Call to Arms
When I was a freshman at UCSD, Facebook was a relatively new thing. Access was limited to those who had an .edu email- so Facebook was associated with college- classes, dorms, finding like minded souls, etc.. I remember joining a facebook group, titled something to the effect of - "I'm not a feminist but... makes me want to bang my head against a wall." It very much surprised me that to my freshman year friends in California, we were supposed to be in a post-feminist world! Problems of gender discrimination were for people from a third world country- people like me. Well, life and time certainly has found a way of showing them.
The way my parents raised us, it was as if we were always meant to do great things. No dream was too big, no ambition too high. Perhaps this created undue burden on us in our twenties, when we started to lose our childish belief in dreams and enter adulthood. Perhaps that would've happened anyway. But I am grateful that in the middle of the patriarchy and misogyny, both systemic and closer to home, my parents stuck to their ground and always believed that no fool could be better than their daughters simply on the grounds of being a boy/man. But perhaps it is because of the misogyny and patriarchy that they were always in a sexism war zone. [No offense intended]
And this is the difference between me and my beloved American-raised friends and family isn't it? I grew up in a psychological war zone. There was always an ongoing battle for gender equality. Sometime in recent years, perhaps while getting my PhD, I forgot about these battles. I fell in love with someone who got it. I had friends and coworkers who let me forget. Well, life and time certainly has found a way of showing me.
I was in an academic environment for the past few years- there were many occasions when I was the only woman in a room full of men, all of whom had loud, opinionated, and passionate voices. It was easy for others to cut me off mid thought because I was not loud enough. It was perhaps even easy for some to mock me if I did not seem assured enough. I was lucky to have mentors who insisted on hearing my voice, no matter how busy the room. And then one day I was insisting by myself, and my voice was assured.
It just strikes me that my experience easily could have gone another way, and I would have been none the wiser. One doesn't find ones voice without being allowed to use it. One doesn't find out they have an aptitude for math without being encouraged to practice it. One doesn't find empathy without having space to cry. These thoughts weigh heavy on me. In this political climate, a long overdue battle has arrived. And I have a child to raise. I don't think the war-zone is ever leaving me. But perhaps one day, far far away, it will leave him.
The way my parents raised us, it was as if we were always meant to do great things. No dream was too big, no ambition too high. Perhaps this created undue burden on us in our twenties, when we started to lose our childish belief in dreams and enter adulthood. Perhaps that would've happened anyway. But I am grateful that in the middle of the patriarchy and misogyny, both systemic and closer to home, my parents stuck to their ground and always believed that no fool could be better than their daughters simply on the grounds of being a boy/man. But perhaps it is because of the misogyny and patriarchy that they were always in a sexism war zone. [No offense intended]
And this is the difference between me and my beloved American-raised friends and family isn't it? I grew up in a psychological war zone. There was always an ongoing battle for gender equality. Sometime in recent years, perhaps while getting my PhD, I forgot about these battles. I fell in love with someone who got it. I had friends and coworkers who let me forget. Well, life and time certainly has found a way of showing me.
I was in an academic environment for the past few years- there were many occasions when I was the only woman in a room full of men, all of whom had loud, opinionated, and passionate voices. It was easy for others to cut me off mid thought because I was not loud enough. It was perhaps even easy for some to mock me if I did not seem assured enough. I was lucky to have mentors who insisted on hearing my voice, no matter how busy the room. And then one day I was insisting by myself, and my voice was assured.
It just strikes me that my experience easily could have gone another way, and I would have been none the wiser. One doesn't find ones voice without being allowed to use it. One doesn't find out they have an aptitude for math without being encouraged to practice it. One doesn't find empathy without having space to cry. These thoughts weigh heavy on me. In this political climate, a long overdue battle has arrived. And I have a child to raise. I don't think the war-zone is ever leaving me. But perhaps one day, far far away, it will leave him.
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