Grades Present Anxiety [or G.P.A.] (Glimore Girls)

school has me like

Between the ages of 4 and 15, something happened to me.  Yes, I may have grown a little taller, or a little smarter, or even a little less naive, but that's not what I'm referring to.  I've lost most of my interest in learning; I mean really learning about the world around me, even if it's not in the class syllabus.  What happened to the "Why is the grass green?" or "How do birds fly when we can't?" or "Why do the leaves change color?" questions that my mind used to be riddled with?  I've always heard that curiosity killed the cat, but I was never warned that the cat, in fact, was the one to kill curiosity.

Walking down the halls of Troy High, I'm immediately met with complaints from my peers of AP classes that pose no interest to them other than as a GPA booster, with the sight of dark under-eye circles permanently attached to blank (but caffeinated!) faces.  I'm tired; we all are.  Through our sleep-crusted eyes, academia is only a haze and all we see is what we believe to be the goal: "to pass the course-to get a degree" (97).  Somewhere along the way, the pursuit of knowledge became distorted and mistaken for the hunt for a heavily sought-after college acceptance letter.  Excitement to go to school turned to indifference and, eventually, dread.  I started to feel less and less like I was chasing after my dreams; rather, that I was being chased after.  In the game of cat and mouse, I suddenly found myself as preyed upon; I was cornered and afraid.

In a plethora of district-mandated courses to take, it is easy to lose sight of what the point of school really is.  Often, as graduation is nearing, a dilemma arises: after being absorbed in getting an "A" for so long, rather than what students are truly passionate in, many are lost when it comes to what direction to take in life.  With no clear-cut, black-and-white answer key, finding and picking a career suddenly becomes an impossible task.  So perhaps, every once in a while, we should close out of the Schoology app and really learn.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Fresh From Stereotypes (Fresh Off the Boat)

this doesn't actually pertain to the blog post but @TheBluestEye

Let's get something clear: discrimination is a two-way street.  Anyone and everyone can  be discriminated against, there's just the matter of how well-known and what level this discrimination is operated on.  Beneatha exemplifies this idea when she so bluntly states, "[disliking rich people] makes just as much sense as disliking people 'cause they are poor, and lots of people do that" (50).  Sure, plenty of discrimination against the lower socioeconomic groups exists, but we can't ignore the fact that resentment and prejudice exists on higher classes as well.  This isn't to downplay the struggles of those who are at a financial disadvantage, which are undoubtedly vast; rather,  it is to bring to light the nature of discrimination (I'm talking discrimination itself, not what discrimination does): it *ironically* sees no age, color, or class.

Perhaps I'm not being clear.  Look at it this way: The young see the old as phased out, frail, suck-in-their-ways, and simply outdated.  Meanwhile, the old see the young as rash, naive, foolish, and untrained.  Discrimination functions both ways.

discrimination from both sides

Take affirmative action, for example.  It reinforces stereotypes for both those who benefit from it and those who don't.  On the one hand, it functions under the assumption that all African-American, Native-American, or Hispanic students attend inner-city, underfunded schools with a lack of resources, and implies that any students from these race groups are incapable of making it into certain schools or occupations on their own merit.

reminiscent of the Gratz v. Bollinger case?

On the other hand, affirmative action maintains that all Caucasian and Asian-American students are overly privileged and that school is "easy" for them.  On the contrary, plenty of poor Asian immigrants exist, just as there are African Americans living in the upper middle class or even in the top 1%.  If affirmative action exists to show compassion and consideration for the hardships felt historically by certain racial groups, why does it still send a message of indifference towards others?

By asserting that race closely equates the economic well-being of applicants, affirmative action perpetuates a double-edged discrimination.  Should, then, adversities go by uncompensated for?  Of course not, but they should be done rightly so.  The resources available to each student should be assessed by some other means other than simply color; current methods leave room for more qualified candidates to be passed in hopes of making (at times) dubious social gains.  

Just as stereotypes can be applied to any group, so can discrimination.  This is because the root reasoning, the foundation of any type of discrimination is founded upon over generalizations and misconceptions.  Stereotypes and discrimination go hand in hand, and both are far from being eliminated.  In the end, all we can really do is make judgement with a handful of doubt and the willingness to revise them.  

*****I know that affirmative action is a controversial topic, and I respect that there may be other opinions on it.  I encourage anyone willing to express their thoughts on the topic in the comment section.  Additionally, this blog post was inspired by a research paper I wrote last year on the topic.  If you'd like to read more about it or see evidence to back up my claim, you may click here to view it*****

Proud & Removed (Parks & Rec)

I very much enjoy Parks&Rec

Chances are, we have all been in a situation when our default instinct tells us to act as if we don't care, that when all else fails, the best option is to act aloof.  But what is the origin for this notion-- why do we find more pride in detachment rather than outward affection?  Perhaps it's simply a defense mechanism; if we act like we don't care for long enough, we can convince ourselves that we actually don't and save ourselves from later heartbreak.  Or maybe we simply find displays of affection and dependence as signs of weakness, and that by caring less than others, we are asserting our dominance.

Ron Swanson for you

Either way, the fact remains: we find detachment more comfortable than transparency.  Jordan Baker exhibits this tendency when her "hard, limited" body "[leans] back jauntily just within the circle of [Nick's] arm", causing him to only want her more and "[draw] up [Jordan], tightening [his] arms" (79-80).  Her indifference, or even borderline distaste, for Nick is a characteristic not unknown to today's generation.  With read receipts and social media making acts of passive aggression increasingly convenient, this detachment only becomes more commonplace.

Similarly, when Gatsby lets it slip that he actually-god forbid- thinks about Daisy, it leaves the Nick and Daisy taken aback.  How could this be that the love (or so he thinks) of Gatsby's life is on his mind?  

Whatever the cause, our inclination to act indifferent towards the people whom we actually care about may send the wrong message and be more detrimental to our relationships than anything.  Instead of acting aloof and standoffish, perhaps we should all swallow our pride and be honest for once.  Or, you know, whatever.  

keeping up appearances (keeping up with the kardashians)

 From being an apprehensive eighth grader stepping on Troy High grounds for the first time to a seasoned (or so it seems) upperclassman with adulthood staring me in the face, you'd expect that I'd have picked up some clues on how to survive in the "real world".  This is probably one of the most wrong assumptions you could make.  I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, I've only grown more accustomed to the feeling of being completely and utterly lost.

What I have picked up on over the years, under the fluorescent spotlights lining the hallways, are the qualities... rather, the materialistic needs plaguing every "popular" kid in school.  As time went on, I've seen more and more people flaunting how their NorthFace backpacks rest upon their matching coats, all the while complementing their Vera Bradley lanyards or their new Birkenstocks.  School becomes less of a place of education, and more of an outlet for the newest trends to arise, a place where clothing is an indicator of status.  All the world's a stage--with millions of eager understudies ready to assume the lead role.

Within the sheltered communities of suburbia, these subliminal status markers become so inherent that they often slip by unnoticed; however, "the quality of...clothes [threaten] to derange" the impoverished or those rejected by society, it offers reason for their exclusion.  When "fluffy sweaters the color of lemon drops" or "brightly colored knee socks with white borders" become the epitome of what it means to be loved, the border between material wealth and acceptance blur together until perhaps there is no longer a distinction between them in society's eyes at all.  

While staying up with the latest trends is just a matter of personal privilege for many of us, it deteriorates the self-confidence for others.  It offers a false explanation as to why certain members of society are treated as lesser than others, why they just can't fit in-- while the real root of this is simply consumerism and society's expectation that money equates love.  After all, how do we show our utmost care and respect for family and friends?  We buy them the most expensive gifts on the store shelves, of course! 

 In the end, though, we all just wish to be accepted, and never feel like we are.  In the end, we are all just keeping up appearances, our real insecurities deeply buried under parkas and hunter boots.  

(un)happily ever after

From the time I first learned to walk up through the earliest years of elementary school, I remember wanting more than anything to be a princess when I grew up (and I'm sure I wasn't alone).  How could I not? They're the classic representation of all it means to be the "perfect girl": they're pure, they're beautiful, and they make the perfect wives.  What else could you ask for?  Once you take a closer look at what these virtues mean, though, it's clear that the crown is a lot heavier to bear than it first appears...

In fact, all three of these virtues reinforce ideas of white supremacy.  Women are expected to be untainted, pure, white.  After all, there's a reason that there exists an archetype of sleeping princesses- they're meant to be preserved, to be looked at, but never touched.  

          

 

And what about the beauty of Disney princesses?  Why is it that virtually every little girl is eager to dress up and look like her favorite princess for a day?  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that their skin is as white as snow.  After all, what is more beautiful than fresh fallen snow, a culmination of unique snowflakes, all merging until the individual snow is no longer discernible, and all that can be made out is one large.... pile.   

But wait! Let's not forget about Prince Charming, after all, there simply can't be a happily ever after without him. In the end, the most crucial part of womanhood is the ability to do housework; "All the meaningfulness in [a woman's] life" is to "[revel] in her shiny pots and pans and shiny floors," to "[keep] this order" (128).  To be a proper housewife, everything must be spotless-- from the "stacks of white pillow slips" to the "fluffy white towels," and above all, the housewife herself (127).  

Many are quick to cluck their tongues at the five-year-olds who are all too ready to wear makeup, buy UGG boots, and find themselves their perfect boyfriends.  The children themselves are not to blame, rather, the virtues they are taught to follow in order to make all their dreams come true are.  How can we expect to eliminate race-based stigmas if the future generations of society are being conditioned from birth?

Mean Girls (and Boys)

******this passage was adopted into an application essay*******
It's a modern cliche: "don't try to be someone you're not,"

...nonetheless, the constant pressure to be someone, or rather, something, else is all too present within almost all members of society.  Pecola longs to have "blue-sky eyes" and to look like the Shirley Temples, Mary Janes, and Maureen Peals of the world; China "forever" longs for "[curly hair]"; they both long to be what society has subtly (and at times, explicitly) told them is beautiful-white (46) (52).  The blind acceptance on the receiving end and the steadfast distribution of this belief on the giving end result in a largely unspoken divide between the two.  Only when Maureen finally breaks the silence by declaring, "I am cute!  And you ugly!  Black and ugly black e mos," do we see how truly deep-seated this mindset is (73).

 I still remember it.  How I was walking across the playground to join my friends' game of tether ball when a boy, previously unknown to me, stopped and stared at me.  How he looked me straight in the eyes before yelling, "Konnichi wa," simultaneously pulling the skin around his eyes to narrow them, mocking my own.  Up until that moment, my race had always been a subject handled with the utmost delicacy (to ensure that the one of the only Asian families in a spotless, white-picket-fence, suburban Ohio community was not offended, of course).  It didn't matter that I, in fact, am not Japanese, that Konnichi wa was just as foreign to me as it was to him; all that mattered to me in that moment was the red-hot shame I felt.  Throughout the following years, I had always imagined in passing what it would be like to have a thin nose and large eyes, what it would be like to be rid of my hair color, so dark that the sun cast an ever-present spotlight on me.

Sure, I eventually got over this desire to be "white" as I matured and learned that there are multiple definitions of beauty (although it didn't help that I seldom saw any fellow Asians in magazine spreads or movies), but that doesn't mean that the comparisons ended there.  Among a disarray of high expectations and "I-sacrificed-so-much-to-immigrate-here" guilt trips, there has always been that family friend with a flawless academic record, that one who made it to Harvard and is now a millionaire, that one who I'll never live up to.  Even after reaching some of the goals that my parents have baited in front of me, I somehow always manage to feel emptier than I did as simply a disappointment.  Perhaps this is because of the ever-looming "What Now?" that only becomes stronger after I have achieved something.  Perhaps it's because becoming someone else isn't a true measurement of success.  Perhaps we all should shift our gazes from what defines others to how to define ourselves.  

this is what happens when you only focus on how to become like others

30 Barbies and 1 Ken? (30 Rock)

**LOL I'm referencing Emma's anecdote to fit this post title with my Netflix show for

the week (30 Rock)**

thumbs up for all the gifs/images in this blog

It's a standard so common, so glaringly prevalent, that we've begun to be blind to it... the beauty standards set by the idealized image of the "perfect woman," ones that will never be realistically attainable (unless, of course, like the "real life Ken," you plan on spending $371,795 on 340 procedures). While the girls themselves may outgrow the Barbies, the stigmas that will follow them throughout adulthood in the forms of Instagram models, advertisements, and "one size fits all" labels that don't, in fact, fit all, remain.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a 00 pant size haven't spontaneously arisen alongside commercialization, though.  Let's not forget that the "ideal" race in Nazi Germany was Aryan-- signifying that these beauty standards present today have been years in the making, subliminally reinforcing the idea that beauty is clear-cut.  If you don't look a certain way, dress a certain way, or act a certain way, you'll never be accepted by society as worthy, and you'll never find love (because, of course, that's the only goal that women can hold in their pretty little minds).  As Prager put it, "a thirty-nine-inch bust and a twenty-three-inch waist are the epitome of lovability" (354).  Perhaps the innate desire to match these beauty standards are what drove Americans to get 15.9 million cosmetic procedures in 2015 alone, leaving many to become literally plastic.  After all, there are only so many Kens in the world, and how else are women supposed to even compete for a man's attention if they don't look like over-sexualized Barbies and allow themselves to be objectified?

Even the basic anatomy of the Ken doll offers some bleak insight on how society views gender roles: while Barbie's genitalia are unmistakably there, Ken's aren't, suggesting that "somehow his equipment, his essential maleness, was considered more powerful than hers, more worthy of the dignity of concealment" (Prager 355).  Even as the girls themselves grow out of playing with Barbies, the ideals of what are considered as desirable, placed within their minds once upon a time, only expand with time.  The rhetoric offered by images in the media today only reinforce the distorted views of women; plastic surgery, Photoshop, and social media outlets for women to compare themselves with each other all leave a pink elephant in the room:  who did it better?  Perhaps this is where the stereotype of women being petty stems from, as they feel constantly pressured to be "better" than everyone else.  How will they do this?  Society has taught us that unless women wish to be seen as old-timey, Jesus-loving puritans, they should steer clear of modesty.  Maybe if they just show a little more skin, maybe if they buy that push-up bra, they'll finally have the same amount of "likes" as the Kate Uptons and Kim Kardasians of the world, because isn't that, like, totally the dream? 

these are real people...... 

There's a double-edged sword here, though.  If you don't conform to Barbie standards, you're a tightly-wound prude, but if you do, you might as well be carrying around a "24/7 always open" neon light-up sign.  Rape culture is developed; women are all too often blamed for sexual assault simply because they were "wearing something too provocative".  It shouldn't matter what a person is wearing, how misleading she could have been, or how much alcohol was consumed on either end; all that should matter is that rape is wrong.  Nevertheless, rape culture is validated by the social norms that exist to confine women.  From a young age, it is taught that exposed collarbones or more than three inches of thigh is simply "slutty" behavior.  Instead of teaching young girls and boys how to label others, perhaps we should focus on teaching everyone not to objectify each other in the first place.

   

this is important

There's much to do to begin this change in perspective, after all, Rome wasn't built in a day... but where do we start?  Perhaps the place to look is the visual rhetoric in which advertisements associate selling a product with selling womens' bodies.  (For more you can check out this video on #WomenNotObjects)

Advertising literally holding a woman down with a label... what else is new?

because what's a burger without Heidi Klum?

Is this advertising a clothing brand or rape?

Yes, go by your neighborhood convenience store and pick yourself up a 

disposable, replaceable, woman! 

Don't be mistaken, these sexist advertisements aren't exactly a new development....

...revolutionary!

this is not okay

If we were to reverse the roles, the advertisements look absurd.  This absurdity has been there all along, but the blinders society put up when it comes to women are all that keep us from noticing the patriarchy; only when men are portrayed in these advertisements as the women are, do we see that something is not quite right.

It's a big feat, changing a viewpoint that is so deep-seated into our mindsets, a feat so large that some have already abandoned it.  But we can't expect that sitting around with the blinders on, hoping for change to just happen will yield real results.  Even if all we can do is talk, or notice, or know that the standards set by Barbies, Victoria's Secret models, and commercialization aren't definitive, we should be doing something to realize that beauty is only skin (or plastic) deep.  

The One Where Ross Explains What Race Is (Friends)

** this blog post is a dialogue between Ross from FRIENDS and his pet monkey (Marcel) who questions the fundamentals of how race functions in society**

"Ross, what is race??? I always hear about you humans arguing about it, but I don't understand it"

"Well, Marcel... race is...er, hard to define...

It's how humans subdivide; we classify ourselves based on how we look.  From a scientific standpoint, I guess you could say race is just how humans are grouped together based on some the traits they have: hair color, skin color, eye shape, skin color... that sort of stuff"

"But... who decided that these traits would dictate these races? After all, those who claim that race is 'irrefutably biological' (@justin peng) fail to recognize the truly subjective nature of how race is defined.  Yes, there are certain genetic variations between races, but who is to say that these variations are what should define race?  Why isn't race based off of shoe size?  Or height?  The answer is simple: society chooses what defines race.  There's no part of the human genealogy that screams 'I BELONG IN ____ RACE,' society chose to create and define races that way.

 In fact, there does not even exist a scientific necessity for divisions based on race to exist.  Humans created race as yet another way to separate within humankind, as yet another way to alienate members of society.  Look at us animals.  We function perfectly fine without races, yet you humans and your need for separation... you still tried to classify us.  The fact remains the same, though--I don't see my friends as madrills, or baboons, or macaques.  I see them simply as monkeys, just like me.  Perhaps you humans have some innate need for competition; why else would you constantly need to separate, to create stereotypes and racism only to make yourselves feel superior?"

surprisingly profound for a monkey

Race is a social construct, simple as that.  It's how society chooses to view its members, even if this viewpoint is not how the members view themselves.  This is shown in Speigelman's Maus; the actual race of the character in question is insignificant, all that matters is how the Nazis saw him.

Now, I'm not going to deny the physical differences present between races, only that these differences entail the creation of race.  The concept of race did not just arise spontaneously from biology, but instead was created by humankind's compulsory need for compartmentalization.  There's no set definition for each race, it's all dependent on society's perception.  

New Generations (New Girl)

It's inevitable that as stories, morals, and life lessons are passed down generation after generation, things will be omitted, lost in translation, and the moral of the story will fall on deaf ears....leaving an ignorance present among younger generations.

I can't begin to imagine the sacrifices my parents had to make in order to immigrate to a new country in which neither of them had any connections, one that had many cultural and language barriers they are still overcoming to date.  When they first immigrated and started at the bottom rung of the social ladder, they made less than a tenth of what they make now (while still supporting the costs of getting grad school degrees).  They became frugal... a trait they haven't shaken since, even after moving to upper-middle class incomes.  I'll still poke fun at the paper bags they use instead of buying lunch bags, or the fact that my dad would rather do his own oil changes.  I can attest to this ignorance--because I am ignorant in this respect.  I don't understand that my parents had learned to adapt, that they learned to save in order to survive.  I don't understand what they had to do to live on minimal incomes compounded with long hours of studying.  I don't understand.  Perhaps this ignorance is a defense mechanism, perhaps we don't want to know others' struggles, so we keep ourselves from doing so. 

This generational ignorance is similar to that portrayed in Spiegelman's graphic novel, Maus when he makes it clear that Artie doesn't quite absorb the horrors of the Holocaust that Vladek did.  The maggots borne off of the dead Jewish people are representative of the lessons left by the Holocaust...something that younger generations don't always pay attention to.  These same flies are shown as killed off by Artie pages later (his use of bug spray drawing parallels the Nazi gassing practices), symbolizing the inability of younger generations to empathize with Holocaust victims.

Art also shows his generation's ignorance through smoking.  Although smoke holds an unpleasant connotation in Vladek's mind, Art smokes in front of him nonetheless, not considering its psychological effects on his father.  Additionally, Art criticizes his father for his unwillingness to waste and his extreme budgeting, failing to recognize that the Holocaust made Vladek like this, that he survived only by utilizing these skills.

  

The Holocaust was a tragedy few can even begin to grasp, let alone fully comprehend, and although Maus reveals aspects of living as a Jewish person in Nazi Europe, it cannot relay it all.  Much of the Holocaust will forever be lost, as words alone (or words with pictures) are not adequate to describe the magnitude of grief, loss, and pain that is the Holocaust.  Its essence has long been burned (with the bodies and diaries of the victims alike), its smoke long dissipated and forgotten.  No matter how hard our generation attempts to fathom what exactly Holocaust victims went through, we'll never fully understand; we'll always live in a generational ignorance.