The Ingredients In Lemonade

Dear Friend,
I know you have just been raped. If you tell your mother, she will probably make you keep the baby. If your dad finds out, he may not wait for the police to find him. Or they may both be understanding. Either way your virginity has been stolen one night after a party by some sleeze ball who thought you were cute, got your too drunk and took advantage of you. He's not completely to blame, you could have drank less, you could have made better choices, but you sure as hell never said yes. I know, it hurts but now you're pregnant. You made a bad choice and you will have to forever live with the consequences of your actions...even if they weren't quite your fault. You will have to be reminded daily about your rape because you may never know where your baby got those eyes. But don't worry, you can name your kid after the cute guy in our chem class as a constant reminder of how much fun we had as lab partners. See, you can turn a really lemon situation into lemonade.
Your friend,
Sharron Angle

I recently read an article by San Stein on HuffingtonPost titled "Sharron Angle's Advice For Rape Victims Considering Abortion: Lemons Into Lemonade." If that title doesn't grab your attention I don't know what does. Rape, abortion, and an anecdotal children's tale all the in same title/ if this was Starship Troopers your screen would have started typing and talking at you to ask if "you want to know more." If Starship Troopers was real, I would have clicked "Yes." In reality I simply opened the article/.

The article summed up an interview with Republican Senate Candidate Sharron Angle from Nevada. On a conservative talk show in her home state Angle was asked about abortion in the case of rape and incest. Here is an exert from the interview:

"Stock: What do you say then to a young girl, I am going to place it as he said it, when a young girl is raped by her father, let's say, and she is pregnant. How do you explain this to her in terms of wanting her to go through the process of having the baby?

Angle: I think that two wrongs don't make a right. And I have been in the situation of counseling young girls, not 13 but 15, who have had very at risk, difficult pregnancies. And my counsel was to look for some alternatives, which they did. And they found that they had made what was really a lemon situation into lemonade...So it is meaningful to me to err on the side of life." (HuffingtonPost)

Asking a child to turns lemons into lemonade after they have been violently raped by an incestuous psychopath, seems a bit inconsiderate. It seems a bit more selfish to ask a child to only think about the possible baby inside them and not about the fact that they have been abused, assaulted, and violated and it has happened to them by their own flesh and blood. Let's keep going...what about the girl on the street, who was asking for a ride, because it was a little too cold and a little too far to walk, she got picked up, he started to take her home but turned a different way, he took her to a park, beat her with the blunt end of the tire iron so she couldn't move, he took advantage of her, raped her, and left for dead. She was found by joggers the next morning, she lived and she is now pregnant. What if we asked her to turn her lemony situation into lemonade"

Let's take it to the more common level...what about the girl at the bar, who drank a little too much, went home with a friend of a friend, was having a good time, until that guy held her down for a little too long, she felt a little bit uncomfortable, she didn't want to sleep with him, but he forced himself upon her. Now she's been violated she’s pregnant by her assailant...maybe she can make lemonade popsicles.

Dear Sharron Angle,
I thank you for your letter in this difficult time. I told my mom, she said was raped and asked me to keep the baby. My dad found out and bought a gun. My parents are trying to help me through it but I'm really sad that I lost "it" to this guy in this way. I guess I probably should have drank less that night. Well, now I'm pregnant. School is getting tough. Every familiar face is a horrific reminder of that night. I can't sleep and when I do I have nightmares. My grades are suffering. My teachers don't understand. The guys who live down the hall started talking about me the other day. I can't take it anymore. I am going to get through this. I am going to tell my teachers what happened. Maybe I can pick up my grades and finish school with honors. I'll tell the guys down the hall the truth about that night. If only you understood, I am not okay with what happened and now I am choosing to have an abortion. See, there are more ingredients in lemonade than just lemons.
With no regret,
Society

The Date is Just a Number

A few days ago I met this lady who was 104 years old. Not that I am an expert on guessing the age of anyone over 75 /I would be terrible at running that carnival game where the overweight scruffy carni has to guess your age or weight (which btw I always won bc I look 6 years older and 20lbs skinnier than I actually am)/ but nonetheless this woman looked good for her age.

To put it into perspective, I deduced she was born in 1906. 1906 - when the Second Geneva Convention was held to protect the Sick and Shipwrecked Members of the Armed Forces at Sea. Pirate invasions would be rampant if not for that. 1906 - when the Grand Duchy of Finland became the first nation to allow females to stand as candidates. (CT's first female governor - Ella Grasso). And 1906 - when SOS became an international distress signal. Could you imagine the sale of Brillo pads without the term SOS existing?

This woman has been alive for a long time and I really only met her in passing.

Her smile wrinkles are permanent. She is covered in freckles - sunscreen wasn't invented until 1938 and first commercially available 1944 - she would have been 38. She was gaily walking about and happy to shake my hand, for only a second though, as she was quickly distracted by the handsome young gentleman standing to the left of me. She was happy. I was happy.

So what do you say to a woman who is 104 years old? Thinking I was rather catchy, sort of creative and kind of funny, I said "104 years old! You don't look a day over 85." Note: Really thinking this compliment was something she hadn't heard before and would spark an interesting conversation that would carry through the night and maybe every Tuesday for rest of her years. I wanted that experience, I could write a novel - Tuesday's with Miss Martin. The possibilities seemed endless. Yet, I had but thirty seconds of her time. A fleeting moment is the span of billions. I tried a joke and she offered me this.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. And age is just a number."

Just an introduction...

In the beginning...
My name is Farah Chanel Hage-Sleiman, my friends refer to me as Farah (Fair-Ah) and my family refers to me as Farah (Faa-Rah), the distinction only exists because it is difficult for most people to roll their" r's" and say an "h" from the back of their throat. In Arabic my name means joy. I try to embody this virtue as much as possible.

Meet the family...
I have one brother named Abdallah, he is 27 and married to his college sweetheart, Rebecca. My dad, Fouad, is remarried to his wife, Nadine and my mother, Mary Ann has been with her significant other, Phil for quite some time now. Both my parents live in Fairfield, CT, where I was born and raised.

From right to left this is my dad, step-mom, me, my sister-in-law, and my brother on my dad's birthday.This is me and my mom.

A little more current...
Now at 21 years old I am a senior psychology major here at the University of Connecticut. I am hoping to land a job at a non-profit organization that deals with serving underprivileged youth. I am passionate about helping out young people.
For the past six years I have volunteered for the Hugh O'Brian Youth Leadership Organization, HOBY. We work with high school sophomores from all fifty states and 23 different countries.
These are some of my dearest friends from HOBY.

I also love to ski.
This is on top of Okemo, I'm behind the camera.

And one of my secret hobbies is belly dancing.
This is my Lebanese grandmother and I belly dancing.

This is my life. It's fun, and interesting, and there are a lot of great things about it.

Life is good.

-Farah (however you want to say it)