarding social media and pre-employment screening: To many, this may seem like common sense and should go without saying. Again, I hear of and encounter many employers who do not do this and thereby make themselves easy targets in this area. If you are a business owner with well-written policies and you know about the applicable laws, but  others involved in hiring do not know about your policies or the applicable laws, your policies will not help you. Any time you develop a policy, you should make sure to train managers and others who should be implementing them.
10. Consider obtaining your candidates’ consent prior to screening and providing an them an opportunity to refute or explain any negative information you find: These steps are already required under the FCRA. If the FCRA does not apply however, you might still want to take these steps in the event you get information that is simply incorrect. Suppose, for example, you do an internet search on your candidate, and you find a Facebook comment about the person on someone else’s page. If you reject your candidate based on that information, without first speaking with your candidate, you may not only be rejecting an otherwise solid candidate based on false or misleading information, but if s/he is protected under federal or state EEO laws, you again could be vulnerable to discrimination claims.

While this list is not meant to be exhaustive, it hopefully provides some direction as to how to conduct your pre-employment screening process when using social media as one of your screening tools.

Next week The Emplawyerologist will begin covering another “hot” topic: I-9′s. Don’t miss it!

It’s awfully scummy, and far worse than it might even sound, which is pretty bad. In a recent test, DC taxi drivers didn’t just refuse to pick up blind people with service dogs, and people in wheelchairs, they even dropped blind people off at the wrong spot and told them it was the right spot, figuring they wouldn’t know the difference.

The sting was conducted by the local CBS affiliate in Washington, DC, WUSA9. They used as volunteers people with disabilities who complained of being mistreated by DC cabbies in the past.

The results were pretty shocking. 48% of people with disabilities were mistreated by DC cabbies in some manner.

Read more

The Obama administration finds itself in perilous political waters amid three unfolding scandals.

By Karl Rove
The Wall Street Journal

First came last week’s congressional testimony by three highly credible officials, plus some excellent reporting, which showed that the Obama administration consciously misled Americans after the Benghazi attacks that took the lives of four Americans, including Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens. The White House and State Department knew the attacks were the work of terrorists, not the spontaneous reaction of viewers to an anti-Muslim video on YouTube, as they insisted for two weeks.

If the author of the fanciful yarn that a video provoked the attacks works in the West Wing or on the State Department’s fifth floor, powerful heads should roll. Already, officials in both buildings are quietly suggesting someone in the other building is at fault.

Then, on Friday, IRS official Lois Lerner revealed that the IRS had been investigating the president’s political opponents. Congressional hearings will soon follow. As Sen. Mitch McConnell (R., Ky.) has said, “we’ve only started to scratch the surface of this scandal.”

The abuse of power may not be confined to the IRS. It might also involve high-ranking Senate Democrats who pressured the IRS to conduct such witch hunts and threatened action if it didn’t.

In September 2010, Senate Finance Committee Chairman Max Baucus wrote to IRS Commissioner Douglas Shulman, requesting that the agency survey major nonprofits involved in political campaign activity for their possible “violation of tax laws.” In February 2012, Sens. Charles Schumer, Michael Bennet, Al Franken, Jeff Merkley, Jeanne Shaheen, Tom Udall and Sheldon Whitehouse wrote a similar letter to Mr. Shulman, and promised to introduce legislation if the IRS failed to “prevent abuse of the tax code by political groups.” In July 2012 and again in August, Sen. Carl Levin complained to the IRS about its apparent passivity.

Finally, earlier this week the Justice Department admitted it secretly obtained phone records for dozens of Associated Press editors and reporters in order to investigate a leak investigation. Most voters may not be angered by this assault on the First Amendment, but it has turned the press corps on its White House handlers. As National Journal’s Ron Fournier said on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” show on Tuesday, “We were lied to on Benghazi, on the talking points behind Benghazi for months, we were lied to by the IRS for months and now they’re sending a clear message to our sources—don’t embarrass the administration or we’re coming after you.”

The controversies are likely to demoralize Democrats who already are depressed by the collapse of Mr. Obama’s gun control package, the failure of his political manipulation of the budget sequester, and the quick death of his budget.

The controversies will also further stir up Republicans for the 2014 midterms, adding to their anger about spending, debt and ObamaCare. Even before these firestorms, Republicans were getting keyed up. There was the unexpected opportunity for a Senate pickup when Mr. Baucus announced his retirement last month. And top Democratic choices announced they wouldn’t run for open Senate seats in Georgia and South Dakota.

These three big controversies might also sap Mr. Obama’s remaining strength. Swing voters who re-elected him in 2012 after punishing his party in 2010 clearly like the man. But evasive White House answers on Benghazi, the IRS’s thuggish behavior, and the media’s willingness to more aggressively challenge the White House could all undermine Mr. Obama’s likability among this group.

How does the president get his sea legs back? The best option would be to get the truth out fully and swiftly and then hold people accountable and punish wrongdoing. Mr. Obama has called for doing so with the IRS.

But generally the president’s instincts will more likely lead him in the months ahead to circle the wagons and become more prickly and self-pitying. On Monday, for example, Mr. Obama lamented at a New York fundraiser that his “thinking was that after we beat them in 2012, well, that might break the fever” among Republicans and end “hyper-partisanship” in Washington. That hasn’t happened so Mr. Obama again blamed—seemingly for the hundredth time—Rush Limbaugh for the president’s failure to achieve nirvana.

Is Mr. Obama up to overcoming the most serious scandals of his presidency? Count me skeptical. These controversies will stretch on and probably be joined by fights over the debt ceiling, the budget and ObamaCare’s implementation.

Mr. Rove, a former deputy chief of staff to President George W. Bush, helped organize the political action committee American Crossroads.

A version of this article appeared May 16, 2013, on page A13 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: The Senate Roots of the IRS Scandal.

Just.

Wow. 

WHAT. A. DAY.

Another 6 am wake up to finish the day at 7:30 essentially. 

But really.

What a PHENOMENAL day! So many adventures and incredibly fascinating moments! This will likely be a long blog entry!

Haha, I started writing this I think… on… Tuesday! Yes! Because that was a long day. You see. We want to the Hague, which is about an hour away from here, because everything is really really close in the Netherlands. You see, in order to get anywhere without a car, you have wonderful trains to travel on instead (it’s the best; I wish America had a good-running train system for passenger transport). Our plan was to get on a train straight to the Hague! However, our group arrived at the bus stop a bit late, the bus arrived a bit late, and the traffic was bad. So when we got to the train station, we all literally ran to our platform, with A hoofing up the stairs with the wheelchair, since the elevator would’ve been hopeless. We missed out train by a minute. Another train on the same platform was leaving in two or three minutes, and I yelled to get on the train, because we can go to Gouda (yes, that’s where they make the cheese), and from Gouda, to the Hague! I had looked up travel options the night before out of curiosity and due to the times we were given. I was concerned we would be late. But we made it, and the train through Gouda even took the same amount of time as the train going straight to the Hague. Oh. Four of the group were on that train, the professor and three students, and I was in the other group with the TA. The train was PACKED. Yaaaay, rush hour! 

When we got to the Hague, we had to rush to the Peace Palace. (!!!) The Peace Palace, guys! I didn’t really know too much about it, but it sounded cool, and I probably had heard of it before. Well, we went to the Peace Palace, and voila. It is beautiful. Just look at it! The day wasn’t too bad either, so that really helped out. Our tour guide was incredibly nice. She understood why were late, and she made sure that the wheelchair would not be a problem. First we started off in the visitor’s center, where we learned about this awesome sculpture of the map of the world, with languages representing all of the regions and countries in the world. 

You can see “Welcome” and “Bienvenue” in gold because those are the official languages of the courts within.

At the visitor’s center, we learned about its origins and its functions. It was built in 1913 in order to house the Permanent Court of Arbitrations. I find this ironic, because World War I started in 1914. Yet, over this past 100 years, it has survived those destructive wars in Europe. Nonetheless, it has played a significant role in international politics still today! It houses a library for international law, the Permanent Court of Arbitrations, and the International Court of Justice. The Court of Arbitrations is independent, I believe. It had two conventions in its establishment: 1899 and 1907. Besides that, it is the court to which states can voluntarily approach in hopes of resolving conflicts. Which is so cool, because I had no idea such an option existed! I thought it was just one angry state can call another state that did something wrong to the International Court of Justice alone, but no. We have an actual building purely for voluntary negotiations between angry states. And it works! Oh, in regards to the origins of the Peace Palace, Andrew Carnegie (yes, the American steel tycoon) donated 1.5 million dollars to build it! That was a LOT of money. They wanted a philanthropist, a neutral person to help in its establishment so it did not feel like it owned to one nation. And that has worked beautifully. Along with that, many nations donated materials or objects to its creation and decoration in order to truly make it an international building. So cool!

We got to go inside and look around. Yes, it was gorgeous inside. We also had a chance to sit in a small court room where discussions take place on an international level. In fact, we had our own discussion on the importance of peace versus justice, in which I was the judge. Man. That would be a tough job. I was a judge because I was split. I know we need both, so I could not decide one over the other. The class split evenly in two, with the professor for Justice and the TA for peace. Both sides, all students, argued the points well for either side. I stated the importance of looking at context and specific situations in determining the importance of one over the other. Sometimes, one must surrender justice for the sake of peace, and it works out in the long run. Sometimes, justice is taken in the wrong way and becomes more punishment instead. Sometimes, peace cannot continue without justice either, as people want to have justice served. However, the arguments of peace ultimately won me over. But I still stand by the fact that we need both. Justice will take us to peace in many cases. However, peace, ultimately, is the true desire of all of our processes, and justice will be meaningless if it leads to a world without peace, in my opinion. 

Anyways. Our tour guide commented on my arbitration skills and told me to consider becoming a judge (as if I am not confused enough in my life goals already, hahaha). The tour was supposed to only last an hour, but she gave us an additional thirty minutes because of how successful the discussion was going. Then we simply looked around the limited portion of the palace we could. People do work in the Peace Palace, so tours are disruptive to a healthy work environment. Totally understood. 

The room in which we discussed. There was going to be a presentation later on in the day, thus the white screen.

Then we went to a museum. Some art museum. I didn’t catch the name of it. To be honest, it was incredibly overwhelming. We went over so many styles of art through the museum, by Dutch painters of course. There was an exhibit on still life, on landscapes, on impressionism, on sculptures, on unsettling paintings, on Delftware (in which there was this awesome, incredibly intricate three-story dollhouse), on glassblowing (we watched the video thoroughly; glass blowing is simply fascinating and awing!), on… so much! I had packed a sandwich for lunch, so when we took a break in the cafe, I munched on that, but… So overwhelming! It was quite impressive, obviously, but, still. And this was only one fourth of the museum COMPLEX in which we were in. 

An exhibit portraying the death of unhealthy environmental standards.

Part of the museum building, with a fountain in front, again, portraying ecologically unfriendly items.

After that, we took a tram to the beach! The word for beach in Dutch, I must say, is very complicated… I have no idea how to say it or really how it means beach. I’ll have to look into it! However, in order to get to all of these places, we got to take TRAMS! Mind you, I love trams. Sure, they are very wheelchair unfriendly, but they are soooo cool! Such a great method of transport, and it provides for less delays because they usually have their own lanes outside of traffic. Once we got out of the tram, we had to go quite the distance to get to our next destination: a restaurant that served really good Dutch pancakes. What is a Dutch pancake, you ask? Well, it is a pancake thicker than a French crepe, thinner than an American pancake, with the “toppings” usually cooked INSIDE. So quite interesting, indeed! However, it was a long walk. Fortunately, people did not mind pushing me all the way there. Once we got to the pier it was on, let’s just say the pier looked like a ghost town. Apparently last year it was very lively, but since then, it has definitely closed down in many ways, and who knows why. Nonetheless, the restaurant was open, but very empty… It was also a cold day to go to the beach, so I’ll give them that. I ordered hot chocolate, which had WONDERFULLY DELICIOUS whipped cream. I used to not like whipped cream until I went to Europe. It just tastes so much more natural here. <3 Anyways. I ordered a traditional Dutch pancake. Apples and bacon. It was ENORMOUS. I had NO IDEA it would be so big. Had I known, no sandwich would’ve been packed. 

I was very sad I could not eat all of it. Just look at it.

The combination of bacon and apples inside was interesting. I really liked the baked apples. The bacon was a bit too salty for my taste, unfortunately. Worst part of this. I couldn’t eat all of it. I only ate half of it. And I HATE wasting food. I would’ve taken it with me, but there is no way with the remainder of the day that made any sense. It was quite the experience, I tell you!

After that, we had to rush to the ICC. We got to run through a really cool, beautiful beach resort, and then catch a tram to the station to take a train to the part of the Hague where the ICC is located. One of our girls got left behind due to a lack of funds on her travel card. It is really stressful to keep on top of it in train travel, but I understand finally WHY you must keep a certain number of funds on it. In order to board a train, you must have 20 euro on the card. Why? Because that is the boarding fee which will be taken away from your account if you do not check out. Quite simple, really. That is also the furthest you can travel on train. So it works as a system.

Anyways. ICC. We had to go through security of course, and you could feel the international aspect of the court already. International security guards, all of it. We got in a bit late, but it was absolutely fascinating. I actually wrote a great deal about this in my academic review of our trip to the Hague, though, so I won’t reemphasize too much, besides the fact that Mr. William Samoei Ruto, who was charged of crimes against humanity including: murder, deportation or forcible transport of population, and persecution, was an incredibly eloquent speaker. It was quite disturbing actually. The likelihood he committed these crimes is quite high, yet he did discuss his belief in his innocence, and furthermore, the belief in the court of law and international law. That is why he voluntarily responded to the summons, which hasn’t happened too often, I take it. The defense harped on that, actually, I guess to try and overemphasize the small things he has done or the small problems with the prosecution’s case in order to of course help their client win.

Mr. Joshua Arap Sang was also present at the court, but his part of the defense was barely touched. He appeared very bored throughout the hearing as well. He would rub his face and look at the audience. In fact he once made eye contact with me. Which was odd. I also made eye-contact with one of the defendants for Sang. It was simply bizarre to be in such a high-case court room, with a significant case in front of us. More importantly, though, it was stunning that I have such an opportunity. Oh, for further information, they are both from Kenya and these crimes took place after potentially manipulated elections. The amount of diversity in the courtroom was very hopeful to me. As we try to tackle more and more problems, and as the world globalizes, everyone, of all races, ethnicities, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, abilities, all of it, will need to be more and more involved, and in this case, we certainly got a peak of that. At the end, we had to rise, as you would in any court room. When we left the building (which was not handicap friendly despite not being built too long ago, the court was established in 2002, anger), we saw them leaving the court. They had an entire entourage of cars, but they did not have too many people surrounding them. They weren’t under high security as many officials we know would have to be. 

Afterwards, we finally headed back home. Our professor had left earlier at the train station fiasco where one of us was left behind. She found her way to the court well enough. Our TA stuck around in the Hague in order to spend time with friends, which was awesome. But honestly, I think we were all just too tired to do more. I also had to deal with what I had thought been a situation where I lost 20 euros, from the trip to the seal centre. It didn’t take too long to figure things out finally, and I think I was not jipped 20 euros after all, which is exciting. However, the entire trip did cost 10 additional euros I did not account for. 

Ultimately. It was an incredibly long day, so it was good to go home and relax, talk to my parents, and just wind down. We got back at 7 or 8, I think. And we had school the next day with an exam (what) and some discussions we had to be prepared for.

As for Monday, it was simple. We had classes; however, there had been mistakes with communicating to lecturers, unfortunately, so we lost time in waiting for them to come when they were expected to come at a different time. So the day had also been long. We had to rush through 30 minutes of lunch. I managed to make pasta and eat it in that time, miraculously. The lectures were by Dr. Fleishmann, a young woman professor, and Dr. Prak, a renowned Dutch scholar. The first was a discussion on how religion is not the key problem regarding Muslims in Europe, and she showed us the statistics from her research. The second was a discussion on a book he had wrote looking at the poldermodel of the Dutch Republic over the last 1000 years. This was a history textbook as well, so large task! I’ll talk a bit more about my thoughts on these lectures in an academic reflection post, however. They were both fascinating and engaging speakers, and it was cool to engage in some discussion of questions with them. 

After class, I decided to hang out with some of my classmates. So we grabbed pizza at the nearby pizzeria. I ordered a slice of salami. It had been good, but then it got too salty halfway through, unfortunately. At this pizzeria, I overheard two Polish people speaking! So I walked up to them and briefly spoke with them. They’re apparently doctorates at the University, so that was nifty. But that was the end of Monday; rather simple.

Now. Onto yesterday, Wednesday! Oh goodness. It’s been so many long days. All enjoyable, however! Minus flares of depression and disappointment. But those are a part of my life I have to come to terms with, so the experience has still been great.

Yesterday, we had class. We wanted to try and go through and get out early in order to go to the tulip fields, but things just kept being delayed. In the morning class, we discussed Immanuel Kant’s Perpetual Peace, which, if you haven’t, you really ought to read! It is absolutely stunning how much he seems to predict in 1795 in regards to international politics! It is a short piece as well, so well worth your time, I promise! Then, in the afternoon we discussed Ian Buruma’s Murder in Amsterdam, and this discussion was led by our TA. We were divided into groups of three and had to address specific, broad questions relating the book back to modern-day Europe and Muslims. While it is a longer novel, it is also well worth your time! It is a fascinating novel, and a quick read as far as I was concerned. It was what I read in the plane ride over. Due to how fascinating this discussion was, our professor decided to continue that discussion into what would become our exam. So we had a group exam, which was quite interesting. We had about 30-40 minutes to further expand our arguments and have each one of us present them, as opposed to earlier where only one would present (which was me for my group). In the second half of this, I discussed the importance of religiosity in regards to the quote we were given, which was something along the lines of “The real threat of Muslims in Europe will occur when non-revolutionary Muslims will have no hope of feeling at home.” Powerful quote, wouldn’t you say? And I’d have to agree. When we allow the radicals to completely tarnish our view of Muslims to the point that they have nope of being welcomed, then we’ll be in great trouble. Unfortunately, due to a few complications, such as the professor coming to the afternoon late and the computer not working for a bit (internet problems), we left class at 4:30 instead of 4:00. We had wanted to leave at 4:00 to go to the very well-known tulip fields! Which will be closing very soon! 

Of course, we had to go during rush hour to the station. We missed one train, had to wait on the second group to meet up with us, and we got onto a second train. The train ride was interesting, because as a two story train, we had to take the wheelchair upstairs, which we realized was first class after one stop, and then we took it down into the corridor, sat in second class, and then I sat out in the corridor once there was room. But we made it to Leiden (which we had been told to go to by our TA and the information desk). We waited for a free bus to the fields, and then… we realized no more buses were running. We missed the last one. At first, we were flustered. But then we said, eh! We’re already in Leiden. Let’s explore.

A lot of people got raw baby herring, to try a Dutch delicacy. Not everyone seemed to enjoy it, which I can understand. I had no desire whatsoever, because, ew, fish. Then we rolled around, and we saw this wonderful view:

Excuse the funny face. Candid shot, yo!

Having a drink outside. Or rather, waiting.

Look! Dutch Windmill! So we walked around and enjoyed the sites. It was a cute little town. Eventually, we went to a restaurant, sat outside for a bit, ordered some drinks (I got… hot chocolate, wooo!), and then went inside because it was a weeee bit cold. Honestly, this had been one our better excursions, in my opinion. Even though only seven of us went, we were very relaxed and had a chance to just do our own thing. Everyone pushed me for a while; they just traded off. It was very kind, relaxing, and simply reassuring. After awhile, we returned to the train station, and we went back home. It was a straight shot home, we all hung out in a rather empty train and talked about Vanderbilt and classes, and everything. After we got back, they headed out for the night, but I decided to stay in because I had one too many things to do before today…

What’s today?

Well. We’re going to Amsterdam for the weekend. AHHH! It’s going to be super awesome! Lots of plans for us! But, we’ll be sticking around in a hostel, so this thing (the computer) is staying behind, safe and sound in my room. Therefore, I will see you guys on Sunday, and you will have an equally absurdly long blog post then! Dowidzenia!

In the study of culture, we have to consider a lot of variables specifically when it comes to scrutinizing a particular culture’s practices. But can we really judge a culture? Who are we to judge the rightness or wrongness of one culture’s practices? In a culturally diverse world, can universal human rights exist?

Cultural relativism theorizes that human rights are culturally relative rather than universal. What may be right to particular culture may be wrong to another. Taken to its extreme, some cultural practices that are against human rights would be valid; widespread disregard, abuse and violation of human rights would be given legitimacy. For instance, a culture practicing female genital mutilation – the woman undergoing this operation is put at a very high risk to the extent of death. However, despite the pain and the mortality rate it causes, the practice is not sanctioned because it is culturally accepted and exercised.

Reconciling cultural relativism and human rights for me is quite not possible, given the aforementioned, because the idea of human rights basically stems from a particular culture’s practices and beliefs; what is ethical for this culture may be unethical to another, so it just cancels out each other. Moreover, who are we to judge that our culture is better than the other and vice versa? Isn’t it that when we judge another culture, we basically benchmark our judgment from a culture we grew-up in and we’re familiar of? So who are we to judge the rightness or wrongness of another’s culture?

I believe that universal human rights supersede what is culturally relative in the sense that it protects and respects the most basic right of every human – the right to live. If a culture practices a “culture” that defends and uplifts lives, and promotes the health and well-being of the people… it is only then that relativism among cultures can reconcile with the universal human rights.

Have you ever wondered what’s the meaning of life? Because I have but for some reason I find the question wrongly put! I rather want to ask you, what do you stand for? what do you live for’? what’s the things that annoy the “things” out of you?? and you wish you could change? eg. ignorance on (eg. homosexuality, race, religion etc), social structures, manners, politics, economy … I could go on and on, right? 

Well and then there is the other question that usually plays into when you ask yourself what you would like to change. That’s “how does it concern me?” or even thinking that someone else will do it! 

Let me point one thing out, it does concern you because first of all you thought about it..
I’m probably wrong but I feel that we are seriously stupid in certain aspects, like we should try to listen to ourselves a bit more?

Ask a child what makes it sad, the child will mention many things but they all have one foundation, and thats “sadness” – As a child I was one of those higly sensitive ones, (and probably still am) but when and if I would see media clips from war and people crying, I would start crying! I wanted to build houses for people in need, educate them and help them gain their true happiness for the only life they have – now I think that  I aimed for the sky when I was age 3-8 but then I just felt everyone deserved what I had.

When I got older, that thought or need never drifted away but it rather became one of those powerless thoughts where we are taught to know what we cant change and just “move on”. 

Well I haven’t and I sometimes I just feel a bit lonely when I see this people complaining about things that really don’t matter!! – I don’t care if you feel fat, I don’t care if your boyfriend isn’t giving you attention and I really honestly don’t care if your eyelashes hurt etc. It’s not that I’m insensitive and just don’t care about other people’s feelings .. but Your not a tree, you can change it, and you know how to change it… and to be honest, some things you simply can’t change and some thing’s just don’t matter…
So pretty please ask yourself what matters to you?
when you will look back over your life, believe me you probably wont be sulking over those things? I think you will be sulking over all the things you could have done and perhaps done for others? 
At least I hope I’ll, I think a person that gives without expecting to get anything in return is a STRONG person! .. and let’s be honest, who does? .. that’s honestly a very rare quality that should be more common.

.. Now I would like to state that I’m not saying that I’m perfect and people in general are idiots, but for some reason there are things that bother me that don’t seem to affect people as much… And I want them changed before next generation! It’s getting just annoying, nothing changes. Same things happen over and over again! – just different reasons! 

for example war … oh.. there can be so many reasons or excuses for war, but still it’s wrong. It has nothing to do with patriotism, its just wrong. 

Okay let’s look at it from this point of view; cheating is wrong, right? well what if it would happen over and over again but you would be given different reasons or excuses…. 
It would still be wrong right?  and the reason is, you get hurt. People get hurt – This is something that a child knows but an adult forgets! If you hurt someone, its wrong! but for some reason the older you get, ..it get’s more ok because you will have your reasons?

And let me point one thing out, when there is war… you wouldn’t go in the country for a holiday? now, would ya? ..
first of all.. it’s dangerous and you worry for your safety. – That feeling you have for yourself going there should tell you that, that whatever is happening there isn’t fair or OK for whatever reason there is.

Thank you for reading, and in reality I’m not this bitter I just don’t like unfairness and life is so valuable that we need death to remind us…

Q. Paternity Leave and Old Friends: My wife took three months of maternity leave when our daughter was born. When she returned to work, I began my own three-month paternity leave. It’s wonderful and my daughter is thrilling, but my problem is my friends. Until a few weeks ago, I took them for normal people with a basically modern view of gender roles, but they have been mean and judgmental about this, calling me “whipped” and saying I shouldn’t “let” my wife read any more books like Lean In. (Really.) This weekend, three of them got together and told me that I should be angry at my wife for forcing me to give up on a job I love. No one is giving up on anything! This is just the way we are dealing with the fact that we BOTH love our jobs, and we love each other, and we love our daughter. We know we won’t always be able to split everything exactly 50/50, but we’re coming at it with a 50/50 mindset. In the long term, I’m sure I’ll make friends with more open-minded people, but in the short term, I’m home alone all day with a 15-week-old baby, and I really could use the support of some friends! What do I do?

Dear Paternity Leave and Old Friends:

Unfortunately, you have entered the noxious world of discrimination.  Welcome.  Gender bias is an ugly animal, and you have found yourself marginalized by your male peers for being an invested father.  I genuinely wish you had more support from your friends.  I really do.  However, being condemned, ostracized, or belittled for stepping outside a traditional role is, unfortunately, nothing new.  In the U.S., both women and nonwhites experience this backlash daily. On the flip side of this baby-daddy coin, though, you can expect to be treated like a superhero by other women.  This preferential treatment may soften the blow from the pernicious stance of your friends.  Personally, though, I find this type of female support counterproductive.  When we lower our expectations for fathers, we lower our expectations for parental equality.  Sheryl Sandberg discusses this very issue in Lean In — a book you mention in your email.  A male coworker kept receiving phone calls, each time stopping their work-related meeting to tell the babysitter on the other line the food items needed for his children’s lunches.  He was the primary caretaker for his children, so he had to take the calls.  Everyone thought the interruptions were charming.  When you switch genders, though, the story loses its appeal.

My point?  Truth be told, your wife will bear the brunt of gender bias. No demographic enjoys more discrimination in the workplace than a mother, and she will suffer significant social and economic consequences for her decision to have a baby with you. These repercussions transcend socioeconomic backgrounds. She can now expect to earn 59 cents on your dollar.  (Yup, that’s a statistic you don’t hear much about.)  Meanwhile, you may actually profit from your procreating.  Men enjoy higher esteem professionally when they have a family (your current friends aside).  Indeed, if the marriage should fail (God forbid), even our child support system is arbitrary and inconsistent.  Chances are that it will favor you.  Trust that your wife will pay for the “lifestyle choice” of having children. Never mind that a birthrate is necessary for the prosperity of our country and that we need people to pay taxes to support Social Security, Medicare, etc.  We are a culture that does not value parenting (as much as we say otherwise) and it shows — in the workplace and among your “friends.”

So here’s the ugly truth: There are not enough men like you. You will face obstacles and you will face discrimination. I hope that down the road you can provide the support to other men that you did not receive. You are the wave of the future, but you need to pave the way.  Unfortunately, it’s a dirt road.