You and me, we’re not all that different. We’re both acting on the same need for self-protection. We just have different solutions.
And frankly, I don’t think it’s an irreconcilable difference. We just have to start with our shared beliefs and accept that life is about compromise. It’s about you and I respecting each other’s needs and being willing to bend. And once we do, we can all sit down and have a beer together. (Or wine, or whiskey, or even Fireball. I can compromise on that, too.)
The chance that a Syrian refugee we let in turns out to be an ISIS agent is a negligible risk. This is what it actually looks like when Syrian refugees are accepted into a western nation. As such, not only is closing our borders ultimately ineffective in preventing terrorism from striking our nation, it’s also wholly unnecessary.
If you truly fear terrorist attacks on American soil, barring Muslims from entering the country is pretty much the most misguided solution you can go with.
To be clear, the rainbow does not appear anywhere on a user’s visible site. If you have a site at WordPress.com, no one viewing it will see anything different. The toolbar is visible only to you, and only when you are logged into a specific editing section. It’s a simple, subtle nod to Friday’s news.
Well, you would think that it’s a simple, subtle nod….
The amount of offense some people took at the rainbow was disheartening. We were accused of “cramming” our values down people’s throats, of being bigoted and intolerant. A few outspoken users even pointed out how there’s such a double-standard in that businesses aren’t allowed to deny service to gays, but WordPress.com can push its pro-gay agenda.
If you could successfully hide a part of yourself — have a good life, employment, faith, and family — why would you change? What would make you risk it all? What price would you pay to be authentic?
This is the central question posed in Presenting Lisa, a film about the transformation of a man named Larry to a woman named Lisa.
As a bisexual woman, I already contend with stigmas concerning my sexuality. Bisexual individuals are often “branded as greedy or illegitimate or it’s claimed that those who identify this way are merely in flux before settling at one end of the hetero/homo binary.” These stereotypes have thankfully waned some in recent years, especially with more and more people, including celebrities, coming out as bisexual. Evan Rachel Wood, one of my biggest idols, opened up to Marie Claire about her sexuality, saying, “I can’t say I’m one way or the other because I’ve honestly fallen in love with a man and I’ve honestly fallen in love with a woman. I don’t know how you label that, it’s just how it is.” I was like, hell yes! Maybe mainstream America will finally get it.
I consider myself lucky. I live in a society where outright racism is generally not tolerated. Unlike my parents’ generation, I don’t worry about some stranger on the street calling me a “chink” or a “jap” or a “gook” (which, strictly speaking, I’m only one of those three).
Then again, that just means that racism is more insidious now. Instead of blatant insults, I’m sometimes left questioning what someone meant by a certain remark. Today’s prejudice has mostly been reduced to microaggressions — socially acceptable comments that are still subtly derogatory.
I am not taking a black-or-white stance (get it?) on this issue. Instead, I will wade into the muddy gray waters this topic inevitably swirls up. I will weigh the pros and cons as logically as I can. I will share the information my personal research has uncovered, as well as the insights I gained as an educator at SeaWorld. And yes, I will explain why I do ultimately support SeaWorld’s endeavors.
One of the things that I have been thinking about is how great it feels to be in my thirties. I’m halfway through this decade and I have to say that it is SO MUCH better than my twenties. No question about it. It’s not that I didn’t completely enjoy that time of my life, but I have to say that now I feel more confident of who I am. That’s probably one reason why I am able to write these words and stand by them.
So here is my top five list of why it’s great to be a childfree woman in her thirties, instead of a confused girl in my twenties:
It’s easy to be inspired by a famous person who pursued their passions and found raging success. We read about how many times JK Rowling’s idea for a magical world of wizards was rejected, or how Tom Brady was a fourth-string quarterback in college. We see how they persevered despite the setbacks. And we think, “Wow, maybe if I just work hard enough at my passion, I can be successful like them, too.”
Well, we can’t all be JK Rowling or Tom Brady. Or Bill Watterson, or even Mike Rowe. Ultimately, these folks had talent. Tons of it. And some of us — actually, the vast majority of us — have to occupy the “sucking” end of the talent spectrum.
When you meet someone for the first time, you have everything in the world to talk about. Your relationship, whether professional, personal, or romantic, is essentially a blank state. You get a chance to fill that slate with all sorts of wondrous conversations.
And yeah, you rarely have to worry about hugging (assuming you’re an awkward hugger, like me). Handshakes are perfectly acceptable on the first meeting.
But when you meet someone for the second time?
Now, there are expectations (not the least of which is whether or not the other person has upgraded you to hugging level). Here’s a partial list of all the things that can take a turn for the disastrous when you meet someone for the second time:
Guy: Soooo… what kind of Asian are you?
Girl (visibly scowling): Uhhh… the American kind?
Obviously, this was not the way to try to start a conversation with a strange woman, let alone hit on her. Let’s face it, this guy’s biggest mistake was… well, everything. But the interesting thing is, she actually tolerated him until he asked about her ethnicity.
So why was that her cue to check out? She put up with everything else (barely) up to that point. Why did this particular question send her darting away?
Today, I breathe a sigh of relief that I managed to escape the teaching profession, that I managed to find a new career where I feel I can still make a difference in the world.
But then, I realize that in expressing myself this way, I’m doing a huge disservice to all the teachers out there.
You see, when I joke that I “escaped” the teaching profession, that implies that those who still teach are stuck, that they’re in a career they hate and can’t get out of.
Nothing could be further from the truth. My teacher friends devote their lives to education not because they’re incapable of doing anything else. They do it because it’s their passion.
On some level, we all spend our lives waiting for opportunity. “I’m just waiting for my big break.” “I can’t believe how lucky he got. That guy gets all the breaks.” It’s as though opportunity is this giant metal claw, and we’re toys at the bottom of the carnival machine of life, each of us hoping to be the next lucky one to get snatched up to a better life.
But, this isn’t how opportunity operates. Whether you believe that God, Darwin, or just random blind luck is responsible, opportunity doesn’t just fall onto our lap and whisk us away.
Doctors and modern medicine are the cornerbacks in the game of life. Their job is to play defense, to prevent you from getting sick. And in true cornerback form, when they do their job, you’ll only wonder if you even needed them in the first place. But the one in 100 times that something does goes wrong, boy, will you cry foul.
And that’s why disease prevention is such a tough sell for people. The problem of modern medicine is that people only take notice when it fails us. There’s even a psychological term associated with this state of thinking: negativity bias.
So what can we do about this?
The researchers concluded that this is how women show aggression towards other women they see as sexual threats. While men “compete” for women via direct aggression against each other (you know, shot taking, arm wrestling, breaking beer bottles over each other skulls, and any other type of contest that purports to broadcast the length of our penis), women “compete” for men in more indirect ways — by insulting and ostracizing them.
Whether or not you agree with the conclusions of the researchers, this “mean girl” behavior clearly exists. The internet abounds with women hating on other women’s outfits. And worse, it’s considered snarky and witty.
“This can’t be right,” I mutter to myself.
I put my pen down to breathe. I am in serious need of oxygen here. Seeing all of this in list form makes my bleak situation look even worse. I’m turning 30 next week. 30!
What am I doing with my life? I don’t have a job. My boyfriend broke up with me over the phone a month ago, and I cry every time that song by Gotye, “Somebody That I Used To Know,” comes on the radio….
Do you know what happens when you take sex and make it public? You get porn – stuff that people who aren’t getting enough sex drool over, and stuff that people who are sexually fulfilled smirk at, because they know how unrealistic it is.
Similarly, do you know what happens when you take a proposal and make it public? You get engagement porn – stuff that people who aren’t happy with their own relationships drool over, and stuff that people in fulfilling relationships smirk at, because they know how unrealistic it is.
Not that there’s anything wrong with porn.
Last night, I was given a gift. It was my second of the week — and one that the teachers of young children rarely receive.
I had been surprised to hear from the parents of a child I worked with 30 years ago. At that time, I was a resource teacher for the state of Arizona, specializing in children with developmental delays, ages zero to five. Their son had been one of my students. In fact, he had been one of my favorite students.
I’m really not sure how to refer to this woman. She wasn’t a friend, but then again, “professional acquaintance” seems so… distant. The difference she made in my life was immense, and I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for her.
And maybe that’s why the whole experience has been… weird. I haven’t shed any tears for this woman, and to claim that I’m distraught would be disingenuous. Yet, I am saddened by her passing. I want to say this to her family. I want to hug her husband and kids and offer my sympathies, to let them know how she touched my life, even so briefly.
Still, it’s not my place to do so.
When did all my skirts gain an extra 10 cm of length? Why was my underwear drawer filled with things in cotton? Why did the bookshelves hold only kids’ books, law books, and my husband’s books, while all my favourite volumes of poetry were shoved to the back row? And my computer files? Three categories — Kids, Household, and Work.
From where I stood, thrill-seeking now looked like a disease. Itchy, embarrassing and contagious. Still, I would have been fine — if it were not for Will.