Wikipedia, by 8 p.m. PST May 1

The news broke on Twitter, and as of this post, we’re still waiting for the President to address the world with the news that Osama bin Laden is dead. Eight years to the day after Bush’s “Mission Accomplished” banner, 10 years after the world’s heart broke on September 11, thousands of childless mothers from war. People are singing at the gates of the White House, “God Bless America” and our national anthem. I wish there was a “God Bless the Whole World’ anthem.

The news brings surges of emotion — for 9-11, for the pain, the loss, the great financial burden, the sadness — and then, relief, joy, “die motha flippa” type exhilaration.

Osama bin Laden is dead.

I’m pretty hard core about boy stuff being boy stuff and girl stuff being girl stuff. I’m sure it comes from raising my son in a same-sex household by two women and a twin sister; I’m particularly sensitive to making sure my Thing 1 is alllll boy.

JCrew got nailed today when Jenna, the company’s president and focus of their email marketing campaign, was photographed with her son painting his toenails bright neon pink. Conservative media went completely postal saying insane freak-o-matic things on-air, accusing JCrew of ““blatant propaganda celebrating transgendered children.” Transgendered children? What the smack are you talking about? Fox News went on to claim that the little boy would need therapy some day for his neon pink tootsies. And then I got mad.

There is little to celebrate about the painful acknowledgement of a transgendered child. And what the hell is in that nail polish that could make someone transgendered? Whatever it is, Glen Beck has been using too much of it. Or maybe I used too much of it and it made me fall in love with a woman — or wait, maybe not enough bright neon nail polish. That’s it! My mom didn’t paint my nails pink enough! That’s how I must have ended up with La Gringa. Oh, it’s so clear now.

I know a child who is transgender. The pain for the parents is unsurpassed. The sheer love for the child is a force of nature — they protect their son so passionately, working with therapists and family members to try to ease the pain for the child and themselves.  The child, a boy, identifies as a girl. He always has. And let me tell you, it wasn’t damn nail polish that burdened this poor child’s soul. Being transgender is no joke. But neither is a mother’s love.

At some point, The Female Brain and The Male Brain should be compulsory reading for anyone that plans on representing themselves as media, conservative, liberal or trans-political. The chemistry of a human — from the love of lacy panties and pink nail polish to the soothing sound of crashing cars and jackhammers — is imbedded in who we are from long before our toes were painted. The sheer irresponsibility of the media to pounce on the sexual identification of a child, and in this case, a specific child named Beckett, is abhorrent. Shame on you.

I signed the petition in support of the ad. And, more importantly, I just bought the Tranny polish from Jcrew.com and will put it on every man and woman I know — to “celebrate” the beautiful, tortured transgender children among us.

Sign the petition.

I am a for second chances. I am a true believer in mistakes being catalysts for change and growth. Ben Roethlisberger has earned none of these chances. In the past seven years, he’s won two SuperBowl rings and raped three women — and those are only the women who have stepped forward. There are no chances left for this rapist — none. Go to hell and get off my TV.

It’s old news to hear of celebrities and sports stars getting special treatment, being allowed to return to play and work and lead teams (Hello, Charlie Sheen). People’s livelihood relies on big celebrities. One could argue that the Pittsburg Steelers wouldn’t have made it to the SuperBowl without Ben Roethlisberger. One could argue that he has done his time with league suspensions, slaps on the hand and a dropped third case. One could argue that how a guy throws a football has nothing to do with his misconduct off the field. One could argue the girls are drunks! are users! are seeking fame! But I am wondering why we continue to to find loopholes for men who rape women and then cheer them on to victory, Emmy awards and SuperBowl rings? [Don't tell me about the fact he wasn't convicted. Read the transcripts, the history, the court docs. The guy got off on technicalities and loopholes. That's like saying OJ is innocent because he wasn't convicted.]

I wonder what kind of courage it would take for players to refuse to play with a three-time rapist? I wonder how powerful and united a community could feel if it chose to tell its team they would not be fans of an organization that employed a three-time rapist. I wonder how defiance would feel by refusing to buy tickets to a football game to see a three-time rapist throw a ball. I wonder what kind of incredible grassroots support corporations would get if they refused to run ads during a game that is starring a three-time rapist. I wonder what kind of kudos, praise and viewership FOX would gain if they refused to air a game starring a three-time rapist.

It sounds like a pipe-dream, doesn’t it? But why? Why is it unreasonable to ask ourselves to be brave enough to stand against Ben Roethlisberger, the football player, the rapist? Why is it unreasonable to ask our sports teams to refuse employment to a man who forced his 250-pound-frame onto three separate women?

Ben Roethlisberger, the three-time rapist, will star in the biggest sporting event of the year this coming Sunday. He will be cheered and high-fived and will make millions this weekend, and, perhaps, another SuperBowl victory. And somewhere, the women he raped sit wondering why their courage is not matched by us.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

…and then the thugs come out and start beating people. And then they trash museums and poison their own countrymen. And you know what they respond with? Protecting their brotherhood who stop fighting for freedom to pray; protect their museums; protect each other. And when the un-obeyed curfew rises in the morning, they are there again.

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!

…and now they are beating non-Egyptians, journalists, amnesty workers and teachers. Now they are gearing up to punish the people fighting for their basic rights to live freely. And instead of retreating, they bring onions to put over their mouths to cover the tear gas and work without sleep in the makeshift hospital in the lobby of the mosques.

Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?
The blood of the martyrs
Will water the meadows of France!

…and journalists are reporting that they are afraid for tomorrow, a holy day in the Islam faith. They are afraid of what will happen in retaliation to the peaceful protestors, they are afraid of what the government doesn’t want them to see, doesn’t want them to report. And we wait here, around the world making spaghetti and meatballs, going to playdates and drinking wine while they fight for their lives.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
When tomorrow comes!