Bachelet represents a host of women who have shattered glass ceilings and paved the way for continued political success. Along with Angela Merkel, Benazir Bhutto, Mary Robinson, Laura Chinchilla Miranda, and more, women are achieving success that many didn’t believe was possible.

From the women who are working hard to feed their families, to the women that are striving to grow their small businesses, to the women who have made millions and broken economic barriers, to the women who have proved that political participation is possible, women worldwide deserve to be celebrated. Whether you choose to commemorate this day by thanking your mother for her brave example, or funding a loan for a woman entrepreneur, or thinking about amazing women with political savy, or  reading about a woman you don’t know yet, this year’s International Women’s Day is a day to celebrate.

Thanks for joining with me on this special day!

I love the Olympics. As a child, I used to beg to stay up late to watch the end of the figure skating in the winter or the gymnastics in the summer. Now, as an adult, I can’t bear to pull my eyes from NBC in the evenings. I even listen to the commentary.

But the Olympic controversy is not lost on me. My fellow Chicagoans and I enjoyed a months-long debate over whether we even wanted the Olympics to come to our city (fortunately, the IOC decided on our behalf). Almost two years ago, I read this article in Foreign Policy by John Hoberman, which spotlights some of the myths that we believe about the Olympics: the Olympics are a moneymaker, the Olympics aren’t political, the Olympics promote human rights. It is incredible the false perceptions that we have about what the Olympics does for world peace, economic stability, and nationalism.

In addition, I have noticed that very few of my African American friends enjoy keeping up with the Winter Olympics. It could possibly be because there is very little diversity among Team USA in the winter games. In fact, only a handful of African Americans have won medals in the Winter Olympics.

So while enjoying watching the games this year, I am reminded that I need to be circumspect in my enthusiasm. There is a great deal that we can learn from these games–and not just what White’s “Double McTwist 1260″ looks like, but also how we can be realistic about what the Olympics are, what they are not, and who they are excluding.

Enjoying being a tourist in Israel.

Admittedly, I roll my eyes at tourists. While living in Ireland, I even spoke with an Irish accent to avoid being mistaken for one. Every time I travel, I intentionally forego my white tennis shoes, and I find a guidebook that is unassuming and plain. (Generally, I tuck a guidebook into my purse, and only open it while no one is looking). I brush past slow tourists, and take photos covertly, keeping my camera at my waist rather than up near my face.

But I am beginning to understand that tourists are a good thing. Sure, tourists mean an increased GDP. But more than that, I love seeing local tourists–tourists who explore their own countries.

If 2/3 of Americans don’t have passports, that means that Americans are exploring America on their vacation time. We have disposable income to travel within our own country. In Asia, when climbing Mt. Fuji, I discovered that submitting the mountain is not only a touristy thing to do, but that it is a touristy Japanese thing to do. At the end of the trek, I was surrounded by probably 2,000 Japanese climbers, all enjoying a part of their own country. I have sunned myself on Spanish beaches, where the dozens of Spaniards around me put my pale skin to shame. A country with its own home-grown tourists means a wealthy country.

Conversely, while enjoying a safari resort in Kenya, I looked around and saw lots of plump Europeans. The only Kenyans in sight were the ones serving us our mango juice. The Ghanaian coast beach resort that I spent a night at was filled with white guests and black employees.

Tourism is a good thing. But even more, tourism with local tourists is a wonderful thing. It is a sign that the country is supporting itself. It is a sign that the people of a country believe in their landscape, and that they are proud of their surroundings.

I love tourists. Tourists mean hope for the future.

Image from WashingtonPost.com

I was devastated when I turned on the radio this morning and learned about the earthquake in Haiti. Already a country that is struggling to thrive, Haiti is perhaps one of the worst places for a disaster of this magnitude. I thought that the BBC’s article was particularly helpful as I sought to understand the extent of the damage. You can read about it here.

My first thought was “WHAT CAN I DO!?!?!?!” One thing that Red Cross has committed to is “pledging an initial $200,000 to assist communities impacted by this earthquake, and is prepared to take further action as local responders assess the situation. As with most earthquakes, we expect to see immediate needs for food, water, temporary shelter, medical services and emotional support.”

To help the Red Cross’ efforts, you can text “HAITI” to 90999, thereby donating $10 to the relief effort. Thank you for your continued support of and attention to the crisis in Haiti.

Kohlberg begs the apt question of the importance of human life.

In South Africa, from what I observed while living there, human life is sometimes seen as somewhat disposable. If someone with a gun comes up to a car with the intent of merely hijacking it, the driver may find themselves a casualty, even if they give up the car willingly. Similarly, some of my colleagues at a local newspaper casually mentioned one day, “Oh you know… AIDS… we all get it sometime.”

In popular culture, we see this same sort of cavalier attitude toward death in film (thanks to characters like the Joker, who kills willy-nilly), and in video games (sorry for all those who loved Halo).

While I am frustrated by those who have little value for human life, I can agree that it is a difficult commodity on which to place a price tag.

But I will venture a guess. Life is sacred. It is a gift whose significance is immeasurably great. It is worth more than billions of broken hearts, buckets of salty tears, and rivers of donated blood. Its weight can only be felt in that moment that life is teetering on the edge of lost–when a truck narrowly misses a car, when a loved one approaches the brink, when the palpable scent of existence hangs in the balance.

My heart bleeds today for to all those who have felt the frightening sacredness of life. It is awesome. And it is sobering. May we not forget its significance at the end of this holiday season as we read the news, watch a film, or spend time with our families and friends.

When living in South Africa, I went through a phase where I wanted to move there permanently. I was discussing this one day with a friend, and he challenged me, “Yes, you would like to stay here and be a South African. But would you be willing to give up your American passport?”

He had discovered my weakness: my passport. It is more precious to me than gold, and sits reverently in my safety deposit box. I love its worn, dog-eared pages full of stamps. I recently had to apply for more pages, and I love the way they stick out defiantly in the middle. I love how it reads like a map of my heart, and how it explains pieces of my personality. A year in Ireland, three weeks in Kenya, a couple days in a few Eastern European countries, a week in Japan, ten days in Ghana… the highlights of my life are all recorded in that little book. It is my scrapbook, my badge of honor, and my hope for my future.

And I would never be able to give it up.

It stands for something more, though. Despite the fact that Americans have become relatively unpopular in the last few years, my passport is still a key that unlocks dozens of doors. I get waved through security with relatively few questions, and I hardly ever have to contact an embassy for a special visa. Not so for my African and South American friends. They have to apply for a visa to travel anywhere. They face the possibility of rejection, and the danger of snap judgments based on their marital status, their bank account balance, and their travel history.

My passport makes me feel privileged and guilty all at the same time. It makes me brim with pride but also avert my eyes in shame (when I arrive at immigration in another country and get waved through while others are questioned or brought into a different room). But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

In fact, since it is a sexually-transmitted disease, I think that a stigma still hovers around HIV/AIDS. We do not want to discuss it, since it ashames us. When we bring it up it, images arise of promiscuity, infidelity, and past indiscretions.

In honor of World AIDS Day this year, though, I have committed to something small: I am going to discuss with my family and friends the HIV/AIDS pandemic. This year marks perhaps the first year that the virus is in decline, but the fact remains that Thabo Mbeki and Robert Mugabe have suggested publically that poverty causes AIDS. And a rumor persists that sex with a virgin will cure someone of HIV/AIDS. And our government could be doing far more to address this issue.

What are you doing about the HIV/AIDS crisis?

I spent yesterday with a group of high schoolers who were just starting to understand human needs and global inequalities. As we discussed what we could do to help people in our neighborhood who had little, one of the girls piped up with, “I mean, I know my Mom said it to me growing up, but it’s true! We need to start sending food over to those starving kids in Africa!” I probably would have said the same thing in high school.

But then I learned about how dangerous food aid can be to local food markets. And I learned how this practice is disproportionately generous to American farmers who are able to sell their bumper crops and maintain a low supply to demand ratio. And I heard Roger Thurow and Scott Kilman talk about their new book Enough. And I read about the food market crisis in the Economist.

I realize now, as an adult, that the issue is at once more complex but also more simple than we think it is. More complex because there is more at fault than supply and demand and aid and public policy. But more simple because there IS enough food in the world to feed everyone.

This Thanksgiving, therefore, I am not thinking that I should pack up the mashed potatoes and send them over to Africa. I am wondering how I can encourage and support efforts to empower those living in poverty to feed themselves.

If you have ever traveled to Israel, you know that they scrutinize your passport for signs of a stamp from an enemy nation. Similarly, if you attempt to enter an Islamic state you will generally be heavily questioned if you have a stamp from Israel. Ahmadinejad’s speech is a manifestation of those micro experiences.

While I agree that some of the Israel-Iran relationship is unsalvageable, the only way to even hope for peace is through careful, mediated discussions over statebuilding and peaceful negotiation. If the leaders of these two countries cannot find a way to work together, then I would venture to say that the world needs an Obama who is dedicated to the proposition that all country deserves an opportunity to speak.

I also spoke about Ahmadinejad HERE, and I hope that not all of my future posts in the future will be negative. But did want to highlight the political pressure here in an attempt to show just how complicated the Middle East Peace Talks are that the White House is trying to encourage.

You can read more about Ahmadinejad’s speech HERE.

Indeed, the world is ripe for it–the internet connects us better than ever before across borders that separate wealthy countries from poor ones. And facebook allos us to broadcast our interests and day to day realities.

But I cannot help but wonder whether the paramount examples of selflessness in the face of poverty would approve. Would Mother Teresa, who lived most of her adult life without shoes that fit, approve of us broadcasting our philanthropy on twitter? “I just gave a loan to an entrepreneur today!” (I am pretty sure that is one of my tweets). Would Mohammed Yunus grin at the reality that his microfinance has turned into an opportunity for investment rather than on a focus on the poorest of the working poor?

THIS ARTICLE in the Financial Times really made me start thinking about the blessings and the pitfalls of the popularity of helping the poor. What a great reminder to be circumspect and thoughtful with both my interest in the poor and also with my social networking surrouding that interest.