IN DEFENSE OF BEING HUMAN

I walked into my senior year with high hopes for my favorite place in the world: Ramapo College and yet something happened in the last 3 weeks that hurt my heart.  After finding myself as part of the queer community for years – it wasn’t until I started expressing myself the way I wanted did I begin to get attacked based on my appearance on both a personal and professional level.

For those of you who have been attacked , stereotyped or oppressed in any way based on your appearance – I admit being an average height , average sized , white female with blue eyes and mid length red hair spoiled me over the years because I never truly understood or perhaps I chose not to acknowledge being oppressed based on my appearance.  For those of us who have admitted that judgmental voice oppressing others …. This is me calling you to action. I don’t want to physically see your green dot.  I want you to FEEL your green dot in this community. I want you to walk past people and think – I know this person is a great athlete, leader, singer, academic etc. not “Ew, she looks like Miley Cyrus and works in the Women’s Center …what a *inappropriate word*”

Yes, in fact, I overheard this being said about me.  This is Ramapo. We are a diverse community – I am proud to be a Roadrunner for all 4 years – for LIFE because in our community we challenge oppression, we dismantle prejudices, discriminatory ideals and statements, this is an anti-racist, non-sexist, queer affirmative community – We are a safe community and yet, how many of us treat each other with respect as human?

I was interviewed for a position on campus and asked at one point “How do you plan to make yourself approachable… you know because of your facial piercing and your haircut??”  I assure you I almost fell off my chair at this point. What? Since when did having short hair become a disease? What is this 1944? You think you can catch my intimidating queer status because I have short hair? Instead I politely explained that my appearance should not in any way be a factor in my ability to carry out this position.

After this, I started to feel oppressed. I began to feel like I had to wear feminine headbands, and earrings and makeup so people were not intimidated by my appearance. I briefly stopped feeling comfortable in my ripped jeans and skull shirts – something I have worn since I was about 15. What happened in the last 3 weeks that changed my status as a human for the last 22 years? What is it about my hair that made me stick out in the Greek community – that allowed me to have a fraternity friend walk up to me and state “My brothers thought you were straight… but are you gay?”

So what am I then? I am human. This is my defense to this fear of my expression. Defend yourself for being human. Wear what you want because that is how you want to feel. Have hair down to your ankles or shave it all off. Pierce anything you want, forgot “gender stereotypes” – be a human. I defend you , I stand by you no matter your choice because that is what makes you unique. This is what makes you human.

You are loved for who you are Ramapo.

Start loving each other. Be brave, be you.

ow iHj

What I Didn't Expect When I Turned 21.

I would like to preface this blog article with a disclaimer. Although I will be discussing the bar scene and turning 21, I am in no way glorifying being able to do such activities. Rather, I plan to discuss something beyond social drinking with friends at a local establishment which is of great concern to me.

With that being said, upon turning 21, I had never imagined how much defense I would have to play while out with friends on a Saturday night. Granted, I have experienced being in the presence of intoxicated individuals before, but for whatever reason, the bar scene is a whole other ball game I was not anticipating. Although I am very capable of handling myself around aggressive men, I must admit, it did become overwhelming and exhausting.

Throughout the night I encountered a handful of young men who were quick to assume that a young woman at a bar is just a piece of meat. The first male approached me at the bar and started some small talk, and although I was not interested, I was fine. When the next male got way too touchy and aggressive during Badfish's set, I was able to remove myself from the situation although I was quickly disappointed because I had to leave my prime spot in the crowd. When the next male, a repeat offender throughout the night, did not listen to me when I stated each and every time he tried to dance with me that I was not interested I started to get annoyed. Finally, when the next male, a friend of mine, who was visibly too intoxicated, got a little too close for comfort, I was fed up. However, these encounters got me thinking and led to lengthy self and societal reflection.

Simply, turning 21 has been a reality check, especially when I compare how I imagined the bar culture to be and how it really is. Granted I expected male attention, but I was definitely not anticipating having to ward off guys like a defensemen in the endzone. Nor, did I realize that it is apparently difficult to understand the term "no". Fortunately, I am used to being surrounded by a group of guys that do understand such concepts, which may explain why I was experiencing such culture shock that night.

In all, I learned a few things about myself that evening.
1. I can handle my own.
2. I am responsible for my own actions.
3. I need to be mindful of what I do and what I consume.

But I also learned other lessons that I believe both men and women should be aware of.
1. No always means no.
2. Don't be aggressive.
3. No still means no.
4. Let it go if he/she is not into you.
5. Don't be overly touchy feely right off the bat, people have boundaries you know.
6. And, most importantly, don't make a person feel threatened. Not only does it ruin their night, but it ruins your chances of making a connection and also that person's desire to want to go out again.

Sure, when you're of age, go out, have fun, and meet people, but don't be that person that ruins it for everyone. It's 2013, both men and women should be able to go out and socialize without feeling threatened or attacked. If we act as a green dot and act as the people we are when not fueled by a social lubricant, everyone can have a fun time.

Final thoughts: Be safe, be smart, use your best judgment, and don't overdo it.

Rosie the Riveter

Herstory Month: We Remember

In 1942, the Westinghouse Company's War Production Coordinating Committee hired artist J. Howard Miller to design a series of posters that encouraged war effort during the second World War. One of the posters developed was specifically focused on boosting the moral of steel workers. At the time, since the men were off at war, most of the workers were female. Hence, Miller’s poster depicted a female steel worker saying, “We Can Do It”

Months later, a different artist made his own depiction of the original poster. This time the woman was much bulkier and was seen eating her lunch with a rivet gun on her lap. At her feet was Hitler’s book, “Mein Kampt.” The name written on the women’s lunchbox was “Rosie” and so she henceforth was known as “Rosie the Riveter.”

Eventually, the artist’s poster was taken down due to copyright protection. However, the title of “Rosie the Riveter” transferred over to the original poster made by J Howard Miller.

After the war, Rosie the Riveter wasn't seen too often, until the 1950’s and 1960’s, when the Women’s Right Moment began to unfold. Rosie the Riveter was once again used to empower women. Except this time it was not to work for war but to work for equal rights. Rosie was a symbol that showed women have the strength and power do what men can do. Today, Rosie the Riveter remains a symbol of equal rights and is used by women all over the country to support equality. This is history. This is her story.

Women's Stories

As I was doing my daily reading of CNN.com, which usually pisses me off more than it causes me to reflect, I stumbled upon an opinion piece that really made me think a lot.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/10/21/rollins.american.women/index.html

Full disclosure: I lost my mom in April of this year, so that may be why it was more touching to me. But whoa, is that a story! The author of the piece reflects on his mother's life in a way that makes the history that we have often heard about of women at the time come to life. What struck me as most interesting, though, is that this is frequently the type of dialogue about women after they die, instead of engaging them in it while they are alive.

I know this from personal experience. My mom was the type of person who knew everyone, and everyone knew her. You either loved her or you hated her, but either way if you were interacting with Mary Jane Costello she was going to have an impact on your life. Though she had been battling breast cancer for 8 years, her death was still sudden and shocking to many of us. Since we didn't get the chance to say goodbye and to honor her in life, tributes poured in after death. We received letters and cards from friends who probably hadn't spoken to my mother in years, detailing stories from their past and ways that she had changed their lives. At her wake, it was standing room only, full of people eager to talk about my mother and celebrate her life while mourning her death. There were people who my mother had taught when they were 3 years old in pre-school who came with their own children, now preschool aged themselves. All of these people came to honor my mother, and I couldn't help but wish that she could have been there to hear it, and join in to enhance the stories. 

I love hearing stories about the lives of women. But when we tell the stories of other women, even if we were involved in them, we change them a little. We bring a little bit of our own biases, our own perspectives. We have to start encouraging women of the older generations to tell their own stories, in their own voices, before those stories are lost forever. I never really got to know my maternal grandmother, because she died when I was very young. I know that my theoretical children that I hope to have someday will never know their maternal grandmother. So I will do my best to keep my mother's spirit alive by telling her stories, as best as I can without her here, just as she did about her mother. But for those of you who have the opportunity, don't forget to take the time to ask your elders about their stories, in their voices, and encourage them to share it with the world.