Dissonance and Self-Worth

Once upon a time, 7 billion people, or at the very least 300 million American people I know this story applies to, grew up with the idea that they are wholly inferior. That story was told from many different perspectives: religion (you are not good, you need God or your chosen deity to sanctify and cleanse you to make you suitable for saving), entertainment (buy this because your life is incomplete without it; the only people you see on tv and in movies won't look like you no matter who you are, but especially if you're a racial, sexual, ability, age, etc., minority), life in general (if someone makes 1% higher than you on a test, you automatically set up a hierarchy of intelligence). That story was also found to be inescapable; it was heard no matter where people went, and the most saddening part of that is people heard it so much that they began to repeat it to themselves in their solitude. So, it is no wonder that finding self-worth, personal truths, and the belief that one is enough is something that seemed to happen later rather than sooner, that people had to struggle under the weight of criticism from self and others before they found the truth that is their light and inherent value, and that some even found ways to hurt others because they were hurting. So, what happened to those who found a way to change this story, to discard it or accept it and move on to something brighter?

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I've put a lot of stock into turning 25. I have dubbed it my 'Get My Shit Together Year.' My birthday is in a little over three weeks, and as that date approaches, I'm noticing some significant changes in myself. I'm a lot less confused about where I stand on different issues and what my opinion is, and much more inclined to be firm about where I am and be okay with that. I believe that we can set up self-fulfilling prophecies and wonder if that's what has been going on, or if it's the natural progression of who I've been for the past year or so.

Like a Phoenix

As I was driving back from spending the weekend with the man I'm more than willing to call the love of my life, I did some self-reflection. Lately, it's felt like my anxiety hasn't given me many breaks. It comes and goes in waves, usually at inopportune times. What I realized, though, is that it is no indication of me being at a standstill. In fact, it has coincided with some great things for me: a new identity as an instructor, welcoming the identity of boyfriend again, and learning how to adjust to a new flow in my life. So, I came to the conclusion that I should give myself a break and a pat on the back. At the same time.

When None of the Pictures Look Like You

So, I came across a wonderful article earlier that talks about body image issues among gay men. Yeah, it wasn't quite there, but I agreed with its essence: Gay men are surrounded by images of 'perfection', ultimately an external illusion that others have better bodies (with the implicit assumption that they always will). We are at the mercy of a media that readily buys into the idea of the affluent, young, attractive, built (and mostly hung) gay man. But, let's add one more idea to that: White.

It Ain't That Good

Chick-fil-a is in the news today. In case you did not know why, it is because today is Chick-fil-a Appreciation/Depreciation Day. It is the day in which people are going to Chick-fil-a because they just so happen to love it or love the politics attached to the company and its CEO (that of supporting, politically and financially, traditional marriage and policies relating to the concept) OR people are protesting or boycotting the company because of said alignment with traditional and conservative ideology.

A Lesson in Everything

Let me give you a breakdown of how my summer went/has gone since my best friend left town:

I have:

Put Forth the Effort

Autopilot is a beautiful thing. When my feelings are in full force, I get an amazing sense of energy and words, pictures, and thoughts can fly out of my at astounding speeds. However, as I've grown, I've realized that my emotional life is not going to always afford me such energy. Sometimes, it will sap the energy from me. Other times, I'll have to find the energy myself.

One Year Later

It's always darkest before the dawn.

One year ago today, something happened that would set the course of the next twelve months for me. My boyfriend of two years and I broke up. That night was as hard as it could be, as the shock could only set in so much. It got worse. I found myself spiraling, seeking counseling, making mistakes and trying my best to recover. I wasn't sure how I'd get through what was expected to be and what actually was the hardest semester of my life without my rock, my source of strength. At my darkest, I wasn't sure what today would look like. And yet... I'm here.

I'm here after assessments I wasn't sure when I would finish, but did. I'm here after dates that worked out and dates that didn't and that almost sorta but not really boyfriend. I'm here after that one night I cried so much my eyes were puffy and swollen the next day, the day I had to take place in new student orientation. I'm here after tests and presentations with no one to invite but my classmates. I'm here after nights where the anxiety was so bad, I had to smoke to be able to eat or sleep. I'm here after trying to go back and being turned down.

This past year has been the hardest and the best year of my life. This was the year I finally decided to love myself actively, that I decided to look at my actions and really question whether or not they made me feel happy or good. I have seen tremendous growth, pain, progress, and love, and none of that could have happened if I had stayed in that relationship. These are all things I know now that I did not in the depths of my pain, moments in which I made decisions that caused someone pain. And yet, I could not and would not be the person I am right now, in this moment, had I not made those mistakes.

It's weird to think that leaving a relationship led to some of the greatest things happening in my life, but it did. Don't think, though, that the person I was with was an asshole to me. No, quite the opposite. He tried, he really did, and I started to see that once we were through, though that did not mean we were supposed to still be together (though telling me this last September would not have made the slightest of sense).

I'm happy that something so heartbreaking led me to become a much better person as a result, even if I had to make mistakes and bad choices along the way. I hope things ended up for him the same way, but that's the most energy I'm going to devote to that endeavor. Today, one year later, it's time for me to step forward and worry about myself and those in my life, not someone who isn't here anymore, though I will always wishing him Love, Light, Peace and Healing.

Months ago, I wasn't sure what it would take to get here. I wasn't sure what it would look like. Sometimes, it really was just hard to get to tomorrow, rather than months and months later. Yet, I'm here, as a testament that pain does pass, though it will be a companion to us at various points in our lives; this is a Truth that will never change.

I'm glad that, though things are not the way I want them to be, they worked out in a way that led to positive things. I may not be as overwhelmingly happy as I was in February, but I'm gaining a profound sense of peace. I can see life in different ways. Even on my bad days, I can trust that my life will be okay, that I will be okay, as long as I rise to match the sun and keep moving forward even if I feel I don't have the strength to do so.

So, in essence, thanks. Thanks for no longer being here, because it forced me to stand on my own (with help from my friends) and realize just what I'm capable of and what I deserve. Thanks for being the catalyst in me loving myself. Sorry for the pain I caused along the way. I still have progress to make and things to forgive, but I've come such a long way even to get to this point. My hope stays strong that I won't feel this way forever, that one day the anxiety surrounding you will be gone and the freedom I feel in fleeting moments will last until I die.

Something so painful led to something so good, and as a result I started to really shine, something that has gone on to affect others in a loving and positive way. You're partly to thank for that.

A Talk with My Father

I told my father I don't believe in God. He didn't take it well.

Open and Honest

Yesterday I had this post planned out. Now, I'm struggling to pull my thoughts together. There are so many.

The past year has been heartbreaking, heart wrenching, beautiful, healing, and inspiring, and I still have a long way to go! I've ended a relationship, finally started to actually date in the casual sense, told my mother and father that I'm an atheist, dedicated my life to love, fucked up any chance of a friendship with my ex, started making amends with others and myself, and began to be honest. So much has happened.

Sometimes, I worry that I'm not being genuine, that I'm faking this Love. I worry that others see me as weird (I know; we've gone over this). I worry that my downs are what people see and define me by. I worry that my downs define me in general. But, when I am honest and compassionate with myself, I find that worry has no place in my life, but will be a constant companion.

I had to learn that, even though I've dedicated myself to Loving, pain and insecurity are still going to be around. I'm still going to have bad days. Things are going to happen that I don't like and that are out of my control. What matters is that I get through each of these things, keeping my faith, hope, and love intact. In fact, I've found that Hope is one of the best, brightest, and strongest parts of me, and it makes my life a lot easier. I mean, where do you get in life without hoping that things will be great?

In an attempt to pull all these thoughts together: my life has changed in a wonderful way, and I'm happy for that. No, everything is not the way I want, but I trust that everything is as it should be, though even this statement is hard to deal with.

I'm done trying to wrest control of everything in my life. I'd rather just take this thing moment by moment. It'd behoove me to be a bit less high strung anyway.

The Shack

I just finished reading The Shack. I had heard about it months ago, as it was making the rounds in various church reading groups, and quickly dismissed it as Christian fiction not worth reading. However, I was wrong. It is worth reading for many reasons and has specific and general appeal.

Perks

I just finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's one of my favorite books. In high school, it was one of my favorites because I felt far less alone. Today, it is one of my favorites for the same reason.

I have felt alone for a very long time. It makes sense, because I am me and no one else is me, so all I have to go on are my experiences, and sometimes I'm lucky enough to be able to compare a current experience to a previous one. Other times, I'm just fucking lost. Regardless, solitude is one of the defining factors of my life. At any given moment, I am like no one else. Sometimes, this fact is highlighted by the company I keep. I don't know if that's what life is supposed to be like, if we are supposed to feel so different from others.

Charlie had a lot to deal with, and I do, too. Those things are not always something I am comfortable talking about, especially because I think that no one else will be able to understand in a way that I do. I don't think I'll ever have enough time to sit down and talk to someone about everything that goes on in my head and in my life and have them completely grasp how it makes me feel grateful and powerless all at once. The most important thing is that I don't invalidate my own feelings, nor anyone else's, because what we deal with is what we deal with; every part of our lives is unique compared to someone else's, and no one ever deals with the same problems in the exact same way.

What I got from the book is that I'm scared of a lot of things. There is so much that can happen or does happen that I just do not know how to handle. My default is to go through it alone, because you can only say so much to so many people in your address book, and I'm not typically one to talk about everything anyway, nor to unload my problems onto others (though I've recently spent time with someone who has graciously sat and listened as I told him things that are not easy to talk about with others).

Yet, that fear can keep people stagnant. I'm scared that it has kept me stagnant. But, at the end of the day, all I can do is act or not act. If I choose to act, it can come from an authentic or inauthentic place. I can't control anyone else. And, as Charlie's sister says, my attempts to control the events and people around me are only an attempt to get the outcome I desire, because I'm scared that letting things be will mean not getting what I want. If I've learned anything in the past few months, though, it's that 1) I can never be attached to any particular outcome because when I am, disappointment is sure to follow and 2) Not getting what I want can turn out to be something very great for me.

There's a lot I'd love to get off my chest, but, as I said, I'm just not sure I have the time to sit down with someone and outline everything I'm scared of. So, I try to find peace, whatever way I can, and make sure that those attempts come from a place of Love for myself (even though they sometimes don't).

The best thing I could do for myself right now and always is to act and be in an honest way. It may mean people leaving, it may mean not getting what I want, but at least I will have actively participated in my own life.

A Parable of Baking

Despite today's demoralizing attempt to make meringue, I discovered I have a love and maybe even a talent for baking. For years, I decided not to bake. I said I wasn't good at it, largely because of a rather unfortunate attempt to make lemon squares in high school.

Then, I dated someone who could bake. Exceptionally well. He could do with baking what I can do with cooking. So, naturally, I called him the Baker in the relationship and let him do all of that stuff, with my help on the rare occasion. For a couple of years, I did not consider baking to be a part of my culinary repertoire. Until we broke up.

In my gradual downslide from the lack of a relationship, I tried all sorts of things. Baking was one of them. I found a recipe for vanilla bean cupcakes and decided to make them. I also was inspired by Annie from Bridesmaids, played by Kristen Wiig. The scene where Annie makes the beautiful cupcake is inspiring to me, to the point that I call it her moment of triumph. So, last summer I decided to try to fill a spot left in my life, baking, by doing it myself. Rather than leave it alone, forever naming it 'his' talent and 'his' thing, I tried it for myself. And you know what? I found out something new about myself.

Those cupcakes came out great. They were well received, despite my doubts about them. I had reclaimed something for myself that I had always considered an integral part of someone else. Baking those cupcakes was one of the first moments where I realized that the hole I felt was in my life did not need to be filled by another man. It very well could have been filled by me.

Since then, I've made other cupcakes, I've made cookies, and I even made a rather spectacular pecan pie. I've made homemade muffins, including this morning's cinnamon cake donut muffins. There is a meringue-less lemon pie chilling in my fridge, waiting to be delivered to a friend, as well as my stomach. In essence, I'm proud of myself for trying something I thought for years I couldn't do. I'm especially proud of myself because the results came out great.

Like today, I'm not always going to have complete victories. But, this is okay. It's the fact that I'm trying to do things for myself, to prove to myself that not everything I say is set in stone, and that at any moment I can make a great batch of cupcakes, cookies, or a wonderful pie.

The moral of this story? You may feel that something is not for you, but maybe it's worth a try. Maybe that thing you always said others, but not you, could do is something you are good at. Even if the results are disastrous, you rose above preconceived notions of talents or limits and actually tried. Many people let the fear of failure stop them from trying. Let's just say I will definitely still be baking goodies after today.

And maybe, just maybe, that seemingly person-sized hole you feel in your chest, your heart, or your life can be filled with you.

Candidly

I've been thinking about the idea of self-disclosure. Lately, I fear that I've put too much of myself out there. That I'm revealing things that should be kept secret, within the confines of a journal or between close friends. Yet, a lot of this stuff is stuff I share with my friends (not as much with my journal). I fear that I am saying things that could be misinterpreted or taken the wrong way (or occasionally the right way...).

Yet, what I find is that that is the voice of doubt. I do have to consider that what I say on blogs or social media can affect me later, but what I'm most worried about is how people see me. I am very deliberate in creating an image of myself that is positive and will last after I die. I know how I want to be remembered. I don't love simply for this reason, to make sure that people don't paint me an asshole after I pass, but it is a reason that I behave and act and talk the way I do.

Still, there's some stuff I don't even discuss in depth with anyone. Listening to Lauryn Hill's 'Ex-Factor' this morning brought some of that stuff to the surface, so I figured it'd be worth taking the risk to let some of it out. I actually do hope that certain people come across this post, because it will bring into the light things that I am either scared to say, or that need to be said but that I deem inappropriate for me to say based on existing parameters of relationships (or the lack thereof).

Lately, part of the distress I mentioned in the last post has come from facing parts of myself that I run away from. These are the parts I am ashamed to show to people, the actions that leave me with the most regret, though I do try to forgive myself for them. They are things I've done and said that afterward I wished I wouldn't, that had a profound capacity to hurt those who don't deserve hurt and that reflect a selfish and weak part of myself (a part that I must learn to love nonetheless).

I've been on both sides of the portrait Lauryn paints in 'Ex-Factor.' I've been the one trying to let go, but asked to stay. I've been the one who's asked a man to stay, but not for his benefit, just mine (a desperate attempt to heal). I've said things under my breath or buried in a subtext that have the power to hurt some of the men I've come across in my life. I've walked in my own bitterness and anger and let that manifest, only to later realize that doing so is the exact antithesis to love (the cornerstone of my life). Each of these things, I'm ashamed of.

I'm ashamed that I reached out, for fear that he'd never be the one to do it. I'm ashamed that I actually put energy into trying to get someone back, realizing later that maybe those feelings weren't genuine and that I was trying to heal myself in what I thought was the only way how. I'm ashamed that I've let things 'slip' that were bitter and spiteful, because I felt that it was my right to be honest and let my feelings be known and broadcast to the world that someone hurt me (while saying to myself in some way that they deserve hurt, too, which is not true). I am ashamed of my profound moments of weakness. I know that this stuff is where some of my fear comes from. I'm scared that I'll be seen as angry, bitter, desperate, crazy, unhinged, and that each of these shows plain as day to the men that I'd least like to hold such opinions of me.

So, I'm finally in the process of not running. I'm finally looking at each of those things, and other things I forgot but that will be brought into my awareness at some point, and forgiving myself, even if others haven't forgiven me for them. It's just hard to look inside and see something that makes me say, "I'm ashamed of myself for how I thought, acted, felt or behaved." It takes a lot of simultaneous processes: forgiveness, acceptance, compassion, and honesty. It takes a lot of energy to say, "That person, who I was in that moment, did something I wish I hadn't done, but that I must accept, so I am better able to love myself and others."

Sometimes, all I want is to stop, gather my courage, and say, "I'm sorry for what I did because I realize how it may have affected you." But, sometimes it's not important for other people to forgive me.

I have to have the strength and willingness to forgive myself and try to learn from each of my mistakes.

The E is for Evolving

Let me share with you my thought process over the past few days, especially today:

Today has felt weird. As I described it earlier, it is the introspective kind of weird, where you can't really get a hold on what kind of energy you have but you know it's not good or bad, it just is. Today, the usual distressing thoughts came into my mind, but I was able to sit with them until they passed (read: they were no longer in my conscious awareness). I took my day as it was. It got done the things I needed to. I did something today that didn't necessarily have to be done today. Go me!

As I was driving home, I thought to myself, "Today sure has been weird. I wonder why..." So I thought of my past few days. I thought of how most of last week was full of distressing thoughts until Friday where I somehow got my emotional shit together and managed to have a stellar day (thanks in great part to the people I love who showed up in various ways). I thought of my weekend and how peaceful it was, which I think is due to my having spent it primarily alone rather than in the company of others. I thought of how I sat through my loneliness on Saturday and just focused on myself, how I had an adventure in the park on Sunday, was inspired, and created something I love and am proud of for someone I love.

I thought of how the past 3-4 weeks were unusually distressful, especially considering how I felt before those 3-4 weeks, how I was the happiest I had ever been in my life, as far as I can recall, and definitely the happiest I had been since my breakup. While in that period, I wasn't sure what the hell was happening, but I was sure that I needed to get through my day-by-day and do the things I needed to, despite how I felt. So, I moved forward. Eventually, I got to today, where I feel fine, at ease, at peace with the way things are and the way things were.

I came to the conclusion that maybe that distressful period was part of my growth. Pema Chodron says that as we become Warriors of Boddhicitta, our lives may become stressful, we may have a sense of dread, but that it is only an indication that we are growing and changing. So, maybe that's what it was.

I cling to that theory, because it offers hope, but I think it may be true. Maybe I'm breaking free in a more noticeable way. Maybe those distressing thoughts are losing their power. Yes, I expect to have more bad days, simply because I'm human, but I will not devote any energy into making those days come faster. I will just sit and wait, say hi and love them when they do, cherish the lessons, and bid them a fond farewell once they leave.

In the now, I relish this sense of peace because it was something I wanted for a long time. I get glimpses of it in my day-to-day, but this is the longest it's lasted in a while. I'm grateful.

To me, this is what happiness is, a sense of peace with all that things are. I'll make changes where I need to and when I need to. Until then, I'll be sure to exercise my growing sense of compassion with myself and those around me.

It's nice to feel this free and I'm glad that all of the goings on of my life thus far have led to this point.

I'm evolving and my life is so much better because of that. I'm evolving because I'm great and I finally see it.

The Other L is for Fucking Lost

Last night, I came face to face with an emotion I haven't felt deeply for a long time: anger.

I was angry that I wanted to have a night where I didn't look for a man, yet I found myself seeking validation in mutual attraction (read: external validation). I was angry that I just wanted to dance and not worry, but I saw my ex with his usual partner of late and I didn't want that on my head. I was angry that it felt like I was catching no one's attention. I was angry that the one guy I want is the one guy I have to safeguard myself against to protect my heart. I was angry that my One, for Now or Forever, has not shown up yet. I was angry that the one man to give me the attention I was looking for is a good man, but a man I am not attracted to and had to be careful not to hurt because I could sense he was a good guy. I was angry that the good guys I had met thus far were not the ones I could pursue because it wouldn't be right.

I was angry that in my romantic life things were not going my way.

Romantic love is a significant and important part of life, but it is only part. Yet, last night, I found myself at the mercy of my impatience, anger, and sadness relating to my romantic life. I was face to face with every no, on both sides, every disappointment. It felt like all the work I had done had suddenly come crashing down around me. Last night was supposed to be fun, but it ended up carrying the theme of the rest of my week: anxiety and anguish.

Now, in my right mind, I find that I was in the midst of a growing experience. I needed to face my anger. I needed to realize that seeing an ex does not have to dictate how my night goes, and that if it gets to me and affects me, though I must openly acknowledge this, I am choosing to let it do so. I am choosing to stay in that shitty spot and not move forward.

I realized just how lost I was. Actually, that has been painfully apparent to me. Sometimes, I doubt what I do. I doubt my growth and change. However...

I also start to realize that what I am choosing to do with my life, making it a process of active Love, is not something to be doubted. If I offer love to someone and it is rejected, that's not a reflection on me. I can be crazy cheesy or sappy, but I'm still offering love. That is the last thing I should hesitate to do. I should never fear showing someone love because I feel they'll call me weird. I should never fear love at all.

As each day goes by, I have to trust. I have to trust that I am moving on the right path (I am), that the right man will come along (he hasn't), that my choice of partners will ring true with me (it will). Last night, I stopped trusting and I got angry.

But, I needed to. Had I not, I wouldn't be taking the time for growth today. Maybe things do happen for a reason.

The L is for Love

This week I've reflected upon a lot of things. One in particular is what I feel my purpose is. Since I decided to no longer believe in a higher power, I've not been sure what to think of a purpose. Being made for a specific purpose implies agency of something higher than myself. It means that we all have a purpose, but that's not something I'm sure I believe in.

Yet, I still believe I was made for something. I used to think I was made specifically to find someone to love and love them until I die, hopefully making both of our lives better. Yet, lately, and specifically this week, I've expanded that. I can't have been made to love someone in Other Romantic Love. No. I think I was made to love. Period.

And maybe it's not a purpose. Maybe it's my own declaration, a dedication to refuse to make this world a shittier place. At any rate, I've found a very strong joy in just loving others, in loving people I perceive don't like me, loving men who don't respect me, loving those who were in my life but now aren't, loving those who are in my life. Loving up close. Loving at a distance. Just, loving.

Love has had a profound effect on me. Without it, I wouldn't have gotten through the past nine months. Where the Other Romantic Love that had been so present in my life was suddenly gone, the Other Love of my friends and family slowly helped fill a hole I felt in the middle of my chest. But, not just that: the Self Love I finally acquired was also transformative.

Because of Self Love and Other Love, I wake up in the morning feeling worthwhile. Yeah, some days are bad, but I still learn to embrace them. I feel as though I matter. Love has become a real and palpable thing in my life. So, I made it my duty to keep spreading it. I need to start pushing myself to find new and creative ways to love me and others, but I still love. Every day, I love.

I get daily reminders that my work isn't done. Sometimes, I'm not sure it will be. But, even when I feel I can't, when the energy doesn't suddenly rush to me, I love. My world is better, easier because of it. I seriously hope yours is, too. If not, I'd like to change that.

The A is for Androgynous

As time goes by, I finding myself taking on more socially 'feminine' activities than I used to. That basically means I paint my nails occasionally. Still, I've noticed that I don't as strongly adhere to 'masculinity.' Not that I ever did, but I'm much less worried about it now.

I theorize that I'm going to take on more 'feminine' roles or behaviors, just as a natural progression. As part of my growth, I think that they'll be included because it feels as though they have been. With my insular existence, there is no real point to be made here, because I'm addressing a personal and individual change within myself. However, when taken out of my own narrow context, there is some dialogue to be had. Namely, we should all have this freedom to do so.

Our current gender paradigm is painted as a strict 'is', a way of being that always has been and forever will be. Of course, this paradigm is also strongly tied to sexism. It is taboo for any one gender to assume roles, behaviors, or thinking that belongs to the other gender, but it's much less taboo for women to 'act like men' than it is for men to 'act like women.' I don't need to paint the implicit assumption here.

I just wonder what it would look like if we were allowed the room and freedom to act however we wanted. Would a concept of gender even exist? It'd be cool because 'manly' men would genuinely be so and 'girly' girls would also. But THEN we'd also have women who hunt and shoot guns, men who gladly bake and cook. Wait... We already have these don't we? Yes, but we have them with the added cocked eyebrows or assumptions that one is not 'man' or 'woman' enough, or is not doing his or her appropo role. Clearly a bunch of bullshit.

I'm not sure why we place such a capital on adhering to gender roles and the current paradigm. I've grown to see it as far less important than people make it out to be, even though I give my own cocked eyebrows (I'm still growing and learning).

Androgyny to me is beautiful and it is a sort of freedom. I get to determine who I am and what I do, which goes along with my gender expression. And, honestly, I wouldn't even call some things 'masculine' or 'feminine' had I not learned this particular gender binary. Without those words or ideas, all I did would just be, it wouldn't have a gender attached to it.

We owe it to ourselves to create this kind of world. A lot of good things would follow as a result.

Heavy Lifting

I just received an email, sent to four other young men in my department, to move the copier in the department back to its original location. While this is fine, the secretaries are asking for help, I have two issues: One, I don't want to do it. Two, she only asked the young men.

Believe it or not, asking men to do heavy lifting or to move heavy things is sexism on two fronts. One, it assumes that men are the only ones capable of doing so and women aren't unless absolutely necessary (read: no men are present). Two, it enlists men to do such a task even if they don't want to (the same as asking women to cook or clean when the same could be asked of men). I know that men and women are built differently, that my body may be more conducive to bigger muscles, and therefore I can understand the intent behind the email.

However, I don't think the women in my life are weak enough to be incapable of heavy lifting; they just aren't expected to. When there weren't any male assistants in the department, the women did the things now asked of us.

The point here is that, even though men have privileges afforded to them in society, sexism hits us, too. However, as I mentioned, this particular form of sexism still affects women. It's more than being asked to do things based on our abilities; sometimes these requests are hinged upon supposed talents, abilities or strength, not actual. To alleviate the effects of sexism, we have to change things around. Instead of assuming a man or woman can or can't do things solely based on their sex or gender, maybe we should work on evidence (which I think the secretary is doing, though if I were scrawny I think I'd still be asked to help out). It's teaching men how to cook, but also giving women the space to do the heavy lifting. Logically, I should no longer feel guilty that a women is doing heavy lifting and I'm not simply because she's a woman, but instead because heavy things are heavy and burdensome to move or lift; it's compassion versus sexism (in the same way that chivalry shouldn't be about men doing things for women because they are women, but because the men are trying to be considerate; women should also offer to do the same for men).

All that being said, I'm still going to move the copier if I can and have the time, even though I don't want to because I know it will help people out. I'm still not deluding myself by ignoring the sexism behind this request and others like it.

Many Things to Consider

There are stories made in my lifetime like The Help, the story of a young White woman who defies odds to chronicle a significant part of the lives of many old Black women working as maids in the Jim Crow South. It is an uplifting story in some parts (of course, this is with my only having seen the movie), and devastating in others. It is a story of triumph for both Skeeter and Aibileen and the other maids. However, it is also problematic. It is a story about a White Savior for Black women.

While these stories of uplift and rising above adversity have tremendous value, they also come with a price. In The Help, and other media, the Black women could not have risen above without Skeeter. Sure, at face value this is awesome because people are becoming more than their circumstances. But, as you know, I'm a fan of implicit language, and one thing that stories like The Help say is that We, as marginalized people, no matter who those people are, need the help of someone who is not marginalized to get by. We have our own strength, but it is not enough without the help of someone like the White Savior.

I'll admit, it does feel like reaching, but the elements are there. For some reason, it is too much to have a protagonist get by with a little help from his/her 'birds of a feather.' It is somehow too much to have more stories like The Color Purple, focusing on a Black woman and her Black family and friends and her struggle to just get through life despite her circumstances. We need stories like The Help, maybe so our White friends will be better about being our White friends and that they are somehow different from the bad White people on our television and movie screens and in our books.

However, there is another issue: Sometimes, our 'birds of a feather' do not help us succeed, whether deliberately or passively. Sometimes they don't know how. I grew up with the resources and the support that made college seem like absolutely the only way. And, honestly, for that I'm so glad. However, do other Black teens have the same opportunities? Despite the Jefferson-esque move to the westside of Little Rock, Arkansas, I know that my parents would have pushed me to pursue a higher education. I don't think every Black youth has that. I don't think every Black youth even has someone that is willing to spend the energy to believe in them. And that's just Black youth.

So, we arrive at an impasse in which we have to fight the implicit message of needing something akin to a White Savior, but also, for some, having no other choice but to find a White Savior because the Birds of a Feather are incapable, in some way, of helping us out.

As I repeat, over and over again, and as I will repeat forever: If we lived in a truly equal society, these stories might not be a double edged sword, and there might be a chance for off-color jokes to exist without slowly damaging society piece by piece. But, as we all know, that is not the case. So, we must be wary of these stories while we applaud them. We must appreciate that there are nonmarginalized people ready and willing to help out, but what that may say about us.

Basically, these stories have to be treated with gravity, but also taken with a grain of salt. It's okay for anyone who is marginalized to rise up with his/her own strength, and it's okay to get help from someone with the resources. Both narratives are okay. Sometimes, we do or don't need a White Savior. Sometimes, we can make it on our own.