Less than a century ago, women in The United States hadn’t yet been granted the right to vote.  Though it was allowed in some states, it wasn’t until 1920, when the constitution was amended, that women were guaranteed this right.  Without the ability to voice their viewpoints via the voting booth, perhaps our country would be different today.  I shudder to think of the improbable possibilities for laws [bad] men might have tried to pass.  Would there be a Barefoot & Pregnant mandate?  A Mall Prohibition Act?  Failure to Chill Beer ordinance? Tax deductions for men who wished to claim both their wife and mistress as dependents?

Fortunately, women have made amazing strides and this  country is one of the better places in the world to be female.  Despite this, women still struggle, because there are some things even progress can’t change.  It is possible to update our wardrobes, refurbish our furniture, restore old cars, or remodel old homes, but men are always AS-IS.

Which is why, while most of us like having a man in our lives, finding one that doesn’t make us crazy or worse, can be near impossible.  Lest people mistake this for a diatribe from a man-hater, I wish to assure readers that I am a BIG fan of men.  Women are almost always more and better company, but I still find the company of men irresistible.  I especially like them, because they are different than women, but the more manly they are, the stronger the urge to change them.  It’s like this:

I want a man who works hard enough to sweat, but I’d prefer not smell the sweat.
I want a man who knows how to use a gun if he needs to, but dislike men who need to remind others they know how to use a gun.
I want a man who can and will fight, but not a man who wants to fight.
I want a man who shows skill in the bedroom, but I’d be really turned on, if he were as eager to show off his kitchen skills.
I would like it if my man looked like one of those attractive gay models, but if I were to find out he was gay, I doubt I’d still find him attractive.

Men think women are hard to please, but it’s actually quite simple.  We want manly men, who are sensitive, soft, gentle, and sweet, like women.

Women like me, have succeeded in confusing men.  Are they supposed to be he-men or metrosexuals?  Are they supposed to open doors for us, or just leave us a key?  It’s all about balance, as we struggle to eliminate the confusion over who wears the pants and who wears the panties.

Blame feminism, because as women gained more equality in the workplace, they sought more at home.  Women were changing, and in the process they were inadvertently changing men.   This made me wonder if more powerful women, meant less powerful men.  Was the Great American male becoming an endangered species, teetering on extinction after having been emasculated by well-meaning feminists?  Had The Great American man become as frail as the California Coastal Sand Gnat, struggling to survive in the face of environmental change?

Women would love it if men were more like girlfriends, sharing their enthusiasm for things like cashmere and Italian shoes.  If we had our way, men would learn to enjoy long meandering conversations and realize the joy of shopping, but while there have always been women who wanted men who were as easily controlled as children, the majority of us still want a man with a nicely defined backbone.  There are men who enjoy shopping or grooming as much as women, but most men are simply not interested, because despite everything, they are still men.

Nevertheless, the metrosexual is often exhibited as evidence that men are becoming feminized.   I’m not buying it.  It’s just the latest incarnation of “The Sharp Dressed Man.” It’s not like men don’t care about their image, but image is different things to different men.  For some image is grooming, for others it may be a car, a fat paycheck or a perfectly manicured lawn.  The term metrosexual may be new, but his type is not.  A hundred years ago, a man who embraced fashion and a refined lifestyle, would have been called a dandy.

Some argue that feminism has diminished our respect or the strength of American men.  Many point to the examples of television fathers–like the difference between Ozzie Nelson and Ozzie Osbourne as evidence, that our view of men has been diminished.  The  media often portrays men as bumbling incompetents, relying on women to guide them, but this is nothing new.  Literature is full of hapless henpecked husbands.  Even during The Golden Age of Radio and early television men were often the brunt of jokes.  It makes for good comedy, and men are surprisingly good sports about jokes made at their expense.  Make fun of a woman, and you’ll likely regret it, but men are easy targets.

Why?
Because in the war between the sexes, there is no cease-fire.  Women will fight for every hill, to make sure that their wisdom, competence and superior taste in almost everything is acknowledged, but men will easily surrender or  declare victory, if they get respect, appreciation and regular demonstrations of affection–AKA sex.

Feminism changed sex and the economy of sex, because it enabled women to move between supply side and demand side.  Women now had demands and were controlling the supply through a kind of rationing and price-fixing.  As the supply began to change, men sought new suppliers, and there were always more suppliers.  Promiscuity became common and porn became mainstream.  Wives no longer held the monopoly on sex, and men were suddenly contenting themselves with the kind of cheap, easy, readily available women they’d previously disdained.  The one woman one man ideal was outmoded, as men began sharing their pulp princesses with countless other men, and women found  themselves competing with mens’ make-believe mistresses.

It simplified things for men, as they no longer needed to please a woman emotionally or sexually just to get a little, but it was hardly the brave new world.  Pleasure-seeking and erotica have always existed, and it isn’t as if internet porn destroyed the sexual utopia that existed before feminism.  Marriage took some hits,  and intimate sex between people who loved each other fell victim to friendly fire, making some wonder if sex within marriage or would soon be obsolete.  Doubtful, as long is there is one person alive who remembers that the solo, is nothing compared to the duet.

Men still need women, and women still need men.  Feminism changed our world, but it has yet to change men into women or women into men.  The war between the sexes continues, because some things never change, even in the face of progress.

At the bank, a woman walked past me.  Correction, a man walked past me, wait, no I think it was a woman.  On closer inspection, I’m no longer sure. It was one of those moments, when my brain was scrambling to process the input it was receiving.  The visual input was so confusing, that my brain and I could not decipher it.

This individual was dressed in rugged jeans and a tunic-length sweater, coiffed with a modernized Mohawk, grown long and swooping over one side of a shaved head, providing one of those come hither curls which seductively obscures one eye.  The body was lithe and feminine, the face whiskered, his or her fine leather handbag? man purse? was the epitome of good taste rendered from top-grain leather.

I wasn’t sure if I was seeing a woman who was embracing manhood, or a man who had turned his back on it.  He or she seemed to be hovering in the nether-land between the gender they were born and the one they preferred.  Gender stuff isn’t always so confusing, but even among those who have settled comfortably into a traditional role, it sometimes is.  For most of my life, the roles of the sexes have been evolving..  The movement to expand opportunities for women, has caused the roles of both genders to become more elastic.    Women are now able to compete with men in most every field, and men are no longer diminished by choosing careers once held only by women.

Only a few decades ago, home was the “proper” place for women and difficult situations had to wait until father came home.  Back then jobs that were dangerous, outdoors or dirty were mostly considered to be “men’s work” and self-respecting chauvinists would sooner change jobs than work for a woman.

Feminism was about redefining women, but in the process, it also served to redefine the role of males.  As women become more used to calling the shots in the workplace, they wanted more control at home.  The traditional roles of men and women were becoming more alike. In an effort to equalize apples and oranges, apples were required to develop thicker skins and more fiber, while experiments were conducted to see if oranges could be turned into applesauce.

That’s my take, but in fact, there are currently some who wish to eliminate gender classification completely.  They suggest gender is too limiting, because we all possess a combination of male and female traits, with some leaning more heavily one way or the other.  That makes sense, after there are all kinds of  women and men.   According to this reasoning, we all fall somewhere on a broad continuum between male and female.  I’d probably be classified as a female with male traits–or what we used to we used to call “tomboy” because somewhere between girls who live to crochet tea cozies and female bounty hunters are plenty of feminine women who aren’t intimidated by auto-mechanics or power tools.

Another popular notion that it is our society, not our biology which causes us to be masculinized or feminized.  I read recently of two families who have refused to disclose their child’s gender, so that the children could be  self-defining.  Another group says more gender classifications are needed because male and female are too limiting.  Ironically, these labels make no allowances for the transgendered, because it is assumed they will choose one of the two existing labels.

In the ongoing war between the sexes, it’s impossible to know who is winning.  Sun Tzu’s art of war suggests we must know our enemy, but is the enemy still the enemy when they begin switching sides?  The next edition of de blog will be devoted to the current condition of the endangered American male.  Stay tuned.

Less than a century ago, Halloween was little more than a  night of youthful pranks and mischief.  Ever-changing, and ever challenging our sensibilities, it seems Halloween is forever being redefined.  No other celebration poses more of a dichotomy, as the most morbid themes are mingled with whimsical innocence.   Fairies, princesses, ghouls, super heroes, and characters from TV or movies provide alternate identities, and a brief escape from reality.

Halloween is one of our calendar’s most-controversial celebrations.  From it’s earliest origins, it has been a holiday to love or hate.   The holiday we now know as Halloween, was first instituted by Catholics, as the intended replacement for its pagan forerunner, Samhain. In keeping with the Night of the Living Dead theme, it was a day to honor the memory of saints and martyrs.  Martin Luther’s Protestant reformation, hoped to eradicate the Catholic celebration of All Saint’s Day and All Hallow’s Eve, because his religious ideas did not embrace the  Catholic view of saints.   The New England Puritans banned the holiday in the New World, because of  its Catholic origins, but it wasn’t long before large numbers of Irish-Catholic immigrants succeeded in reestablishing the popularity of Halloween traditions.

By the early 1900′s, Halloween celebrations had become part of the American tradition, but the holiday was, and still is, one of our most controversial.   Just as the Catholic church once did, many churches and religious communities, have invented their own substitutes for Halloween.  Even the so-called “separation of church and state” hasn’t been able to keep schools from taking a stance.  Many schools have banned costumes or other Halloween celebrations out of respect to those with religious concerns–and one school district in Pulyallup, Washington, was compelled to enact bans, lest local witches (Wiccans) be offended.

People either love it or hate it.   I understand many dislike the way Halloween blurs the line between good and evil, but to me it’s not so different from the rest of life as we all seek to balance bad things and things that scare us, with the good and sweet things which make life worth the struggles.  In fact, I adore seeing children in costumes eager to receive a ration of candy, but for some even innocent trick-or-treaters pose a nuisance.

If only being grown-up, were as simple as being a kid.  As adults, we adopt a seriousness about ourselves and the things around us.  Fortunately or unfortunately, it is clear that Halloween is no longer just for kids, and it is one of few opportunities for us to shed the inhibitions and constraints of our own identities, to embrace another.  In the same way princesses, ghouls, super heroes, and cartoon characters give children a chance to make-believe, costumes offer grown-ups an invitation to play.

I like it when adults let down their guard a little.  Costumes seem to make it easier, but if costumes are a license to have fun, they can also be an excuse to behave (or misbehave) in a way one wouldn’t normally.  An article from Psychology Today suggests costume choices  may reveal hidden parts of our personalities. Whether it is repressed feelings, unspoken desires or innocent fantasies, Halloween provides an outlet.

This brings me to the subject of provocative female costumes. Once witches were ugly crones with green skin and twisted noses, but the newest generation of witch costumes usually feature a spell-casting amount of skin–which is  rarely, if ever green.)  Every perennially popular costume is now available in various degrees of slutty.  Not so long ago, the pregnant bride costume provided risque laughs, but now most of us would err on the safe side, by offering a pregnant bride our congratulations.   Beacons of virtue like Snow White and Red Riding Hood have lost their innocence, along with the school teachers, nurses and costumed nuns who have joined the naughtiness.  It seems the little girls who once collected candy, have become a mixed bag of sweet tarts.

Though most women enjoy the attention that comes with being attractive, those who swap their uniqueness to become just another girl in a skimpy costume are reduced to little more than eye candy.  Has our quest for equality made us like men hoping for a conquest, with no thoughts of the morning after?   As we advertise our tricks and display the treats, have we forgotten how to cultivate desire, without the use of T & A?  Could it be that we no longer know how to engage and delight men, so they, like children on Halloween, can hardly concentrate for the distraction of thoughts of finally being allowed to unwrap the candy?

The downside is that just as kids may revel in the excess of the evening, big boys are apt to do the same.  When Halloween is over, they will have to wait for next year’s candy extravaganza, and some women may realize they have become just another piece the morning after, the sexy costumes have no more appeal than leftover candy corn.

Thankfully, it’s only one night a year.

A duckling, newly emerged from the shell, immediately looks for something with which it will bond. In the absence of the mother duck, the hatchling forms an attachment to the closest moving thing, whether human, animal or even an inanimate object like a ball; in a process called imprinting. Our sexual response is often the result of our own imprinting.   We may not even know why certain things turn us on and others don’t, but they are often the result of earlier experiences and the feelings we associate with them.

We are complicated creatures, but we are also amazingly simple.  As researchers study human sexual response, there are new findings on why we like what we like, but some of it just seems obvious.  For instance, a recent study showed a tendency for us to gravitate toward partners who bear certain similarities to our opposite sex parent. Freud would say it’s Oedipal, but it’s  not that complex.  We adapt to what is familiar.  Americans eat fries with ketchup, but Europeans prefer them with mayonnaise. I don’t even like ketchup much, but because it’s what I’m used to, I like it better than mayo on my pomme frittes.

In the same way, our ideas of physical attractiveness are mostly the result of cultural conditioning.  Across the globe,  beauty ideals vary greatly.  We may prefer smooth skin, beautiful teeth, or hard bodies, but there are places where scars, gold teeth and soft bodies define desirability.  Our preferences may seem personal, but they are largely influenced by what we’ve become accustomed to.

Consider the colors you like.  It is likely you have a favorite.  Maybe you’ve assumed color trends are launched by hipsters or designers, or that your response to them is a matter or personal taste, but the reality is that they are largely shaped by teams of professionals in the color industry, who work to change your preferences, in an attempt to influence what you will buy.  They begin by choosing palettes (also called color forecasts).  These palettes are then used to to create the things you are likely to see in stores.  What we may think of as color “trends” are actually an orchestrated effort to make you like what they’re selling. Their effort relies on exposing you to colors repeatedly, until you first become accustomed to them, then fonder of them as they become more familiar.  (They are also counting on you to tire of those colors, in time for their next round of picks.)

Our brains are very malleable, quickly responding to things around us.  Neurons and synapses are constantly readjusting according to exterior stimuli.  Often called our largest sexual organ, it should come as no surprise that the chemical and electrical activity of the brain not only reacts to, but also alters our sexual response. The brain continually records and categorizes experiences, creating a mental database of positive and negative perceptions. Eventually, those associations trigger reactions ranging from arousal to repulsion.  It is still not completely understood why some develop odd triggers or fetishes, but just as the deformed and putrid flesh of bound feet were once considered the height of erotica in China, our sexual response is largely the result of conditioning.

Because of the way our brains recall previous experiences, things we have found pleasant or arousing before, can become  sexual triggers, but unpleasant experiences can also rework our sexual response.  This is particularly true in cases of coerced sex, violent sex, or shame-inducing sex.  An individual who has been raped or molested, may have trouble getting past the fear or anxiety associated with predatory sex.  In fact, those who have suffered sex in a traumatic context may develop a negative reaction to what  might be considered normal sex.  (I’m not about to attempt to define “normal”, but for this  example, let’s define “normal” as he kind of sex we can imagine Claire and Cliff Huxtable having.)  A gay man I know, recounts being encouraged as a child, to have sex with a female cousin for the pleasure of voyeuristic adults.  After which, the residual shame made it impossible to even think about sex with a female.

In theory, the chemicals (like oxytocin, vasopressin, and dopamine) released when we have physical contact with another, are supposed to help us bond to and enjoy a long relationship with a single person.  However, in a culture where casual sex has become increasingly common, those same chemicals can fuel a kind of anti-monogamy addiction.  Those who bounce from bed to bed, may not even realize they are reprogramming the brain to reject monogamy, as they become conditioned to the rush of new encounters, making longer relationships, less attractive and less sustainable.

Because healthy relationships require both an emotional and physical bond, relationships based primarily on sex tend to be short-lived. Casual sex may be satisfying in the short-term, but without the emotional validations we crave, sex isn’t enough to sustain a long-lasting relationship. It is an example of how what we want, may not be what we need.  Even in arrangements like “friends with benefits”, the ongoing effort for both parties to balance the differences between their sexual and emotional needs, usually makes the arrangement temporary, at best. Unfortunately, without a significant emotional connection, sex for the sake of sex, becomes little more than a series of thrill rides. Even Cosmopolitan magazine, which has long advocated free sexual expression, recently cautioned men that excessive masturbation can diminish their ability to respond to sex with a partner.

What we want, isn’t always what we need.  Sometimes getting what we want, prevents us from getting what we need.  The reasons may be complicated, or simple, but like Pavlov’s dogs salivating for a bell, rats conditioned to endure electrical shocks in exchange for a few grains of food, or a baby duck waiting for a dog to teach him to swim or fly; we are all subject to imprinting.

In my last post, I wrote about DNA and race.  I would have liked to have written a long expository post on the science behind the piece, but instead opted for “readable”.  However, there was still more I wanted to share about my own experience with DNA testing.  I hope it will be of interest to anyone who has ever admired a baby, attributing traits like curly hair, skin color or temperament to  race and breeding.

My father’s family came from Scotland, my mother’s from Mexico.  When I wanted to know more about my roots, I thought DNA would provide some answers.  Perhaps the tests would reveal a proud lineage going back to Glasgow, Camelot, or some other tea-drinking place in the U.K.  Maybe I would learn I was descended from Mayans, Incans or Aztecs.  It seemed so simple. Send some cells, watch the mailbox, wait for the “big reveal.”

To trace one’s family lines, two different kinds of DNA are needed. Male lineage (paternity) is traced through the examination of DNA from the Y-Chromosome, carried by males.   Maternal DNA samples are taken from mitochondrial  DNA, which is passed through females in a line.  Since my father is no longer living, my brother provided DNA to trace my father’s bloodline.  My husband also sent a sample, because he was anxious to know about his Italian heritage. We were all eager to find out who we were.  Finally, the envelope arrived, providing  us with more questions, than answers.

Back then, I proudly thought of my burly kilt-wearing ancestors as a distinct race. I had yet to realize they  were an amalgam of peoples including Vikings, Picts, Brits and Irish who had formed warring clans dating back to Medieval times–so much so that their European migrations and later migrations throughout the United States were usually the result of disagreements with the people around them. What I thought of as a unique bloodline, was actually from many places.  Now that I know more of Scottish history, the most accurate thing I could say of my Scottish roots is:  I come from a long line of people who don’t play well with others.

Answering questions about my nationality was easier before DNA testing.  Because many assume I’m Native American, I’m asked often.  It was convenient to say, “I’m Scottish and Mexican”.  I don’t look typically Mexican, but I always chalked that up to Mexican features made more interesting by the addition of Celtic genes.   In fact, with my height and angular features, I barely pass for Mexican.   Still, I wasn’t expecting what the tests revealed.  Instead of a tidy report of racial mix and geography, I got migration maps and a print out of DNA mutations, unique to our lineage.

It took some research to begin to understand the results, but here’s the short report.  DNA tracking is based on variations and migrations.  Each mutation becomes it’s own subdivision, called a haplo group.  As ancient people migrated, their mutations left a kind of genetic trail.  Turns out, my “Mexican” DNA is from Asia.  It was brought to Mexico by the same people who became American Eskimos and other North American tribes.  As it turns out, I have more genetic similarity to Mongolians than Mayans.  This went along way to explaining the high cheekbones, wide faces and “Asian” eyes that show up on the “Mexican” side of the family.

Certainly, my husband’s DNA would be less confusing, because his family came from a more closely confined part of Italy. The migration of his DNA had a shorter path, out of Northern Africa, through the fertile crescent to Europe.  His haplo group is still common in the Mediterranean, Middle East, and Eastern Europe–especially Albania.

Then there was my paternal line.  We had  a few ideas about who we might be, but they didn’t include being Finnish or Spanish. It turns out that my father’s DNA was as common to the Mediterranean and Italy, as we would have expected my husband’s to be.  The DNA also showed up in often in populations of Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews, making it probable that my Calvinist Baptist roots, were preceded by Jewish roots–something we‘d suspected.

So what does it all mean?  It means what we call “race” is really more complicated (or more simple) than most of us think.  We aren’t people of distinct races, but representatives of  the groups with whom we live and breed.  In fact, all the people of the world have beginnings in Eastern Africa.  Geneticists say we are all born of an “Adam” and an “Eve”, being cautious not to suggest they might not be the ones you know from Sunday School.  The qualities we associate with race, like body type, skin color or hair type, are not indicators of race, but rather evidence of dominant genes repeating or best suited-genes surviving.

In Dr. Thomas Spelsberg’s book, The Myth of Race, he explains people who live in places like Scandinavia are not light-skinned because they are Scandinavian, they are light-skinned because those with lighter skin are more apt to survive in Scandinavia.  In the same way, those whose skin is too light for regions with harsh sunlight, will not fare as well as those whose traits are better adapted.  This causes a slow evolution, by which geography influences traits.

DNA is tracked by following mutations from the original line off the alpha couple, Adam & Eve. In other words, we are all just mutant branches of the same family tree.  Asians may have different DNA from Africans, but it isn’t because they are a different race.  The traits we associate with race are result of genetic combinations, not racial variations in DNA.  Recessive genes like blue-eyes can become a dominant trait, when the more dominant trait for brown eyes, becomes less frequent in a given population.

Just like the Scots in my ancestry, we are all just the products of migrating clans.  It will be some time before DNA becomes the standard by which we define who we are, but it seems probable that in the future, questions about race and nationality, will be replaced with conversations about DNA haplo groups.

Deb’s Note: The cost of DNA testing is becoming more reasonable than it was a few years ago, at about $150. per person. National Geographic and Ancestry.com both have registries intended to help people find people who could be related. To learn more about DNA and race, check out  The Myth of Race, by Thomas C. Spelsburg.  

Sometimes when I’m watching politicians, I wonder if they’re really actors.  It’s confusing, because  actors think they’re politicians–doing their best to tell us how to vote. The politicians must be confused too, because they often think they’re scientists or scientists and social engineers. I took Civics, but don’t remember anything entrusting the government with responsibility for interpreting science or re-engineering society for us.  I do however remember being taught about Hitler trying that.

When did it become government’s job to interpret issues for us?  When did they become responsible for legislating what we should think in regards to religion, science or sociology?  It seems legislators are doing their best to make sure we all walk the same dogma, as they purge history books of history, in order to make room for more politically advantageous things.  We are supposed to believe they know best, that they are smarter than the great collective of American thinkers. Whether the issue is climate change or diversity, any person who refuses to embrace the groupthink is deemed an uneducated moron.  Take for example the controversy regarding Evolution vs. Creationism comes up a lot.  I know what I believe, but I’d never be so arrogant as to suggest it’s the only viewpoint or the only thing that should be taught.  It takes neither faith, nor intellect to believe something, if you’ve only heard one side.

It’s not just science or history, the government wants to tell us how we should feel about those around us–how we should view people of other lifestyles, religions or races. It is easy for those, like myself, who live in diverse communities with little racism, to deny it’s existence, but racism is alive and well.  Unfortunately, the most insidious form of racism is that which disguises itself as the progressive effort to eradicate racism.

In the most regrettable era of United States history, Africans were treated as subhuman. Wise leaders, struggle and bloodshed abolished slavery, but even a hundred years later, many still refused to acknowledge African-Americans as equals. Every minority in this country has faced their own struggles, but none have suffered any more than “Black” citizens.

Black–I think that means all those with brownish skin who are not Asian, Native American, Pacific Islander Caucasian or Hispanic. Not sure, but I think the current politically correct term is African-American.  That’s a silly term, considering there were Africans here before the British-Americans who wrote the constitution.

I’ve  lost track of all the terms  used for “blacks” in my lifetime, but never mind that, I’m part Mexican and I can’t even figure out what they want me to call myself.  I hear terms like “Mexican-American” will soon be changed to American-Mexican.  It’s semantics, but why are those who want us to stop labeling and embrace diversity the biggest purveyors of labels?  I’m part Super Taco, part Big Mac, in other words, I’m American!   Want an affirmative action?  How about we stop classifying people by race?

The smart people are doing their best to make sure the rest of us think right, but it’s time for them to dust off their biology books.  Here’s a little lesson for the smart people, coming straight from a good ol’ girl educated in a pre-progressive public school smack-dab in the center of the oft-maligned state of Arizona.

There is no such thing as race.

My entire life, I was always aware of my skin color and sometimes wondered if  it made me a less desirable specimen of humanity, but I was still raised to be as proud of my European and Hispanic roots, as I was of my American heritage. However, I wanted to know more about where my family came from, so I turned to DNA testing for answers.  I’ve always been fascinated by how  the sequences of four nucleotide bases combine to make each of us–even those who are one of a set of identical twins, unique.   However I was very surprised by what I learned in my latest look at DNA.  My quest to find out about myself, turned into a lesson about the human race.

Notice I didn’t say human races?
That’s right kids, there is only one race. We don’t all look alike, we may not come from the same continents, but we are all the same race with variations.

Those who are still making distinctions between Asians, Blacks and Hispanics may think they’re progressive, but they’re actually very behind the times.  They might as well be back in the 1850s or 1950s, because their view of race is anything but progressive.

Previously, I wrote about the new addition of a dog to our house.  At first I was convinced he was some kind of German Shepherd mix, but as he’s grown, it’s harder to figure out what he is, because he’s an indecipherable mix.    There are DNA tests for dogs, but they wouldn’t tell me much more than I can guess looking at him. My dog, like most Americans,  is the magnificent product of many generations. His breeding is like most of ours–indistinct.   He is a mutt, but he’s not a lesser dog.

No matter what external traits we exhibit, we are all the same species of the same race.  We may have different hair color, eye color or skin color, but we are all the same race.  See, in a lab, even the brightest and best of geneticists can’t identify race.  It’s not that they haven’t figured out how, it’s that there isn’t any genetic difference.  Traits associated with race are the result of adaptations and subtle changes in the DNA.  It doesn’t matter whether you take that as proof of evolution or evidence of intelligent design–the DNA shows every single person on the planet comes out of the same lineage started in Africa.

That’s not politics, not religion, not dogma–it’s science.  Those who believe that the genetic matter of an Asian,  Black, or Hispanic is different than that of a white person, are as naïve as children who believe an egg dyed green will taste different from one dyed pink. Most of the traits we have used to define race are no more substantial than the difference between a brown egg or a white one.  Whether you prefer brown eggs or white ones, once you remove the shell, they’re all just eggs.

Deb’s Note:  In the next edition of de blog, more about DNA, including my own discoveries and explanations of why the use of race labels is an outdated practice.