Friday, November 4, 2016

Everything I thought I knew about daylight saving time was wrong.

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On the first Sunday in November, millions of people will set their clocks back an hour, marking the end of daylight saving time.

But while this autumnal tradition is engrained in our brains (and the extra hour of sleep circled on our calendars), most of us still don't know the scoop behind this semi-annual event.

Photo by iStock.

But don't worry — I've got you. Let's take a few minutes out of your free hour to bust some myths about why we even have daylight saving time to begin with.

1. This is all because of farmers, right?

Historically, no. It turns out they kind of hate it.

Farmers are known the world over for two things: 1) getting up early and 2) working really hard. But, historically, it's the sun, not the clock that kicks off their day, so while people often blame daylight saving time on the farmers, that time jump is actually really disruptive for them. Shipments and orders still need to be filled at the same time, but there's one less hour of morning daylight to get things done.

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

What you might know is that farmers and the agriculture lobby actually fought to repeal daylight saving time in 1919, and it passed after Congress overrode President Woodrow Wilson's veto. But, as you may have guessed, that veto didn't last long.

2. OK, but springing forward saves a ton of energy and money, right?

Well, that was the plan anyway.

At the dawn of World War I, Germany thought, "Hey, we should turn the clocks back to help save coal and reduce lighting needs for the war effort." So, in 1916, they became the first country to give it a try (a few places in Canada had tried it before then as well). Before long, other countries were like, "Yeah, they're onto something." Daylight saving time arrived in the U.K. a few weeks later and then in the U.S. (as a temporary measure) in 1918.

After a few more experiments with daylight saving time, the U.S. made it permanent in 1966 with the Uniform Time Act.

Photo by iStock.

But does it actually save us energy? Kind of.

In a 2007 study, economists at the California Energy Commission found that extending daylight saving time a few weeks had little effect on energy use in the state. In fact, the drop was 0.2%, within the study's margin of error.  But a 2008 study by the federal energy department found extending daylight saving time saved 0.5% in total electricity each day. It doesn't sound like much, but that's about 1.3 billion kilowatt hours, enough to power 100,000 homes for a year.

Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images.

3. But most people like it and that's why everyone participates, right?

Nope. Not quite.

The United States aren't so united on this issue, with Arizona (with the exception of the Navajo Nation) and Hawaii electing to sit out the semi-annual time jump. Guam, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and American Samoa don't participate either.

The U.S. is one of more than 70 countries around the world that observe some form of daylight saving time. (As a reminder, there are just under 200 countries on Earth.)

This clock vendor in Seoul, South Korea, is probably really glad the country doesn't observe daylight saving time. Photo by Ed JonesAFP/Getty Images.

4. Money saving or not, the time change is good for your body and mind, right?

Again, that depends.

The smart folks at Scientific American examined two daylight saving time related health phenomena.

First, the incidence of heart attacks rose about 5% during the first week of daylight, at least according to a study conducted in Sweden in the late-1980s. The same researchers published a paper in the New England Journal of Medicine in 2008 suggesting the increase may be due to sleep disruptions and biological rhythms getting out of whack.

By the same token, there are fewer automobile versus pedestrian traffic accidents since more people are driving home during sunlight.

Then again, correlation is not causation. So what do I (or those smart folks) know? Basically, the jury's out on this one.

Heart attack? Car accident? Was a time jump (or lack thereof) to blame? Photo by iStock.

5. Fine. But there's definitely an S on "daylight savings," right?

No, I haven't been using the wrong word this entire time. It's daylight saving time. I promise. Google it.

Somewhere along the way, we all made it plural when we started explaining it. But you know what, don't worry about trying to break the habit. Language is fluid. Time is a construct. Just roll with it.

GIF via "Steven Universe."

So, you ask, why are we still trying to make this a thing?

Well, twice a year, plenty of people ask that very question. And the chorus against daylight saving time is growing stronger and stronger at the state level, where elected officials are pushing bills from coast to coast to relegate daylight saving time to the history books.

"What is the use in having this?" Texas State Representative Dan Flynn (R) told the NBC affiliate in Dallas. "And no one has a good reason."

He's not wrong.

But no matter how you feel about daylight saving versus standard time, it's here, and we all get an extra hour this weekend.

My recommendation: Use your hour to do what makes you happy. (And by the way, it's not really an extra hour, it's just the hour the government swiped from you in the spring.) Either way, make the most of it. Sleep in. Volunteer. Take a hike. Catch up on "Luke Cage."

But get going, you only have a few more minutes.

Photo by Haidar Hamdani/AFP/Getty Images.

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As a disabled woman, this is what I have to lose if Donald Trump becomes president.

'In your America, I will have three strikes against me.'

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Dear Donald,

As the Republican nominee for president, you’ve made a lot of people angry — including the disabled community.

Last November, you openly mocked New York Times reporter Serge Kovaleski and then later denied it. That was enough to potentially lose hundreds — maybe even thousands of voters, but you didn’t stop there.

Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

You’ve continued to degrade people with disabilities throughout your campaign — and went as far as to ask a crowd of African Americans, “What the hell do you have to lose?” at one of your rallies this past August.

Even though you were specifically addressing that community, I started thinking. As a disabled woman I have a lot to lose too, If you become president.

As a woman with a disability, I'm afraid of what your presidency could mean for me. Even now, I have to work harder to prove myself.

I especially have to work harder as a writer and journalist. It’s a job that has a very high glass ceiling. I’m proud to say I’ve broken through, but I'm still chipping away at some layers. The fact I’m disabled makes it difficult because there’s added pressure to do well every time I write.

But Donald, you’ve made the mountain I climb even steeper with your comments about the disabled and, more recently, your comments about women.

Even now, many aspects of my life have already been compromised and are out of my control.

I don’t want to lose what control I do have — and having that little bit of power makes me feel like I can conquer anything that’s put in front of me. I’m proud to say I am finding my own way in life.

But in “Donald Trump’s America,” women are nothing more than puppets, and disabled folks are especially vulnerable to harassment because you’ve made it seem like all of this is acceptable.

Image via iStock.

If you win on Nov. 8, I have a lot to lose.

I was raised to be strong, but I think my disability has inadvertently made me stronger. My biggest fear is that everything I’ve worked for and built for myself will completely crumble. I keep telling myself, "If I lose my dignity as a disabled woman, he’ll win no matter what." I don’t think I’ll be able to look at myself if that ever happens.

For me, there’s also much more on the line than self pride, though. If America has four years of a Trump presidency ahead, empathy could be a thing of the past. I could just be seen as “a girl in a wheelchair” — the very thing I’ve tried my entire life not to dwell on or call attention to.

In your America, I will have three strikes against me.

I’m a woman who also happens to be a journalist who also has a disability. And Donald, I’ve worked too hard to let a sea of questionable headlines about your candidacy and ethics ruin my life.

Does America really want this kind of uncertainty for the next four years? Do we really deserve this? As President Obama has said numerous times during this election season, “Don’t boo. Vote!”

So, Donald, I'll be voting next week, and it won't be for you.

If you need another look at what I have to lose, I think this commercial featuring Judy Kohn, the mother of a disabled son, will put everything in perspective — period.

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What a person with autism sees during a job interview in 2 eye-opening minutes.

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If just hearing the words job and interview together sends chills down your spine, you're not alone.

A whopping 92% of Americans report feeling fearful over the job interview process. And with good reason! What's more torturous than sitting in a room being judged on everything — from your voice and your shoes to each syllable that escapes your mouth — with your potential income and livelihood on the line?

Job interviews are tough. But they can be a whole lot tougher if you have autism.

A gripping new PSA by the U.K.'s National Autistic Society takes you into the mind of someone who has autism to better understand what a job interview might feel like for someone in their shoes:

"Employers don't see my abilities," the video description reads. "They see my autism. They see a problem."

The unemployment rate among people with autism is massive — and not at all reflective of the skills and qualities they offer employers.

As the National Autistic Society points out, just 16% of adults with autism in the U.K. are employed full time, and you'll find similarly alarming figures in the U.S., too.

While finding a job might not be the right fit for some people with autism, the vast majority are able and want to work; they just face many more roadblocks in getting an opportunity to do so.

"Autistic people can have strengths which may be beneficial to employers, such as tenacity and the ability to see things in a different light," said Mark Lever, chief executive of the National Autistic Society. "But they frequently tell us they experience too much information when applying for jobs and at work — for instance, being bombarded by questions [during a job interview], by noisy open plan offices, or with anxieties over following unwritten social rules."

GIF via National Autistic Society.

There are simple ways to make workplaces more welcoming for folks with autism, though.

If you're an employer, subtle changes in your application process and the work environment can make a huge difference.

For instance, many hiring managers default to listing qualities like "has good communication skills" or "is a team player" on applications for roles that don't, in fact, require it. This may dissuade someone with autism from applying even if they have the talents and skill set for the role. You may miss out on landing the perfect candidate.

Inclusive hiring policies aren't just the right thing to do, they're good for business.

Image via iStock.

Most of us aren't employers, though, and there are ways for us to make a difference, too.

First of all, understanding why your colleague with autism might interact differently or do things around the office in their own way is crucial. This isn't because they're rude or inept. They just work and socialize differently than you do.

Being able to listen patiently is a big one. When they go over all the stats from last night's game, hear them out (you might learn something interesting). Don't take it personally if they don't seem interested in your weekend plans — many people who have autism have trouble understanding all the nuances to our unwritten rules around social etiquette. And if they don't make eye contact with you, that's OK, too; it's not because they're impolite. Doing so can be stressful for some people with autism. If they're hesitant to look directly at you, follow their lead and back away from the typical in-your-face way we tend to communicate in the workplace.

Really, it doesn't take all that much to make our world way more accommodating to people with autism. We just have to make the effort.

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What I have to lose if Trump becomes president is intangible, but scary.

As a millennial woman, this is what I have to lose if Trump becomes our president.

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“We are going to make America great again!” Trump spits from my screen.

Thousands cheer; millions tremble. Most of us watch, horrified, elated, transfixed.

“He won’t win,” my roommate assures me. “And even if he does, he won’t be able to do all the things he wants to do. There are enough good people… They won’t let him get away with it.”

I nod, and we fall silent.

Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

For some of us, it’s easy to distance ourselves from this election because it feels so absurd and surreal … like a nightmare unfolding in the palms of our hands.

As long as there’s a screen between us and the fear, as long as presidential debates feel more science fiction than "Black Mirror," we can hide behind sassy sound bites and meticulously manufactured indifference without ever pausing to ask ourselves that terrifying question:

What if Trump actually wins?

But for others of us, this election holds a lot of evident risk.

This August, Trump asked Americans of color what they have to lose if they vote for him. Upworthy staff writer Erin Canty posted a powerful response. And when I read what she had to say, the screen cracked. For the first time, I thoroughly considered the consequences — the true consequences — of a Trump presidency.

As a cisgendered middle-class white woman, I’d never really had to think about it. In this election, my privilege is evident. Trump’s America would be kinder to me than it would to almost any other demographic and that security can make it easy to become complacent.

When I finally set aside the blinders of my privilege, though, I remembered two very important things:

First, I remembered that being an intersectional feminist means concerning myself with the difficulties that all men and women face — and not just those that directly affect me. This is easy to forget and important to remember. There is much at stake in this election, especially for the minority members of our communities.

Second, I am reminded that there are certain losses from which checks and balances cannot protect us. These are losses of a less literal nature that require no legislation, that we would all suffer the second the results of the election reveal my worst fear.

It turns out, in Trump’s America, there’s actually a lot both you and I stand to lose, the least of which has to do with one important idea: hope.

Image via iStock.

1. As a woman, I would lose my self-worth and sense of security.

When you look at his words and actions, Trump’s misogyny paints in vivid detail what life as a woman would look like in his America. It involves women figuratively dropping to their knees, and no, it’s not a "pretty picture."

Trump’s America isn’t one that respects its women. Trump’s America is an America that values us based on the appearance of bodies we aren’t legally allowed to control. It’s an America of legislators that would pass more regulations on my uterus than on a corporation, that would punish women in back alleys but pardon men in locker rooms. It’s an America where you get six months for being a rapist and 16 years for exposing one.

Trump’s America is an America where men have more rights to my body than I do. I can’t feel valued; I can’t feel safe in an America like that.

2. As an American, I would lose my national pride.

America is a flawed country with so much work to do. But when I look back at how far we’ve come, I’m so proud to belong to a nation that always strives to become better than we were.

But how can I be proud of an America that won’t acknowledge its mistakes? An America that condemns the audacity of the first lady reminding us that our nation was built by slaves, yet refuses to see the problem with a country whose government only took one year to kill 102 unarmed black men but 232 years to elect one.

I can’t be proud of an America where guns have more protections than the people who die by them, an America that’s horrified by a transgendered person in the “wrong” bathroom but numb to the news of yet another mass shooting. I can’t be proud of an America of nearly 4 million square miles that only has room for Native Americans on its sports jerseys.

I can’t be proud of Donald Trump’s America, an America that refuses to change.

Image via iStock

3. As a human, I would lose some faith in our future.

Progress is never perfect. There’s no civilization in this world that has only just moved forward. Every now and then, we falter, take a step back, and then find our footing again.

But we can’t afford to fall this far. America needs to keep moving. If we backtrack now, I don’t know how we’ll recover. If we let our fear paralyze us, or turn us on each other, hate will divide us.

At the end of the day, no matter who you’re voting for, one thing is true: We all want America to be great.

I don’t believe in Trump, but I believe in that.

Image via iStock

From now on, I'm making a promise to stop pointing fingers at the “bad people” who made this mess and the “good people” who will fix it. It’s time to take responsibility for my country, to turn my disillusionment into determination and my inaction into incentive.

It’s time to ask ourselves what we can do to make this America one we can believe in.

Let’s get to work.

What the hell do you have to lose?

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The Netherlands held a competition to design new refugee housing. These are the winners.

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In 2015, nearly 60,000 refugees arrived in the Netherlands needing a place to live.

The Netherlands is a small country, just more than half the size of West Virginia, so housing all of them was going to be a challenge. As the worldwide refugee crisis continues, innovative solutions are needed so that the people fleeing civil war and sectarian violence have a safe place to live.

Refugees arriving in the Netherlands in January 2016. Photo by Arie Kievit/AFP/Getty Images.

In this case, the solution involved, in part, opening up an old abandoned prison as temporary public housing. It was a less-than-ideal situation to say the least.

The country was determined to do better.

In January 2016, the Netherlands launched a design competition called "A Home Away From Home" in which entrants were tasked with designing temporary housing for refugees and disaster victims.

All of the winning designs rethought the idea of public housing, adding amenities and innovations to make the buildings more like fully functioning homes than simply a bed to sleep on.

The winners of the contest recently appeared on display in Amsterdam as part of Dutch Design Week and included things like solar power, water purification systems, and ingenious use of space and material.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

This Farmyard shelter is designed to transform vacant farmland into mini villages.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

The cube design of the Farmland means dozens can be stacked, placed together, and moved easily. The architects of this design imagined the miniature villages establishing a "DIY economy" with local towns.

Interior of the design. Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Another designer created these styrofoam towers as perfect low-waste housing for refugees being processed at reception sites.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

They're insulated, waterproof, fire resistant, and very cost-efficient. They have all the amenities of an apartment — beds, a sink, a toilet, a shower, and a kitchen table — and can easily be rigged up with electricity.

Comfort City is one designer's solution for cities that don't have enough space to house a large number of refugees.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Every part of the Comfort City design is modular and adaptable, meaning it can be easily constructed in empty industrial buildings — or even abandoned prisons — while providing the homey comfort that abandoned prisons tend to lack.

Then there were designs like this modern Solar Cabin that can actually generate revenue and electricity.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Its solar paneled roof actually generates more energy than is needed to power the home, so the occupants can sell electricity back to the local grid to make a profit.

Interior of the Solar Cabin design. Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

And finally, this sleek cube design actually comes with a built-in water purifier.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

The cubes are Finch Evolutionary Wooden Buildings and are portable, easy to construct, and run on solar-powered batteries. They also have a vacuum toilet system that recycles water on site, making the whole thing self-sufficient.

We're going to need more and more of this type of housing and way of thinking about the refugee crisis.

Home is a concept many of us take for granted, but it's not a small thing. It makes us feel safe, comfortable, and human.

The current refugee crisis hasn't showed signs of slowing down, and with climate change creating more and more dangerous weather systems, we're likely to see climate refugee numbers grow sharply. All of those people are going to need places to live. Innovative solutions like these help them to not only live, but live with dignity and opportunity.

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As a parent of a kid with autism, this is what I have to lose if Trump becomes president.

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Just a few short years ago, I was sitting in the family room with my husband, entertained by Donald Trump’s aloof presence in the boardroom.

We were laughing over the crazy antics of the contestants on his television show, "The Apprentice."

Now it’s 2016, and Donald Trump is running for president of the United States of America. And I’m not laughing now.

Photo by Sarah Rice/Getty Images.

In fact, I’m terrified. I’m terrified that Trump — an ableist, a man who openly and publicly discriminates against people with disabilities (or the perception of disability) — is potentially weeks away from holding the highest office in the land.

Now, Trump is laughing.

He was laughing as he openly mocked Serge Kovaleski. Kovaleski is a New York Times reporter who was born with arthrogryposis, a physical disability which noticeably impairs the joints in his body. "The poor guy, you ought to see this guy," Trump boomed over the adoring faces in the crowd.

Carried by the rising fire in his words, the people in the audience were swept up in the message. They laughed, too.

As a mother of a disabled child, I watched this on television in my living room. And I cried.

I wrung my hands in fear, questioning how this man and his supporters could possibly find any compassion for my son. My son has severe autism, and at almost 13 years old, he can barely speak. He often makes strange sounds and delivers odd jolting gestures at awkward moments. He is smart and sweet, complicated and mysterious.

Image via iStock.

I watched in paralyzing fear as Trump honed his relationship with radio host Michael Savage.

He has delivered one troubling, disturbing message on Savage’s show after another. Savage, in turn, has made a bid to be Trump’s head of the National Institute of Health. This is a man who, in 2008, claimed that "nearly every child with autism is a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out."

I watched in horror as Trump contributed to the dangerous anti-vaccine movement.

He tweets destructive messages that strengthen the already dangerous fear of autism in this country. "Healthy young child goes to doctor, gets pumped with massive shot of many vaccines, doesn’t feel good and changes—AUTISM. Many such cases!" he disjointedly tweeted in 2014.

As a mother of a disabled child, I know Trump in the White House means four years of few real solutions for my son, and that is terrifying.

It likely means no empathy for the plight of families contending with autism in this country. It likely means no support but lots of fear.

If Trump wins this election, he will undoubtedly continue to spread misinformation about autism and developmental disabilities. He cares much more about being right than he does about the truth. And so as Trump’s version of how autism is caused permeates society, I fear we will have a nation of under-immunized children.

Image via iStock.

I lie awake at night in fear, wondering if a Trump administration will again take us back to the days when even talking about my son’s disability felt like a punishable offense.

Those were days when mentioning "autism" as an insurance code was enough to have the doctor’s visit immediately rejected by our insurer.

If Donald Trump becomes president, I believe my family has so much to lose. And I’m scared.

Now, as a family, we have made peace with autism. My son is part of autism, and autism is a part of him. I do not think we would change it — it’s been part of us so long.  

But I'm worried because you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat those who need help: the temporarily infirm, the disabled and the elderly, the sick and the poor. Those who have a path harder to walk than most. It’s an idea that goes beyond Republican and Democrat and floats in the soft space of humanity: taking care of those people in our country that cannot, through no fault of their own, care for themselves.

As Trump laughs at disabled reporters, mocks a deaf actress, and questions essential foundations of national health, I worry about the future — my future, my son’s future, your future. Trump's lack of empathy is what truly makes me afraid.

I worry that if Trump is our president, there will be a dangerous shift in tolerance toward children and adults like my son.

If the president of the United States makes fun of disabled persons, who will stop the children on the playground? Will my son be the victim of taunts and harassment from kids or even grown adults who are just modeling the behavior of the most powerful man in the country?

I can’t vote for the school-yard bully. So, world, I have a simple request: Think about your own children. And if you can, think about mine.

Electing Donald Trump will speak dangerous loud volumes — far more than a parent’s words could ever say. That kind of president is not one I want.

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Thursday, November 3, 2016

Some women don't want kids. And that's OK. This comic breaks it down.

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Kate McDonough doesn't want kids, and some people can't seem to wrap their head around that.

She's thoughtful, patient, and enjoys working with kids. She even hopes to be an art therapist one day. But that doesn't mean Kate is interested in motherhood.

"I have never felt the desire to be a mom, even when I try to force it," she wrote on her blog."It’s just not in me. I think it would be much worse to become a mother to a child that I do not want than to disappoint people who expect motherhood of me."

Photo by iStock.

McDonough isn't alone — more women than ever before are choosing not to be parents.

For most of them, the decision is easy. Some may choose to focus on their education or career; others may not be able to afford it or might choose not to for medical or health reasons. And some just aren't interested in raising kids.

Frankly, their reasons aren't anyone's business. Because the only problem with not wanting to have children is how much other people take issue with the choice. Women who choose not to have kids are often singled out for being selfish or not understanding what "real love" is (whatever that means). While other questions or remarks are less malicious, that doesn't make them any less frustrating or hurtful.

"Part of the problem is that child-talk has become ingrained in small-talk," McDonough wrote in an email. "Many people don't even realize how invasive the question can be. There are a million different reasons someone may not have children, and it's a sensitive topic."

Photo by iStock.

She decided to illustrate her frustration and pitch-perfect response in her comic "Pretty, Pretty Ugly."

The resulting strip beautifully depicts why McDonough doesn't want kids and offers support for other women making their own choices.

Comic by Kate McDonough, used with permission.

McDonough's story is not every woman's story, but that's the point. Motherhood is a personal decision.

Since she posted the comic to her Tumblr seven months ago, most of the feedback has been positive.

The original post has more than 58,000 notes. Many readers thanked McDonough for putting their feelings into words (and pictures). Even parents chimed in to voice their support. And the feedback wasn't limited to McDonough's peers either.

"I've had girls in high school ask me if I worry I'll regret the decision someday and I've had women in their 60s and 70s tell me they don't regret their decision to remain childless at all," she wrote. "It's pretty awesome to see all the encouragement. It gives me hope that demands on the next generations might not be the same!"

No matter how you look at it, kids change your life.

Choosing to raise a child is not an easy decision and looking to your partner or trusted friends for support can be valuable. However, it's not anyone's place to suggest or assume they know you better than yourself. You know your situation, preferences, and lifestyle best. Trust it and make the best decision for you and your family.

And if you choose kids, pack wet wipes. So, so many wet wipes.

Photo by iStock.

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Thanks to Kate McDonough for the interview and comic. Want to see more of her stuff? Check out her website and Tumblr.



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