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