Tag: Utah

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Posted in Mormon, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , Leave a comment
English: Photo taken of the traditional view o...
English: Photo taken of the traditional view of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, NYC. The iPhone said 28 degrees. It was cold. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Its Christmas in New York. My mother is visiting, which has driven me up the wall, but holidays – arent they about being annoyed? Ive had the urge occasionally to write something in the past few months, but things have been busy as Ive started work and tried to figure out my new life. Its been interesting. I adopted a dog in July when I moved here. Hes really made a big difference in my ability to handle the stresses of building a new world. He just likes to hang out and then walk in the park, and so do I. Its nice to feel like a living thing is part of your life when you are alone so much of the time.

Religiously, Ive been taken a break from everything. I went to church once in the middle east this summer, which was good in that I felt what church does do for me. That feeling of peace and connection is the most important part of what I continue to believe and wont be changed by any cultural difficulties I continue to have. However, I knew that I needed space if I was ever going to feel comfortable claiming to be LDS in the future. I was bitter and angry and unable to find a way to reconcile what I know with how I felt I was being asked to live. Marriage continues to be a sticking point for me – not because I dont want to get married (I very much do) but because I am someone outside of my ability to get a guy into heaven and pop out some kids for our eternal progeny.

But its been an interesting few weeks. Emotional for a variety of reasons and I think I got my heart beaten into enough submission, that two days ago in the shower I had an epiphany. And with that epiphany came that same peace and love and confidence I havent felt in months, maybe longer. I stopped everything before because I felt I couldnt live up to the promises I felt and exercise the faith necessary to overcome all my doubts and unnatural anxiety to live a life beyond what I could imagine. I suppose thats what is asked of all of us. To believe in the unbelievable. But Im back to trying. I felt Him reach out to me and ask me to trust him. He gave me the time to ease my pains, while never going so far away I didnt know He was still looking out for me. But when He calls, He knew I would answer. I still believe. So this week, Im trying to go to the temple, I read Matthew 1 early early this morning (its Christmas after all!), and Im blogging again. You can only forget who you are for so long.

The point is, Im back. And the world continues to change,  so theres still plenty to say about the topics I started with. Maybe even more now. Polygamy or some version of it legalized in Utah (one marriage certificate but all the living together you want!), I think gay marriage was legalized as well (not exactly sure whats happening there), Duck Dynasty First Amendment nonsense. The world of religion and well the rest of it continue to collide in increasingly more snug ways. Everything around women and race is still sticky. So Ill do my best to keep up with my thoughts on the matter, and continue to talk about my ever evolving commitment to this odd religion that means so much to me. So thanks for listening if you still are. And the newbies, I hope I can say something of value to you so it doesnt feel like you are so alone in the world. I know what that feels like.

Oh I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

Posted in Black, Female, MormonTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment
Mansaf as served in an Jordanian household.
Mansaf as served in an Jordanian household. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Beatles Classic. Although I love the Jim Sturgess Across the Universe cover.

Another day and now Im in Jordan. Ill be here for a while, so it feels different my trip to Turkey. Especially cause my best friend is here. He loves this country. Today wasnt the first time I got to see it, but it was the first time that I got to see how that love changes him. My best friend, lets go with BF as a nickname, is a complicated guy masquerading as a simple person. He has this overlay of farting, eating and sleeping, but underneath that theres a lot of conflicting desires, identities and person working themselves out. Im not the first person to be his friend, and I doubt Im the last one to be this close to him – hes one of those people who polarizes people, you either love him and put up with the bullshit or you know right off the bat it wont work out for you. The nice thing about him is that he doesnt particularly care which side of the line you fall on, as long as it minimally affects his life. The one thing I am is the exception to the rule. I am definitely affecting his life.

Im the reason he decided to come out to the Middle East the first time, and since then (its his 4th or 5th trip out here) his involvement has ballooned and the positive impacts have been exponential. Now it is moving the lives of people on both continents in ways neither of us could have predicted 4 years ago, when it was just a last ditch effort to help him get into graduate school after a somewhat disastrous undergrad. I wonder what it feels like to travel 8000 miles and find your people and home. Because thats what he has here. I watched him today argue with a Jordanian about the political options of the country and the tribes that empower it, and saw a comfort and relaxation I dont see when hes hunched over work in his room in Utah. He always projects confidence, but this time it doesnt just sit on the surface, it becomes who he is. Its more than skin deep.

This is my crackpot hypothesis, but I think the reason this place works so well for him is how literal he is. In Jordan, things are right on the surface, if you learn what to look for. Obviously there is the religion – you hear and see the minarets and calls to prayer, as well as the women wearing hijab or niqab. There are ceremonies for greeting people, hospitality rituals that must be done, and time that must be spent in particular ways in order to get by here. And if you can learn them, then you can fit in. Even to me, Jordan doesnt feel like a foreign place, although the voice/feeling inside me is off its axis so I know that I am out of wack and have to get readjusted. Im driving BF a bit crazy, because he cannot understand why Im having this reaction.

There’s something about his reaction that is even more alientating than being in this country far from home. I would describe myself as a slow-to-warm up person. I feel crazy inside until I understand the rules and nuances of how a place works, and then I usually end up excelling within it. I had the same reaction when I started my various programs, but because I spend the time up front to understand the dynamics, I can do things that other people cant. Case in point – leaving early to go abroad. 🙂 Until then, things feel scary, Im highly sensitive to other people’s emotions and nonverbals, because Im trying to soak it all in, so I can learn the rules that are important and those that can be observed and then broken. That is how I think Ive managed to deal in a world where I cant find a easy social place to belong.

Maybe I should chose my best friends better. BF is not about drama, emotions or deep explanations. Thats probably the one thing he doesnt have in common with Jordanians, who seem to constantly be yelling, laughing and being highly expressive. Although, considering ALL of the dramatics he lets into his life, lets say that description may be a bit suspect. Myself included. Anyway, another part of traveling 101. People man, people. They are the reason I leave home and reason I ache to stay inside far away where its safe from all their shenanigans. But we will make it work, as we always do, because I love him and he loves me and family makes it through regardless. Plus who else is going to put up with us?

Otherwise, Ive found an apartment in the city, have a bathroom to scrub (somewhat scarring) and just dropped off my laundry for the first time. Life building begins anew. Oh and if it was unclear – I loved Turkey, in case that did not come across. It was just exactly what I described – new and things Im still struggling with – the constant staring. One of BF’s friends has already told him that he doesnt have to be scared walking around with me, cause everyone will be scared of me. Its not my favorite thing ever to be told, but I suppose its better than being a victim. So I will continue to try to find a way to see myself in this kaleidoscope of reflections.

Ive posted relevant articles – so you can understand a bit better why Jordan. Its this interesting country in the middle of all this crazy political upheaval. President Obama will actually be here tomorrow after his trip to Israel. Also there was a recent article posted in the Atlantic of an interview with King Abdullah II, that is having impact all over the place. Ill talk more about all of that in another post, but a small sampling below.

Related articles

You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman

Posted in Black, FemaleTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment
English: Wild hair
English: Wild hair (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My newest thoughts brought to you by Aretha Franklin. So for me the point of this blog is to talk about all three categories of my fabulously obvious title. So I try to mark by category what I think each post refers to although there is apparently massive overlap. Hard to tease them out in my life.

Today’s topic: Good Hair. I still havent seen Chris Rock’s documentary (on the list), but I have mostly whats considered good hair. Its curly and crazy, but it grows pretty long and stays straight with enough heat and no humidity. When I was really little, I used to cry everytime my mother tried to comb through my hair, and my sisters and I wore it in a ton of random braids sprouting out of our heads with the bubble bands that used to pop your finger and hurt terribly when you missed. But in 7th grade, surrounded by mostly white students with awesomely straight hair I desperately wanted to wear my hair out.

Thus began my Fridays of sitting 3 hours in a chair, while I was burned by extremely hot combs that sat in little metal ovens. You would sit in various chairs, while the sylist feathered other people in and out of your appointment time. It took HOURS to get it straight, and then no washing for as long as you could stand it and then back to the chair. Its a different life than most people – everything dries out black hair and scalps, so the less washing the better – and it does handle oils better than most white hair, but still it gets dirty. So every two weeks back in the chair. I tried relaxing it once in 8th grade. That resulted in me cutting most of my hair off, as it was damaged, not at all straighter, and it never grew past my boob again. It used to be all the way down my back. Im still occasionally sad about that experiment.

So I kept up that schedule – the chair and two weeks, through volleyball practice, track meets and summers, until college. Going east one would think it would be easier to find someone to deal with my hair, but even black hairdressers there had problems. So I started washing it on my own and trying curly every once in a while – in a big ponytail at the back of my head. It was crazy. And then when I moved to Utah – I let a white stylist handle it and it wasnt so bad. It didnt get as straight as it used to in California or for as long, but it was better than straightening it myself, which was never going to happen.

That story may feel fairly benign, but its amazing how much all women define themselves by their hair. Maybe because it takes so long – men can buzz their heads look like an idiot for two weeks and then its over. Hair grown back. Women are sort of committed to those bangs the second the first cut is made. I dont think even I realized how much having crazy frizzy hair was bothering me until I went to Hawaii, and I saw the Islanders walking around with their version of combed out fro. It was like heaven, and the first time I saw a white girl with her blond straight hair I was incensed. What were they doing here ruining the minorities’ good time? Ive never so quickly irrationally hated a person or group except for that first week in Hawaii. It was like paradise marred by the people I had finally escaped. The feeling of having found my people, my place was  lanced every time I saw straight short skinny mainlanders. I got over it eventually, but its probably why I like New York. It feels like freedom from an oppressive standard – and while it may not be their fault, its certainly stiffling to try to live amongst them as one who can never conform enough, even if I wanted to. Genetics is drawing that line in this instance.

So I finally gave up. I mean a bad short haircut saved by me figuring out that curly hair actually worked in it forced my hand, but still, in the past year and a half its never been straightened. Its a whole new world. I didnt do it to reclaim an identity or make a statement – it was too much money and time to maintain the straight look and I decided I no longer cared. Its amazing how much my hair means to people. To my mother, born two generations ago, its claiming “bad hair” and looks wild and crazy and unprofessional. To her, Im giving up the fight to assimilate in and gain the privileges her generation fought for but so clearly showcasing the things that are different between the two races. On the other hand, I get so many compliments I get on my hair from all people. Black, white, asian, etc who just looooove how much volume I can get and how it just seems to work. For me, I love waking up each morning to the ever growing mass, sticking in a few random bobby pins and going outside. Its my own liberation from myself and the norms I thought I had to live by. Now I spend my money trying new curly hair products – I still swear by Kerastase and now Devacurl – in case anyone was wondering.

So now there are people who know me who have never seen my hair straight. Its funny how we can change so much so fast – even though it seems so small. Maybe one day Ill go back to the occasional blow out, but until then, freedom is looking pretty – literally.