I am totally grateful of the fact that my heart got completely obliterated not too long ago.
I obviously haven't looked at it this way always. In fact, I was angry, heartbroken, sad and confused for a while.
But I now walk a fine line between being cautious and self-aware and "hard" – so to speak. I look at things much differently now. I shock myself all the time still. Where is the Michal that wouldn't only meet people halfway, but walked most of the way and put in the majority of the effort? Where is the Michal that beat herself up for other people's misjudgments? Where is the Michal that let every tiny negative thing change the course of her day?
Gone, gone, gone. I don't know if those parts of me will ever come back, and I don't think I want them to.
But at the same time I often have to check this new self. I often find myself saying, "I can try and try and if you don't want to meet me halfway, that's on you, boo!" That's fine. I can write nice emails and have a forgiving attitude about people who have hurt me and if they aren't willing to see their own mistakes, that's on them. I don't let it bother me when people blow me off, either. Their loss.
But what about the unchecked, negative and cynical person I can see emerging if I'm not careful?
There is a fine line between confidence and arrogance, between caution and cynicism, between compromise and nonchalance.
As India sings, I need to find the middle.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Hate on me, hater, and let me know how far it gets you!
"Hate on me hater, now or later. 'Cause I'm gonna do me. You'll be mad, baby!"
There isn't any refuting Jill Scott's argument here. People are going to hate, hate, hate, even if I'm being my true and authentic self. People are still going to think I'm being "phony" or "fake" of just find some other way to disapprove of me, but I don't need anyone's approval to be myself. If you don't believe that I'm being me, that's on you and not me.
I have worked hard to prove myself at Sonoma State. I work hard in my academics, I work hard for my students, I work hard to make this school a better place than I found it. I don't pretend to be anyone I'm not in the process. I know that for myself, and whether or not others believe it is up to them.
Why do people hate? That's almost asking the same question as, "why does the sun set?"
We hate or dislike or discredit because we become convinced that it comes along with our basic "human nature," which simply isn't true. It does, however, come with our egos.
There's always a reason for our hating on each other. "She think she better than me!" "I don't like his attitude." "She's always got a facade up." "I don't like the way she acts." And so on, and so forth.
But are these things really the truth, or stories we convince ourselves are real?
I can hate and hate and hate on the people in my past who have caused me pain, and where does it get me? Nowhere, or worse, behind where I started from. I had to learn that the hard way.
I can't help the way people perceive me, and neither can any of us. Because the truth is, I can do all the work I do and bust my hump and try to help as much as I want, and there are always going to be people who don't approve or like what I'm doing. They may dislike my personality. And ironically, the people that make the most judgments about me don't know me well enough to even open their mouths.
But guess what? I'm not going to change anytime soon, so that's on you, boo.
There isn't any refuting Jill Scott's argument here. People are going to hate, hate, hate, even if I'm being my true and authentic self. People are still going to think I'm being "phony" or "fake" of just find some other way to disapprove of me, but I don't need anyone's approval to be myself. If you don't believe that I'm being me, that's on you and not me.
I have worked hard to prove myself at Sonoma State. I work hard in my academics, I work hard for my students, I work hard to make this school a better place than I found it. I don't pretend to be anyone I'm not in the process. I know that for myself, and whether or not others believe it is up to them.
Why do people hate? That's almost asking the same question as, "why does the sun set?"
We hate or dislike or discredit because we become convinced that it comes along with our basic "human nature," which simply isn't true. It does, however, come with our egos.
There's always a reason for our hating on each other. "She think she better than me!" "I don't like his attitude." "She's always got a facade up." "I don't like the way she acts." And so on, and so forth.
But are these things really the truth, or stories we convince ourselves are real?
I can hate and hate and hate on the people in my past who have caused me pain, and where does it get me? Nowhere, or worse, behind where I started from. I had to learn that the hard way.
I can't help the way people perceive me, and neither can any of us. Because the truth is, I can do all the work I do and bust my hump and try to help as much as I want, and there are always going to be people who don't approve or like what I'm doing. They may dislike my personality. And ironically, the people that make the most judgments about me don't know me well enough to even open their mouths.
But guess what? I'm not going to change anytime soon, so that's on you, boo.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Sociologically wired brain
I have always been observant, even from a young age.
I try to be careful to not make assumptions about how the actions and personalities of individuals tie into a greater social construct, but I have a sociologically wired brain.
I see many things as interconnected to larger social issues. I can think somewhat psychologically, but in my eyes individual traits and assets and behavior are connected to larger influences (birth order, parents' marital status, etc.)
Just this morning I was sitting in my Sociological Research Methods class, and was surprised by something that went on. At the table there were three Latina women, two white men and one white woman. I appear to be the only African American in the class. We were supposed to be discussing our proposed topic for our research proposal. Instead the two men began talking one-on-one, the white woman was quiet for a while, and the two Latina women I was sitting between (who I assume knew each other) began speaking in Spanish. Eventually the third Latina woman chimed in and the three of them began talking, and the white woman had also joined the conversation between the two men.
I may as well have been invisible.
I wasn't particularly offended by the fact that no one paid me any attention or asked me about my research topic; I took it as an opportunity to make observations. The white students, I noticed, were speaking about schedules and where they were from, where the Latina students were speaking about men and machismo, and other things related to their boyfriends and the assumptions they carried as Hispanic men.
I had to try not to assume the reasons behind the differences in conversation, and also not to become irritated with the constant talking through me that was occurring.
I tell the story mostly to highlight my increasingly changing vision. Since I entered the Sociology major, I view things with even more clarity and connect them to what I already understand about particular structures. I'm excited by my opportunity to explore the field more - especially since I can directly relate it to Student Affairs and learn future practices that I can later apply. I have sociological eyesight and I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go observe people in the coffee shop.
I try to be careful to not make assumptions about how the actions and personalities of individuals tie into a greater social construct, but I have a sociologically wired brain.
I see many things as interconnected to larger social issues. I can think somewhat psychologically, but in my eyes individual traits and assets and behavior are connected to larger influences (birth order, parents' marital status, etc.)
Just this morning I was sitting in my Sociological Research Methods class, and was surprised by something that went on. At the table there were three Latina women, two white men and one white woman. I appear to be the only African American in the class. We were supposed to be discussing our proposed topic for our research proposal. Instead the two men began talking one-on-one, the white woman was quiet for a while, and the two Latina women I was sitting between (who I assume knew each other) began speaking in Spanish. Eventually the third Latina woman chimed in and the three of them began talking, and the white woman had also joined the conversation between the two men.
I may as well have been invisible.
I wasn't particularly offended by the fact that no one paid me any attention or asked me about my research topic; I took it as an opportunity to make observations. The white students, I noticed, were speaking about schedules and where they were from, where the Latina students were speaking about men and machismo, and other things related to their boyfriends and the assumptions they carried as Hispanic men.
I had to try not to assume the reasons behind the differences in conversation, and also not to become irritated with the constant talking through me that was occurring.
I tell the story mostly to highlight my increasingly changing vision. Since I entered the Sociology major, I view things with even more clarity and connect them to what I already understand about particular structures. I'm excited by my opportunity to explore the field more - especially since I can directly relate it to Student Affairs and learn future practices that I can later apply. I have sociological eyesight and I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go observe people in the coffee shop.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Growing up
I am nineteen years old. I'll be twenty in a month and a half.
Developmentally I've always felt a little bit ahead, even as a child, whether that is an illusion of my ego or just the truth.
Over the past several months, I feel like I have grown an incredible amount, the amount that some people spend over years. My most trusted mentor at Sonoma sat across from me yesterday and ran over the ways I've changed just since the past semester. It was weird looking back with her to the time I was a freshman to now. I could have lived five or six years in that time.
In particular, the time over the past six months has been difficult and testing of me in every way imaginable. I have gotten through things with the support of family and friends and mentors like Julie, but most of my strength came from a source within that has always been there.
I think back to even a few months ago, when even the slightest obstacle or event in my day could irritate me on command. This isn't so anymore, because there is no point in looking at the world this way other than to make myself miserable. It sounds simple to just look at the world in a positive light, but it is much more easily said than done. The person who told me this ended up hurting me more than anyone ever has, and I still live by it. But she couldn't have taught me anything if I wasn't ready to discover it by myself, and I have. I can't help but be thankful for the entire experience, even the agony, because who knows how long it would have taken me to learn some things if she had never been there? Even today I was with a friend who was rushing me, which feels like something I would have done months ago. But in the end, things are going to take as long as they are meant to take, and if we try to rush through them the universe will just put an obstacle in front of us to keep us waiting. T.I.M.E is "this I must enjoy," not "this I must endure." For every person who cuts in front of me there are going to be two to cut in front of them. I remind myself constantly that this applies to the process of forgiveness, which sometimes takes more time than I would like it to, but it is what it is and rushing forgiveness only makes it more difficult and not genuine.
I am ultimately my source for everything. Sure, people can point me in the right direction of something, even a simple resource, but it is up to me as to whether or not I want to or am ready to pursue my own personal growth. It hasn't been an easy task, but I feel a lot happier now. I've grown so much I don't even recognize myself half the time; some parts of myself I laugh at and others I am surprised by constantly. Who is this new person?
The new person is confident, strong, and independent. Michal's here!
Developmentally I've always felt a little bit ahead, even as a child, whether that is an illusion of my ego or just the truth.
Over the past several months, I feel like I have grown an incredible amount, the amount that some people spend over years. My most trusted mentor at Sonoma sat across from me yesterday and ran over the ways I've changed just since the past semester. It was weird looking back with her to the time I was a freshman to now. I could have lived five or six years in that time.
In particular, the time over the past six months has been difficult and testing of me in every way imaginable. I have gotten through things with the support of family and friends and mentors like Julie, but most of my strength came from a source within that has always been there.
I think back to even a few months ago, when even the slightest obstacle or event in my day could irritate me on command. This isn't so anymore, because there is no point in looking at the world this way other than to make myself miserable. It sounds simple to just look at the world in a positive light, but it is much more easily said than done. The person who told me this ended up hurting me more than anyone ever has, and I still live by it. But she couldn't have taught me anything if I wasn't ready to discover it by myself, and I have. I can't help but be thankful for the entire experience, even the agony, because who knows how long it would have taken me to learn some things if she had never been there? Even today I was with a friend who was rushing me, which feels like something I would have done months ago. But in the end, things are going to take as long as they are meant to take, and if we try to rush through them the universe will just put an obstacle in front of us to keep us waiting. T.I.M.E is "this I must enjoy," not "this I must endure." For every person who cuts in front of me there are going to be two to cut in front of them. I remind myself constantly that this applies to the process of forgiveness, which sometimes takes more time than I would like it to, but it is what it is and rushing forgiveness only makes it more difficult and not genuine.
I am ultimately my source for everything. Sure, people can point me in the right direction of something, even a simple resource, but it is up to me as to whether or not I want to or am ready to pursue my own personal growth. It hasn't been an easy task, but I feel a lot happier now. I've grown so much I don't even recognize myself half the time; some parts of myself I laugh at and others I am surprised by constantly. Who is this new person?
The new person is confident, strong, and independent. Michal's here!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Colorism in the African-American community
It's no secret to the Black community that there are issues between light skinned folks, and darker skinned folks and everyone in between.
This is something I've had a rude awakening to for...well, my entire life.
As a child I really never understood why I would be so disrespected and constantly harassed and abused by other Black girls. There were days that I would pretend to be sick or avoid going to school for as long as possible because the teasing would get so bad. Through high school and college the situation has not improved much, but that is partially do to my personal experience of rejection from the greater African-American community, and fear to even attempt entering into it again.
As a people, this attitude must change. We are all striving towards similar things and pushing for continued civil rights, yet we discriminate constantly within our own community. We have witnessed biracial president Barack Obama's election as a huge moment in our history, accept him into our community, yet are quick to reject a sister or brother because they are "too dark" or "too light" skinned.
I am very light in complexion, but both parents and sets of grandparents are African-American. My family ranges in complexion from deep, rich chocolate, to coffee with cream to very light. One of my uncles is even lighter than me and has blue eyes and red hair, and one can only imagine the struggles he went through growing up in the civil rights era.
I have privilege because of my skin color. I have never rejected this, because there is no point in rejecting it. America values lighter skin over darker skin; this has been proven in a myriad number of statistics and data. But what I challenge us to think about is the fact that we all come from similar ancestry. I have had to contemplate the painful history of enslavement and rape and cruelty that most of us have. I have the same frustrations with encountering racism and folks that don't understand what it is like to be the only student of color in my classes.
We should all be united by similar struggles, not standing divided because of our skin colors.
Start confronting someone with their assumptions about how dark-skinned Black people are "too mean" or "too dark" and likewise about how light-skinned people are "stuck up" and "get everything they want."
I am not a "stuck up" Black woman - I fully acknowledge the opportunities I have because of both the way I look and my social class. But I cannot change my skin color, and neither can any of us.
How can we confront racism in a broader context when such a huge problem and animosity exists in our community?
This is something I've had a rude awakening to for...well, my entire life.
As a child I really never understood why I would be so disrespected and constantly harassed and abused by other Black girls. There were days that I would pretend to be sick or avoid going to school for as long as possible because the teasing would get so bad. Through high school and college the situation has not improved much, but that is partially do to my personal experience of rejection from the greater African-American community, and fear to even attempt entering into it again.
As a people, this attitude must change. We are all striving towards similar things and pushing for continued civil rights, yet we discriminate constantly within our own community. We have witnessed biracial president Barack Obama's election as a huge moment in our history, accept him into our community, yet are quick to reject a sister or brother because they are "too dark" or "too light" skinned.
I am very light in complexion, but both parents and sets of grandparents are African-American. My family ranges in complexion from deep, rich chocolate, to coffee with cream to very light. One of my uncles is even lighter than me and has blue eyes and red hair, and one can only imagine the struggles he went through growing up in the civil rights era.
I have privilege because of my skin color. I have never rejected this, because there is no point in rejecting it. America values lighter skin over darker skin; this has been proven in a myriad number of statistics and data. But what I challenge us to think about is the fact that we all come from similar ancestry. I have had to contemplate the painful history of enslavement and rape and cruelty that most of us have. I have the same frustrations with encountering racism and folks that don't understand what it is like to be the only student of color in my classes.
We should all be united by similar struggles, not standing divided because of our skin colors.
Start confronting someone with their assumptions about how dark-skinned Black people are "too mean" or "too dark" and likewise about how light-skinned people are "stuck up" and "get everything they want."
I am not a "stuck up" Black woman - I fully acknowledge the opportunities I have because of both the way I look and my social class. But I cannot change my skin color, and neither can any of us.
How can we confront racism in a broader context when such a huge problem and animosity exists in our community?
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Time alone
I used to feel depressed or like I had done something wrong if I spent hours or days to myself.
I would tell myself stories about how I had no friends and no one wanted to hang out with me, or convince myself that there was something wrong with me. I would convince myself that I was antisocial and unfriendly.
I've always known that I'm an introvert. I get my energy from a source inside of myself and from being alone. I interact well with others and like to have fun, but know that at the end of the day I need to close my door to outsiders.
Now, at the start of the semester, I can spend a full day by myself and, well... feel absolutely fine about it.
I realize now that this is probably some gradual shift in being happier. The reason I would feel guilty or depressed about spending so much time alone is that I was not happy with myself, and needed to feel complete by constantly being with friends or lovers so that I felt appreciated. It sounds pretty common if we stop and take a moment to think about it - the addictive turns that relationships can sometimes take often have to do with wanting to feel loved because we are incapable of loving ourselves.
But I don't need anyone to love me anymore because I, myself and the most important person to myself, loves me.
I recognize now that I need to appreciate myself, and I do. My acts of turning down offers to go out, reading by myself and taking care of myself by myself, are an act of self respect and appreciation, a sense of self worth that I have only recently obtained.
Today I stayed in my room, played my guitar and started writing a song, did some reading for a class, took an extra long shower, laid in bed and watched baseball. To me this doesn't sound like a productive day in terms of "getting things done."
But the importance of self refection and meditation is essential for me.
I think Saturdays will be my day, so please don't ask me to hang out.
I've got a hot date with myself.
I would tell myself stories about how I had no friends and no one wanted to hang out with me, or convince myself that there was something wrong with me. I would convince myself that I was antisocial and unfriendly.
I've always known that I'm an introvert. I get my energy from a source inside of myself and from being alone. I interact well with others and like to have fun, but know that at the end of the day I need to close my door to outsiders.
Now, at the start of the semester, I can spend a full day by myself and, well... feel absolutely fine about it.
I realize now that this is probably some gradual shift in being happier. The reason I would feel guilty or depressed about spending so much time alone is that I was not happy with myself, and needed to feel complete by constantly being with friends or lovers so that I felt appreciated. It sounds pretty common if we stop and take a moment to think about it - the addictive turns that relationships can sometimes take often have to do with wanting to feel loved because we are incapable of loving ourselves.
But I don't need anyone to love me anymore because I, myself and the most important person to myself, loves me.
I recognize now that I need to appreciate myself, and I do. My acts of turning down offers to go out, reading by myself and taking care of myself by myself, are an act of self respect and appreciation, a sense of self worth that I have only recently obtained.
Today I stayed in my room, played my guitar and started writing a song, did some reading for a class, took an extra long shower, laid in bed and watched baseball. To me this doesn't sound like a productive day in terms of "getting things done."
But the importance of self refection and meditation is essential for me.
I think Saturdays will be my day, so please don't ask me to hang out.
I've got a hot date with myself.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Strangers on planes
Yesterday I was flying from St. Louis to Atlanta.
The man I was sitting next to looked very familiar to me for some reason, but I had never met him before in my life. He was an older man, probably in his mid-forties or early fifties, and I later learned that his name was Chuck.
Me and Chuck hit it off immediately, and talked non-stop for the entire two-hour flight.
We talked about my career aspirations, Eckhart Tolle, political affiliations, homophobia, high school experiences... you name it. We talked about the lessons we had learned and were learning in life, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I told him why I didn't.
While I was going over some painful recollections I never once thought, "This dude is a complete stranger." I felt entirely comfortable, and from the best I could tell so did he.
He shared his stories about past loves and loves lost, how he met his current wife, and everything in between. I did the same, still not even realizing that I was probably revealing far too much about myself to a complete stranger on a plane.
But I realize something now. Without sharing who I am and the places I've been with other people, whether they are strangers or not, I would learn very little about who I am. I would learn nothing about others, either. I would learn nothing about the positive aspects of being alive. Love is not simply something that is shared between two people, it's all around us. My openness with Chuck was me loving myself, putting myself out there as 100% me and not regretting a word. He could have judged me like many others have, but would his judgment have mattered?
I believe now (and have always believed, but this conversation just reinforced it) that being vulnerable is an attribute of the strong. What could be more brave than putting yourself out there, being completely honest and open about life, even when there is no reason to trust the person you're talking to? Being closed off rarely solves anything.
Being closed off rarely solves anything. I smiled as I wrote that sentence... what can denying myself pleasure or love or attraction because of something someone else did possibly solve? I understand now, through talking to Chuck and having conversations with my notebook, that I have been afraid to be vulnerable. I have no problem sharing parts of my life with people I know and people who I don't, but currently the idea of sharing my heart with someone makes me close up completely. That's something I'm going to have to get past, in time.
When I was done with my story (the long and overly-dramatic tale about the past five months and the lessons I've learned), he pulled his business card out of his wallet and said, "You obviously need some type of closure. Call me when you've called her."
I laughed and asked him if he thought he would still remember me in twenty years.
My life is a paradox.
The man I was sitting next to looked very familiar to me for some reason, but I had never met him before in my life. He was an older man, probably in his mid-forties or early fifties, and I later learned that his name was Chuck.
Me and Chuck hit it off immediately, and talked non-stop for the entire two-hour flight.
We talked about my career aspirations, Eckhart Tolle, political affiliations, homophobia, high school experiences... you name it. We talked about the lessons we had learned and were learning in life, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I told him why I didn't.
While I was going over some painful recollections I never once thought, "This dude is a complete stranger." I felt entirely comfortable, and from the best I could tell so did he.
He shared his stories about past loves and loves lost, how he met his current wife, and everything in between. I did the same, still not even realizing that I was probably revealing far too much about myself to a complete stranger on a plane.
But I realize something now. Without sharing who I am and the places I've been with other people, whether they are strangers or not, I would learn very little about who I am. I would learn nothing about others, either. I would learn nothing about the positive aspects of being alive. Love is not simply something that is shared between two people, it's all around us. My openness with Chuck was me loving myself, putting myself out there as 100% me and not regretting a word. He could have judged me like many others have, but would his judgment have mattered?
I believe now (and have always believed, but this conversation just reinforced it) that being vulnerable is an attribute of the strong. What could be more brave than putting yourself out there, being completely honest and open about life, even when there is no reason to trust the person you're talking to? Being closed off rarely solves anything.
Being closed off rarely solves anything. I smiled as I wrote that sentence... what can denying myself pleasure or love or attraction because of something someone else did possibly solve? I understand now, through talking to Chuck and having conversations with my notebook, that I have been afraid to be vulnerable. I have no problem sharing parts of my life with people I know and people who I don't, but currently the idea of sharing my heart with someone makes me close up completely. That's something I'm going to have to get past, in time.
When I was done with my story (the long and overly-dramatic tale about the past five months and the lessons I've learned), he pulled his business card out of his wallet and said, "You obviously need some type of closure. Call me when you've called her."
I laughed and asked him if he thought he would still remember me in twenty years.
My life is a paradox.
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