The Place of Empathy

Empathy: the ability to understand and share the feelings of others.

Sympathy: feelings of pity and sorrow for someone else's misfortune.

In light of recent events (within the last week or the last decade, depending on your definition), the place of empathy in American/Western society needs to be explored. I'm sure many people more qualified than I have addressed this, but I'm going to any way.

As stated above, empathy and sympathy are very different. Sympathizing with someone is very different than empathizing with them. Sympathizing with or for someone allows one to maintain distance. Empathy demands closeness. It demands one to step into a situation. Of course, we can never know what an exact situation may feel like, but we all know something of loss, of fear, of anger. You can sympathize from a distance. You cannot empathize without getting right up next to the experiences of others. Sympathy is clean. Empathy is messy.

After telling my mother about a customer at work yesterday, she said, "We tend to lack empathy." And we do. Otherwise people would not get snippy at service industry workers. We, as a collective, tend to see ourselves as the center of the universe and cannot imagine others having bad days too. Too often we forget, when we have bad days, other people have them too. It is difficult to imagine others complexly. But it is vital that we do.

Given the tragedies in Syria, Beirut, Brazil, and Paris, empathy is exceedingly important. In the wake of disaster, the only response is empathy, compassion, love. There is no place for fear in the face of terror. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said,

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie. Nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.*

There is no choice. In the face of hate, the only answer is love. To see people as people. Further, the response of some Americans is distressing. That governors want to refuse admitting refugees is disgusting. What happened to "give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to be free"? What happened to the shining city on a hill? What happened to "we are a Christian nation"?

I make references to the supposed Christianity of America for a purpose. I do not believe America was founded on Christian principles (other than those that influenced English Common law). But some people believe it was and it guides their actions. (Thank you pragmatism.) If the United States wants to truly claim its place as a paragon of Christian virtue, than we accept all refugees. Full stop. 

Other than Dr. King, who was a minister, do you know who else called for love? Jesus. So, in denying to love in the face of fear, there exists no Christianity. In response to hate and violence, love is the only answer. There is no second choice. "Love your neighbor as yourself" is a call to empathy. Understand that your neighbor, wherever she may live, is just as important and complex as yourself.**

It may sound crazy, but people are people. And the place of empathy is central to that. What one person feels, we all feel. Any violence done to one body is violence done to all bodies.*** We all lose in systems of oppression and fear.

I fear I may have gotten off topic. But, alas, I cannot help it. So, if you lost the plot: Empathy is necessary when dealing with fear. As Fred Rogers reminds us: "Look for the helpers." And, I would add, help. Empathy spurs action. It is impossible to see people as people and then abandon them. But we need to act out of love, not fear, not hate. Americans, and the West more broadly, can afford, in every sense of the word, to help. And we are morally obligated to do so.

*Dr. King is often quoted out of context, and, although I attempt not to do that, I apologize if I have. Also, there is a time and place for action, possibly violent, but in this instance, I think that would be a poor first choice.

**This does not apply only to international issues. Domestically, we must see the killing and violence done to African Americans in the same light as violence done in other parts of the world, although the response must be different. In response to police brutality, love demands opposing power structures and believing, and fighting for, black communities (without appropriating or speaking over their voices). As all things are, this is complicated. But love and empathy first.

***This is an idea I have shamelessly appropriated and expanded upon. I first started thinking about it when one of my friends was giving a homily on processions in Catholicism. He said, "You can't have a procession of one. Either everyone goes, or no one goes," paraphrased. "No man an island" and all that.

The Ravished Cannot Leave

As often happens here on "The Journey that Matters," I have forgotten things I have blogged about. So, my apologies, dear friends, if I am repeating myself.

For one of my term papers this semester, I am using one of my favorite books/series as a case study. (I love being in programs where studying something you love is OK and you don't have to pick a specific topic.) For those of you who don't know, Catherynne Valente's Fairyland series is my most recent favorite. Four of the five books have been published, and a prologue online. They are published as middle range children's books--although no stories are only applicable to a specific age range. I am looking at fairy tales and the construction of definitions of "woman." (This may or may not change in the next 8 weeks. We'll see.)

But, on a completely unrelated note, the reasons I love this series are numerous. Valente approaches storytelling in a very postmodern way--stories are embedded in stories; the narrator speaks to the reader; nothing is really as it seems; foreshadowing exists, but mostly in literary allusions; the hero and the villain are not opposites but very similar--the list goes on and on. Like all good stories, it is, like Shrek, an onion. Layers upon layers. Story within story. One that you can return to time and again and learn more and have more adventures. Like September, the reader is in Fairyland on a Persephone visa.

And that's just it. Stories occupy a special place in human culture, as I'm sure I've mentioned. We return to stories all the time. We cannot help it. Like Persephone, we are bound to return. We can spend time away, but eventually we return. We all want to be stories--to be the heroes we read about. To have adventures. Storytelling is central to humanity. Stories tell us who we are, who we want to be, who we can be. They tell us what waits in the woods, and what is in space, and how to slay the dragon, and what is in the wardrobe or down the rabbit hole.

As the Doctor says, "we're all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"

The Long Durée

I've been thinking about my training in history lately, especially the idea of the long durée. For most of the last six years, I have been surrounded by students of history--or at least, on some level, in the general vicinity of them. This is the first time in my post-high school education when I have not been in a history program. And I'm starting to see how that has affected my way of thinking.

Students of history learn how to see processes, causation, correlation. We learn how to read and synthesize information quickly and accurately. We learn to see more that names, dates, and places. History is more than memorization of facts. Many of these aspects are only possible because most historians, now, have an understanding of history from a perspective of the long durée (or the long term, in English).

The long durée originated in the interwar period in economic history. The idea is that history cannot be studied as simply events in the short term. In order to understand how and why things happen, it is necessary to look at more than just the immediate causes. Imagine a picture: you only see what is happening in frame. You miss what led to those events and what is happening outside of the frame. The same is true of history. A picture of events doesn't show more than the immediate causes.

For example, a friend once asked me about the causes of the First World War. I told her that it was more complicated than she realized. The causes of the First World War, if you look at the short term, are mostly concerned with the politics around the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. But, in the long term, really go back to Napoleon, at least.

Coming back to the present, this idea affects how I think about the events we discuss in class. I know most of the other students think about things in some form of "long term" but I think it might mean something different to non-historians. In my race theory class, we talk about the socio-historical context. And everyone agrees that it is important when discussing current topics of race. But sometimes, my socio-historical context feels like it is much longer and deeper than others'. This is not a bad thing--we need diversity in experience or life would be boring. It's just that, sometimes, it's hard to remember that what I think of obvious context, or related ideas, is not that obvious. And by the time I remember and find a way to explain myself, the moment has passed. And I've been misinterpreted.

I'm not sure I had a point to this. It's just been something I've been thinking about. Studying history prepares you for so much, but it does not prepare you for changing disciplines. I can write and debate and explain ideas and draw connections and conclusions. But I cannot share the interconnected web of the past that I see as I am doing those things. And it's isolating.

[Other than this, life is going well. I really like my new job--a sign that things to tend to turn out for the best. Classes, overall, are going well. I'm working on my term papers now, so I'm sure I'll blog about them at some point. Thanks for reading what turned out to be more serious than I'd anticipated.]

Boston Pics!

Here it is folks! Pictures of the past 6 weeks or so! Finally.

This one is from late July when my dad and I came out to find me an apartment. This is Boston Harbor from the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library.

My dad and I outside the Faneuil Hall Marketplace. It was 90+ degrees out and we'd walked a lot that day.

My dad and I again. This time, it was late August, when I moved out here. I forget where we were.

 The inside of the Old North Church. The door to the steeple is behind the organ.

Inside the Museum of Fine Arts is a room in the salon style--where all the paintings are hung without curator remarks. This one is a recent acquisition and it is possible to stand almost where the painter's perspective is from. It was my favorite piece in the half we saw.

Selfie time! There was a fire alarm while we were at the MFA, so we all had to go outside.

The outside of the Museum of Fine Arts.

This is probably my second favorite painting we saw at the MFA (excluding Georgia O'Keefe). The donkey is the best.

My mom was there too! The three of us took a picture while killing some time on one of the piers at Boston Harbor. We all look pretty good!

The people I'm subletting from have two cats. The cats and I have an odd relationship. I still have the box on my floor. When it was hot, cat A (this one) would come in and sleep for hours at a time.

The "Make Way For Ducklings" statues in the Public Garden. The book takes place in Boston. Apparently, I have read this book.

The Swan Boats in the Public Garden. They've been owned and operated by the same family for like 100 years or something. They go around the pond and you can see geese and ducks and swans and stuff. It was a nice day when I went with the people I'm living with.

This last one I took the other day after working a 630a-1230p shift at Peet's Coffee (my new job). I really enjoy it. Although I look tired here. My fashion sense is a little more hipster than I would prefer, but it's comfortable and coffeeshop-esque.

That was quite a few pictures! I'll be taking more as the year goes on! I hope all of you are doing well!

Boston Update

Hello all! I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Things have been a bit hectic--moving, starting school, and starting a new job are all time and energy consuming. I have taken quite a few pictures but I have to get them off my phone and today is not going to be that day. Sorry!

I'm not sure I've specified what I'm doing. I'm currently living in Boston, attending Simmons College in the Gender and Cultural Studies MA program. Do to some SNAFUs I had to get a new job and I am currently working at a coffeeshop. I really enjoy it and it's something new and different. As far as school goes, my program is two years long. I'm taking the required gender theory course and a race theory course right now. Both of these are really interesting and I'm learning a lot already. (For example, lesbian communes are simultaneously the way to end the patriarchy and not the way to end the patriarchy. The truth resists simplicity.)

I'm making friends in my program and I like where I'm living. One of the hardest parts has been relying on public transportation to get places, instead of being able to go wherever I want almost whenever I want. Although I have some practice with that, it's still an adjustment.

This is a picture of the Washington Statue in the Boston Public Garden that I took a few weekends ago. More pictures soon I hope!

Retail Life: Part Two

As most of you know, I'm moving out to Boston to go back to school. I'm doing a MA in Gender and Cultural Studies at a small school. I leave tomorrow and I'm fairly certain I've packed everything. I've not blogged much recently because I've been working a lot. And before I start the next chapter, I'm going to take a look back at the last year.

Just under a year ago I got back from York and I didn't know what was next. After a few months of a rather drifting existence, I started working retail in November. I didn't know how long I'd be there--I figured just for the holidays. But nine months later, I still have the job and am lucky enough to be transferring to a different store out in Boston.

I've complained about work sometimes, but everyone does. More than anything, I've learned a lot. I've learned how to be proud of my work when that work isn't academic. I've learned about team endeavors that aren't athletic. I've expanded my experiences. That isn't to say the past nine months have just been a social experiment; I needed the job and I've earned enough to make quite a few loan payments. And I was good at it.

I enjoyed the work, most of the time. I didn't enjoy guests getting upset at me for things that were so far above my pay grade it's hilarious. I didn't enjoy picking up other people's slack. I didn't enjoy some of the excesses of consumerism. But, like always, I enjoyed a job well done, being physically tired at the end of the day, having my hard work recognized, interacting with other workers.

I know retail isn't my future. But it has impacted me in ways that I probably can't even realize. I've learned lessons about interacting with new people. I'm able to answer phones and call people without freaking out (most of the time).

I was also able to use skills I've learned elsewhere to succeed at work. Growing up, my dad always told me to "run with authority" when I played sports. I've mentioned before my belief in "fake it till you make it", but this is applicable to retail too. If you act like you know what you're doing and make plans for the day with confidence, people listen and have confidence things will get done. There is a trick to it though. If you act like you know what you're doing, you actually have to learn what you're doing, because people will trust you to do more.

Another lesson I learned growing up was to do more than half a job. Saturday mornings would often include a conversation on emptying the clean dishwasher in our house. The job often fell to me, and being the literalist I was as a kid, I would empty the dishwasher; completely ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink. And then my parents would tell me, often a few minutes later, that I hadn't finished. Translate to the past year: given a task, such a "zone bras", I didn't just pick up and rehang stuff, I super zoned, putting everything in it's place. A job well done the first time will often result in less work. (Think of those classroom posters: "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over.")

The last lesson I learned growing up that was helpful these past few months has been to never say "no". The first rule of improv is "never say no". I'm not good at acting and I'm positive I'd be terrible on stage. But it's a good rule of thumb. I'm not advocating being a "Yes man", but there is something to saying "sure I can do that" when you are asked to do something at work. Even "I'll try to get it done" is better than "no". "Never say no" is about being willing to do more, be more. Live more.

Last November, if asked about how I thought the year would play out, I'm not sure what I would've said. But I know I wouldn't've been able to predict how much this job has impacted me. And, although some of them will never know, I would like to thank all the people I worked with for making life enjoyable for the last nine months. I've truly enjoyed working with you and I wish you all the best.

The Key

"For me context is the key - from that comes the meaning of everything."--Kenneth Noland

This quote is one of my favorites. In finding the exact wording, however, I found the original speaker: Kenneth Noland. A 20th Century American abstract painter. Context is incredibly important in everything. It struck me first as a little odd but then as exceedingly fitting to abstract art.

Abstract art has a complicated reputation. People either "get it" or they don't. Many people don't see the point. I used to be one of them. Now, for two reasons, I rather like abstract art. First, you don't have to understand art for it to have meaning. It is the result of a creative endeavor that has been produced by a person. It is because it is. (I realize this is circular reasoning and a rather large logical fallacy.) Second, abstract art is just that. Abstract. Each piece means something different to everyone who experiences it. Like the wind. Or love. Now, you may interpret a painting as just some splotches of paint on a canvas. You may interpret it as the visual representation of a bridge or rain or hope.

This is where context comes in. The painter may have created something abstract because there are no words, or even pictures, that can capture what they want.

This also happens with language. While it is malleable, language is incredibly confining. Pain, for example. Doctors ask, at least in America, to rate pain on a scale of ten. If all your life you've only experienced minor injuries, your definition of what "10" is will be significantly less than someone who's broken their femur or experienced childbirth. Brian Regan, a comedian, has a bit about pain and hospitals, available here.

My point is language is dependent on who is speaking. When I say to my friends, "You're a dork", I don't mean that to be an insult. I generally mean something along the lines of: "I like you. You are funny. The things that make you you are interesting." When I say to my friends, "You're an idiot with a stupid face" (not that I say that but I think it an awful lot), I mean something closer to, "You are one of my favorite people and I miss you." Neither of these statements are said with malice, but they well could be. Context, though, defines their interpretation.

This is not limited to language. I visualize most things, even non-visual things, as snapshots. Every interaction is a polaroid and my brain is littered with them--taped across the walls of my self, scattered across my mental floor, woven into the quilt I wrap my consciousness in to sleep. The stark white borders separating experiences in some places, but in others, I've cut off the borders and taped pictures together to form a whole. The smell of freshly brewed coffee has two notable pictures: one from elementary school and one of my grandparents. The pictures of York are borderless and stitched together haphazardly; they spread across my mind like dandelions in a yard.

Meaning is derived from context. A fact has meaning because it was chosen and because it is being used. Nothing exists in a vacuum. Who we are is defined by our experiences. The language we use, and the definitions of the words therein, are defined by people over time.

Context provides depth. It is the difference between wading in a puddle and swimming in the ocean.

Retail Life

The thing about working retail is that it makes you, at least in my experience, more understanding. There is nothing to make you nicer to other retail workers than dealing with jerks. From angry people on the phone to screaming children to people who leave things where they don't belong (either two inches away from its proper space or the other side of the store). You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their cashier.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, "You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him." While I wouldn't say retail workers can do nothing for the people in the stores, the idea remains. If you are rude, your cashier isn't going to go out of their way to help you. If you demand the worker "look in the back" for something, you're not getting what you're looking for. If you get mad at the person on the phone trying to transfer you to the correct department, well, they aren't going to try terribly hard to connect you. And I'm sorry. That's probably not what you want to hear. But, you might say, I'm the customer, I'm always right. Sorry Charlie. You're not.

Picking up after people is not my job. I don't get paid to pick up empty beverage cups or the toys left in my area. I don't get paid to fold the clothes you decide to leave inside out on the top of hanging racks yards away from where they belong. There are fitting rooms if you want to try something on. It is not job security for me. It is simply more work. "Keeping the salesfloor looking neat" is not the same as "picking up after guests".

This is reading a lot like a rant. And I guess it sort of is. I know most of you aren't the kind to act this way. I wasn't raised to treat people that way, and if I didn't own it, I wasn't supposed to touch it. (I will admit, there are times when kindness and understanding is not possible, but, generally, kindness helps.)

And that brings me to my point. I have a life philosophy that we are here to make life easier for others. Not, like, in massive self sacrificing ways. Because you do need to take care of yourself first; like on airplanes, put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. But in little ways that are not hard and don't detract from your quality of life. Like saying hello to you cashier before you tell them how many of something you have. Saying thank you when someone tells you they'll transfer you to the person you want.

People don't often. Which is why I'm not terribly surprised when, at least in America, we still have to fight for basic rights. If you help someone, or increase their quality of life, you are not losing something. It's not like you have a limited supply of "thank you's" and rights are not zero sum.

Working retail has shown me a number of reasons to despair about society. But it also gives me hope. Talking to my work friends, who deal with the same people and are tired of the same things, but who are still nice and kind when it matters, who are, by and large, good people, balances out the bad. I've learned a lot about myself and about people working retail.

So, how do you treat your cashier?

Transmedia Narratives

As most of you have probably grasped at this point, I love narratives. And, once again, I'm going to blog about them.

I know I've blogged about the "Lizzie Bennet Diaries" and "Emma Approved" (which, if you've not watched one or both, do yourself a favor and start). This time, I want to discuss "Green Gables Fables" and "Classic Alice".

First, "Green Gables Fables".

When I was in elementary school, we had reading programs that were based on "reading levels" and I hated them. I liked reading OK but the idea of having to take a quiz after reading a book was stupid. Who cares what Character A did in chapter 4 when it has no bearing on the meaning of the book? Part of my problem, I realized, was my reading level was above grade level, and eventually, higher than the books in the library. In short, I was bored. Then, in sixth grade, my mom introduced my to "Anne of Green Gables" and the other six books in the series. And I was hooked. (In hindsight, most of the books I read prior to Anne were about boys, and, really, how was I supposed to be interested?) In the last decade, I've learned a lot of people have read the first book, but not the rest. And the last one is amazing.

As you might be able to guess, "Green Gables Fables" is a modern-day retelling. The transmedia aspects are extremely well done. The second season is starting soon--but the Twitter accounts are still tweeting. I love how they've taken the characters from the late 19th Century and put them in the 21st Century. I'm looking forward to the upcoming videos.

Second, "Classic Alice".

As opposed to the other three series I've mentioned, "Classic Alice" is a completely different take on classic novels. In the series, Alice is a college student who wants to be a writer. In order to write more realistic stories, she reads books and lives according to the stories. Which is more difficult than you might imagine. Like the other series, the creators of "Classic Alice" have made Twitter accounts and such for the characters. The accounts keep the story going in between the videos. Of course, following them on Twitter isn't necessary to understand the story arcs, but it doesn't hurt.

One of the things I like best about "Classic Alice" is the commitment to the fans, and the fans commitment to the series. Both the series I've written about this time have had fundraiser campaigns to be able to fund further "seasons", and while I'm not in a place where I can support them (I hope to be eventually), a lot of people are. And I love that. People see something, like the thing, and, when the thing needs support, support it because they want more of the thing.

"Classic Alice" recently passed a follower milestone and decided to offer a free transmedia experience to anyone who signed up. Of course I was intrigued. So I filled out the form, including the character I want to learn more about (Cara, if you're wondering). The transmedia experience is diary entries--the first of which was mailed to me, the rest will be email.

And this is why I'm excited. New ways of telling stories are always exciting. Instead of just reading about the characters, or seeing them in a vlog, transmedia series allow the "viewer" to see more of the characters. With the twist in "Classic Alice" we can see how a fictional character interprets classic literature and how the lessons/ideas in those books can be translated into modern times.

Of course, I'm not making any original points here. I just want to share how cool it is. There is an excellent TEDx talk on the topic, and how it relates to our lives available here. So, go forth friends, and watch some vlogs!

Big News

So. I've not blogged recently. Oops. But, I've some big news, if not exactly recent news. In the fall I will be returning to school. Yay! I'm doing a Masters program at Simmons College out in Boston. Yay new places! It is in Gender and Cultural Studies and I'm super excited. I'm excited to go to a new place and meet new people and learn new things.

To answer a few questions: No, I've never been to Boston (although my dad and I are going out for a couple days next week). Yes, I already have a Masters degree. No, two isn't too many; if anything, one isn't enough.

But, you say, why this program? What's interesting about Gender and Cultural Studies? Everything, I say. It is interdisciplinary and looks at related fields to determine why we are the way we are. What our story is and how we tell it.

I can't explain it well, but, hopefully, I'll be able to explain it more as time passes.

1776

One of my favorite musicals is 1776, which, as you might be able to guess, is about the Continental Congress' decision for American independence. And, other than the singing and dancing, it is incredibly accurate. I originally say 1776 at Ford's Theatre in 2012. I then listened to the film's soundtrack and have since watched parts of the 1972 film. (Notably, John Adams is portrayed by William Daniels, and seeing Mr. Feeny sing and dance is excellent.)

There are a few instances where historical accuracy is fudged for dramatic reasons, which is always the case. Some of the characterizations are manipulated--composites made of various men, later personalities imposed on younger men. Some members of the Congress are not included. Conversations within meetings of the Congress are largely based on later writings of what occurred or conjecture.

The songs are the best part. From the hilarity of "The Lees of Old Virginia" to the tragedy of "Mama Look Sharp" to the brutality of "Molasses to Rum". With a couple of others, these are my favorite songs. "The Lees of Old Virginia" is funny--it's light-hearted and comedic--and provides a plethora of adverbs. "Molasses to Rum" details the Triangle Trade that dominated the trans-atlantic economy.

If you are looking for an unconventional way to celebrate Independence Day this year, I would greatly suggest listening to the soundtrack.

Tis Better

I read a lot, which isn't truly surprising. Currently, I'm actively reading three books but I think I have bookmarks in around five. A few years ago, I stumbled upon a book called The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett. The synopsis sounded good so I bought it. It was just as good as it had promised to be. I suggest you all read it.

Near the end, one of the main characters, Cecilia, says


I wanted to sit down in the middle of the road and stay there for the rest of my life. Whenever someone came by and said, Hey, Cecilia, what're you doing there in the road, I'd tell them, missing people was a full-time job, being sorry about what was gone was going to take every waking minute now, so much time and energy that I had no choice but to stay right on that spot until they all decided to come back.


That quote has stuck with me. When I miss people, I want to sit down and let the world turn around me. "Missing people is a full-time job." It takes all your energy just to continue to breath without them and any other form of action is unthinkable. I couldn't do that forever, but I could for a while. And it isn't just missing people who have died, although they are included. It is missing people who are far away, who you are used to having near you. After a time though, I realize, like Cecilia, "I couldn't wait for them. They weren't coming back." It is impossible to regain what has been lost. Trying to regain it will only lead to more heartache.

There is another quote I've found from Liars I quite like as well, "People die, terrible things happen. I know this now. You can't pick up and leave everything behind because there is too much sadness in the world and not enough places to go." Grief is inescapable. We carry it with us, as much as we carry happiness.

And that is the trouble with grief. Even if we are grieving for people who are still alive but far away rather than dead. The sorrow is always there, just waiting in the wings for some little thing to cue it's entrance. And then the world stops. You are incapable of moving, of speaking, of doing anything other than sit down and cry for what was. And not just tears, but shuddering breaths and body-wracking sobs, like a tidal wave on dry land. You think you've moved through the stages of grief to acceptance.

After you accept loss, after denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, what then? You accept, but what do you do with the gaping wound in your chest? Knowing despite the pain, you wouldn't trade a minute spent with those you miss for anything.

I wish I knew what to do in the face of missing people. But I don't. All I know is the world keeps turning, the sun will rise tomorrow, the grand narrative of humanity does not care about our intrapersonal turmoil. The best thing to do is keep living, and if that means sometimes just stopping to miss people, I guess I'm OK with that.

It Takes All Kinds

One of my mom's sayings is "it takes all kinds". I don't know if it's one of her favorites, but it probably is. The point of the saying is that in order for society to function, we need all sorts of people--even the ones we dislike or disagree with. No one person is better than any other, and it is necessary to understand that.

There are many personality types, and various metrics. One of the most often used is introvert/extrovert. Another is the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, in which introvert/extrovert is included. There are 16 personality types in the MBTI. The Keirsey Temperament Sorter is similar but more focused on behavior and temperament. The different sets of 16 personality types correlate to each other but are not synonymous.

I am an INFP, although depending on when I take the test, and which free online version, can change a bit. Although I am always IN. INFP stands for introversion, intuition, feeling, perception and is classified as "Healer" in the Keirsey Sorter. Focused internally and on the abstract rather than on social situations and specifics.

I am sharing this because I've written a post about grief and loss and my personality demands I clarify writing something I rarely vocalize. I often find it difficult to put ideas into spoken words. I communicate difficult ideas better on paper (or screen), when I have time to think about what I am saying, my word choice, and how I connect ideas. Meaning is difficult to vocalize. I get frustrated when the spoken word is not enough to convey what I see in my mind.

Think about it like this: when you have a song stuck in your head, like a symphony, or film score, or any acapella song, you hear all the different melodies and harmonies in your head, but, once you find yourself singing aloud, you are reduced to one line. And only being able to vocalize one line out of many diminishes the song. Think the "1812 Overture" without the cannons. Or "Hedwig's Theme" from Harry Potter without the string section. Or most of Straight No Chaser's "Twelve Days of Christmas".

Or think about it like this: have you ever tried to take a picture of a sunset? Or a lake? Or the ocean? Or the moon? It never turns out like you see it. It lacks detail and precision. The camera is a machine and can never fully capture what we see. I take a picture of the moon, wanting to send it to you. But it turns out a spot of light in the dark. Able to communicate light in the dark, but not "Isn't this beautiful. I saw it and thought of you. I hope you're well. I wish you were here."

It is like a joke or story that "you had to be there" to find funny.

What I see or feel, I cannot adequately speak. I leave words to others, who are more suited to it than I. I hope this makes sense. But I am one kind: you are another. We need each other.

It's About the People

Today's topic is humanism. I've mentioned it a bit in passing and have decided it needs its own post. Other than quotes and definitions, the ideas are my interpretations. I'm focusing on secular humanism, which is based in Enlightenment and free-thought ideas, rather than any of a number of other specific versions of humanism. Although, like all belief systems, humanism changes depending on who you ask. And it is definitely something I suggest looking more into.

According to the definition on Google, humanism is:


An outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.


Humanism is people centric. There is no deity or higher power. No clockmaker god. Nothing. But that is not to say humanism rejects the divine or supernatural. Religion has its purpose and gives people something to believe in. Everyone needs something to believe in. Humanists believe in people: "I have known many good people who did not believe in God. But I have never known a human being who was good who did not believe in people" (John Lovejoy Elliott).

In many ways, a belief in humanism makes many discussions of religion redundant. What people believe in is less important than what they do. In one of my college classes, Religion in American Life, we discussed this topic. What people believe is not as important as what that belief makes them do. "Life has no meaning a priori...It is up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing but the meaning that you choose" (Jean-Paul Sartre).

I've written before about finding comfort being small in the enormity of the universe. Although alone, I am still connected to humanity.

Humanism "requires an affirmative philosophy...translated into a life devoted to one's own improvements and the service of all mankind" (Corliss Lamont). The aim is to make life "better" for everybody. The idea that "a rising tide lifts all boats" is close to that idea. The phrase tends to refer only to economic situations, and even then it's validity is questionable. In humanism, the aim is to lift the boats of all people, in every situation, in every way possible.

The quote I'm going to close with is about faith in different things. I want you all to understand, I know religion is very helpful for many people, including myself, but it has also caused an enormous amount of harm to many people as well. I don't want to diminish any belief system, we each need one. And so, as Joss Whedon said, "Faith in God means believing absolutely in something with no proof whatsoever. Faith in humanity means believing absolutely in something with a huge amount of proof to the contrary."

Hearing and Listening

One of my favorite quotes is, "I know you think you understand what you thought I said but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant" (Alan Greenspan). It is truly amazing how often this happens. It's like that game "Telephone", where you pass a whispered phrase around a circle and see how close the end result is.

Sometimes, the translation happens because you are saying something to someone who isn't familiar with you. Communicating with strangers is hard because we each have our own specific vernacular. Add in regional pronunciation and vernacular, and sometimes communication is neigh impossible.

Sometimes, you can't articulate your thoughts. This happens to me a lot. And it is very frustrating. Trying to say something, or explain a thought, but not being understood. Knowing the scaffolding behind a statement, but not being able to explain the structure. Referencing a past event, or a piece of information, but not conveying it well.

I don't think anybody responds well to this kind of misunderstanding. I know I don't. I get frustrated easily and when I meet the barrier of understanding, too often I just stop trying. Which is obviously unhelpful. My problem, I think, is that I think what I'm saying, and how it should be understood, is obvious and if the person I'm speaking with doesn't get it, they are doing it on purpose. They aren't most of the time.

That's the difference between hearing and listening. When you simply "hear" what someone says, there is more room for misunderstanding. "I'm hearing you" can mean "I see your point of view and understand it but" or "I hear you making noise in the form of words but". "Listening", I find, has less misinterpretation. If you actually listen to what someone is saying and understand what isn't said, their meaning is clearer.

Listening takes patience and is hard, but it is a worthy endeavor. We have to understand what people are saying and what they mean and why they are saying that. We need to actually care about each other, instead of merely waiting until it is our turn to speak again.

Non-Classical Poetry, Part 4 Update

So, a while ago, I wrote a post on the poem 'Dear Woman'. I love it as you may remember. Today, I saw the picture of the page in the book I linked to again, this time with the author's name: Michael Reid. It is part of a larger book called Dear Woman. I wanted to update you all on this. I hope to read more of his work at some point.

American Sisyphus

The other day, I was watching segments from Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. One of the most recent ones is on paid family leave. Like many of the segments, I knew a bit of the subject matter before watching, but Oliver puts topics in such stark terms, my understanding of the situation is clarified. In this case, I knew the state of paid family leave in the US is dismal but, wow.

Often working moms are criticized for not spending enough time with their kids. As the child of a working mother, this is nonsense. There are probably some moms who don't or can't balance time well and my mom made us her priority. But, some working moms can't spend as much time with their kids, because, sometimes, the choice is financial. When choosing between spending time with your kid and earning money so that kid can eat, be clothed, and have a home, there is no choice. Just a terrible situation.

The situation is even worse for new moms. The only two countries in the world that do not guarantee paid time off for new mothers are the United States and Papua New Guinea. That's it. Just the two. In the whole world. Yes, some offer more than others. Yes, I'm sure there are other considerations. But there is at least some legal provision guaranteeing paid maternity leave.

The only federal provision in the US is the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993. According to the Department of Labor fact sheet:


The FMLA entitles eligible employees of covered employers to take unpaid, job-protected leave for specified family and medical reasons with continuation of group health insurance coverage under the same terms and conditions as if the employee had not taken leave. Eligible employees are entitled to:

Twelve workweeks of leave in a 12-month period for:
the birth of a child and to care for the newborn child within one year of birth...


There are other state-level laws, but all the laws combine don't cover 40% of the women in the workforce. Temporary employees or contractors and part-time employees who qualify for insurance don't receive any guarantees. The women most impacted by this situation are minority women who are already socially and economically disadvantaged.

For as much as people profess to love mothers, they sure don't act like it, especially legislators. And this isn't like the issue of maternity/paternity/family leave in the US is new. This is a continuing failure. But, apparently, this is a "do as I say and not as I do" situation. We should love our mothers, and all mothers, but not actually do anything to show that we care for them or want them to thrive.

I think what is truly disappointing about this is that the lack of guaranteed family leave in the US is not even surprising to me. As I have become increasingly aware, women are still second-class citizens in this country. So, abhorrent treatment of women across the board is unsurprising. "Land of opportunity" they tell us. Without telling us about the terms and conditions: if you are anything less than a straight white male, you might as well be Sisyphus.



Sources:
http://www.dol.gov/whd/fmla/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/05/11/john-oliver-mothers_n_7254924.html

Grace in Failing

You have probably realized by now I like to write about things that make me excited, especially when I don't have any real life stories to share. (And I've have a lack of those and pictures to share recently.) Today, however, I am torn. I have two blogs I could write, and I might write both. Actually, I probably will. My dilemma: writing about the new Avengers film or about paid family leave: Superhero movie vs. actual societal problem. Let's go with Avengers.

Avengers: Age of Ultron is currently the biggest movie in America, and I think the world. I saw it over the weekend. I loved it. And, yes, there were problems. But it was still good. Marvel and Joss Whedon have been catching a lot of flack for some of those faults. And yes, there are legitimate criticisms. The lack of Black Widow merchandise for one. It's sad that I now am more surprised when I see Black Widow on the plethora of Avengers products than when I don't. And honestly, she's probably the best. Also, where is my Black Widow movie?

I'm going to try to avoid spoilers, so I am going to avoid some of the more controversial parts of the movie, but, suffice to say, I think a complex view, thorough understanding of the characters is needed and simply condemning the entire franchise, and every one who is a part of it, is wrong and unfair. I'm not apologizing for a lack of female characters, just that we shouldn't be so quick to judge.

I loved the music. What makes a movie, most often for me, is the music. There were a lot of musical callbacks to earlier Marvel films which help tie the universe together. I also liked the cinematography. And the dialogue.

There are a few lines that stand out. One of my favorites in these movies is Captain America/Steve Rogers. In the first Captain America movie, he says, "I don't like bullies; I don't care where they're from." Which, honestly, is a fantastic line. In this film, he says, "Every time someone tries to stop a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time." Again, fantastic. We get to see a superhero who cares about collateral damage and he is not OK with it. Captain America is an idealist who only knows war. He knows that to win battles, teamwork is necessary, which everyone but Stark seems to mostly get. Rogers knows the Avengers need to prove themselves. This is why, I believe, early in the movie Thor's hammer almost moves for him--he is almost worthy.

One of the other lines I love is said late in the movie, in one of the final confrontations:


"Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that."
"They're doomed!"
"Yes... but a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts..."


Many times in life we try to hold onto things we love and find beautiful; we try to order our lives to make sense of the chaos of the universe. Change needs to be accepted although it is hard. I admit, I am not very good with change. Disorder is difficult. Honestly. Life is hard but that doesn't mean it isn't beautiful. The idea of grace in failing calls to a humanist understanding of the world. E. O. Wilson said, "If those committed to the quest fail, they will be forgiven. When lost, they will find another way. The moral imperative of humanism is the endeavor alone, whether successful or not, provided the effort is honorable and failure memorable."

Avengers: Age of Ultron is about superheroes regaining their humanity. While there are explosions and fights, there is also a battle raging for their souls. And, when they've won the physical battle--war really--against the villain, they still are fighting for their souls, their humanity.


******Spoiler Alert*********


I wanted to include this earlier, but, you know, spoiler alert. While Thor's hammer moves slightly for Steve Rogers, The Vision is able to  pick it up. Although young, he can lift the hammer because he believes in humanity and finds grace in failure. This may also be the case for Rogers, and maybe he can lift the hammer as well. I don't know, I've not thought most of this through past this point.

Drowning in a Sea of Pink

In one of my high school English classes we discussed the difference between "connotation" and "denotation". Denotation being the dictionary definition of a word--what something actually means. ("Actually" here being used with the understanding that all meaning is created.) Connotation being the ideas or feelings associated with a word. For example, pink.

Pink, by definition, is the color between red and white. But pink has many connotations. According to the dictionary on my computer's dashboard, "pink" as an adjective can also mean, in a derogatory sense, "having or showing left-wing tendencies"; or "associated with homosexuals" (which I will get to later); or, historically, a type of ship.

Escaping my dashboard dictionary, "pink" in society often equals "girl". It hasn't always been that way. Until the late 1940s, the "rules" for color associations and babies were fluid. Pink being cited as "more manly" was for boys and blue "associated with girls since the Virgin Mary is customarily dressed in blue." Whatever the reasons, the current color situation didn't appear until after the Second World War.

Once article I found states,


Regardless of the original connotations of the two colors, it's clear that they've now reversed their earlier meanings and that pink is much more associated with girls now, and vice versa for blue. There have been some studies that suggest that women just "naturally" like pink better, and that blue is a color that men prefer innately. Other suggest that the now current color consensus, which appears to have materialized int he 1950s, came from the Nazis branded gays with pink triangles in their concentration camps.


Not to say that is a perfect quote, but it works. I feel confident is forwarding the theory that pink is associated with girls because of a choice made by Hitler. Now, I'm not saying the current gendered color situation is directly caused by Hitler, but it cannot be coincidental either.

Which brings me to my point: pink being solely associated with girls and many products aimed at girls and women being available only in pink is stupid.

I've been working at a local Target to earn some money while I figure out what I'm doing with my life, and I work in the clothing section most of the time. Until I started, I did not understand how much of the baby stuff and toddler/kids clothing was gendered. The amount of pink in the girls sections is sickening. (There are other colors available, but only in pastels.) Perhaps the "pink product" that is the worst, is the pink nasal aspirator. In the same section, there are other basic baby care tools that also come in pink. The originals are white. The pink versions are all more expensive, another point I will return to.

The other day, a co-worker and I were working in the baby section and talking about the amount of pink, specifically pink bottles. I held that it was stupid for basic baby products to be gendered like that. She said that people want the gender of their baby to be obvious to others. First, what business is it of anyone else the gender of a stranger's baby. Second, why does it matter?

Answer: it shouldn't, but, disgustingly, it does. Society trains us to think pink=girls. Limiting girls to almost a single choice, although that is slowly changing, diminishes them and strengthens the status quo.

Pink products are not limited to girls either. There are pink products for women too: razors, ear plugs, shoes, bicycles, and many other everyday products. Perhaps the two most astonishing, to me, are pink guns (like it matters the color of the thing you're using to shoot bullets) and pink pens. Yes, pink pens. Because women need special pens.

This trend is economically discriminatory as well. Women's products cost more across the board--known as the Pink Tax. Other than in California, which banned gender-discriminatory pricing in 1995, women's products cost more. (At least in the US, but I'm sure the same holds true across most of the Western World.) And it's not just lotion and deodorant. It's dry cleaning and health insurance; the latter because women tend to live longer than men. Remember that nasal aspirator? 2 cents more expensive than the gender neutral white one. That may seem like nothing, but it is indicative of the larger problem. Women are charged more and are paid less.

My last point, and the catalyst for this post, is the use of pink as the color for breast cancer. And I get it, most cancers have colors associated with them for awareness, and even other illnesses. But, the most associated, known, whatever, one is pink for breast cancer. And the name most tied to that association is the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for more cancer awareness and prevention measures. I just don't think having pink ribbons everywhere is helpful anymore. Or professional athletes, almost all of them men, wearing pink shoes or socks or jerseys is raising awareness.

Last night, I was watching a baseball game. And for Mother's Day (a completely made-up commercial holiday) the players were wearing pink, all to support breast cancer awareness.

On this topic I have two points. First, this kind of "pinkwashing" isn't helpful. Companies can that make products or deal in products that increase the risk of cancer in everyone can buy good public opinion by donating money from some pink product. It is stupid and unhelpful. A gesture meant to make people feel good without doing any actual good. Instead of making a specialty product, why not stop fracking?

Second, many of the breast cancer awareness campaigns are based on "Save the Ta-Tas" or "Save Third Base"--statements which are incredibly harmful. They focus on breasts, and only sexualized breasts, instead of women. It is offensive. The logical trend from "pink" to "women" to "breast" to "object" is distressing. As they have been for centuries, women and their bodies are commodities to be bought and sold.

If you have read this entire post, thank you. And now, I ask one more thing: when confronted with the choice between a gendered product and a non-gendered product, choose the latter. There is the theory that products are only made because people buy them. Conscientious consumerism is hard but anything worth doing is hard and this is possibly the only way to effect change.

Sources:
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/when-did-girls-start-wearing-pink-1370097/?all

http://forgottenhistoryblog.com/pink-wasnt-always-considered-a-feminine-color-and-blue-wasnt-always-masculine/

http://www.businessinsider.com/womens-products-more-expensive-than-mens-2015-4

http://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2014/10/21/komen-is-supposed-to-be-curing-breast-cancer-so-why-is-its-pink-ribbon-on-so-many-carcinogenic-products/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jessica-s-holmes/breast-cancer-awareness_b_1988050.html

The American Dream

I cannot remember if I have written about the American Dream. I'm sure I have, or, at least, I have discussed it with some of you. No matter. I am going to write about it again. And it's going to be long.

A more apt title for this would have been "The Death of the American Dream" but that seems a little pessimistic. The sister post for this one is "The Cost of Education" and what I write here should be read with that post in mind.

First, a little background on the term "The American Dream". According to Wikipedia: "In the definition of the American Dream by James Truslow Adams in 1931, 'life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement' regardless of social class or circumstances of birth.'" The full quote from Adams' Epic of America reads


But there has been also the American dream, that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for every man, with opportunity for each according to his ability or achievement. It is a difficult dream for the European upper classes to interpret adequately, and too many of us ourselves have grown weary and mistrustful of it. It is not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.


I find this definition has been lost over time. Since the end of World War II, the American Dream has been owning a house, having a good-paying job, marriage, and kids--with some variation. But it is the idea of the "self-made man", with limited definitions of what "making it" and "success" mean.

The meritocracy of Adams' definition has been infected with money--leading to a far more class-based society than I believe he imagined. Social mobility, and the belief that it is attainable have decreased. In  the article"the American Myth of Social Mobility", the author states


Many cite education as the key to socioeconomic mobility, and there the inequalities in the American educational system clearly play a role. For example, the United States Department of Education has shown that the highest performing eighth graders from low socioeconomic backgrounds have about the same chance of completing a bachelors degree as the lowest performing eighth graders from high socioeconomic backgrounds. Translation: When it comes to higher education, the amount to money your parents have is much more critical than academic potential, and higher education is a  key to socioeconomic mobility.


And this is the part that relates to "The Cost of Education" post: Education is expensive and without it, it is impossible to "make it", whatever that means.

One of the defining features of American society has generally been the size of the middle class. But recently, it has shrunk, or at least been perceived to have shrunk. As you can read about here. The age group most affected by this: 18-29 year olds. This is due in large part because real wages have stagnated. Meaning, pay increases have not kept pace with inflation--not even taking the price of goods into account. In this article, Drew Desilver says


But after adjusting for inflation, today's average hourly wage has just about the same purchasing power as it did in 1979...in real terms, the median has barely budged over that period [1979-2014]. What gains have been made, have gone to the upper income brackets Since 2000, usual weekly wages have fallen 3.7% (in real terms) among workers in the lowest tenth of the earnings distribution, and 3% among the lowest quarter. But among people near the top of the distribution, real wages have risen 9.7%.


It is getting more difficult in this country to live if you are not wealthy. And if you are not wealthy and go to college to get a job that will allow you to climb the social ladder, you will pay and be saddled with loans, and have difficulties finding a job. Which leads to underemployment.

This article may be from 2014, but the point it makes remains the same. In August 2014, the "real" unemployment rate was 12.6%. That means, when the article was written, there were almost the same number of people marginally employed as were unemployed during the height of the Great Depression. Added to this, most of these workers are earning something near minimum wage.

I searched "current living wage in us" in Google and was presented with this statement:


A single-mother with two children earning the federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour needs to work 125 hours per week, more hours than there are in a 5-day week, to earn a living wage. The living wage varies based on the cost of living and taxes where families live.


The first link under that search leads to this article, which says


The minimum wage does not provide a living wage for most American families. A typical family of four (two working adults, two children) needs to work more than 3 full-time minimum-wage jobs (a 68-hour work week per working adult) to earn a living wage. Across all family sizes, the living wage exceeds the poverty threshold, often used to identify need.


There are efforts to increase the minimum wage, but it is hard not to think that is merely a band-aid on a bullet wound.

As a historian, I know the struggles workers have experienced to get fair pay. I know the living conditions. I know the hope. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free" No longer are those masses just immigrants from foreign lands, they are our neighbors, our friends, our families, ourselves. We need massive change to reclaim the American Dream.

The Cost of Education

We all know school is expensive. No matter how you slice it, in America, higher education is getting more expensive. Even though President Obama recently introduced a plan to make the first two years of community college free to students, the problem will continue.

[Disclaimer: I was able to get through my undergraduate degree without student loans, but only because my parents are exceptionally generous and planned to help me go to school. Also, my grandparents left me some money when they died, which I put towards school.]

This isn't meant to be a self-indulgent rant. I acknowledge my choices in going to a private school for my BA and abroad for my MA, which is now presenting some pricey hoops to jump through to continue my education/career. And I'm not trying to garner sympathy. I am saying, as many have, this is a serious problem.

For how much we as a culture say we value education, it doesn't show. My generation, and the generations before and after me, have been told we could be anything and do anything we want when we grow up. That hard work and perseverance will get us the jobs of our dreams. That a college education is the ticket to success. The G.I. Bill, passed in 1944, provided for World War II veterans to go to university or obtain vocational education. Since then, college--from community to Ive League--has been the step after high school for a lot of people. I'm not disputing the importance placed on further education. (Although, not every career needs the same kind of preparation and classroom learning is not the best environment for everyone.)

My point is, if we value education so much, why does it cost so much? I'm sure at this point you want to point out that private education always is more expensive and it is a choice. I acknowledge that, but I have a larger point, because state universities are also increasing tuition costs.

As most people go to school, institutions must get bigger, from more buildings to more faculty and staff. And buildings and salaries are not cheap.

One of my favorite TV shows, The West Wing, has a plot line devoted to the cost of college. It starts with this clip, during one of my favorite episodes. Over the course of the next few episodes, spoiler alert, they make part of college tuition a tax deduction. This wouldn't solve problems in the real world. And I'm almost positive the current government would not even consider something like this. But we need a new system. This one is unfair. And costs more than just money. And is seriously broken.

As with all broken things that involve money, there are outside interests that are deeply invested in keeping the status quo. Rich people are greedy. Society could change, and it would be slow, but it would be different. Keeping the student loan system, and how it works and even entire educational system and beliefs thereof is impossible.

Some people might tell me to calm down and wait until my generation is in charge. But I'm telling you no. I'm angry and it is a righteous anger. If I wait for government to change, I will be waiting close to forever. The average age of Congress is 57, and with a 96% incumbency rate, I don't even want to know how long it will take before change can happen. The Occupy Wall Street movement may have had its problems, but it also had a point. We are told to study what we love, but when we do, we are penalized.

The pursuit of knowledge should be exalted. As a society we cannot continue to punish people who want to learn, even if what they study is not "useful". We cannot demand college degrees or graduate degrees for careers that do not need them. We cannot attach an anchor to our future in the form of ever-increasing student debt.

Non-Classical Poetry, Part 4

Part 4 is a rather drastic departure from Parts 1-3, and the original post, as far as I can tell, can be found here.

Dear Woman,

Sometimes

You'll just be too much woman.

Too smart,

Too beautiful,

Too strong.

Too much of something

That makes a man feel like less of a man,

Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a woman.

The biggest mistake you can make

Is removing jewels from your crown

To make it easier for a man to carry.

When this happens, I need you to understand,

You do not need a smaller crown--

You need a man with bigger hands.

I love this one because it helps me remember that I should not diminish myself when I am too much for someone else. I am lucky to have always been told this--at least by my parents. And recently, by many other people. But many women are not. You can see this in the plethora of products and advertisements and advice that tell women to be different, to change themselves to fit men's idea of woman.

I have also been told that I have no control over other people's emotions. Now, that is not entirely true, my words and actions have consequences. But, overall, I do not control what people feel. And the same holds true for all people, especially women. Women are pressured to become less themselves to conform to society's ideals. But that is not fair. Should not we be who we are and demand society change?

There is a TEDx talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie at TEDxEuston that I especially love. She raises many of the same points. The talk is available on YouTube and you should all watch it. She says,

And then we do a much greater disservice to girls because we raise them to cater to fragile egos of men. We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller...But what if we question the premise itself? Why should a woman's success be a threat to a man...A Nigerian acquaintance once asked me if I was worried that men would be intimidated by me. I was not worried at all. In fact it had not occurred to me to be worried because a man who will be intimidated by me is exactly the kind of man I would have no interest in.


These ideas are important. We should not change to fit the world. We should change the world to fit us.

Non-Classical Poetry, Part 3

Part 3 is similar to Part 2 and the original, as far as I can tell, can be found here.

"Your generation would probably 'livetweet' the apocalyspe" you
say, and you laugh
You mean it as an insult, and I understand,
Or you don't
because the word lies awkwardly on your tongue, stumbles as it
leaves your lips, air quotes visible
You meant it as an insult, so you don't understand, when I look into
your eyes and say "Yes"
Because we would.
It would be our duty, as citizens on this earth
to document it's end the best way we know
and if that means a second by second update
of the world going up in flames, or down in rain, or crushed under
the feet of invading monsters
so be it.
It would mean a second by second update of
"I love you"
"I'm scared"
"Are you all right?"
"Stay close"
"Be brave"
It would mean a second by second update of the humanity's
connection with one another,
Proof of empathy, love, and friendship between people who may
have never met in the flesh.
So don't throw the world "Livetweet" at me like a dagger, meant to
tear at my "teenage superiority"
Because if the citizens of Pompeii, before they were consumed by fire,
had a chance to tell their friends and family throughout Rome
"I love you"
"I'm scared"
"Don't forget me"
Don't you think they'd have taken the chance?


Like the previous poem, this one works because it is now. The idea of 'live tweeting' is so new it is hard to comprehend. Until recently, I hadn't live tweeted anything. But then I did. And I felt the appeal. It was a way to share a situation with many people who could not actually be there. And, as opposed to other situations, I wanted to share it with more than one person. I could have set up a mass text, or a group conversation on Facebook Messenger. But that would not have had the same appeal.

When many people decide to live tweet an event, they create a community, for however long that event lasts. They can share their experience of it. There are also phone apps that do the same thing, but most are anonymous, and that is interesting too, just not right now. As I mentioned in Part 2, we are experiencing an increase in the ease of communication, and this is simply another example of that.

A theme across 1, 2, and 3 has been the draw on the past and past peoples and the yearning to know we are not alone. In 1, it was the idea that across time, all people have felt the same sorrow or joy as we feel now. In 2, it was how artists would have used social media to tell their stories. Here it is how the people of Pompeii experienced the end of the world, and how, if we experienced something similar, would experience it. Instead of becoming isolated in this new age of technology (as has been posited elsewhere), I find people have become more connected. And yes, we do need to spend more time with people in person. And yes, the parts of the world that do not have internet access are still too isolated. But that is not reason to despair. It is reason to hope. There isn't a lack of interest or concern or care. It is simply expensive and complicated, and in some places a logistical nightmare. So there is work to be done.

Across time, we shout into the abyss "I love you" "I'm scared" "Don't forget me". And, somewhere, sometime, a voice answers.

Non-Classical Poetry, Part 2

Part 2 of my poetry post is on "Art is a Facebook status about your winter break" by b.e.fitzgerald as found here on Tumblr.

Once again, the full text:

I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don't you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you're a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selfies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat out coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against out lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK's assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for out best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to say I love you in 164 different languages.


I love this one because its is so now. The entire premise is social media and communication through non-traditional means--Vine, Snapchat, YouTube. The narrator is railing against a culture that says this new communication is less valid than previous methods. Or maybe not. Hipsters connect through all these mediums. But seem to value the past ones more. But, to me, rejection of social media isn't necessarily limited to hipster-dom; it is also people who say selfies are stupid and narcissistic. Reality check, for hundreds of years, the wealthy commissioned paintings of themselves. If that isn't selfie culture, I don't know what it.

As a historian, I love the way the author includes Shakespeare, Sylvia Plath, and Andy Warhol. It is interesting to think what artists of the past would have thought of the ease with which we can communicate. In many ways, the rise of technology and such has lead to the democratization of art. Sure, Instagram and Facebook are filled to the gills with sunrises, sunsets, and cats, but isn't that wonderful? Why is people finding beauty in life bad? We all (at least in the wealthy countries) have been given the ability to be artists--an opportunity denied our ancestors.

"Hashtag you're a pretentious ass hole" is quite possibly my favorite single line. It's a phrase that many of us are tempted to say to people in reality. Hashtags are confusing, but they are generally used to collect information and make it easier to search sites like Twitter and Tumblr. Additionally, hashtags are starting to be used in conversations, out loud. Or maybe it's just me, but it is a little fun.

Ultimately, to me, this poem is about the increasing ease of communication. And how can that be a bad thing?

Non-Classical Poetry, Part 1

In the last year or so, I have found three poems on Tumblr that I really like. I thought I'd share them with you all. I have decided to separate them into four posts so you don't get inundated with text.

The first I found sometime in England, I don't remember when exactly, but it's one of my favorites. The original source is here. For my own purposes, here it is in full:

scientists tell us that all water

is old water,

that there is no room for originality,

that everything is recycled.

the anguish of Achilles bleeding out

face-down in the Trojan dirt

mingles with that of a stockbroker caught

in the ebb and flow of the markets,

and what I am trying to say is that the tears

navigating south through the canyons on your face

may have once wet the cheeks

of Alexander the Great

for the same reason.

To me, this is a strong statement of emotion, connecting all people across time and space. Since water is a constant and goes through the same cycles again and again, and we, or at least I, have been told water that starts where I am, in a month could be across the globe. It is not crazy, then, to think water has been recycled from the beginning of time, or earlier, given the arbitrary nature of time.

It is the same concept of all of us being made from the matter of the stars, we are made of stardust. I am made from the same particles that have been around from the beginning, whenever--however--that was. As easy as it would be to feel despair at the enormity of the universe and each individual's insignificance in the face of enormity, instead I feel awed.

Which is the same feeling I get from this work. When I am troubled, or sad, or furious, the tears that grace my face could be the same particles that wound down the face of any person who came before me and was troubled, or sad, or furious. When I am alone, or feel alone, I am not truly alone. Nothing is new. No thought. No feeling. I may feel alone, but I am not the first person to feel that way. And that gives me hope.

After all, as Charlotte Bronte said, "crying does not indicate that your are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive." 

Role Models

By now I'm sure all of you know of my, let's go with obsession, with Agent Carter and I'm sure some of you are sick of it. I'm not sorry. At all. Not even a little bit. And the entry point for this post is, you guessed it, Agent Carter.

The show combines a lot of things I love: historical fiction, beautiful cinematography, excellent dialogue, and a plethora of other things. It also is something I connect with on a more personal level. Both of my grandfathers were in the Armed Forces in WWII, albeit the Navy and in the Pacific, and one of my grandmothers was a telephone operator, Carter's fake career. There are other similarities as well. There are also other differences. My grandmother was not a government agent, she wasn't English, she never lived in New York, she didn't meet my grandfather during the War, which he lived through. I'm not going to continue down this path, suffice to say, Agent Carter connects with me.

I was lucky enough to know my grandparents as I grew up and they helped make me the person I am. (I write this on my grandfather's birthday, he'd have been 103.) In high school, I was frustrated with a situation and feeling uncertain and unconfident and visited my grandmother, who was in the hospital at the time, and I didn't even need to explain, she told me she believed in me. Now, almost 7.5 years after she died, I still remember her saying that and it still helps.

Peggy Carter reminds me of my grandmother, as I'm sure you've already guessed. Both remind me that I am valuable, that I can accomplish whatever I set out to do, to be fierce. And it doesn't matter that one of them is fictional, because what is fiction really? Fiction cannot but be a version of "reality" and what happens in the real world informs and shapes fiction. So when I aim to be Peggy Carter, I am aiming to be like my grandmother.

And that's the thing about role models. We choose them because they live in a way we want to. I find that the people I try to emulate all have the same characteristics. So it doesn't matter whether they are fictional, all that matters is whether they inspire us.

A Bartleby Sort of Feeling

I don't know how many of you are acquainted with Herman Melville's "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-street" but I first read it in my junior year of high school. You can read it here.

A bit of a side-note, upon rereading it, some parts stick out. The narrator, for example, first describes himself and says, "All who know me consider me an eminently safe man. The late John Jacob Astor, a personage little given to poetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in pronouncing my first grand point to be prudence; my next, method. I do not speak it in vanity, but simply record the fact, that I was not unemployed in my profession by the late John Jacob Astor; a name which, I admit, I love to repeat, for it hath a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto bullion." These three sentences do not matter much to the rest of the story, except that they characterize the narrator. A safe man who lives a rather unexciting life. It could be argued Bartleby is the most exciting thing to happen to him.

The main subject of the piece, Bartleby, works as a scrivener--a clerk or scribe. All he does is copy documents for the narrator. When called upon to go over a piece of work with the narrator to confirm the copy, he says, "I would prefer not to." After Bartleby refuses to read the copies a few times the narrator says, "With any other man I should have flown outright into a dreadful passion, scorned all further words, and thrust him ignominiously from my presence. But here was something about Bartleby that not only strangely disarmed me, but in a wonderful manner touched and disconcerted me." Bartleby never says he will not do something, just that he would prefer not to: in response to the question "You will not?" he says, "I prefer not."

As the story progresses, the list of things Bartleby prefers not to do increases. Fetch the mail, fetch one of the other scriveners, help tie a package up, let the narrator into the office at one point. Eventually Bartleby prefers not to work. The narrator cannot rid himself nor the office of Bartleby and eventually moves offices entirely.

But Bartleby prefers not to leave the office, indeed "at present [he] would prefer not to make any change at all."

The landlord has Bartleby arrested and taken away as a vagrant and the narrator visits him. Bartleby turns down a dinner offer. A few days later, the narrator visits him again but this time Bartleby is dead. He preferred not to live, presumedly. The narrator concludes his tail with "Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!"

A Bartleby sort of feeling is when you would simply prefer not to. When a choice presents itself--what to have for lunch, finding a new job, deciding what is next--your response is "I would prefer not to."  You know you should choose something or do something and you are not saying you will not do it, just that you would prefer not to. Some days are just Bartleby days.

"Do you see the day I've had?"

This is my second "Agent Carter" post. I'll try to avoid spoilers. The title of this one is a line from the third episode. Although I love most of the lines in the show, this line speaks to me. Carter says it after a long day of being underestimated and demeaned by her supposed partner, her boss, and her coworkers. Although Peggy gives into what is being said to her, the audience can see what she's saying. Her day had been hellish.

As I mentioned in my first blog, Peggy Carter takes up space. Even when she is ignore by her coworkers, her presence is noticeable. Although when she wants to be, she can be invisible. She dresses to fit the occasion. When infiltrating a party to steal a bomb, she dresses to the nines. When walking through the sewer, she wears a jumpsuit. In both situations, she gets into fights and wins.

There are numerous parallels between Peggy Carter and Captain America. It becomes difficult to separate the two. After watching the first Captain America movie and "Agent Carter", their fighting styles are very similar--brute force-- and what they are fighting for is identical. Throughout the season, we see Peggy deal with the lingering grief over Steve Rogers' death (at least as far as anyone in 1946 knows). She isn't turned into a vigilante superhero by her grief like Batman. She moves through grief like the rest of us. Eventually she accepts that they have to let him go, but that doesn't mean forgetting.

Halfway through the season, there is a confrontation between Peggy and one of her friends/allies. She has been lied to and reacts by punching him in the face. To be fair, this is one of Peggy's main reactions. She says, "You don't get to use my reaction to your lies as a reason for your lies." I love this line. Lying friend is trying to justify his actions with saying he knew Peggy would react this way and she refuses to let him off the hook.

A lot of what she says resonates. She is a character I can identify with and that makes me happy.

Within half an hour of starting the show, I had found a new role model. Peggy Carter can stick up for herself and knows what she can do. She is fashionable and smart, classy and strong. While her entire office plays right into the hands of the bad guys, she works faster, smarter, and better than them. By the end of the season, she says "I know my value, anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter." And that is something hard to fully believe. Society inundates us with images of what we should be, especially women and it is hard to find value in yourself sometimes, especially when the people around you, without meaning to often, don't. "I know my value, anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter."