women | Vita By Design

Don’t Keep Your Christmas To Yourself

Posted on December 24, 2014 by Angela Madaha

Sometimes we make giving to those that are less fortunate so complicated and formal.

Let’s create a program, pass it by a committee, raise money from people we know or don’t know, then socialize, twitterize and publicize.

Then 6 months later we actually get something done, maybe someone somewhere is helped.

Guys, it’s not that complicated.

Just invite people into your life. Walk them into your family and life and traditions.

I challenge you this year… don’t keep Christmas to yourself.

This year a group of my friends who are young professionals through a group called Nav20s decided to do a project for our community. Since I was already involved with anti-trafficking and at-risk outreaches for women in Chicago, I went ahead and took the lead in organizing a Christmas party.

Why a party? Well, Christmas traditions aren’t something I have to come up with. I just used the Christmas traditions that my family does every year. This time though, we took it to the least of these, those who actually are the most courageous of them all.

So we went to the house of New Life for Women where women from broken situations go to for a year of restoration, followed by graduation and training for the workforce.

They were so kind and so receptive and everything was simply wonderful! It was one of the most magical parties I’ve ever been to!

First, we played a simple game that was a mash-up of Christmas songs. It’s incredible how something so simple can be so much fun with simply the right attitudes. One lady said to me as we were walking back to the kitchen, “Well that was so much fun! You know, Colleen said that when she decided to give up drinking that she had no idea what she could do anymore for fun. Well let me tell you, THAT was fun! I was laughing so much!” And I knew that laughing was not something she had had much in her recent history. It’s amazing watching those who have been in bondage now acting out their freedom. It’s beautiful.

Next was the tradition of Christmas cookie decorating. Again, I took my Mom’s homemade Christmas cut-out cookie recipe, made our famous frosting, and the decorating began. Simple, fun, and hilarious to see the personalities of everyone come out as we created.

Again, we didn’t know each other before that afternoon, but a little genuine love can open up anyone’s heart to yours. People who our culture says shouldn’t be friends were communing and enjoying each other’s company as new friends.

Breaking down barriers, one cookie at a time.

And of course a tradition our family always does is coming into the living room Christmas morning to Bing Crosby and Andy Williams singing and stockings propped up on the sofas. And so we shared this as well.

The joy, surprise and happiness of each women was more than enough to fill my soul for years. “I have never gotten a stocking with my name on it in my life. Wow! Thank you!”

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas in 40 years. This is the first time I have had fun on Christmas in a very long time.”

“This was the best gift. Thank you, God bless you, God bless you, God bless you!”

Then we sat around the room and sang favorite Christmas songs. Each on-tune and off-key note was beautiful. It was a very, very special moment.

And the highlight of it all was when we circled around the women and prayed over them, speaking hope, blessing and victory into their lives. Their sobs and echoes of “Amen! Yes, thank you Jesus,” left us all overwhelmed with emotion and overflowing with thankfulness.

We went in thinking we would bless them, but instead walked out more blessed and encouraged than they. How easy is it for us to deal with long lines of traffic, hours of baking, and schedules packed with parties and celebrations compared to those who have deal with homelessness, injustice, manipulation, poverty, and separation, yet still make the decision to move forward with their lives into freedom from broken situations. They may have nothing, but they have realized they do have one thing: a choice. And they choose to be courageous. So let’s celebrate that and also speak that into lives that haven’t taken that step yet.

We’re given things like Christmas and Thanksgiving and traditions and gifts and cookies and songs so that we can share it with those who don’t have it.

Don’t be selfish. Share your Christmas.

And please don’t make it complicated. Anyone can do something like this.

It just takes a little love with some action.

Do you make stockings for your kids? Cool. Make 5 extra and take them to the abused children shelter on Christmas. Do you sing in a community choir? Go to the hospital and sing for those spending the day there. Do you have a smile and candy canes? Go downtown where the homeless live and smile and share a conversation around candy canes.

It makes a difference. Every act does.

And it starts the ball rolling. Let’s make goodness fashionable.

I Dressed Like A Prostitute for Halloween

Posted on November 1, 2014 by Angela Madaha

I dressed like a prostitute for Halloween.

Because what better costume to don for that festive night.

I mean, you can get creative with any career and turn it into a slut look. It’s funny, it’s cute, and you can totally get away with it on this one night of the year.

Nurse-whore, barista-slut, receptionist-ho.

It’s sexy, super funny, show stopper, and the center of attention at the party.

I would have laughed too. Perhaps a little eye roll and smirk, “That’s ridiculous.”

But last night I went out late for a different reason. We drove the dark, freezing cold streets of the very windy West Chicago. I saw the women on the corners. And, like every other night of their lives, they declared, “I dressed like a prostitute for Halloween.”

Except they had no parties, just the ones they were soliciting men to, for a price ($30? $40?), hosted in a dirty hotel or car. Instead of being numb from the fun of a house party with too much drinking and dancing, they were numb from drug injections. Because thinking clearly is not something you can do before selling your body. Numb and unfeeling is the best way to go.

I didn’t know what to expect, but it was an eye-opening night. It was like a dose of cold water to my face, saying, “Wake up you evader. Look at this duplicity, what lies you allow yourself to believe and how harsh reality is.”

Let me explain a coupe of ironies I observed. Cold, harsh ironies.

The women were not in tight mini-skirts and fish-net tights. They were pretty covered up and, actually, normal-looking. This made sense for several reasons. It was freezing out. They work all night. As I came to realize, street prostitution is not necessarily about the clothing, but about the location and mannerism of the girl. Sexy, busty women in skin-tight clothing in stilettos seems to be a very Hollywood-ized stereotype dream in comparison to what I saw in street prostitution.

Prostitution is not a job or career. It’s a way to support a habit. It’s also a way to support and pay a man. Or, in another terminology, a pimp. Who, by the way, will get her hooked on drugs so that she needs to support her habit anyway. But hey, let’s keep singing about the glories of pimp-life.

You don’t go home with a prostitute. Does she even have a home? Who knows. The hotel is simplest. I mean, who’d want to live with a prostitute anyway?

These girls are making money from sex. Their bodies are commodities. Because of their vulnerability from poverty or abuse, they are now viewed to be used as simply transactions.

Oh the glamour of prostitution, of buying and selling sex! Because I can’t think of a better way to spend my evenings than approaching a man with the look of, “I have something I know you’d want to pay for” (the supply), because he is momentarily unsatisfied and thinks he’ll get that satisfaction from sex (the demand). So I sell my body for a dollar amount (the transaction).

Oh what a dream, living a life that believes the mantra that I am only as valuable as my body. Because in this occupation I also sell my mind and intellect and worth at a price of zero.

Think you’ve faced rejection before? Try spending your evenings pitching your body to buyers and then after they look you up and down, or even invite you in their car, they say, “Nah, go away whore.”

Or after you make a “sale” and walk to the nearby hotel (brothel), you walk steps ahead of this man and notice a couple across the street walking hand-in-hand. Laughable. That would never happen in your occupation. This work is not about affection.

Oh and don’t forget that after you make a “sale,” you are at the disposal of the man. Sure, get in his car. You know it’s a risk, that they are killing prostitutes in this area. Because who needs a woman after she’s served her purpose. But, you need the money…

Why the hell is the life of prostitutes and whores and “pimp-life” so worshipped? It’s hell. A living hell. I’m so angry. Angry at our culture, at myself, at my ignorance, at Hollywood, at commercials, at Halloween costumes. We talk and joke and laugh and sing about the laudable beauties that keep our blood running red. It’s so hilarious it’s killing me.

Why the hell are prostitutes and whores and sluts so despised? We separate and seclude ourselves from dirty ones who “I-can’t-believe-they-sell-their-bodies” and “I-would-never-do-that” and “Let’s-pray-about-their-terrible-problems-and-God-change-this-city” while we turn our backs and plug-in or upload or click or browse for fulfillment of our sex desires, using other virtual prostitutes and trafficked victims in the comfort of our homes because, you know, that’s not hurting anyone. Because an image or a video of a women I don’t know (or care about) who gives me the same high of sex is totally cool. I mean, it’s just a body, not a real person or story. It’s her choice; I just get to take advantage of the benefits of her bad choices.

There were so many questions that came up last night. I’ve been involved with women in drug addiction, strip clubs, and domestic violence, but this was my first experience in street prostitution.

Where does she go after the agreement?

Who are these men?

Where does she live?

What do they typically charge?

Do they also sell porn of themselves?

Do the women or men have families?

What are their stories?

Is she a minor?

In our van was a 14 year old girl that drove with us to learn and pray. One of the ladies turned around and said, “Last time I was out here there was a girl your age on the street we talked to. She was scared and shaking, but couldn’t go back home.”

People, this is real.

What’s even more real though? The truth about who they really are, which is the truth about who we all really are: worthy, valuable, accepted, loved, beautiful and wanted.

I went last night somewhat on a whim because yesterday Bob Goff shared a story at our conference how he went to Somalia to help abused children. While driving there his vehicle went under gun-fire. He challenged us about living on the edge of “YIKES!” So I figured I could go out and have some fun, but I knew that my “YIKES” moment looked much more like broken women where there were no Halloween parties. I think I made the right choice.

At the end of the day, I honestly couldn’t give a rip about what you wear for Halloween. You live your life, I’ll live mine, but I’m actually going to do something about this because it’s my world and my city. If you were ignorant about this before, well, you’re not now. So now you’re responsible to do something about it using what you’ve been given. It might start with how you view yourself and from there taking a message of meaning and purpose to your culture around you.

Let’s take some serious time to rethink this whole transaction of sex deal. Because you can’t hide from it forever. It affects every city and community, including mine and yours.

And yes, there’s a little bit of anger and irritation in this post. But sometimes it takes getting really upset about the realities of injustice to get real about really changing and really loving.

I have so much to learn, but I’m on this path now. The story to be continued.

Open to comments, thoughts, stories, experiences, discussions. But I please ask you to not make judgments or state “facts” based off your opinions. Let’s start conversations about issues that we have actually stepped into ourselves and made relationships instead of sincere perspectives based off articles and here-say. Let’s honor the broken ones, because we are all broken, so in reality, we’re simply serving everyone, including ourselves.

How Dare You Call Yourself “Fat?”

Posted on September 18, 2014 by Angela Madaha

What woman has not looked in the mirror and declared in real disappointment,

“I am so fat.”

I mean, who would want this? Nobody does. And especially not me.

Sure, we know it’s not helpful or healthy to have a negative view of ourselves. And there’s an interesting tide turning in our culture that is actually encouraging women to embrace who they are and to view themselves in a positive, constructive way.

“But I just can’t do it,” you may think. “I really am fat. That’s just the way it is. And I hate it and am trying to do something about it. Hopefully things change…”

Please understand: your self-image goes way deeper than just calling yourself fat. What you are doing is actually belittling your self-worth. What you’re also saying is that not only it OK for you to call yourself that, but that other people can also call you that as well.

Image by Meg Gaiger

There’s a difference between accepting the reality of a situation versus your true identity. Saying “This is fat” is vastly different than saying, “I am fat.” (or insert whatever physical issue you have with yourself, that feature of you that whenever you think about it causes you to feel totally unvaluable). One is accepting something that perhaps needs to change due to health needs and personal aspirations; the other is setting your person at a negative identity standard.

“Ok, for my height and age I know I’m 30 pounds overweight and I need to get down to a safe target weight because anything over that at risk for future heart disease” or “I’m at 25% body fat and I want to challenge my body and mind to get down to 18%“: both of those are challenging and goal oriented. But once you attach personal worth to either of those phrases you have fallen into a trap of control and fear. Can you see the difference? One is objective. The other says I’m not worthy enough unless I change.

I personally have gone through lots of physical ups and downs: the chubby, awkward middle school age, to the fit high school athlete, to gaining weight due to emotion struggles and depression, to again losing weight and gaining muscle unlike any other time in my life, which led me to become a kickboxing fitness trainer and motivator. I’ve gone through these cycles myself (and continue to do so) which for me have been usually tied to some emotional issue or crisis. I have also watched others go through the same or similar cycles. And let me tell you something, your waist size will never change how you feel about yourself. It is always a mental choice.

Why is this so important? Perhaps you don’t realize the fight for womanhood in the world, perhaps you don’t realize that the freedom fought for by tens of thousands of those in service for our country includes your freedom to be equal, included, and valued.

Maybe you don’t know that in most of the world women are culturally preached to be what you flippantly call yourself everyday: stupid, fat, incapable, dirty, lazy, ugly, worthless, unvalued, undeserving.

Maybe you don’t realize that not only is there verbal degradation to women in other cultures, but also honorable practices of rape, domestic violence, honor killings, genital cuttings, sex trafficking, and slavery.

What you have is a privilege. You have no right to call yourself less than what you’re worth. So why do you discard your freedom, why do you disdain your freedom? While you may think that you are setting standards of humility, you are actually practicing a most selfish attitude.

You were made for so much more.

You see, this could be an intervention before your beliefs become your living reality, because once you believe that I’m just fat, that’s all I’ll ever be, and nobody wants me, and I don’t deserve anything, and nothing good will ever come from me or to me, then you set yourself up to live in total misuse and abuse. That means that people mistreating you isn’t a problem. Or that you accepting verbal mistreatment isn’t a problem. Or that you being raped isn’t a problem. Or that your boyfriend beating you isn’t a problem. Or that your boss manipulating you isn’t a problem. Or that other people hating you isn’t a problem.

Do you realize that the success and expansion of our cities and nation is truly impacted simply by your self-perception? How you view yourself will spread and it will become an ideal of others around you, like a virus. Look at history; there is no culture that has thrived that has also demeaned and misused women. Instead it shows decline.

Maybe you were rejected by some guy for some other attractive woman. Maybe you were cheated on in favor of the “hot” girl. Maybe your husband chooses porn over you. Maybe you feel like you can’t get noticed or a date unless you look or dress a certain way or have a certain body figure.

Yeah, I get it. Two hands raised. It rots. But let me tell you something: How someone treats you says more about them then it does about you. How someone treats you says more about them then it does about you. If you’re rejected by someone, that says NOTHING about you and EVERYTHING about them. Your value is never determined by some other person. I know it hurts, but quite simply they don’t really know you (or themselves, for that matter). Please, I beg you, believe this.

If you believe you are not valuable, then you will never accomplish anything valuable because you have nothing to offer of value to this world.

However, if you believe you are valuable, and worthy, and accepted, and beautiful as is, then you can in return offer that to each person you encounter. And then you can start influencing lives, and then you start living your dreams, and then you start living with purpose. It’s going to look different than everyone else’s, than mine, than your family’s. We often get confused that if we live intentionally and on purpose that it has to be on a stage and written on a blog and shared thousands of times on Facebook. False. Influence happens one-on-one and social media doesn’t need to see or know about it.

Next time you off-handedly think or say, “I’m fat,” rethink your statement and verbally speak something affirmative about yourself. Or surround yourself with someone who will. Yeah, it might sound silly. But I believe that life and death is in the power of the tongue and your verbal words have much deeper impact than you will ever imagine. Word by word, day by day, change your system. Search out your identity. Because until you believe it for yourself these words are just smoke and ashes.

It’s taken me a lot of thinking, and praying, and reading as I’ve worked through this thing called identity. Welcome to the constant struggle of my life. Some readings I’ve found helpful are “Fight Like A Girl” by Lisa Bevere and the book of Ephesians, chapters 1-3. And seriously consider what it means to be a child of God because ultimate identity is understanding why you’re here and who you were originally intended to be, and that is a treasured, valuable daughter in Christ, with God your Father!

Pretty mind blowing if you ask me.

And please, feel free to share this message with others. It’s not always an easy story to tell, but it’s worth the transparency.