Tag: women

‘Cause I Gotta Have Faith

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I started this post this summer, and since it is still a relevant topic 6+ months later – Im going to leave what I initially wrote and then weave in where I am now. Its prob a weird idea, but im too lazy to start it up from scratch.

BEFORE – An easy pick given the topic: George Michael.

This post is inspired both by the difficulties Im going through in life in general and this blog post I found on my facebook feed. Im not going through anything more difficult than the regular up and downs of life. The anticipation of something new, moving back home after being out of my country for 3 months now, being bored, stressed and dealing with relationships. Nothing new, but sometimes they all combine together to make you lose hope and faith in yourself, others and the possibility of a better world.

Ive been greatly irritated by the stupidity of men in general this week. Nothing new – but most of the program Im helping run out here is male interns this year and the conversations are gross, the commentary banal, the actions disgusting and Im seriously wondering if this is my fate for eternity, to be surrounded by the immature, or if it ever gets better. Therefore I got upset at the Best Friend who is often the number one propagator of such grossness and his sidekick, who thinks he’s hilarious, and kicked them out of room. I was told I was over-reacting, controlling, think Im better than others and a downer. All of these things are likely true.

Combine this continued annoyance, with being sick from foreign food, sinus headaches, the lack of connection with the place, dealing with finding housing with a roommate from 6000 miles away and trying to help the BF get his shiz together for school – I may need to go home and cry for a while. Instead, I am obsessively watching Vampire Diaries from season 1, which is definitely easing the pain.

AFTER – Now im obsessively watching other shows – all hail Netflix! –  but the anxiety has been extreme. It may have been connected to my mother’s visit – it does tend to be somewhat distressing, given how long she was here. But work has been stressful as well. And the shear uncertainty has been exhausting. I met with my bishop last week. I told him the reason I havent been coming to church is because I have no idea how to be Mormon anymore; I dont know how to fit in and not feel awful about myself everyday. I dont think its exactly the church’s fault, but I still havent exactly figured out how to make it work. He gave me a blessing that I would have the courage and confidence to do what I needed and make the connections to come back.

In many ways, I am not the girl who started this blog. Although I dont always feel a lot has happened, I guess a lot really has. Its been 6 months at my first job, its a large adjustment to the corporate world. Its been a long time without my friends near by and the process of making new ones is just a drawn out one, even though I have met some really great people. I still love this city, but the anxiety has taken control and its hard to enjoy anything. I had this moment the other day where I saw who I needed to be. And it was beautiful. This girl who was quietly confident, serene and sure of her place in the world and not running around like a nutso trying to gather up enough pieces of love to get by in the next few mins, hours, days. I saw children and how much I would love them and how important they would be to me – which is a very different feeling than I had before, when I did not know how I would feel or what I would want. I saw this future for myself that was more than all the things I wanted for myself, and I felt some peace that there was still a path forward for me. I wasnt sure what was left – I didnt have any specific goals for myself recently other than to be good. Not just a good person, but really good at stuff. But I havent been able to think past the feeling of being terrible at everything, which no facts seem to support, but my brain keeps wandering back to.

Theres a way through this and that was a glimpse at what was beyond, but until then there is a curtain of solid anxiety between me and there. There is going to be a way through to that other life, but lots ahead for me. So Im not the same – I was bold before, now I feel timid. I was full of sharp edges about what I believed, now Im softer less aggressive. Im slowing down and trying to figure out whats going on in my life, so I can get to the other side of the curtain.

Im not upset about going to church tomorrow (its a Saturday here), Im not upset about where I am. Im just frustrated sometimes, but not angry any more. Thats why I think its time. Im trying to get back to where I was before, but better. So things may sound different coming from me now. Im changing, everything is changing. I dont see the topics changing, but who knows where I will come down on it? Ok, most things havent changed that much – but I may just be less angry about it all. 🙂

Hopefully thats still of interest to you reader. Happy New Year! Lets see what 2014 has to offer.

Imagine There’s No Countries

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English: Teaching and Learning
English: Teaching and Learning (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It may technically be cheating, since I already did a Beatles son, but its John Lennon by himself so Im counting it.

Today was my first day not hanging out with Americans. I agreed to teach English to the children of a professor and I was picked up for the two hour lesson. There were three children in the car in addition to the two adults, and the children were both fascinated by me and extremely shy. I was confused at first, I thought they were transporting me to the children I was tutoring. The father is a physics professor at one of the universities and his wife is an accountant for the government. I am tutoring the two oldest children, a girl and a boy. The girl is adorable and so so intelligent. The little boy is a bit young, and still scared of me, but we managed to exchange a few words before I put on the ABC song on youtube for him to watch over and over. They also fed me my first in-country mansaf – I posted what mansaf looks like on the last post. It is considered the only true Jordanian food, and I think its delicious. The wife had pre-prepared the mansaf because she worked during the week.

It was fascinating to be so far from home, and find the working arrangement that is so rare in the Mormon culture, and one that I probably hope to emulate. This woman, who is married to an exceptionally educated husband with three very smart kids, in this culture where most Americans assume there is no equality or opportunity for women, is very accomplished and making it work for her family. There are sacrifices to be made, of course, but people all around the world are doing it, even in Arabia, and something I wish others would consider, because I really feel there are benefits for our children. I grew up in a family where my mother worked, and although there were inconveniences, I learned many things about being fearless and supporting myself that I think has led to me to a point that I dream much bigger than I would have otherwise.

The wife drove me home after my lessons. I got the feeling she does not drive much, but on the way she said something that made an impact on me. She said she had a dream that someday her two oldest children, the ones I am tutoring, will speak English fluently. She told me the oldest child, the girl, wants to go to America someday. It made me think how lucky I am to have been born in a country, where I learned English growing up. How lucky I am to be an American – I never have to worry when I show up at a country’s borders, whether or not I will be allowed. There are so few places in the world, we are not allowed. The same will not be true for this little girl. Arabia is considered a place for terrorists, and the visas have been severely restricted for their travel to the states – unless you are very rich or have some other important value. Will this little girl ever have the opportunity to travel the world they way I have? I dont know. I hope so.

So this is my time in the Middle East so far. I am finding ways to interact with the culture in small ways, that mean a lot to me; so hopefully I wont leave here just having taken without giving back something.

Cause Im Freeeeeeeeee, Freefallin

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Cover of "Up in the Air [Blu-ray]"
Cover of Up in the Air [Blu-ray]
Take your pick – the Tom Petty original or John Mayer, which Im partial to.

Today is an obvious title, because after the last few days, thinking more than a little bit is off the agenda. I tried to switch my flight so I could take some meetings here in Turkey, but it turned into a disaster, including me having no flight back to the Middle East. It took 4+ days of calling and hours on Google voice (bless them) to finally get calmly booked on a flight for tomorrow. Now that its all settled there havene really been any downsides. I got to explore the Asian side of Istanbul, which is far more financial and residential than the European side. I got to experience traffic crossing the bridges multiple times during rush hour, and I got to spend all day doing nothing and ordering room service. Not a bad trip.

I think the best thing was the feeling of euphoria after I checked in for my flight tomorrow, which was the even that led to me knowing I didnt have a flight on Sunday. I am so outrageously happy. I have been happy this whole period of time, since it finally sunk in 2.5 weeks ago that I managed to escape Provo, school and any other weight of my former life. Traveling has allowed me to make a clean break with my former life and do all the prep work necessary for preparing for my new super-awesome life, apparently jetting around the globe, meeting really nice people, and most importantly feeling free. Free from worrying about what I look like, whens the last time I waxed my face, what do my clothes look like right now, how crazy is my hair. Free from worrying about what others think of my behavior, me staying home from church, or buying Taco Bell on a Sunday. Free from wondering what people are thinking about me. I basically know here – its shes really tall and foreign. And Im ok with that – cause I sooooo am. It wasnt the most comfortable feeling in the world, but at least its honest and transparent and obvious. Not all the insidious things I wonder if people are thinking about me in Provo.

Im not saying the box I was in was anyone’s fault but my own. I wanted to be one of them, and considered them to be my people – but I wasnt. I never fit in. The nice thing about being out here is that Im not one of them, so I dont try to fit in, which makes it so much easier to actually do so! Ive made friends on the traveling road, so much faster than Ive made friends at any point in my life. I already made a friend to meet in Paris on my way back to NYC, Ive made friends with a girl in my same company in Turkey. I feel at ease and confident with myself so I am open to the world. Im still working out how to say no to hawkers and aggressives, but regular people and I are friends. Its nice not to suspect the whole world of being against you, and here when I do think it, at least there is a rational why they might, rather than all the weird reasons I didnt fit in Provo.

I just want to learn to hold on to this feeling. I could conquer NYC, my new job, anything, including getting back in shape without all the bullshit that comes with whys, and shoulds. Im really so grateful for being free. Its why I left Southern California to go to the East Coast – so that I could be free and make mistakes on my own and learn from them, without being hemmed up by someone else’s ideas of what I should do, or at least my ideas of what I thought others thought I should do. Its basically the feeling I get every time I hit Vegas and start seeing minorities again, and the band around my chest loosens and I can breathe. You are just one of the crowd, so everything is ok again, rather than the squeaky nail that gets pounded down per the Japanese saying.

It may be extreme, but Im free for the first time in my life I feel freaking free! And man does it feel sooo much better than all the weight Ive been carrying around my whole life about being me, and big curly-haired, and Black, and Hispanic and female and Mormon, and smart and whatever else I identified as different from the norm. All the things that I let define me, but now there’s just me. One whole person, who has flaws but I can own my own feelings about it. No more guilt or shame. Just me figuring it out. Much easier to do without that backpack with all the rocks I put in. Good job George Clooney. You really did know what you were talking about.

If I Could Take it All Back Now, I Wouldn’t

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English: Sultanahmet Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey
English: Sultanahmet Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Its not my blog without some Eminem. Ive seen him twice in concert and both times were awesome.

So Im in Turkey and have been for a few days, after a few days in Jordan. I literally have no idea what time zone Im on, what day of the week it is or when Im supposed to be sleeping so its 2am somewhere in the world and Im awake. For a little bit – I used to think the story I told myself about getting back from China and only being awake for 3-4 hours at a time and then sacking out for 8 over a two week period was a ridiculous story. I now recognize it was completely accurate.

Life in Turkey is interesting after 1.5 days in Jordan. In both places, I am a novelty. I am taller than everyone in the country it seems, especially as a woman. I have seen very few Black people in either country, but the ones that are there are usually African and I dont dress or act African. I also have insanely curly hair. How people deal with those differences is the big rub.

In Jordan, I was with my best friend. When we go to restaurants, people do not look at or address me – it would be considered extremely impolite until I ask to be addressed. Although it seems many women in the country would expect the man to be the public face in that situation. Its not that different than in America, where perhaps the man might order for you – but its sometimes considered paternalistic and archaic. Well not in Jordan. People were very kind and willing to help. Its like there are no lines between the in-group and out-group, at least not publicly. A man standing on the side of the road when we are trying to get a suitcase into the car feels extremely comfortable weighing in on how we should position it for best use.

On the streets, there are just large bands of roving boys/men. The few women you see are always accompanied by a man, or you see them in the restaurants or shops, never just out on the streets with friends. When I catch someone staring at me, which happened constantly in the day I was there, they always look away quickly so they do not get caught staring impolitely at a woman. The roles inside the home seemed rather traditional as well. The family we visited – the woman was primarily responsible dealing with the children when they were problematic; but, the father spent just as much time playing with them and attempting to discipline them – they just didnt listen. 🙂 She did not speak much English and I spoke very little Arabic, so most of our interaction was the four adults sitting in the room watching Nick cartoons (which are really weird) and then some BBC programming. While the kids ran in and out with the new toys we had gotten them, that made a ton of noise. Im pretty sure the parents will disown us soon.

Turkey is a whole different world.  We are staying in the extremely touristy section of Istanbul – Sultanahmet. I got off the tram, after three hours of traveling from the airport, and immediately got accosted by a man selling carpets. I am apparently incapable of figuring out how to say no, without feeling guilty and rude, so I followed him around the corner and down the stairs of this building – knowing that I  would be the star of Taken 3 – Im an idiot. Fortunately, they just wanted to give me apple tea and try to sell over priced carpets to me. The next male encounter was on my way back from taking some scenic pictures of Istanbul that night. People just throw random English out to see if you will take the bait, and I did. He eventually showed me a phone full of pictures of random Asian women he had also taken pictures with. And then made me link arms with him as he walked me back to my hotel – I originally just thought he wanted me to eat at his restaurant! Apparently I was wrong, because when I forced him to leave me before he found out where I was staying, a kiss on the lips was requested. I quickly said no, and ran away, taking a detour just in case he tried to follow me. These interactions quickly made me miss the ignoral of Jordan. Here, Im just another American tourist, to sell cheap crap to, and potentially hook up with.

So a novelty in both worlds, but such different interactions. There is something dehumanizing about both styles though. In both, I feel like less of a person – one as an object to be held apart and the other as an object to be exploited  Neither seem to consider me and what I would want, although of course neither is my culture so I probably do not warrant an entire change of style, based on my mere existence. I dont know how I will make friends in either world. Im a third gender in Jordan. Men treat me more like they would other men – they can say things they would never say in front of their wives, sisters, mothers, (mostly consisting of gay jokes and farts), but I am still not a man. They still must treat me far more conciliatory than they would normally, without the strict structure surrounding their interaction with Muslim women. In Turkey, Im a tourist. Im neither gender nor human – Im money. And considering I do want food, and jewelry and maybe even a rug by the end of the trip, it will probably work for them to “Ask me one question” before I go. 

Im sure things will continue to feel unsettled – this is a lot of change for me in a short time, after what seems like a lifetime of same. And I miss my bed and my own bathroom and not traveling while having a period. But so far, I still embrace my decision to leave the known and travel out into the world that I still cannot believe I found. Im sure there will be many more surprising things to encounter during the next two weeks in Turkey, but I will try to post some pictures soon. My new hobby (photography) awaits.

You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman

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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.