Do you have the Time?

I have this weird fascination with time. First of all, it pisses me off because it makes no sense. It shoots by like the Acme roadrunner on methamphetamines; but when I think about what I did last month, it all seems like a totally different period of time, detached from now. I can’t believe I’m halfway done with college and no matter what I do, time won’t slow down. Seriously, I just sit there without doing anything productive because I think that if I stop moving, maybe the world will catch on and let me take a breather. But it doesn’t.

On the other hand, I love time.  More specifically, I love to think about the progression of time, and what it must have been like to live during World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, The Civil Rights movement. Would I know-as I sat in the crowd and listened to MLK speak, or as I heard about the erection of the Berlin Wall, or as I stitched up a soldier coming off of No Man’s Land-would I know that I was partaking in, witnessing and making history? Or it could have been like it is now, when everything that happens is just a part of life, and it’s difficult to consider it as momentous in history because we can’t perceive how we look from outside this era.

It’s weird, but I read stories that take place during the wars or the momentous social movements, and I feel a sense of yearning. Not because I’m a young, do-nothing who is bored, has no direction in life, and wishes to be given a purpose in order to take away all the struggle in choosing one (well not just because of that). I just want to know what it felt like to be unified behind a common cause—or unified in opposition to that cause.

You know what I think it is? Why I yearn to know what it was like to be someone in that time period? Because I want to know what my identity would be made up of; I want to know who I would be. And that desire is inextricably linked with its sister desire of defining my place in this world, this era. It’s like, because that time has passed, we know who those people were. But this is now and boundaries of identity are already so fluid as it is…so who are we? Who will we be when our grandchildren learn about Occupy and the Arab Spring and the election of Obama? Will those events seem as momentous to them as the Civil Rights Movement, Decolonization, and the election of JFK do to us?

I want to know who I would be to them because I want to know who I am now. But let me clarify: I don’t think this is a desire to classify myself in a rigid definition. I think it’s rooted in curiosity. And it’s so exciting to think about: my present identity is going to be my future children and their children’s history. All I can really do is make it a history worth retelling. 

Redefining Feminism

I am a Woman, and I am proud.

Empower me, love me, be in awe of me.

I am powerful enough to serve as a conduit for life

And gentle enough to let that life bloom.

I know the dark side of oppression. I understand.

My spirit is my beauty

And that is the only definition of beauty I wish to live by.

I am emotional. Inexplicably, all-consumingly, passionately emotional.

And that’s how I see sense, how I make logic.

I am a Woman and there is wonder everywhere inside of me.

The amazing thing is, if I replace the word “Woman” with “Human,” everything in the poem still holds true. Women are humans, and this is an expression of humanity.

I sing the praises of women because I am one and I take pride in my identity. You, a man, are welcome-nay, encouraged-to do the same thing. Perhaps the reason my voice of empowerment sounds louder is because yours has continuously been heard throughout the epochs of history. “The history of mankind” establishes the power of humans, but for the most part those humans are men.

But today’s day and age is not simply about being a part of “mankind.” Sure, people gravitate towards their role in society-women as nurturers, men as workers. But those boundaries are so fluid now, and I think that is a beautiful thing. Feminism, for me, is not about lifting up women by stomping on men. It’s about the right to cross those boundaries. It’s about our dignity as humans. Feminism is then, not simply a women’s movement, but a movement of humanity. You are human. I am human. I will empower you if you empower me. Revealing my light does not diminish the light within you. It just helps make the world brighter. 

An Affair with Exceptions

I call myself a liberal, but what irks me the most is not conservative values. I HATE it when people shut others down or disregard someone’s thoughts completely just because of what party or political side they identify with. Think about it: You aren’t being written off because they don’t agree with what you have to say. You are being shut down because they don’t agree with who you are. And the idea of that disgusts me.

Growing up in an pretty conservative community, I was frustrated that a lot of people never wanted to hear me out because I’m pretty liberal. I called it ignorance, but I only associated it with conservative values.  Coming to Berkeley, the alleged land of the leftists, I thought I would get away from all that.  But I found myself feeling unsettled again. For a while I thought: “Am I not as liberal as I think I am? Am I really a centrist or something?” But I’m realizing that the rub lies in the fact that even here there is still a substantial amount of blind support (Kony 2012 anyone?) and an unwillingness to acknowledge the other side. The only difference now is that conservatives are in the minority.

Now, I’ve done my fair share of Republican-bashing (Sarah Palin was my kryptonite; she was more appealing than Hillary Clinton because she was “sexier”, never mind the fact that her arguments were composed 75% of winks to the audience, while Clinton was just “too aggressive”. Because of course only men can be aggressive and still be likeable...Sorry, I digress. And feel free to disagree with me. ) But I do NOT, like some people I’ve come across, think that the Republican party should cease to exist, while only the supposedly “sane” democratic party exists. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of an oligarchy anyway.

It would be ideal if party alignments didn’t have as much sway as they do, so that people would consider the actual issue or candidate, rather than the color of the campaign.  Ron Paul was on campus today, and I listened for a few minutes. While I didn’t agree with some things, I was happily surprised to see that I resonated with more than I expected.

But here’s the thing. Generalizations are just so easy, and they help us make sense of the world. Still, it’s good to know when to let them go. So my humble suggestion is to have an open relationship with generalizations; be aware that they exist, but don’t be afraid to have an affair with the exceptions. In less euphemistic terms, it’s as simple as this: whether you think you will agree or not, listen, really listen to what is being said. Either you’ll learn something new, or you’ll gain a stronger sense of what you already believed in. Win-win.