The Beach

Mark Twain did say "the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Fransisco." Well, he wasn't lying. Last week, as I packed excitedly, I threw in my bikini, my sunglasses, my flip flops, my shorts, my sunblock, my tank tops, and everything else that just screams "typical beach."

So, suitcase read to burst at the seams, I switched off the air conditioning, drew the blinds, and locked the door to my apartment. I was headed to sunny California for A) my sister's graduation from college and B) a vacation at the beach.

Graduation was a bit of a schlep. It was a mass of people to meet, people to congratulate, cakes to pick up, and family turmoil to avoid. These functions are always awkward to bring the two families together. So, after a late night with Lauren and her friends (in which I was introduced to the boy she's been absolutely fawning over for the past YEAR), I marched into my great aunt's (Miriam is her name) house after graduation ready for an explosion. My mom was in a frenzy about to lose her head because we were running late to set up for Lauren's party and I'm sure that contact with my dad couldn't help things...but believe it or not, all went well. We came in and she immediately greeted those in sight, including giving a hearty hug to my step-mom (ummm, where did that come from??) and then setting to work on the decorations. In a desperate attempt to escape I'm sure, my dad volunteered to drive me to Baskin Robbins to pick up the ice cream cakes. Readily, I agreed and we slipped out of the fray. The party went smoothly and the appearance of Rachel, my step-sister, was a godsend. We caught up for the better part of the party whilst Lauren talked with the elders (Miriam invited all her friends) or socialized with the fellow graduates. In these moments I felt so happy for my aunt Miriam. Her husband died at least eight years ago and she has no kids. Seeing as she lives in California, we really don't get out to visit that often, so Lauren's attendance at UC Davis is probably one of the best things that happened to her in a while. She got to go to all of her ceremonies and Lauren goes to the occasional meal with her. I'm sure it's something like having a daughter or granddaughter for her. At any rate, she really seemed glad to be such a part of Lauren's life and it was one of those times in life when you just sit back and enjoy the goodness in life around you.

The rest of the weekend was a blur of ambling around Davis, rendezvousing in Sutter Creek, and searching for wedding venues in San Fransisco. Then, before I knew it, I was being rushed along the early San Fransisco bustle, busing to the BART station and then sitting on a whirling train ride to the "drop point" (if you will, where I was to be picked up by my dad, Miriam, and Lauren). These sort of transits are exactly the type that leave me feeling like city life is the best. Waiting for the bus, I got into a conversation with a lady who had complimented my outfit; on the train, I enjoyed watching people in their various clothing combinations and coffee choices, chatting happily with Ryan, who had volunteered to see me off (after all, he and Rachel just couldn't bear to let the big bad city get the better of me--I guess...) Soon, I was in the back of Miriam's Lincoln Town Car on an 8 hour car ride to San Diego, California (more specifically, La Jolla beach).

So, right off the bat, I will say this: California's traffic never cease to amaze me. But not in a good way. Kind of like how some people find a certain play in professional baseball amazing. Hitting LA at 4:30 isn't exactly ideal, either...

So we reached La Jolla (finally), greeted the relatives, settled in, and ate some delicious fish tacos. And now, I can talk about the beach, and basically the whole inspiration to the Twain quote. Setting out from our little condo, I crossed my arms against the chill and goose bumps raised on my exposed legs. So maybe shorts, flip flops, and bikinis weren't the most ideal choices of attire. A crisp wind smelling of salt bit my cheeks and whipped my hair in every direction. Reaching the beach, I threw of my shoes and let my feet sink into the soft, sun-warmed sand. However, I was far from wanting to remove my clothes, sunbathe, and run into the crashing waves. But I wasn't going to succumb to this weather. I was not going to let it keep me from acting as I normally would at the beach. Gritting my teeth, I unbuttoned my shirt and slipped out of my linen shorts. Pulling up a lawn chair, I put on my sunglasses and opened up The Count of Monte Cristo; a perfect beach picture, right? Still chilly, though.

After a few minutes, my cousins suggested feeling the water. I flatly refused to let them tell me the temperature, but I agreed to go feel it. Needless to say, it was frigid. We waded out into inch-deep water and I winced as the cold water submerged my toes and worked it's way up my foot. Letting out a squeal, I leaped back from the water and danced around in a mixture of excitement and discomfort. Despite the cold, I couldn't shake the wonderful exhilarating feeling that only the ocean can give me. I felt the excitement course through my body, starting small in my lower throat and working its way down my arms and legs and putting a little tingling feeling in my toes, fingers, and scalp. I inhaled the sea air deeply and shook out my loose hair.

Turning to my cousins, I said "Here's what we're gonna do. We are going to run to that white van" (I pointed to a white van about 800 feet down the beach) "and then back. Then, we'll be ready to get in the water." They looked at me with smiles and nodded in agreement. We started running. "You're going so fast," my cousin, Abby, screamed. This just goaded me into running faster. I felt the wet, hardened sand beneath my feet and the wind whipped my face even harder as I picked up speed, eventually in a full on sprint. Upon reaching out goal, I bent over and placed my hands on my knees, panting heavily. Turning around, I saw my cousins approaching not far behind. We started running again. This time, I turned slightly and headed out further into the water. Ankle deep, I ran hard and the cold of the water turned into a pleasant chill against my heated feet. Soon, the cold was put out of my mind as I felt the familiar heavy breathing and tightened chest that only running can give me.

Now we were ready. Turning 90 degrees, we raced into the ocean. We were knee deep, then the water was lapping against out thighs, then the waves were crashing at our waist, then the water was slapping gently against our chests. "Next big wave, we're going to dive into it!" Abby yelled. With each small wave that broke on us, I screamed with excitement and cold. "Here it comes!" called Virginia. A huge wave was approaching. The top was gathering little white crests and on either side the wave was breaking. The middle was fast approaching and a huge sucking power was pulling me closer and closer to the wave. Turning my body into it and no longer fighting the power of the water, I placed my hands on top of each other in a diving position and plunged my body headlong into the wave. Under the water, I felt the crashing as the wave broke above me. A huge rush and then I was breaking the surface of the water, shaking salt water out of my face and spitting it out of my mouth with little "Pfft" sounds. We were all delightedly screaming with pleasure at the feeling of the rushing waves and the chill of the water.

It was a success. The weather did not defeat my perfect picture of my vacation at the beach. I played in the waves, boogie boarded, and sunbathed as if it were 90 degrees instead of 70 degrees. And tomorrow, I'm only going to be ready for more.

Alice Graduates; I Graduate

I almost feel like my thoughts on leadership and ethics haven’t really changed much this year—it’s more that my conviction in certain beliefs has become stronger and I am more aware of what I was maybe just slightly conscious of before. The depth of my understanding of certain issues increased and my thoughts about leadership (due in large part to all these discussion boards) became definitively more organized. College was what I expected, but I changed much more than I thought I would and my actions were different form what I would have predicted this time last year. It was the true picture of what I’d imagined my senior year of high school; I just didn’t know it was going to be “quite different on beyond” (142).

For example, I have a newfound respect for people who can keep their audiences engaged, motivated, and entertained. Out of my teachers this year, I can definitely think of those that possessed a certain quality of leadership that I wish every leader had. So, my understanding of the effect a good leader can have on people changed a great deal. Dr. Stoff is one example of a teacher who changed my perspective on what makes a good leader (ha, on the future as well—I didn’t even plan that!). His commanding presence in the room made his one lecture I saw this semester one of the most engaging lectures I’ve ever listened to. I took in more from that lecture than probably any of my biology lectures this semester. This was probably due to his organization and also merely his speaking abilities. From the experience of retaining so much of this lecture gave me a newfound respect for engaging teachers that I enjoy listening to. Also, being a class leader expanded my knowledge of how a leader should act. As I considered what I would discuss with the class the next day, I found that what most interested everybody was something that I was interested in discussing as well. Following my intuition, I led the discussion in what I wanted to talk about and we had a really great class, sharing viewpoints on religion and our own personal experiences with spirituality. So, while I always knew that a good leader needs to be able to command the attention of a room and have a knowledge of how to engage the audience, I experienced this much more this year.

My understanding of how to actually be a leader has increased this semester and I have a much firmer understanding of my previous theories on leadership.

As far as ethics go, I have learned quite a bit outside of the classroom, especially with the issue of sexism and racism. In World Lit, we had readings on sexism and racism and these readings definitely got me thinking about the issue. Racism was already something that I had a huge opinion about and I have fought hard against it all my life. However, I’ve found that even in my friends living in the dorms, racist and sexist jokes are still very popular. This has given me a good look into how our society works and my own participation in these occasional remarks has taught me quite a bit about just how convicted I am about this issue. I feel ashamed that I let my peers draw me into these jokes, especially when I’ve always had such a strong dislike for racism. Although these are in fact jokes, comments like this are never going to bring us closer to a world where racism is nonexistent. So, I’ve realized that a lot of people are willing to let peer pressure and society’s standards overcome their ethical motivation to fight racism. Or maybe they just don’t care. But if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that it is incredibly hard to stick to your ethical convictions when you’re trying so hard to find your niche in a new setting and fit in with other people. Like Alice said “‘there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person’” (18). We strive so hard to fit in and be “exactly like other people” that we lose a bit of ourselves in the process (219).

So, maybe ethics are implanted deep within a person, but they also don’t take much to unearth and we are often playing at who we really are in social settings, rather than staying true to one, real personality. While the feeling remains that these actions are wrong, following through with them is often difficult.

So, maybe I didn’t really learn all that much about leadership and ethics. I made all sorts of connections that I’ve never needed to make before, but not very much new information is present: just those connections. However, I think I’ve grown quite a bit as a person this year and the Cheshire Cat is right: if I “walk long enough,” I’m “sure to get [somewhere]” (65). And I have gotten somewhere; I’ve learned a great deal about myself and the person that I want to become in the years to follow.

Woman Warrior DB#3

Fam

I think we can all relate to feeling suffocated at some point in our lives. Families tend to do that, especially when conflicting cultural values come into play. In fact, conflict with our families seems almost impossible because as time passes, values keep changing and the way we live our lives is totally different. When our parents were our age, it wasn’t unusual to get married and start settling down. It was a strange thing at that time for a man to stop working to stay home with children. Now, however, things have changed considerably. Many would agree that getting married this early is too early and that a dad can stay home with the kids instead of the mom. However, we tend to rebel against these constraints set in place by our families. My mom tends to want things for me sometimes that I really don’t agree with and instead of giving in I fight and argue. Having a voice for what you believe in is the most important thing when you’re becoming the person you will be for the rest of your life. Around my junior and senior year until now I am realizing that these years are going to define who I am and if I didn’t have a voice to say what I believe in, I would lose a lot of myself.

vs.

This is where I think the main character in Woman Warrior might be getting some of her problems. She has outbursts (for example, against the little girl at her school or the time she yelled at her parents) because her family has promoted silence and submission all her life. Beginning at a young age, all the girls that she knew were silent and she “knew the silence had to do with being a Chinese girl” (Kingston 166). Thus, her very upbringing has forced her to struggle with wanting to defend and voice her thoughts, but she has had to fight against the values set before her by her parents.

While I respect my parents and what they’ve taught me all my life, I must say that I strongly believe in being your own person more. It’s been difficult with divorced parents because my mom and dad are extremely different. My dad is liberal, my mom conservative and I just naturally ended up being a more liberal person. So, it’s been hard having to reveal to my mom that I’m more like my dad in that way. However, I’ve found that it’s harder to sit and listen to her try to change my mind about things I know I’m set on.

However, because of the extreme lives that the main character’s parents led, I can understand her struggles in finding a voice to defend herself. She wants to respect her parents, but at the same time she has to deal with the frustration of slowly suffocating because of the cultural restraints her parents put on her. Growing up in America, she must balance the values that she learns outside of the house with the ones her parents, especially her mother, lay out for her. Like her aunt, she has to fight to keep "her spirit" from being "scattered all over the world" (Kingston 157). As she stated earlier, to be a Chinese woman is to be a slave or wife, but for the main character, she knows that there is much more to life and refuses to live in this way, stating “I won’t let you turn me into a slave or a wife” (Kingston 201). Unfortunately, these moments in which she stands up for herself are fleeting and not often. This is most likely because she has a great deal of inner conflict with weather she should be the good Chinese daughter and listen to her parents or do what she thinks is right in her heart. Thus, her obsession with speaking is probably due to this stress with her familial values. She has trouble seeing other girls who cannot speak because of her own struggles. But she also may be jealous of the little girl who doesn’t speak because this girl is such a perfect depiction of how many Chinese parents want their children to act. She has the support of her family and has no apparent fights because she is so submissive and quiet. So she proceeds to corner the girl and try to force her to “Talk! Talk! Talk!” (Kingston 180). She harasses the little girl because she can’t deal with the submissive nature in which she lives. Being so suffocated in her own life, she tries desperately to force others to follow her lead and fight for a voice.

Woman Warrior DB#2

One time, at a convenience store, I got into a conversation with the cashier (an old, friendly woman) that was deeper than I think either of us planned. She apologized for a slow machine and I replied, with a laugh, that I was in no hurry. “Good,” she said, “this world is too fast these days.” I agreed, readily, and she pursued the subject. She told me that it was up to me to keep my generation from moving too fast and to keep the world from moving too fast. The America described in Woman Warrior seems to be the exact world that this lady and I were discussing. However, I think it’s important to see that it’s not just Chinese immigrants that have this opinion. It’s anybody who’s experiencing the fast-paced world we now live in. Even though I did not live in these slower than times that this woman and the mom in Woman Warrior spoke of, I still find myself missing them. I know what the mother means when she thinks about how “time goes slower [in China]” and how in America “we have to hurry” (105). I do identify with these two about how fast our lives are. I feel like each day, each week is soaring by and time is only speeding up. I remember when my parents were telling me that high school would fly by and I didn’t believe them and here I am, almost done with my first year of college. This semester flew by and all I can think of as I read the words spoken by the mother in Woman Warrior is how much I keep missing out on. There are so many things I planned to do that I never got around to because this world we live in always moving. I wake up, go to class, go to meetings, do homework, hang out with friends, and before I know it, another day has passed. I go to bed, wake up, and repeat the routine all over again. Like Brave Orchid’s children, I “could not sit for very long” and “had wandering feet” (113). And I realize now, in high school, I became a person that cherished this lifestyle. I signed up for as many things as I could handle, took hard classes that kept me busy, and made friends and plans for the weekends. I loved this way of living because I was always busy. I had fulfilling things to occupy my life and I never really had to slow down and assess what life really meant.

So, sometimes, I wonder if that’s how we all live. We all strive to be successful and we’re so set on our future that we don’t really pause to live in the now. All our actions are in pursuit of something ahead instead of what we want right now. Furthermore, I had a discussion with someone once about how hard we work here. So many people go through an entire year with only a week of vacation. Although I don’t think we live in a terrible country, I do have to agree that “human being works her life away” (104). I heard that in Sweden, when a family has a baby, the mother gets a year off work to spend with the baby and then the father also gets the next year off to spend with the baby as well. The value of family life, while still strong in America, seems a little less than elsewhere. I know many families here that don’t eat dinner together and don’t take holidays very seriously. I grew up with a sit-down dinner every night and family values are extremely important to me.

This book has truly taught me the value of time and how we should manage it. I’ve realized how to think about my time now as I live my busy, hurried life and how much I am going to have to value and manage it later in life when I have my own family. I want to instill similar values in my children as my parents have in me. I understand where Brave Orchid is coming from when she tries so hard to keep her family together and I can see where she’s coming from when she feels disappointment in her children when they fail to meet her standards.

Woman Warrior DB#1

As I read the opening pages of Woman Warrior I couldn’t help but remember a serious conversation that Maysie, Duncan, Alex, and I had in the car ride back from our Spring Break Colorado trip. I’m not really sure how the subject was brought up, but we ended up having a discussion about the double standards set in our society. Girls go out and party just as guys do here at UT. Some girls get drunk and some guys get drunk and some girls and guys get together for random hook-ups. Yet, the next day, who is usually left feeling guilty and slutty? I think nine times out of ten, the girl is leaving the situation with a sinking feeling that this is just another thing that can cause stares and petty, gossipy conversations. Here is yet another flaw that she can add to her belt and another thing that she has to be ashamed of. Yet, the guy usually gets to brag to his friends about these things. A girl kisses two guys in one night and is called a slut; a guy kisses two girls in one night and gets high fives. A woman in a Chinese village gets raped and the man gets away with it, yet the woman’s house is raided by the very village she lives with and she is pressured to commit suicide.

To prove a point, I google imaged "slut" and the first page of pictures were all associated with girls...

This is probably a rather narrow-minded (and very feminist) depiction of how things are, but I have to state the facts nonetheless. And it is these words that lead me to believe that somehow, this narrow-minded perspective is right: “[the baby] was probably a girl; there is some hope of forgiveness for boys” (15). Although many people may disagree with what I’ve said just now, I have to remain firm in my beliefs that the social situation of men and women remains unfair, despite how much progress has been made in terms of gender equality. Slut is not a name you hear very often tagged with a guy. Heads are more easily turned and events easily erased when it comes to a man’s reputation. And I sit here reading the sad life that this no name woman led and connect it to the lives that we lead now, I have to wonder why these parallels exist and why this double standard continues to shape women’s reputations. I mean, I do understand that kissing two people in one night could be socially unacceptable to many, but I fail to understand why it only goes one way. Sure, a lot of people I know would agree that it goes both ways and that the guy is just as much at fault as the girl. But I know that deep down, there is that barrier there—the barrier that puts a girl’s reputation at stake, but just another notch in the guy’s belt. And I’ve thought about it a great deal and really can’t answer the question as to why this double standard exists. So I guess that’s all I can say about that.

However, I have a hunch as to what it all comes down to: honor. Especially honor for those we love (rather than ourselves), which is perhaps why it is honorable to be a swordswoman who can get “even with anybody who hurt her family” (19). The honor that avoids being “‘forgotten as if you had never been born’” (5). But honor, lately, has kind of turned to reputation in a way. For no name woman it was a matter of shaming her family and breaking the codes set down by their society and for us it’s now embarrassment and shame at being talked about and having fingers pointed. In college, we work so hard to find our groups and friends and as a result, we also work hard in building up a reputation, or at least some kind of identity that outsiders can judge by. Because you know that these judgments are made before you’ve even met a lot of people. So maybe it goes down ever further: that is, judgments. If we, as humans, weren’t so quick to pass judgments on people, maybe these standards wouldn’t have to exist. For a long time now, I can recall this being a big lesson: not judging people. You learn from a young age: don’t judge a book by its cover—but that’s merely appearances. Maybe we need to go even further: don’t judge someone based on what you may know of them based on rumors, Facebook profiles, and the people they hang out with.

I’ve found lately that people I know have had much more trouble integrating than I suspected. I came to college so ready to meet tons of people and find an atmosphere in which most people know everybody else and social situations were less clique-y. Not exactly the case. Although it is true, the definitions of the groups have definitely changed, the groups remain there nonetheless. There are no longer the “popular kids” and the “nerds,” but we have managed to create names for ourselves nonetheless. And judgments are probably what largely contribute to these tighter-knit groups rather than holistic communities. We meet those people that we’re right-off-the-bat friends with and feel comfortable with, so we stick with those people and view others as outsiders. When this perspective takes over, it’s very easy to make quick passes at people based on skimming the surface.

After reasoning for some time, I now see some definite contributing factors for a girl’s need to be perfect. Yes, these rules could apply for guys as well, but I think we all know that this situation is much stickier for the girls and I think realizing this is the first step to fixing it.

Discrimination Based on Sexual Orientation and Race #2

I must say, I was shocked and appalled by the intolerance that some of the people faced based solely on the matter of sexual orientation. I knew that America was far from being totally accepting of homosexuals, but I had no idea that the extent was this bad. I suppose this brings me back to the movie Brüno and the counseling that he went through to “stop” being gay.

It constantly amazes me that there are people out there that believe that being gay is a disease or phase that will eventually go away. It also makes me sad that a person’s way of life has to be such a source of controversy. A person’s sexual orientation is a part of their identity and we, as humans, are putting them in a terrible position by throwing them in the middle of all this political tension. They have enough to deal with as it is, obviously. I felt a great sadness for Johnny when he explained that his “parents not only threatened Jon but also began threatening” him as well (Anthology 875). I understand that this happens, but I have never really come in close contact with any really traumatic experiences like those Johnny, Anthony, and Vincent went through. Reading their stories made the struggles faced by those who are merely not white and straight so much more real and accessible. I now better understand the “struggles to gain acceptance, recognition, and attention” in an environment that is so intolerant (Anthology 880).

I have come in close quarters with less traumatic experiences dealing with a family finding out that their son is gay, however. It was less dramatic, but it still brought to my attention the issues that they face because of people unwilling to accept that being gay is simply a way that some people live their lives. My best friend in high school was unaware that her brother is gay. I knew because his friends knew and, not realizing that she didn’t know, brought it up one day. Shocked, she asked me to explain, and I told her that I knew because some people at school knew. She decided to talk to him about it and work things out and told me later that he admitted to her that he is gay. I asked her what she thought and she told me that she didn’t actually believe him. A couple weeks later, her opinion was unchanged. Trying to be patient, I felt the need to talk to her about being more supportive and accepting of her brother. My best friend is very reserved and has acted in ways that help her to fit in smoothly throughout all of high school. I understood that she wasn’t going to accept the information so easily, but I still felt that I had to explain to her that she was not doing the right thing by not accepting her brother for who he was and by setting him apart because of his sexual orientation. Emily is a very accepting person; she has friends who are gay and doesn’t think twice about it, but when faced with the facts that her brother is gay, it is obvious that we all have a long way to go when it comes to accepting those that are different from us. And it makes me wonder: would I feel that way if someone in my family were homosexual? Johnny seems to think not: “I am assuming there are only a handful of families who would genuinely be unaffected by it and even supportive” (Anthology 879). I like to believe that I fall under that handful, but based on what I’ve seen from my best friend, I worry that it would matter. I guess I’ll never know, but I still continue to try my best to be as accepting and understanding of people who are different from me as possible.

I find that barriers based on ethnicity and sexual orientation are based on nothing more than petty ignorance. These families lack exposure to diverse groups of people and it is clear that their intolerance stems from fear of change. My friend in high school had a strange fear of change: when he was little, he freaked out whenever the seasons changed from warm to cold weather because he had to change out his entire wardrobe. We all fear change in a small way. These families changed their way of lives and it was probably hard for them to adjust, but at the same time I have to be harsh: we live in a world that is shaped by people who come from different backgrounds, ethnicities, and who knows what else. Until we learn to start accepting these differences, we are in for some serious problems. As a world, we need to start becoming more open-minded and accepting to those who are different and I wish that people could just start learning that there is nothing wrong with being different and indeed, this is something we should start embracing. “Race matters. And it doesn’t” (Anthology 866). It matters in that it is what defines us as people, but it also doesn’t matter because we shouldn’t set each other apart based on race or anything else like that.

Discrimination Based on Sexual Orientation and Race

“I would always be an ESL student. I would always be different” (Anthology 839). While these words were spoken with a certain degree of resentment, I find myself embracing such statements. As a student body, and world, we are set apart and yet also pulled closer together by our differences. I have always found that different backgrounds largely shape the people we become. Being white, I can’t really relate closely to what many students go through who come from different racial backgrounds. However, I do have my own experiences to share.

The first being that I once was a victim of racial discrimination and what was said to me actually made me think pretty hard. I was at a high school football game with some friends. The rows in front of us, in a wave of excitement, had stood up to cheer, making it difficult to see what was going on. Thus, we stood up as well. A group of kids behind me apparently did not like that because I heard complaints and yells wanting us to sit back down. However, we couldn’t see so I merely remained standing. From behind me I heard a boy shout, “Hey girl, just because you’re white, doesn’t mean you’re better than us.” I did my best to ignore the comment, but inside I was furious. I have never in my life considered myself better than others on the basis of my race.

My parents have raised me to be as accepting as possible and that all people are equal no matter what—sexual orientation, race, economic standing, etc. I couldn’t believe this kid would just throw a statement like that around. But at the same time, I finally found myself in a position that many others have felt but I could never share with them. And while it was hurtful and frustrating that this boy had to resort to racial discrimination just because he couldn’t see at a football game, it was interesting to get this perspective. I didn’t really feel belittled by what he said and it didn’t make me think any less of myself. It did make me think about our society in a different way, just like how the boy on the football team “saw the campus with a new perspective” (Anthology 857). Comments like those are serious and only increase the manner in which we manage to set ourselves apart by things like these again and again.

I have also had similar family experiences as Michael’s sister had in that “I [am] able to express who I [am]” at family gatherings (Anthology 845). I know that these people will love me no matter what and we have “comfort and familiarity” with each other (Anthology 846). However, I find it sad that many people only feel comfortable (racially) with their families.

Racial discrimination is something that has fascinated me (in a bad way) for a long time now. I even wrote my college essay on this because my feelings about it matched the prompt perfectly—an issue that I truly care about. I understand that people are shaped by their backgrounds and races, but I wish so much that people could also learn to accept each other as well.

At the same time, I have also seen discrimination based on sexual orientation pretty close up as well. One of my best friends in high school is gay and the sad thing is, I didn’t even know this for a fact until we had graduated. The reason being, he didn’t want to deal with everyone knowing until later because of the high school we went to. While he had a very supportive friend group and not a single person thought worse of him after he came out, our school was swarming with homophobes who had already had their fair share of taunting him even without knowing that he was gay. He was always very feminine, with strange style, lots of girl friends, and a love for poetry. A group of boys we knew in orchestra constantly called him fag in a joking manner, but I see now how that must’ve angered him. He’s a very cool-headed guy, the type who would not let these things make him think less of himself, but at the same time, I understood how frustrating it could be for him to be made fun of for something as defining as that. I can’t possibly imagine discriminating against someone based on their sexual orientation. It amazes me that people manage to find things that are so basic in who we are and twist them against each other. The idea that we keep finding ways to set each other apart instead of bringing ourselves closer together is upsetting. I have always been disgusted at laws that try to ban same sex marriage or the ability for gay couples to adopt. It is absolutely not anybody’s business how gay people live their lives and thus there should be no laws prohibiting them in a discriminatory manner. I almost feel like we are at a point in our lives that rivals that of Martin Luther King Jr.’s day. We are faced with a great wall of discrimination, but at the same time we have people who care very passionately about equal rights for everybody and I think it’s about time we did something about it.

So, we really need to assess how we want to look at our differences. Are they something that will continue to set us apart and be the source of fights and tears or are they something to be embraced and shared? I for one, love meeting different people and learning more about them. I hope that we can move forward as a world with a greater understanding of each other and a more accepting nature in general.

The Bluest Eye DB#3

As I read through the final season of The Bluest Eye I found myself becoming more and more haunted by the ideas represented and how Morrison managed to convey them. She takes an idea that is socially unacceptable and disgusting and gives us the impression from the other side.

As I read, I was disturbed by her ability to make these things seem more reasonable just because we were able to get a perspective of the people that did these things. For example, as disgusting as it was, you managed to get this totally different picture of Cholly’s motives behind raping his daughter. We see most of his life (at least the moments that shaped it the most) and, for me, I saw a totally unexpected reason for what he did. I mean, I knew that his anger and drunkenness had to have something to do with why he was so unstable with his family, but also Morrison’s statement about how “his reactions [the them] were based on what he felt at the moment” and that he felt that he was not "useful to her" was so interesting (161). Her ability to depict how all the unfortunate circumstances had this effect on Cholly and how these things connect with his current actions really made the book for me.

I also had a flashback to when I saw the movie The Reader last year. One of the main characters, Hanna, was illiterate. To keep this devastating secret, she held a series of positions and jobs in her life in which no reading was required. In one such position, she was one of the prison guards at a concentration camp during the Holocaust. In her trial, I almost found myself feeling sorry for her, even though she had been one of the people that I have grown up to despise. Everything she ever did in her life was in hopes of keeping her illiteracy to herself and making sure that no one found out, even if it was at the expense of her (and others’) happiness. So, I guess what I’m getting at is that these people—the director of The Reader and the author of The Bluest Eye)—have the ability to change minds with their words and productions. They managed to play with my head enough for me to question things that I had always been certain about in the past. Things that I was raised to believe in. It’s these two examples that really haunt me for the ideas they convey. And these ideas are that there really are two sides to every story. I’m not trying to justify what Cholly did or for the actions of those involved in the Holocaust, but I do find it interesting to follow the path that led up to these terrible things. It’s almost as though we can learn something from studying the sequence of events so keenly and it might help prevent such things in the future.

So I think that from these two examples, we can definitely see how writing can be one of the best methods of therapy. These terrible events are scarring and traumatic and sometimes telling a close friend isn’t enough. You have to just sit there and keep writing until the ideas that are flooding out of your head slow to a trickle and you can make sense of the emotions. I also find that writing can makes things seem as real (or as unreal) as you want. If something happened, you can write about it in a way that directly addresses that this happened to you specifically or you can write something else entirely that encompasses your feelings but in a more indirect way (which is probably a copying method that lots of people use).

Writing also gives the opportunity to put your soul into something. There is no fear of what someone might think what you’re saying and no worry that you aren’t making sense because the only person who’s going to see this is you. Sometimes, I have found that it is hard for me to address problems in my life by merely thinking about them. For example, over Christmas break I was having big problems with my best friend and we were fighting a lot. When I came home, I found that merely sitting and trying to sort through everything wasn’t helping and I could usually avoid these thoughts easily enough. However, I got out my journal and began writing about it and it was amazing how easily I was able to better understand my feelings about the whole situation and how much better I felt just getting all these feelings out on paper. For Pecola, I could see how writing about her problems would help because she’s so ashamed of some of the things that happened to her. Writing, then, is clearly something that can help society just by it’s ability to cure and serve as a method of therapy.

Appearance and Racism in The Bluest Eye

As we continue to read Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, I have begun to see more and more how appearances completely shape our lives. Like many adolescents, Pauline is introduced to “physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought” (Morrison 122). Girls in our culture are taught from a young age to thrive to be attractive. They play with Barbies—dolls that have long legs, tiny waists, and long blonde hair. The key accessories to these toys include clothing, hairbrushes, and fancy cars. Unfortunately, the importance of attractiveness only gets more ingrained in our heads as we age. Girls begin putting on make-up as early as middle school and many show more of an interest in fashion and nice belongings than in learning or getting to know other people.

I have also noticed that first impressions seem to fall heavily on appearance. I’ve often heard (and even done so myself) people referred to as things like “that girl who dresses really cute” or something similar. And while these are helpful hints when referring to someone we do not know personally, these hints also affect our impressions on them before we have even met them. I can’t lie, I have often felt the urge or desire to start up a conversation with someone because I liked something they were wearing or a certain hairstyle. So, I have to completely agree with Professor Bump: the “Thing that made her beautiful” (Morrison 74) would be “judging by appearance” (Anthology 332).

Ultimately, we will find examples about our society’s reliance on appearance to make judgments in many literary works and movies. For example, Maysie and I went to see The Phantom of the Opera this past Friday. The plot of the story revolves around a man who was born with a horribly disfigured face and, for this reason, he wears a mask as his “first unfeeling scrap of clothing.” In one of the songs, Christine (the woman the Phantom is in love with) states, “those who have seen your face draw back in fear.” The Phantom is shunned throughout his entire life for his disfigurement and many fail to see the true beauty inside him. He is a musical genius and writes beautiful operas. His voice is haunting and lovely, but entrances very few merely because of how he looks. Thus, this is yet another example of how we fail to note aspects of personality and talent in a person.

Additionally, amidst the judgments we make based on appearance, there are “racial hierarchies of skin color” as well (Anthology 332). The girls in The Bluest Eye suffer not only from the standards of beauty set by the society around them, but also from racial discrimination. The people in the novel are constantly bashing each other based on appearance and race to the point where it would seem that Pecola actually believes that she is a “’mistake, fault, error’” (Anthology 333). And from these emotions, I think we also begin to see the beginnings of fear and shame, two extremely important emotions in this novel. Not only is it fear of being abandoned, but maybe also just a fear of not being loved at all. Pecola is sad throughout much of the “Autumn” section of the novel because she wishes she could be more attractive and that this might suddenly fix all her problems of not being wanted or loved.

This fear of not being as good-looking or attractive as others also leads Claudia and Frieda in their emotions toward Maureen. Claudia strikes out because she is so furious at just how perfect Maureen is. They are so frustrated with this perfection that they cover it up by trying as hard as they can to think of things to make her less attractive, such as "uglying up her name," etc. (Morrison 63). Maureen meets the standards of their society and is admired almost wherever she goes. This is obviously a hard concept for a child to grasp because while they strive to do well and win affection just as hard, they fail time and time again because of merely how they look. The anger that Claudia directs at Maureen is clearly a combination of her frustration with the standards set by society and also her fear at never being as good as she strives to be. I have to once again agree with Professor Bump when he says “we find a related complex of fears that explains the emotional impact of the novel for a wide variety of readers” (Anthology 333).

Bluest Eye DB#1

I must say, I was amazed at the just how common it is for someone to feel abandoned. Last semester, I read The Poisonwood Bible for my supplementary reading project in my TC, Emerging Selves. A major issue for one of the daughters in the story was the fact that she had health problems that led her to believe that she was less important than the other daughters. In one incident, she and her sisters were running for a disaster occurring at their village and she actually witnessed her mother choose one daughter over the other (herself). Adah was literally left behind in The Poisonwood Bible. “[Mother] studied me for a moment, weighing my life. Then nodded, shifted [Ruth May] in her arms, turned away. ‘Come on!’ she commanded over her shoulder…I knew when I went down…Once I looked for my mother and saw her, far ahead. I followed, bent on my own rhythm. Curved into the permanent song of my body: left…behind” (Kingsolver 306). She talks about how she is crippled and thinks that because of this, the whole child was chosen first. In a way, I have had feelings that parallel these. For many years, I was convinced that my mother cared more for my brother than she did for my si ster and me. She seemed to side with him more often than not and her constant reminders of how much she despises my father led to me to believe that I somehow reminded her of him. And because of this, I was convinced that I could never be as good as Michael, my half-brother. I am not about to say that I come from a dysfunctional family. I only point this out to stress how often the sense of abandonment seems to come up in our lives. Dysfunctional family or not, I think everyone feels left behind at some point. We all have these “deep feelings of abandonment” in our lives (Bump 353). Whether it is by our families or by friends or even God, we manage to convince ourselves that we are less loved for some reason. I think Pecola’s feelings of abandonment were not helped by Claudia’s mother, who, in a fit of rage, reminded the children of the fact that her father “ain’t been here yet to see if his own child was ‘live or dead” (Morrison 25). She is already soft-spoken, described as having “no voice in the story,” and the verbal treatment she receives is no help. If anything, it no doubt confirmed her beliefs in her dysfunctional family and her feelings of being unwanted and left behind.

Stemming from this, I believe that this abandonment in our lives, however big or small, is what leads to our illusions about self-image. Many characters that I’ve read about have had severe self-esteem issues due to feeling unwanted. Under the covers of her bed, Pecola implored God to make her disappear, but “she could never get her eyes to disappear” (45). This statement might symbolize the situation of her family. Try as she might, Pecola cannot manage to change the circumstances in which she lives, just as she can’t change something as trivial as her eye color. Psychologically, it is suggested that blue is a calming color. The lightness of blue eyes can also be correlated with innocence, which may be a reason blue eyes are what “every girl child treasured” (Morrison 20).

Pecola’s desire for blue eyes not only has this meaning underneath, but it also has the meaning right on the surface of her feelings of ugliness that “made her ignored or despised” (Morrison 45). Our world is obsessed with materialistic values. We strive to get skinny, tan, pretty, fit, and all other forms of the ideal physical appearance. From this, we no doubt have strong self-esteem issues that could bleed into our relationships with other people, including those who are as close as our own family members. Pecola is convinced that if she had blue eyes “maybe Cholly would be different, and Mrs. Breedlove too” (46). Unfortunately, she believes that her appearance has something to do with the dynamics of her family. As Professor Bump mentioned, one of the reasons “Pauline abandon[ed] her daughter” was that “she believed her daughter was unusually ugly” (Bump 353), which just goes to show that even a mother’s love isn’t strong enough to overcome the vain values that are instilled within us.

Going on from this, when children are treated with positive attitudes and compliments, they tend to succeed: Claudia was able to “keep her sanity…primarily because…she and her sister had more self-esteem” (Bump 354). As I said, I am amazed at the effect self-image has on our relationships. Self-esteem dictates how we live and our relationships with others, especially our family. Family dynamics are clearly affected by many different factors, but the effect of self-image on them is a clear indicator of just how fragile these relationships can be.