¿Quién soy?

For my Feminist Philosophy class today we had to read a piece called "The Construction of Self in U.S. Latina Autobiographies" by Lourdes Torres. It was all about Latinas who are oppressed by men in their culture and the need for understanding the stories of individuals in order to bring about change. Anyway, I really resonated with the article and was looking forward to discussing it with my classmates.

Man. That class was...let's just say interesting, but literally painful.

Our class discussion mostly focused on the idea of identity and oppression as well as white privilege. I think one of the most interesting points that the article brings up is the idea that women will always be identified first by their gender in a given situation, Woman. Thus they are all initially defined as being part of a homogenous group, whereas men are free to define themselves and be identified as individuals. It was something that I'd never thought about it, but it's true. A good example is of a successful business woman (my brain for some reason immediately thinks of Helen Hunt in What Women Want) who is in a firm with mostly men. She will forever be seen first as a woman and second as a successful business INDIVIDUAL. Even if the focus on her is a positive one, as in "Wow, look how far she's come as a woman in a male-dominated field!", she is still thus congratulated on the basis of gender rather than her individual merits.

The article goes on to the fact that women of color are automatically doubly screwed because not only are they initially identified by gender, but by race or ethnicity as well. In discussing this phenomena, the conversation inevitably turned to the idea of identity. This immediately set my brain whirring as it's something that I've been trying to work through and pin point for what seems like eons, but for what's probably only been like six years lol.  I've always been exceedingly proud of my Puerto Rican roots even if they sort of went by the wayside with regard to attention as I was growing up. However, it has always confused and upset me when I've tried to define myself. Part of is it because in a sense I think I've always been aware of White Privilege, even if it was just a little bit. I used to fervently wish that I was Native American or African American when I was little because I felt so guilty over all the stupid white people had done to them.

However, now it has made me feel as if I can't identify with being Latina because I still receive White Privilege due to my skin and the perception that I am White. Almost as if I don't deserve the title, or that when I tell people I'm Puerto Rican I'm somehow being fake or cheating or something. I'm not sure exactly how to describe it. This and the feeling of losing some Puerto Rican connection because I've lost much of my Spanish kept threatening to bring me to tears all throughout the class. This is where the physically painful part comes in. Did you know that it's exceedingly painful to hold back tears for an extended period of time? I didn't, but now I sure as hell do. Doing so resulted in a freaking massive headache. It went away somewhat when I brought up the contradictions in the discussion, but it still hasn't gone away completely. :/

Overall it was a great discussion, it was just hard because I feel like I've lost all my connection with Puerto Rico since my grandma's dead and my mom just doesn't really do anything with it...other than get defensive.

Yup. So that's kind of it.

¡Soy LATINA!

I want to fly like a eagle..

Today was my first session of two of my new classes: Literature for Growth and Healing, and Feminist Philosophy.

Man, what a day.

I am so psyched about the upcoming semester. When I was first looking at the syllabi etc., I started to feel majorly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the burden I had taken on. However for the most part my experiences this day have alleviated some of my fears. My teachers seem like they'll be good for me, ready to guide but not to domineer, to pass on their passion for their subject, but to leave room for wings to unfurl.

In my lit class, we did three different little free-writing activities which were pretty fun and I can already feel the stirrings being coaxed back to life. :) A part of the class, because of the focus on growth and healing, will have to do with journaling and the benefits etc. For class I belatedly read the assignment in one of our textbooks about journaling, and I became super psyched to once again write in a journal. I stopped writing in journals because I felt that I was doing it wrong, much like this blog, writing not often enough or screwing up the format, whatever. Plus, looking back at my journals just depresses me at what a little immature, boy-crazed, idiot I was in Junior High and the first few years of high school. However, this really opened my eyes, and I think it'll be helpful. :)

My philosophy class was also really fun even if it was only sort of a getting-to-know-you day. We did all the normal stuff, but they the instructor went off on a tangent about monogamy and Banobo monkeys, and just sexuality in general. It was interesting and I feel like this woman is going to create a lot of fun classroom experiences and I'm excited to see what she knows and to discuss feminism in relation to philosophy with my other classes.

I guess my next task is to take Feminist Theory so that I can understand the workings and mentality of the movement, rather than shunning it or defending it without any knowledge-base.

So internally hyper!!
that might just be the exercise endorphins though....

Slainte

Lost Between the Worlds

I have recently been watching the epic tv series Merlin from BBC. It is an awesome show and has reawakened in me the obsession I had when I was little surrounding the legends of King Arthur. I've always loved magic and legends and myths, having grown up reading and being told stories. Even then I felt the pangs of sadness that I couldn't hop into my books and enter their world.

I've become obsessed once again, to the point where Arthur and his cohorts are on my brain nearly all the time.

Now the sadness is back and it's overwhelming. It sounds stupid and childish, but I want to be in Camelot, or I want to go back to the 60s and attend Woodstock, or I want to meet the High Kings of Ireland and steal away to Tir nA nOg. But seeing as I can't Actually Physically transport myself there, i'm thrown into depression and I don't know what to do. It's like my wildest dreams are dangled in front of me and I just can't reach, or they're pulled away from me at just the last moment as a voice snickers maniacally in the Void.

I feel I'm lost between the worlds. I have no real interest in this world, but all others are closed off from me. :'(