Authenticity

I can't ever go too long without writing without feeling like all of the (brilliant) ideas in my mind have no canvas.  It's been a particularly long bout, and while I am fairly transparent with those I interact with in real time, I have an issue with being transparent on my blog, which I am vowing to change.

My latest experiences seem to be my experiment with authenticity.  I had a professor at Columbia who urged me to be authentic in my group interactions, and that the "real" experiences would be the outcome of my choice to be myself.  Those words have stuck with me the last few years as I try to experience my interactions with others as a way to truly be myself and be open to let others in.

I seem to tether between conformity and authenticity, as if this is a dichotomy that cannot exist on the same plane. I would like to believe that I don't have to choose between the two.  Why must I sit in limbo and feel like I have to choose between who I am, and where I've come from?

The Mormon church tends to foster a sense of conformity to the casual observer.  An in crowd vs. an out crowd.  There is an illusion that there are no cafeteria Mormons.  When you feel this sense that you either have to step up or step out, my natural inclination is step out.  But what if my authentic self doesn't want to step out?  What if I want to be authentic to who I am AND be Mormon? Is there a place for me at the table?

So my experiment has been to test this out for myself.  I pierced my ears.  I attend another denomination before attending Mormon services.  I wore a tank top to Mormon church.

The experience has been terrifying and liberating.  Would people judge me for not being like them?  Would the modern day Pharisees tell me to cover my shoulders and to exercise more faith?  I felt internalized judgment, because I've been the judger.  But being who I am has opened me up to less judgment towards others as well, which I think is a more Christian notion than hemlines and earring holes.

But something amazing is happening.  I'm authentic, and so I open up to others more at church.  I introduce myself.  I'm friendly, and welcoming, and extroverted.  Now, if you've known me in a past social situation, you will know that this is remarkable.  And in turn, others are opening up to me.  My leaders are applauding my choice to attend 2 faith services on Sunday.  My peers are supporting my exploration.  My peers are confiding in me their own explorations. And most importantly, I'm delving in to a deeper and stronger relationship with God than I ever previously had when I felt like I was hiding who I am.

"Mansplaining"

My feminist ears have been burning. After Rep. Todd Akin "misspoke" and then recanted his comments earlier this week, I have been tuning in to the conversations happening in the media regarding the (in)validation of a woman's experience (especially regarding something as traumatizing and serious as sexual assualt). In a similar vein, a friend of mine shared an article with me that I can't help but tie with Rep. Akin's remarks.


This article by author Rebecca Solnit shares the authors discourse with her male counterparts throughout her career. She talks about the problem with "Men Explaining Things", a term coined "mansplaining". Solnit describes this phenomenon: she is well-versed, well-researched, or in fact the author or expert on a topic and finds herself invalidated by a man who either refuses to listen or believe her knowledge. This man's explanation directly invalidates her lived experience and her perspective as a woman.


Solnit says, "Men explain things to me, and other women, whether or not they know what they are talking about." I have had this experience happen to me in both social and professional spheres. After my time at Columbia University, I had a conversation with a male friend, who felt the need to educate me on the Ivy League. He gave me information full of false statements, unfounded evidence, and downright ludicrous "facts", that he felt the need to explain to me and appear the expert on. I remember his saying incredulously to me, "you went to an Ivy League school and you don't even know anything about the Ivy League?"


I have had similar conversations with men about rape myths, despite my senior capstone research on the subject. I've had conversations in social circles where men, not of the counseling profession, jump in to explain what counseling is, preventing me from even answering the question of "what is it that you do?" (This is when I in fact was practicing as a counselor).


These experiences invalidate the experience of a woman--in this case, me. A less aware woman may walk away from these interactions questioning if she really knows anything about the school she got her graduate degree from, whether her research is worth mentioning, or whether it is worth the fight to discourse on her own chosen career path.


The article really struck a chord with me (given Representative Akin's comments) when Solnit relays the story told by a guest at a party, about a woman who ran from her home naked, exclaiming that her husband was trying to kill her. This man feels the need to explain that this could not have been the case, that this was an upstanding family, that the woman's statement could not possibly be truth. This slowly quiets every woman's voice, slowly allows the fight to be won that this is not our world too.


Solnit says it better than I, when she says, "The battle with Men Who Explain Things has trampled down many women—of my generation, of the up-and-coming generation we need so badly." Women need to support each other by validating their lived experiences and knowledge. Men who are allies need to support and stand up for women. These subtle moments where a man, whether knowledgeable or not, holds the final trump card with no apologies, is unacceptable.


And so I write my own stories, and my own reaffirmation of this phenomenon, so that the man at this party, Rep. Akin, and any other man who feels the need to appear the expert on a subject at the expense of a knowledgeable woman have voices to reckon with. I am another woman's voice confirming that our perspective is valid, real, and yes, we may know more than you every once in a while.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

So I wasn't going to say anything, but the more I sit and stew, the more necessary it becomes for me to say something.  I follow quite a few feminist blogs, groups, and organizations, which is what prompts my remarks today. So while the following may sound like whining or complaining, this often seems like my only outlet to raise awareness in my own small way.  Both of the stories today happen to be about the magazine industry.

Two issues (no pun intended):

1.  I received a notification of the victory that 14-year-old Julia Bluhm has achieved, by getting Seventeen magazine (through her petition on Change.org) to stop photoshopping their teen models.  The report states that Seventeen's "editor-in-chief vows not to use Photoshop to alter the face shape and body sizes of its teen models, and that it will feature a diversity of models with different body shapes, races, and hair textures".

And this is the picture that Julia is featured with:

Sooo...am I missing something?  From what I can see, I do not see any different body shapes, maybe I'm hallucinating but all those girls look White to me, and pretty sure all of them also have one hair texture.  If they wanted to show accuracy of what a teen looks like, Julia herself clearly has a different look than these models, with some teen acne on her face, and some frizzy flyaways :).  Looks like Seventeen may need a few more petitions to get THAT message across.

2.  I received an email from Missrepresentation.org.  (If you haven't seen the film, see it.) This email was about the cover of GQ this month, featuring a scantily clad Kate Upton in a string bikini, and a "patriotic" popsicle in her mouth.

Missrepresentation.org says, "Meanwhile none of the other popular men's magazines presented an alternative to this depiction of what makes a woman great. Is this how we want our men to value women in this country - as sexualized objects alone? "

The objectification of women is alive and well.  Not only is this phallic pose demeaning to women (not to mention patriotism), but this magazine is on display in stores where young children, teens, and even grown men and women are receiving messages that this is what merits a woman to be on the front cover.

Missrepresentation.org is encouraging a positive reaction--asking women to go write down a list of women who inspire you and who SHOULD be on the covers of magazines. The sad thing is, this is just ONE cover of a magazine that was brought to my attention today.  I'm sure for the one link I've given, thousands of covers just like it could be tied to that link instead.

So in the spirit of one 14-year-old trying to make a difference and Missrepresentation.org encouraging women to internalize what really makes women great, I encourage others to not stay silent as magazines continue to be printed that damage the self-image, self-esteem and self-worth of women, and send messages to women and men that a woman only makes the front page based on her (real or not) cup size and (again real or not) hair color.

Overpriced Discrimination

I know I have mentioned in previous posts my distaste for the monopoly that retailers have on Plus-size fashion.  I've just stumbled upon something that reiterates this point.  Thank you, Nordstrom, for keeping Lane Bryant in business:

What is this beautiful woman doing wearing an embroidered, shapeless tunic for 162 dollars?

Sizeism is alive and well in the fashion industry.  How is a woman who is plus-sized supposed to feel good about herself when her "high end" fashion option is this?  The person that designed this and the retailer that approved this are clearly out of touch with what a plus-size woman wants, and in my opinion, ultimately needs in order to feel her best self.

Not to mention, that to get to this top on the Nordstrom website, I had to click under "Special Sizes".  Plus-size women are not a special interest group.

I'm off to go buy myself a tent to wear--it'll be cheaper than this top, and give the same effect.

Operation Cowgirl: Part 2

After a not-so-brief hiatus, I've finally settled enough in to my life in Houston to re-enter my world of blogging.  3 months ago I made a list of reasons to move to Houston.  Not only is this city influencing the way I live, speak, and eat, but my own adjustment period has had some influence on how my life is shaping upas well.  As much as I'd like to give a report of miraculous differences or changes, this list will have to suffice. 

So without further adieu: things I've picked up on, observed, learned, noticed, frequented in my short tenure here:

1.  I may or may not have started to use "ya'll" on a regular basis
2.  "This isn't my first rodeo"
3.  U-turn lanes at the off-ramp of every freeway exit.  Still don't really quite understand this one.
4.  Cockroaches.  Why?
5.  Things to do without Internet or TV:.....still working on this one.
6.  Slower elevators (and more polite elevator patrons)
7.  Um, people are nice.
8.  No State Tax Withholding.  Everybody loves this, until you see the state of the roads.
9.  Bigger soft drinks (who needs a refill when you get a 44 oz the first time?)
10.  Rodeo, Car Shows, Big Trucks, BBQ, Cajun (ok this is more than 1, but oh well).

PS.  Target, I love you.

The City I Love to Hate

My friend Jenn once compared a person's love affair with New York City to the phases of an abusive relationship.  For those of you not familiar with that cycle, it involves a "tension" phase, "abuse" phase, and "honeymoon" phase.  New York City is clearly the abuser in this scenario.

I have definitely been roped in to each phase of that cycle, and so as I prepare to leave New York yet again, I'm reflecting on the abusive moments and the honeymoons, and all the tension in between.

Let's start with abuse:

• Hearing the echoes of other people's headphones on my morning commute.  I don't need to hear that you're still listening to "Only Girl in the World" by Rihanna on blast at 7:45am, thankyouverymuch.
• Getting up close and personal with my fellow New Yorkers for 35 minutes each way, each day.  In the winter time this involves a mad dash to the subway in 20 degree snow/wind, followed by a stuffy 80 degrees smashed against 50 people, followed by another 20 degree dash, while simultaneously sweating and freezing your a** off.
• No free refills on fountain drinks at restaurants.  3 dollars, for ONE small glass of diet coke.
• The men that leer at me at the R&R Deli next door to my apartment.
• The woman that tries to give me the New York Metro magazine, every. single. morning.
• Lack of enough Target in my life.  Lack of Torrid in my life.  Lack of malls in my life.
• I sleep on a twin bed.  Enough said.
• Lines.  Lines at Starbucks.  Lines at Shake Shack. Lines at the Grocery Store.  Even lines to swipe your Metrocard.
• $13.50 for any movie after NOON.
• Winter. Winter. Winter.

However, like a classic abuser, New York inevitably apologizes, and ropes you back in.  I still get nostalgic about the following:

• The trees in Central Park turning pink in the springtime.
• A fresh slice of pizza or a freshly toasted bagel for less than 2 dollars.
• Seamlessweb.com. Grubhub.com. Menupages.com.  Pizza isn't the only thing that delivers here kids.
• Walking by Orlando Bloom, Julianne Moore, Bill Cosby, Kelly Ripa, Martin Sheen, and the infamous Tyra Banks.
• Dining outside on a fall evening, watching people walk by, enjoying the city lights, the city noise, and the breeze.
• Diversity in it's truest form
• Pancake month at Clinton St. Baking Company
• Hot Chocolate month at City Bakery
• Chelsea Market
• Brunch
• Anything and (almost) everything is within walking distance (see abuse re: Target and Torrid)
• Madison Square Park
• The plethora of pictures I have captured on my iPhone of fellow New Yorkers, including the woman eating Cool Whip at the bus stop, the plus size woman modeling her small H&M dress, the street worker coming home at 7am on the subway, or even the fashionable European couple taking a stroll.

Oh New York.  Inevitably the tension will mount again.  And so I take another hiatus from you.  At least for now.

Operation Cowgirl

Since I can't seem to sit still (literally and figuratively), it's time to write about, and begin, a new chapter in my life.

Let's call it: Operation Cowgirl.  That's right kids, I'm grabbing my belt buckles, spurs, (my boyfriend reminded me not to forget my six shooter), and boarding a plane from JFK to HOU.

I leave for Houston, Texas a week from Saturday.  Despite the fact that for the 2nd time in 6 months I'm shifting my location, my transportation options, and my employer (well, fingers crossed), and that I have a sneaking suspicion I'm a little politically misaligned for the place, I'm looking forward to an adventure full of the following (I like lists, if you didn't know):

1.  Living in the 4th largest city in the USA (so it's not #1, but 4 isn't bad)
2.  Living near (ish) to a coast, and not a cold Northeast coast.
3.  Living 4.5 hours from Baton Rouge, LA and 6 hours from New Orleans, LA according to Googlemaps.
4.  Mexican food (sorry New York, this has been your downfall).
5.  The highest number of restaurants per capita in the US, according to a recruiter I spoke to.
6.  There's always this.
7.  Living in a more centrally located place in the US will lure my friends from both sides to me, wink wink.
8.  The fact that relocating puts the song "I'm Goin to Wichita" in my head for inexplicable reasons.
9.  Finding out just how many interesting things my hair is capable of in high heat + high humidity.
10.  Oh, and my boyfriend might have something to do with this :)

Stay tuned, this is gonna be good.