Pick Your Poison

Monona Rossol

Description

How the chemicals in everyday products are killing us—and what the government is not doing about it

Did you know that "nontoxic" usually means "never tested"? Or that many green cleaners are good for the environment but terrible for you? Chemist and activist Monona Rossol goes from under your sink to the halls of the powerful, tracing America’s love affair with chemicals that kill, explaining how much worse the problem has gotten in the last decade. Shocking and appalling and completely reckless—that’s how she describes the current prevalence of harmful chemicals in our everyday lives. Scientists have started linking our increased rates of cancer, autism, obesity, and asthma (among others) to chemical exposure and Rossol points the finger directly at the companies and executives making millions of dollars by polluting our environment and introducing toxic chemicals into our bodies. She chronicles how everyday toxins get into our bodies and accumulate over time and provides us with inspiration to make changes at the checkout lines. She also explains that Americans are not nearly as well protected by our government as we might think we are. Unlike the European Union, the United States allows chemical companies to produce toxins for use in U.S. consumer products with little to no oversight. While her tone is wry and entertaining, she’s also well informed, and her fact-filled treatise makes for absolutely terrifying reading.

• Includes surprising explanations about the chemicals in furniture, detergents, paints, makeup, toys, spray cleaners, ionic air purifiers, art supplies, and more
• Reveals how many eco-friendly products are good for the environment but bad for your health
• Exposes the truth about government regulations, product testing, and labeling, including why terms such as "nontoxic" (which often means "never tested"), "hypoallergenic," and "FDA-approved" can be misleading
• Offers practical ways to reduce your exposure and protect yourself and your family

If you’re alarmed by the health risks of the many hazardous chemicals we encounter at home, work, and school, don’t get frightened, get informed. Read Pick Your Poison to learn the facts and find out what you can do about the daily onslaught of toxins that are making lab rats of us all.

Preface.

1 Your Body is a Chemistry Experiment: Have We Given Ourselves Diabetes, Autism, and Cancer?

2 Dying for Your (Child’s) Art: Why Nontoxic Doesn’t Mean “Not Toxic”.

3 Calling a Product Green Doesn’t Make it Stop Being Poison: The Chemical Substitution Game.

4 All-Natural Doesn’t Mean Safe, Either: Mother Nature Is Out to Get You.

5 Why Not Just Use Soap?: You versus the Environment.

6 Of Wall Paint and Face Paint: How Labels Can Mislead You.

7 You Have the Right to Know: How the MSDS Can Help You Protect Yourself (When No One Else Will).

8 Your Air Filter May Be Polluting Your Air: Understanding Chemical Exposure.

9 Silver Socks Rocked by Toxic Shocker! Our Weak Worker and Consumer Protection Laws.

10 Chemicals Known to the state of California A Political Action Plan.

11 Don’t Drive Yourself Crazy: Thirteen Reasonable Ways to Change Today.

Acknowledgments.

Appendix A: Detergent Additives.

Appendix B: Evaluating The Material safety Data Sheet.  

Appendix C: New York Disclosure Amendment.

Notes.

Index.

Sujets

• Political Science

Informations

• Publié par: Turner Publishing Company
• Date de parution: 02 février 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780470918777
• Langue: English

Extrait

Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
Chapter 1: Your Body Is a Chemistry Experiment
Chapter 2: Dying for Your (Child’s) Art
Chapter 3: Calling a Product Green Doesn’t Make It Stop Being Poison
Chapter 4: “All-Natural” Doesn’t Mean Safe, Either
Chapter 5: Why Not Just Use Soap?
Chapter 6: Of Wall Paint and Face Paint
Chapter 7: You Have the Right to Know
Chapter 8: Your Air Filter May Be Polluting Your Air
Gases
Vapors
Mists
Fumes
Dusts
Nanoparticles
Smoke
Chapter 9: Silver Socks Rocked by Toxic Shocker!
Chapter 10: Chemicals Known to the State of California
Chapter 11: Don’t Drive Yourself Crazy
1. Don’t Make Yourself Nuts
2. Buy Less
3. Buy Simple
4. Buy Products That List Their Ingredients
5. Practice Precautions
6. Apply Integrated Pest Management
7. Check Recalls
8. Buy American
9. Maybe Buy Green
10. Choose with Care Whom to Believe
11. Protect Your Air
12. Don’t Detoxify
13. Be an Activist, Not a Crazy Person
Acknowledgments
Appendix A: Detergent Additives
Appendix B: Evaluating The Material Safety Data Sheet
Section I: Product and Company Identification
Section II: Hazardous Ingredients/Identity Data
Section III: Physical/Chemical Characteristics
Section IV: Fire and Explosion Hazard Data
Section V: Reactivity Data
Section VI: Health Hazard Data
Section VII: Precautions for Safe Handling/Use
Section VIII: Control Measures
Other Sections
Appendix C: New York Disclosure Amendment
Notes
Preface
1. Your Body Is a Chemistry Experiment
2. Dying for Your (Child’s) Art
3. Calling a Product Green Doesn’t Make It Stop Being Poison
4. “All-Natural” Doesn’t Mean Safe, Either
5. Why Not Just Use Soap?
6. Of Wall Paint and Face Paint
7. You Have the Right to Know
8. Your Air Filter May Be Polluting Your Air
9. Silver Socks Rocked by Toxic Shocker!
Index

Copyright © 2011 by Monona Rossol. All rights reserved
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey Published simultaneously in Canada
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ISBN (cloth) 978-0-470-55091-5; ISBN (ebk) 978-0-470-91875-3; ISBN (ebk) 978-0-470-91876-0; ISBN (ebk) 978-0-470-91877-7
For my darling husband, Jack Fairlie. Although I could easily lose sight of you in tall grass, you are still the tallest man I’ve ever met.
PREFACE
I’m a chemist, but I don’t make my living mixing chemicals for a multinational company. Most of my colleagues in lab coats don’t think much about the effects that their products will have on the rest of the world. Very few end up devoting their lives to education and prevention as I have, trying to get chemicals off the shelves and out of our homes, instead of onto and into them. How on earth did I end up on this side of the fence?
For one thing, I didn’t start out in chemistry; I started out in vaudeville. Work began for me at age one when I was a prop in my father’s magic act. I was a substitute for the traditional rabbit in an illusion specially conceived and created by my father. By age three, I was a professional entertainment worker and, like my father and mother, a member of the American Guild of Variety Artists. My sister, Ellie, a year and a half younger than I was, also worked professionally. Audiences couldn’t tell Ellie and me apart unless we were standing together, so my father could create some rather baffling illusions using us as assistants. Soon we were also performing a rather cute acrobatic act together, and I was lip-syncing funny recordings and singing.
For those who don’t know much about vaudeville, it was the primary form of entertainment until moving pictures progressively displaced it in the 1930s. Yet as vaudeville slowly died, the vaudevillians continued to live—and most continued to perform. They simply stopped playing the fancy Orpheum circuit theaters and began to work at state and county fairs, circuses and carnivals, Elks and Moose Club events, bar mitzvahs, and church picnics. We played those kinds of venues and shared the bill with the most spectacular acts you’ve never heard of—acts that had been on the road for forty or fifty years, ranging from single performer acts to entire vaudeville families of acrobats, comics, jugglers, high-wire walkers, sharpshooters, musicians and singers, and more.
If being onstage teaches you anything, it’s self-discipline and the value of honing multiple talents. Instead of running away to join the circus, I ran away from the circus at seventeen to go to the University of Wisconsin. I worked my way through three degrees: a bachelor of science, a master of science degree, and a master of fine arts degree. This odd combination of degrees was not my idea. It reflected my attempts to find some avenue for a career when door after door slammed shut, only because I was a member of that half of the population that squats to pee.
First, I was a premed student. I had a backer who would have paid my way through medical school, so I filled out my med school application in 1956 with excitement. Before the applications were even acted on, there was a kind of orientation session. I remember that a woman administrator spoke, which made it worse. She said that the laws had changed and they were now forced to accept 10 percent women, and they didn’t really want so many women in the school. Then she gleefully informed us that half of us would be flunked out after the first year anyway.
This was my first head-on encounter with discrimination. I had not seen this in show business. In entertainment, there will be equality as long as most men can’t sing soprano or wear a brief costume effectively enough to misdirect attention away from a magician’s gimmick. So I was unprepared for the med school speech. After working hard to make all A’s in the required courses, I had expected to be welcomed. I stood up in the orientation, made a very expressive hand gesture, and left.
Finishing pre-med left me about a year away from graduating with a major in chemistry, math, physics, or zoology. I chose to major in chemistry and minor in math. My plan was to become a chemist, and I was already working in the chemistry department as student slave labor. Just a few credits short of my degree, I ran out of money and went to work at Bjorksten Research Laboratories as a full-fledged research chemist. This firm was impressed with my work after a year and offered to pay for my education through graduate school. That offer evaporated, however, when the lab received a big government contract and found that it could not get security clearance for me. Apparently, being one of the few white members of the NAACP and participating in a few political events was enough to wreck your career in those days.
With another career down the pipe, I decided to switch majors completely. I had taken a large number of electives in art and found these courses very interesting. I finished my degree in chemistry and then applied for graduate school in studio art. My many art credits qualified me, but I was denied entry anyway. I was told that women couldn’t be artists. Women had to enroll in art education to be art teachers instead.
My fury was barely controllable. I remember checking out a library copy of one of the primary textbooks for art education and reading it. With the tome under my arm, I walked into the dean of the art department’s office, opened the book to page 1, and read the first convoluted, uninformative, verbose, useless sentence. I looked the dean in the face for a long, dramatic moment, then told him he had to be kidding. He enrolled me in studio art.
Now you at least know this about me: when I’m right, and someone else is wrong, I’m not afraid to let that person know about it.
When I graduated in 1964, I had a BS in chemistry with a minor in math, an MS in ceramics and sculpture, and an MFA in ceramics and glass with a minor in music. By this time I’d had three solo shows, I was an expert in glaze and glass ch