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Minding the Voting “Gap”

Roslings’ book Factfulness begins with a sword swallower. As a child, senior author Hans Rosling loved going to the circus. He was intrigued by the sword swallowers he sometimes saw there. Later, after he’d trained as a medical doctor, he learned that the anatomy of most people’s throats allows for “swallowing” a flat object by thrusting the chin forward. (Please don’t try this at home.) He began to understand that many phenomena we regard as impossible are manageable, given a set of gradually developed knowledge and skills. Throughout the rest of his work life, he tried to develop further his openness to manageable progress, along with further knowledge and skills. 

Rosling spent much of his career as a health researcher in a variety of countries in sub-Saharan Africa and in Asia. During his travels he saw over time how some areas had improved substantially in the goods and services people had access to. When he later returned to his home country of Sweden and taught local medical students, he realized that many of his students had an outmoded view of the world—thinking it consisted only of “rich” countries and “poor” ones. 

During the latter part of his career, Hans made it part of his life’s work to get people to take a more nuanced, changeable view of the range of global incomes and living conditions. The Roslings characterize the tendency we all have to simplify lots of different aspects of life (rich/poor, big family/small family, limited education/full education) as binary, with no in-between stages, focussing solely or primarily on the extremes. They call this the “gap” instinct. 

It took Hans Rosling most of two decades to help persuade the World Bank to group nations into multiple income levels, rather than just characterizing countries as either “developed,” or “developing.” He theorizes that maybe changing the misconception of an unbridgeable gap between rich and poor countries was so hard because, “…human beings have a strong dramatic instinct toward binary thinking, a basic urge to divide things into two distinct groups, with nothing but an empty gap in between.”  

If you’ve followed some of my previous blog efforts, you’re likely aware that I am very wary of the “red state/blue state” gap, among other attempts to depict the American electorate as two extremes with little or nothing in between. Our politicians and our media do us a disservice when they characterize our beliefs or voting patterns that way. Even more damaging and dangerous is the tendency to characterize anyone with a set of beliefs or a voting pattern different from ours as somehow misguided or, even worse, evil. 

I don’t know how to counter this particular American “gap” tendency entirely—after all, our country has had the same two major political parties for about 150 years  (though what each party emphasizes or claims to believe has changed over time). To some extent, we all need to “clump” individuals into groups, especially when we are talking about large populations. There are over 8 billion humans currently alive, so the effort to see each human individual “whole” is beyond even the most sophisticated analysis. However, we can resist the tendency to reduce every issue, every grouping, to just a binary choice. 

Some other countries already practice one small step in the direction of more nuanced voting patterns:  as of 2014, the CIA World Fact Book listed 22 countries with a total population of nearly 750 million where voting is required of citizens over the age of 18. Most widely known among these is Australia, where, if you fail to participate in an election, you will be liable for a small fine. Brazil, with over 200 million people, also requires voting, as do Costa Rica, Greece, Mexico, and Thailand, among others. Practicing democracy requires constructive engagement, and voting, made as convenient and easy as practical, is one measure of that engagement. Requiring everyone to vote doesn’t guarantee a 100% turnout, but it is something of an incentive. It can help reduce electoral polarization, especially in primary or off-year elections when U.S. turnout has often been weak, with mostly the more extreme partisans at either end of the political spectrum bothering to show up at the polls.

Other voting practices that can reduce either/or thinking may involve such things as multi-member districts, rank choice voting (sometimes called “instant run-offs”), non-partisan primaries, open primaries (allowing votes for candidates of other parties than the one you are registered in), ballot initiatives and referenda, and independent redistricting commissions. None are perfect tools. In the U.S., few have been tried at the national level. Multiple localities and states have experimented with a variety of these measures. Emphasizing local voting and local elections may be a partial antidote to our current fixation with officials at the national level. Further experimentation might help reduce partisan wrangling and government gridlock.   

While the “gap” instinct in characterizing voters and voting patterns may provide a way station in our journey toward more complete understanding, it’s a very fruitless place to get stuck.   

Taming the Urgency Instinct

This instinct, out of ten harmful perspectives mentioned in the 2018 book Factfulness, is the one the Roslings tackle last. It’s also one that gives me a lot of trouble. During the few days’ lull between this past Tuesday’s election and the crescendo of year-end fundraising appeals that begin to fill my postal and email in boxes this time of year, perhaps I can further tamp down my tendency to concentrate on “quick fixes.” Some problems have festered for decades, if not centuries. There may even be some whose contours are already getting less dire.  

Most of us have sometimes been lured by advertising and/or public pronouncements of “now or never.” When I was a teenager,  teen pregnancy was considered a big problem. Back then, one of the era’s most popular music idols recorded a new English lyric to an earlier Italian song. Elvis had me and many of my classmates swooning, though we might have been pretty hazy on what “be mine” meant: 

“It’s now or never, come hold me tight, 
Kiss me, my darling, be mine tonight–
Tomorrow will be too late,
It’s now or never, my love won’t wait.”

The testosterone-driven urgency of this 1961 lyric did not boost efforts to promote sexual responsibility among impressionable teens. However, Elvis was more echo than cause of an epidemic of post-World War II teen childbearing. The rate of teen pregnancies had peaked in 1957 at an estimated 96.3 births per 1,000 young women aged 15 through 19. It then began to decline. By 1986, it had fallen to 50.2.  (https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R45184) The rate has since dropped even further, registering a historic low of 13.1 in 2023. Many successive studies confirm the negative impacts of teen births: “Adolescent childbearing is associated with significant social, health, and financial risks for teens, their families, and society more broadly.” 

Perhaps mothers (and fathers) of teenagers have over time come up with more effective ways to impress upon their daughters (and sons) the dangers of this particular “now or never” argument. Perhaps teens have gotten better at assessing risks.

Lately, most of the “now or never” appeals I’ve been getting involve either 

1) the need to reduce food insecurity or 
2) the dire consequences if we elect candidates of the “other” political party.  

1) It’s true that confusion and ongoing changes to SNAP benefits (also known as “food stamps”) for millions of low and moderate income Americans have temporarily increased food insecurity in many places. To compensate, food pantries, non-profits that provide meals, and food rescue organizations have all stepped up their fundraising and distribution efforts to mitigate negative impacts in the U.S.  It is also true that too many people throughout the world lack reliable access to healthy, nutritious food. Heartrending videos of ongoing hunger and starvation in Gaza and in Sudan can make us want to do something, anything, right away, to reduce the harm. 

What gets less attention are strides that continue to be made in producing sufficient food globally.  Per a recent report from the U.S. Department of Agriculture: “Over the past six decades, world production of crops, livestock, and aquaculture commodities grew from a gross value of $1.1 trillion to $4.3 trillion (2015 dollars). … As global agricultural productivity has risen, fewer natural and environmental resources per unit of agricultural production have been used.” (https://www.ers.usda.gov/amber-waves/2024/september/global-changes-in-agricultural-production-productivity-and-resource-use-over-six-decades

A decade or so after my Elvis phase, I listened to another singer, Harry Chapin, as he pitched the importance of helping solve the hunger crisis. Harry was convinced that world hunger was a solvable problem—more a distribution issue than overall scarcity. An organization he helped found, WhyHunger, still exists and is working in multiple countries to help reduce food insecurity. A similar group, The Hunger Project, works with a slightly different focus but similar goals. Related groups such as Drawdown, working to reduce the impacts of climate change, point to the current waste in our global food systems as a potential source of both increased food security and decreased greenhouse gas emissions. Reliable estimates put current global food waste at about 1/3 of all food produced.

2) Ever since the 2000 election cycle, I’ve gotten increasing numbers of urgent solicitations from political candidates and committees. Not all, but most requests want to persuade me that the opposing candidate or party is venal if not downright evil. They do little to explain how their candidate(s) might make conditions better, but concentrate on how their opponent(s) will make things worse. After several years of such solicitations from one party, I got so annoyed that I changed my voter registration to “no party affiliation.” Unfortunately, that just produced more requests—now from “both” sides. 

I don’t deny that much in our current political system cries out for reform. What I do question is whether replacing one set of naysayers with a different set of “nattering nabobs of negativism” would improve the situation. Per a recently edited Wikipedia article on “divided government in the United States”  (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Divided_government_in_the_United_States), the U.S. has had roughly equal periods of divided and “unified” government since our current two political parties coalesced in 1857. There have been about 76 years when the Executive branch (the Presidency) was led by a different party than at least one house of the Legislative branch (the Congress). There were 74 years when a single party controlled both the executive and legislative branches. It’s not clear to me whether either set of periods was substantially better at governing the country.  

https://whyhunger.org http://thehungerproject.org http://drawdown.org

My “urgency instinct” is likely to kick in to some extent this giving season. I will likely make additional donations to food rescue organizations to reduce current food insecurity. Once the next election season ramps up, I may make small campaign contributions or volunteer for a local candidate.  However, I’ll continue to use whatever time is left to me to move away from “now OR never” toward “some now AND some later.” May you similarly use your material and spiritual resources. Happy Thanksgiving!  

Ten November Notions

A few months ago, I posted an entry mentioning a 2018 book I often refer to: Hans Rosling and family’s study of global conditions Factfulness (https://jinnyoccasionalpoems.com/2025/03/15/newsworthy/). 

We’re in the early days of “National Novel Writing November.” While any novel I may have inside me has yet to agitate for birth, I would like to make the effort to write somewhat more frequently during this month when writers of all genres are encouraged to put pen to paper (or hands to keyboards). 

The Roslings published their book, subtitled “Ten Reasons We’re Wrong About the World—and Why Things Are Better Than You Think,” before the Covid-19 pandemic and before some of our current political dysfunction in the U.S. and elsewhere. I believe that their “ten reasons,” also called “instincts,” are still relevant, perhaps even more so now than when they wrote. I plan to explore each one of the ten, not necessarily in order, every few days between now and the end of November. (Their non-profit information foundation, Sweden-based gapminder.org, subtitled “important stuff most people get wrong,” makes frequent updates to the information they study.)  

As an introduction, I’ve photocopied the page near the end of their book that lists their ten reasons, providing a catchy graphic for each one. In the text of the book, the Roslings mesh statistics with personal stories from Hans’ life. One early experience, his near-death from drowning as a 4-year-old, helped form Hans’ world view, as did successive brushes with mortality as he pursued a career as a global health researcher with a concentration on sub-Saharan Africa. 

My interpretations of the ten reasons are somewhat different from Hans’, based on my own life experiences and opinions. Your interpretations will likely be different from mine. Still, I hope that by focussing on each “instinct” in turn, we may all wind up with slightly different perspectives on the opportunities of the present moment, as well as its dangers. 

Next up, the “urgency” instinct.  

Power in Walking, Power in Listening, Power in Quiet

My aging body performs better and heals faster if I walk a good bit every day. In recent weeks, some of my walks have had a dual purpose—maintaining fitness and also helping support the democratic institutions on which our government is built. Last Saturday, I was one of millions who took to the streets as part of “No Kings” protests throughout the U.S. The atmosphere at the event I attended was festive. It made the roughly 2 mile walk go quickly and lessened any tiredness on a fairly hot day. I was careful to stay hydrated. I enjoyed looking at hand-made signs that were a big part of the event. Though I wished some people’s protest signs, banners, and inflatable figures less closely mirrored the disdainful rhetoric we often hear from our current national executive, I could identify with some of their justifiable anger. Some of the younger generations in my family work in government. They have been repeatedly buffeted and challenged by the sometimes haphazard, sometimes vengeful demands, firings, and shutdowns that seem to be prominent tools of this administration. 

Earlier this month, I spent time alternately sitting silently in courtrooms and walking the halls of the U.S. federal courthouse nearest me, bearing mute witness to increasingly harsh, sometimes arbitrary processing and deportation of asylum seekers who show up for their asylum hearings. I have few illusions that either of my protest walks will influence policy in the short term. Still, putting my body where my convictions are in non-violent, non-threatening ways seems appropriate.

Because I arrived early for “No Kings,” I had time to meander among booths set up by various environmental and civic groups near the starting point of the march. I signed a petition or two. I noticed what especially galling aspects of government mismanagement or overreach were being most prominently disputed. One new-to-me civic proponent was one I almost missed. A single person staffed a small table with a tented sign, “The Listening Project.” I walked up to him and asked what he was doing. 

“I’m trying to provide an example of good listening. Listening is really important,” he told me. “Many of us are not very good listeners, but practicing good listening can become a habit, like brushing your teeth every day. If you think of listening as a muscle, it’s one that gets stronger with practice. “ 

Given this implicit permission, I proceeded to talk about how frustrated I felt at the current political stand-offs in our country. It sometimes has seemed to me, I explained, that all this talk of “polarization” tends to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He neither agreed or disagreed explicitly, but did note that he’d had chances to listen to people from all along the political spectrum. Sometimes, he observed, listening to people whose opinions might be quite militant to begin with resulted in their softening their stances as they felt heard. Listening can be powerful, he reiterated.  

Most of us live in places and spaces that have gotten noisier over the years—airplane engines, traffic, sirens, leaf blowers, not to mention beeps and chirps from our electronics. It can be harder and harder even to hear each other, let alone listen. Too often, we compound the problem by ramping up our own noise output. So we need a third power, the power of quiet. 

In researching this essay, I ran an internet search on “rising ambient noise levels in the U.S.” I found a website for an annual event that I hadn’t known existed, “International Noise Awareness Day.” (Its 31st iteration will occur on April 29, 2026.) I clicked on a link to an interview with author Chris Berdik about his recently published Clamor. The author had submitted his book proposal before the pandemic, but wound up doing much of his research and writing during pandemic-related shutdowns. Alongside its tragedies, the pandemic measurably lowered ambient noise levels in the world’s noisiest places. Berdik argues forcefully that noise is one of the stressors we have not yet paid enough attention to, that hearing loss is only part of the damage caused by too much noise too often.  

To walk, to listen, to be quiet—three powers often overlooked. May we choose more often to walk together, to listen better to each other, and to find peace in quiet, both within and without.  

Vacation Rental

A sort of hybrid, really—less posh
Than a luxury hotel stay or an all-inclusive cruise,
Certainly less opulent (and less expensive)
Than a crewed private yacht.

Still, less chore filled than everyday
Living, clean linens typically supplied,
Fairly often nearby restaurants or
Delis to reduce meal prep tasks.

Because hosts may exaggerate online the allure 
And amenities of their properties, especially
In popular holiday destinations, it pays
To do some independent research before booking.

More often than not, guests
Never get to meet their hosts
In person, instead getting key
Codes to open gates and doors.

The interpersonal graciousness of
Localized hospitality is mostly gone.
Interfaces among actual people
In the “hospitality industry” get more
Complex, contacts more attenuated.

Nevertheless, when all goes well—no weather foul-ups
Or travel delays–a vacation rental can provide
A much needed change of scene for a few days:
A chance to recharge, maybe to renew
Our flagging sense of vocation.

beach house in Pacific Grove, CA

Getting Ready for the Rain

For the first time in about a month,
Our weather apps are showing a non-trivial
Chance of showers tonight or tomorrow–maybe
As much as half an inch. Oh, ecstasy!

I scurry around, getting our small yard
Ready for the rain: positioning buckets to catch
Run-off from the gutter-less part of the roof,
Moistening the soil around area
Trees and shrubs to improve absorption
If/when the rains do come, clearing out roof gutters,
Sweeping away detritus from street edges, replenishing pea
Gravel on our slightly sloping garden walkway.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve
Been a weather nerd. My Maryland childhood
Included watching the approach of summer thundershowers,
Sledding during winter’s rare snowfalls, learning to swim
Just well enough to make it across a neighbor’s pool,
Keeping cool-ish during August’s soggy heat.

Here in San Diego, our heat is more apt to
Arrive in September or October, sometimes
Bringing with it the Santa Ana winds that heighten
Wildfire danger. Rain this time of year can be
A blessing, especially when it falls gently.

Weather nerdiness also exposes me to the
Increasing number of places where weather events
Are getting less gentle–friends in North Carolina
Have been displaced by Hurricane Helene,
Folks I know further north in California were burned
Out this past January, while some San Diegans are still
Recovering from our January, 2024 floods.

It’s not yet clear to me what further changes I’ll
Need to make as our rains become even more
Hit or miss. Last week, I visited Yosemite for the
First time, learning from its guides about the extremes
Of past weather in its granite-encircled, glacier-scoured valleys.
Its highest recent flood, noted at a parking area, would
Have drowned anyone not safely escaped to higher ground.

Regardless of our political outlook or economic status,
I believe we’d be wise to productively, concertedly
Get ready for the rain.

What Good Is August?

At first blush, it seems a mere blot on the calendar—
Wedged between the heroic hoopla of July 4 and
The start of another workaday year around September’s
Labor Day. People in their prime have disappeared from workplaces,
Taking their camping gear, their beach bags, their teenaged offspring
And their air-conditioned vans with them elsewhere.

Those of us left comfortably behind are only a little envious. 
We loll lazily on lounge chairs, or float face up in bathtub-warm
Backyard pools, while grills entice with odors of slowly broiling brats.
Vintage music plays at local festivals–Beach Boys, Beatles,
Sometimes even Sinatra. Bocce tournaments bring out the
Men in white. Parasols make a temporary comeback.

The furious scandals of pre-recess government seem less
Pressing for the moment, the final few tomatoes extra juicy.
August is not regal, not “august,” its aspect instead laid back.
Sharing vowels with its mood, August is languorous.
Before the rushed tumult of impending autumn,
Such languor is both welcome and sorely needed.

Interdependence Days

This year’s 4th of July celebrations did little for me.
Much flag waving seemed phony, some neighborhood camaraderie felt forced.
I ached as U.S. ICE raids continued, as civilian deaths mounted in too many armed conflicts.
I wanted to skulk away, to forego my allegiance to much of anything.
But I remain part of a wider whole. Whatever my pique at political or social shenanigans,
I do not have the option to resign from humanity.

So I briefly retreated to gardens that nourish me, some of whom I tend:
I admired walkway African lilies (agapanthus), most likely planted
When our 1970’s housing subdivision took shape over a decommissioned firing range.
This time of year, blue and white agapanthus blooms adorn our nearby streets,
Their starbursts quieter, more calming, less ephemeral than fireworks.

Within my own yard, I reveled in two sets of red blooms:
Along a sunny side fence, snapdragons from last year. They’d overwintered
In this mild climate where distinctions between “annual” and “perennial”
Get increasingly blurred.

overwintered snapdragons
shade-loving impatiens

Against the opposite fence, impatiens, cut-rate at the
Distressed rack of a local garden shop, now hold forth in most-of-day shade.

One day per year serves me as reminder of our nation’s independence. On other days,
I’d rather honor our interdependence with a natural world that graciously includes us.

May we continue to reconcile independence and interdependence, wherever we are.
Hurrah for the red, white, and blue, whether flags or flowers!

In Praise of Libraries

To me, libraries are among the unsung heroes of our societal institutions. They typically get taken for granted until something goes wrong, or the budget goes short. I depend on our public libraries for much more than books. When I visit a library branch, I often get to observe all different ages and economic levels, from toddlers to dowagers with pearls to homeless folks in well worn jeans. I get to check out both nourishing fiction and varied non-fiction. Nearly every subject imaginable is covered, along with the entire spectrum of political views. I can browse the latest newspapers and magazines. I can do Internet research on one of the computer terminals typically available for patron use. Most library buildings provide community meeting spaces, often making community rooms available to civic and non-profit groups for free or at minimal cost. Public libraries are among our most vital “third spaces,” neutral zones, neither work nor home, for getting recharged. 

As one librarian recently told me, “Libraries are among the few remaining spaces where you can hang out without being expected to buy anything.” Libraries help combat the loneliness that can worsen the mental and physical health of seniors.  

Photo of a Carnegie-Endowed Public Library

When in 2021 I arrived at my current home town as part of a cross-country move, libraries were still closed due to covid restrictions.  A library-related quote from a lean time in my young adulthood came back to me: “Libraries will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no libraries.” Now, no longer cash-strapped, I was bereft of a major source of information and entertainment without library access. I very much missed the peaceable, low-stress interactions these venues had provided pre-pandemic. I appreciated the many creative ways libraries had adapted to provide what services they safely could during pandemic lockdowns. Once our central library reopened, I hurried to get a library card and to begin visiting and checking out materials. 

A while later, once our local branch reopened, I signed up as a library volunteer. Through volunteer hours and small-scale donations, I do my bit to support library programming. Nearly all our library branches have volunteers. We assist with day-to-day functioning and sometimes provide fundraising help through book sales and craft fairs. The more I volunteer, the more I appreciate the work, both paid and unpaid, that’s required to help keep our community well balanced and well informed, with access to the reliable information that helps citizenship flourish.

For over seventy years, ever since my grandmother first began taking me to story hours at our nearest library, public libraries have been a lifeline for me. The monthly library jaunts Granny and I took enriched me both intellectually and emotionally. Later, libraries helped me navigate term papers and college research assignments. During stressful times, they provided resource materials and outlets for harmlessly venting some of my frustrations. (My husband once joked that he’d know to start worrying if he saw me reading a murder mystery with an on-call computer programmer as the victim.)

In 2025, budget constraints are again threatening the health of many library systems, both urban and rural. Our city’s initial budget proposal for the next fiscal year projected cuts of about ten percent to the library system’s current allocation. It called for systemwide closures two days a week, regardless of branch patronage levels. It didn’t distinguish, among its thirty-seven branches, those in lower income areas where libraries are most crucial as a community resource.

Libraries can and often do provide the “ounce of prevention” that helps reduce the “pound of cure” required via police patrols, court costs, and emergency services. Those of us who are library partisans need to become better at touting the benefits of public libraries, intellectual, emotional, and societal. (Hence this blog post and multiple letters and emails to my local public officials.) 

When I walk past our local library branch the first weekend of each month and notice the temporary flag announcing “Used Book Sale Today,” I feel a small glow. Long may such flags wave! Long may public libraries flourish!   

Other “One Percents”

As wealth and income gaps in the U.S. widen, complaints grow about “the top 1%” economically. We suspect the very wealthy of using tax loopholes, unfair competition, lobbying, abuse of public office, and various government policies to further enrich themselves while many of the rest of us languish. 

A one percent figure is a somewhat arbitrary cutoff, but can be useful shorthand for “a small proportion” in any given field. Percentages for nearly everything also may change over time. Thinking about wealthy “one percenters” got me to wondering about other examples of contemporary low percentages. Below, then, are some other “one percents” in the U.S. and globally: farmers, legal (and illegal) immigrants, redheads, intersex persons, Icelanders. 

Way back when the first U.S. census was taken in 1790, about 90% of the country’s roughly 4 million people were farmers. Over many decades, population increased and farms generally consolidated. Most became more highly mechanized. The number of farms dwindled over time, along with the proportion of farmers. At the latest U.S. agricultural census, in 2022, only 1.2% of the U.S. labor force were farmers, albeit very productive ones. (Domestic farmers produce over 85% of the food and beverages purchased in the United States.  The U.S. is the world’s leading exporter of corn and rice by volume, and has generally been the world’s leading exporter of soybeans by value.)  

Our “country of immigrants” has seen vast changes in its levels of immigration. One measure of legal immigration is the number of “green cards” issued for new Legal Permanent Residents. In 1820, the first year to register immigration status, only 8,400 new  LPR’s were admitted. Then, our total population was about 9.6 million, so registered immigrants accounted for less than 0.1% of Americans. During the 19th century, immigration levels increased, reaching an initial peak in 1854. That year, 427,800 LPR’s were admitted to our country. Because since 1820, we’d added new states and increased our total population to over 23 million people, the 1854 LPR proportion was between 1 and 2% of the total population at the time. Still, that year’s number of LPR’s was an over 50-fold increase from the 1820 figure. 

Twentieth century U.S. immigration reached an all-time low in 1933 during the Great Depression, with just 23,100 LPR’s among a total population of over 125 million, less than 0.02%. Until after the end of World War II, U.S. immigration rates stayed very low. An all-time high in legal immigration came in 1991, when over 1.8 million LPR’s were admitted, somewhat less than 1% of our then total population of about 250 million. (source for historic immigration figures: https://www.migrationpolicy.org/programs/data-hub/charts/Annual-Number-of-US-Legal-Permanent-Residents?width=850&height=850&iframe=true). 

Most estimates of the number of “illegals” in the U.S., immigrants whose documentation is either missing or invalid, range between 10 and 15 million. Reliable numbers are hard to establish. However, even at the high end, this is less than 5% of the U.S. 2020 census population of over 331 million. 

I was born a redhead, one among a roughly estimated 4% of the U.S. population. Until fairly recently, I was the only known auburn-haired child in our extended family. My grandparents sometimes recalled a distant cousin who maybe had red hair like me. Generally my family liked my red hair. However, once I started school, I got mild teasing from some blond or darker haired classmates.

As gender identity debates continue to roil our “culture wars,” I recently learned of a category new to me, the poorly understood phenomenon of “intersex.” Being intersex is definitely biological, not a choice. It begins in the womb. As fetuses, intersex individuals acquire some genital and sex-linked characteristics of both female and male. Young woman-with-balls Emily Quinn is among the best known intersex Americans. (Another well-known intersex person is South African Olympic athlete, runner Caster Semenya.) In her 2018 TED talk, Emily estimates that she/he is one among more than 150 million living humans with mixed female and male characteristics. (Without extensive biological testing, it can sometimes be hard to tell if someone is intersex.) If accurate, Emily’s figure represents between 1 and 2% of the global human population of over 8 billion.

Iceland is a small island nation in the northern Atlantic whose population is only about 0.1% of the U.S. total. Iceland has many unique characteristics, but the one that most buoys my sense of possibilities is that it has the smallest “gender pay gap” of any developed country. By 2024, U.S. women’s access to high-income professions had improved. A former gender pay gap of 60 cents on the dollar had been cut by over half. U.S. women now earn nearly 84 cents for every dollar paid to similarly qualified men. In Iceland, women earn nearly 92% of men’s compensation, not yet quite equal, but an inkling that gender pay parity is possible.

Some of the figures above give me hope; they also provide food for thought. However, my main concern as I continue to age isn’t any of them. It’s the small but increasing proportion of elders with their mental and physical faculties in decent shape. Even into their 80’s and 90’s, they continue to be alert, contributing members of their communities. They are a 1% I hope to be able to join!