Author Archives: jbmichael1

I feel this overwhelming need to write about Britney Spears. Her testimony from her conservatorship hearing—which has held her body, life, and finances hostage for 13 years of her adult life—was a desperate plea for someone to release her from a gilded cage of barbed wire. It is beyond disturbing that an adult who has been working as a professional singer and entertainer throughout the course of these long years is still being held captive by the court system and her own father. Her father quite literally controls her every move, according to Britney’s account of the time she was punished for opposing a specific dance move for her show’s choreography.

Through the court system, she is forced to keep an IUD in her body to prevent her from becoming pregnant. She cannot marry her boyfriend. She cannot choose where to have her therapy sessions. She must have permission to leave the house. The money she earns is not hers. Her kids are used as leverage to assure her compliance. She is denied all agency and ownership. She cannot even hire her own lawyer to represent her interests. That the courts have the power to do this and perpetuate this is utterly disturbing, but it should not come as a shock to anyone familiar with the justice system.

Courts have long secured power over women’s bodies in the hands of men. The rate at which courts lock away a disproportionate number of black men has spurred a booming privatized prison industry. The highest court in our nation declared that not everyone is entitled to an equal education. Crimes committed by juveniles—whose impulse control and capacity to understand consequences is not yet fully developed—may have them spending a lifetime in prison. Courts have the power to seize someone’s finances, dictate where people can go. Courts uphold the institutionalized racism of white supremacy and the patriarchal suppression of women by allowing “neutral” policies, public “safety” measures, religious “freedom” to go unchecked.

Courts can be tools of oppression by merely shrugging its shoulders and excusing its affirmations of oppressive and discriminatory practices and policies as “not within its purview” to change. Courts tell us to keep in mind that they are constrained by a checks-and-balances system and cannot legislate. Bullshit. Because we do sometimes see decisions come down that radically alter the status quo of systemic oppressions, including Brown v. Board of Education, Engel v. Vitale, Gideon v. Wainwright, Heart of Atlanta Motel v. U.S., Loving v. Virginia, Roe v. Wade, Lawrence v. Texas, Obergefell v. Hodges, Bostock v. Clayton County, to name a few. And yet courts just as easily uphold the status quo. Not surprisingly, how a court decides comes down to the judges who sit on the bench, and the dogma to which they subscribe. Far too often, we see the split down partisan lines, despite empty assurances of an unbiased interpretation of the law.

Britney is essentially her father’s property. History is rife with the practice of white men owning another human being as property. Yes, slavery has occurred among other cultures and races, but the concept that human ownership is justified by some sort of God-given entitlement arising from some purported racial, gender or cultural superiority and is to be used as a tool to exploit, colonize, and entrench one race, gender or culture’s dominance and authority above all others is clearly a specialty of white men.

I know what you’re thinking. Not all white men. I want equality and an end of oppression. Yes, good. That is the starting point. But the system was built with mal intent. We all stand within this system in the places of power (or lack thereof) designated to us by those who built the system. Britney’s father didn’t build the system, but he used his standing in the system to his benefit because his was the face that receives an automatic presumption of rightness and entitlement. It is implicit. It can be without consciousness of the presumption. A father should know what is best for his daughter. An older man is wiser than a younger woman. A man with a job and a house is more trustworthy than a man who rents and lives paycheck to paycheck. A man with a college degree is better qualified than a high school graduate. A white man is less likely to have committed a crime involving violence and drugs according to statistics … you start to see a pattern of assumptions. A cop is presumptively telling the truth. “Low income” neighborhoods are “high crime” neighborhoods. The clothes you wear make you a target of suspicion or assault. She didn’t resist. He appeared nervous.

So yeah, Britney Spears follows the #MeToo tidal wave, the embrace of Pride, the courage of the Parkland shooting survivors, Greta Thunberg’s stoic stance for climate change, the forced martyrdom of George Floyd, Sandra Bland and countless other black souls who drove BLM protests to the streets during the height of a global pandemic, the exorcising from the White House the Trumpian nationalist rhetoric that framed neo-Nazis as “fine people.” Should a millionaire former teen pop star benefit from the blood and tears of this wave of resistance? Without hesitation, yes. Because if someone of her notoriety, talent, and wealth can be imprisoned by the system, it is happening to countless others who lack what she has, and it can come for any one of us at any time.

* Enjoy this Bustle article on the origins of Britney’s “Gimme More” catchphrase “It’s Britney, bitch.”

I don’t know what to say. And I guess that’s why I write. But it’s also why I don’t know what to write. And so I started this blog as a way to force pen on paper (or fingers on keys as is often the case) and to unplug the hole in my brain where words are supposed to spring forth.

But even before I dotted the period of the end of that last sentence, domestic obligations conspired to call my attention away. And then an alert on my watch that a meeting which was supposed to be scheduled for tomorrow afternoon was somehow inexplicably scheduled at a time of the morning when I’m hitting snooze on my first of two alarms. And then a chair is toppled over by one of my two favorite tiny humans.

But such is life!

I recently read a provocative book about feeding your creative soul, and the author advocated making life-altering choices to free yourself from the strictures of patriarchal society’s expectations and demands. Nah. As exhausting as it can be, I love mothering my kiddos. I also enjoy the love and companionship that comes with sharing my life with another individual (even though at times, that, too, can be exhausting, as love often can be). And as much as my day job can frustrate and annoy me, I think (I hope) I’m at least making some difference in people’s lives while being able to pay the bills.

But writing … my first love … my neglected love … I have to stop making excuses, doom-scrolling through social media, wasting time on ephemeral things that only serve as fast food for the soul. Now I’m reading more. I’ve taken up painting with watercolors and pencil drawing—not just silly doodles, either (although, still such a delight!). I attempt to play violin and flirt with learning piano. I study a foreign language in fits and spurts. I. Am. Blogging.

“The Book of Delights: Essays” by Ross Gay currently has my bedtime-reading-ritual attention. It is, indeed, a delightful collection of near-daily essays that served as a writing experiment for the author to shift his focus to the everyday things that catch his interest. Some of those things are whimsical; some of those are grappling with racial identity. I love these essays. It’s great inspiration, and I’m struggling to pin down a daily challenge for myself. So until I settle on some subject matter may stick with me, I’ll practice writing, just like this. I will practice opening up my mind, allowing myself to become more vulnerable by exposing those fleeting thoughts and feelings, only very lightly editing. And hopefully someday I’ll feel brave enough to put down in words what I really have to say … as soon as I figure out what that is.

Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I just finished Mieko Kawakami’s “Breasts and Eggs,” and I love her writing style. Her imaginative descriptions aren’t too overly florid, but just the right amount that I had to pause to go back and re-read passages just to soak in her beautiful prose. This is the author’s first book to be translated into English, and after a brief wait on the library’s hold list, I jumped right into it.
I’ve been on a feminist literature kick (because f**k the patriarchy, am I right?) and while I’m still basking in the afterglow of “Women Who Run With the Wolves,” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés (TRANSFORMATIVE! READ IT!), I needed to write this review while I rein in my thoughts to draft the review for “Wolves.”

“Breasts and Eggs” follows a single working-class woman who is trying to find her own way in Japanese society much like American society: bodily autonomy for women is taboo; the female body is for the male gaze and use; a woman’s success in her work is contingent on her sacrifice of her femininity; single parenthood should not be a voluntary option; some women have internalized the patriarchy, etc.

We start off with the main protagonist, Natsuko, whose mother had to flee an abusive relationship with her and her sister at a young age. Natsuko’s mom scrapes by as a single mom, and Natsuko’s sister, Mikiko, eventually follows in her mom’s footsteps as a struggling single mom who words as a hostess who entertains drinking men. As Mikiko’s daughter, Midoriko, is coming of age, Midoriko is repulsed by the idea that women are seen as just valuable for their “eggs.” Mikiko, meanwhile, an aging hostess, is obsessed with breast implants she could never in her lifetime afford.

Natsuko, who leaves Osaka to pursue a career as a writer in Tokyo, seems to be an ambivalent observer of her sister’s obsession. She mostly worries about Mikiko’s health. After a cathartic moment of confrontation between Mikiko and Midoriko while visiting Natsuko, the book jumps ahead in time. She’s had success with her first published novel, and for the first time in her life. She remains single and is resigned to being alone because she is incapable of enjoying sex. And yet, she desires to become a mother, so she delves into the subject matter of anonymous artificial insemination. In Japan, this is only available to couples, and the adult children of anonymous donors are vocal opponents of this type of insemination.

How Natsuko sorts through her own desires, society’s view of this, the opponent group’s perspectives, her editor’s opinion, and her sister’s reaction is the heart of this part of the story and I won’t spoil it. It’s hard to pin how the story moves me, other than the writing itself, but I’d have to say it is because of the women who populate Natsuko’s life and those she learns from others. This includes her editor who came from a wealthy family and puts work before all else, her writer friend who is a single mother who hates men for what they put women through, a woman whose father figure horrifically abused her as a child, another whose mother said the most important person in her life was her husband and not her children, another woman who is forced to care for her bitter and narcissistic mother-in-law … the list goes on. All of the characters weave this web of women trying to cope while stuck in a man’s world.

Honestly, it’s refreshing to read a story so centered on women. It passes the Bechdel Test easy-peasy. The men in this story are background noise. The one that plays a more prominent role is a sort of Virgil for Natsuko’s journey—not one who saves her, but one who cares and shows support. The women alone in the story are worth giving this novel a read.



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If Women Rose Rooted: The Power of the Celtic Woman by Sharon Blackie

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This book, “If Women Rose Rooted,” was recommended to me very enthusiastically by a friend of mine. The fact I completed it indicates it is definitely worth a read. (I haven’t completed a whole book in … years—I have twin toddlers).

The essence of this eco-feminist novel is that women have a deep connection with nature, and particularly with a sense of place (both location and culture), and when we cut ourselves off from that sense of belonging we find ourselves lost in the “Wasteland.” We women are of nature and the patriarchy via Christianity has oppressed the female nature. Eve sought knowledge after communing with nature and look what happened? The book lays out that female nature should work complementary to the masculine nature, and what we have now is an unhealthy domination of the masculine (i.e., toxic masculinity). The author acknowledges the differences of men and women* but how both are necessary, like yin and yang, for a healthy society, in cooperation with each other.

*When I use the terms men and women, whatever gender you identify with and whatever nature you may gravitate toward. The book does not address the gender spectrum, but all of us have both the masculine and feminine inside of us. Feminism must always respect and embrace that spectrum.

Author Sharon Blackie could have used a much more heavy-handed editor. I found her prose long-winded and repetitive at times, and I would have liked to have seen more analysis of how the ancient myths inform our modern lives. She does weave in her own troubled past and how it informed her often flawed decision making, and we see that, even for a psychologist, this reconnection is not easy. Her own struggle is important to the narrative, but it also makes it seem like reconnection may too hard.

The book focuses on Celtic mythology, as those are her roots, and she recognizes that those with other cultural backgrounds have other mythologies that will be important and instructive to them. I understand that she does not want to appropriate other cultural myths, but typically these archetypal myths have universal meaning. She is also of Scottish and Irish descent so, of course, she feels connected to that land. It seems like the author believes Celtic myths may only be useful to those with Celtic roots, but likely those Celtic myths have roots that go even further in time and place to mankind’s origins in Africa. In an attempt to be sensitive to cultural appropriation, she becomes somewhat exclusionary.

Another criticism I have of the book is that the author focuses all of her stories but one on those who must live in the countryside to feel connected to land. There is one story of a women who finds connectedness in London, but the author preaches isolation in the wilderness. She worked a high-powered job at a tobacco corporation making a good salary before realizing the work was not nourishing her, triggering her to move from croft to croft in far-flung northern sea-battered landscapes. I don’t know many women who can afford to retreat for years with no steady paycheck. She is writing, for sure, from a place of privilege that I often found a bit grating. She also has no children which affords her an opportunity to unroot herself from here and there (she does grapple with the mothering aspect of the feminine nature and her own choice not to have children, and she deftly handles the subject of nurturing not being confined to motherhood).

But! For all of my criticisms, I found it to be an impactful book because it really made me look at myself and my life. Was I cut off from my creativity? Was I feeling disaffected and disillusioned, drained? The book angered me for awakening the realization that I, too, am mired in a creative wasteland of my own. It put me in a bad mood. It depressed me. To use a pop culture reference, this book was like the red pill in the Matrix movie, waking me up to an unsettling truth. Except now I must choose to either answer the “Call” or try to lose myself again in the status quo. For this impact, the book is worth reading. But I felt that it did not provide me enough guidance on what to do with these feelings. Unlike the author, I am not going off to a remote Gaelic island to sing to rocks. Her need to shed her “responsibilities” in this manner is not even remotely an option for most women. The author is a writer and a psychologist. At one point she owned an independent publishing company. Her skillset lends itself to striking off on one’s own. How many women could do the same?

Once I finished this book, I immediately picked up the eco-feminist novel “Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Women in Archetype,” by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Her writing is much more concise, and she provides the analysis of these myths and how they relate universally to women reclaiming their power. (The Bluebeard myth is brutal!) I’m only about 15% into the book (thanks, Kindle), but so far I don’t see her advocating for life on remote islands. Her guidance feels more practical. Indeed, likely the reason this book landed on the New York Times Bestseller list at some point is its accessibility.

Although “If Women Rose Rooted” wasn’t perfect, it is useful and in its own way powerful, and I’m making changes in my life to accommodate this awakened call to become more rooted in the things that nourish me. I’m trying to channel that anger into determination to change.



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Yes. That’s the beauty of the English language. Apologies to the rest of the world, but everyone is partly to blame because English is just stolen bits of other languages that then developed a superiority complex. We stole your shoes and now flaunt them in the street mocking you for not having *our* shoes. When you point out we’re not wearing any pants, we storm off in a huff. … Okay, that got a little weird. “Weird” will likely be a current theme on this site.

But! For the purposes of “Better off Read,” it’s pronounced like “red” because I decided to riff off of the saying “better off dead.” I overthink everything, but when confronted with WordPress instructing me to choose a title, I chose that in a split second with none of my usual deliberation and agonizing. So now we’re all stuck with it. My instantaneous thought was, I love to write, and so I should just get down to it and write. If I don’t write, then what is it to live a life? Words are better off read, than dead.

So there you have it. Now you can read read without seeing red. #sorrynotsorry