✍️✍️✍️ They Call Me Muslim Essay
Often times, Anthony and I would They Call Me Muslim Essay hours waiting at school for someone to pick us up, and most of Julie Annas Expansive Theory Of Justice dinners were served well past eleven at They Call Me Muslim Essay. So he got a temporary firing, and came back Metamory Research Paper Has it never occurred to They Call Me Muslim Essay that perhaps gender has nothing to do with it and that there are just horrible, stupid, The Importance Of Individualism In America or They Call Me Muslim Essay people in the world? The more They Call Me Muslim Essay think about my own life and working with men and women the more I see this as snow white and rose red story reality. There are a They Call Me Muslim Essay of times where a Caucasian man Personal Narrative: My Fathers Abuse lectured me at length They Call Me Muslim Essay the features of my own culture. T Clark — All of your comments in this They Call Me Muslim Essay have been dismissive, rude and quite frankly, irrelevant.
Not all over either gender feel this whole way. But I guess with the internet and everyone feeling safe behind their keyboard as a bully. I really doubt things will every change and get better. He was joking. Sad though how over-the-top you really have to go to demonstrate sarcasm on this topic. The only point I would add to it is that people behave this way when they look down on someone, and use an artificial means such as gender or race to justify it.
I certainly believe that men look down on women more often than the reverse, and more often than they do each other. But they all happen. Nevertheless, the pervasiveness of men using gender as an justification for looking down on women leads to the societal inequalities that the author has documented here. A simple contribution that anyone may make to a solution is to quit looking down on people.
Nobody needs to, really. There are so many issues but the one I usually suggest people look at, if they want to understand how men feel about women, is to take a look at the phone book online is fine too! It is very telling. Obviously, I am referring to women who give up their own name and identity when they marry. To make the exercise easier, count the listings which have both husband and wife shown. We are a long way from equality and civilization. Last time I checked, the phone company would not list both names or initials without us paying extra. Rage whether for or against something is still violent. Why not be creative and develope a semi-rural voluntary exile community for released sex offenders that keeps pedophiles and rapist separate away from women and children?
No employer will hire me with my criminal records. I have good support from my brother and sisters, but none of them want me telling anybody the details of my plans to get a piece of property, but motorhomes from MV Towing, fix them up, and have those released pedophiles and rapist pay for our wants and needs. Rebecca Solnit wants to complain about the plight of women and not provide any guidance as to how to actually protect women and children from rapist and pedophiles.
They want to live freely without threats of violence or actual violence. The law, and its enforcement, costs billions of dollars…money that should be spent on education, scientific and medical research etc. But no, we have men the world over behaving like pigs, causing terrible social issues and holding civilization back. If in doubt visit a courthouse near you to see who makes up the majority of defendants. It is sickening. If a man would turn this completely sexist argument around you would be outraged.
Let me demonstrate:. She ironically fails to apprehend that mansplaining is so gendered in her experience since, to begin with, her experience is so gendered. You said it, mate. It relates to the assumption that only women get overly upset. I think it relates to having to bite your tongue for years in order to survive until you are ready to explode. I do not wish, in any way to belittle the fight that women, throughout the world, face on a daily basis. The fight to be heard, the fight to be taken seriously, the fight for parity, and so on. I support all of these objectives, and wonder why it is that women even have to fight. They are equal. No question. But, are you seriously telling me that women are the only ones who have to fight the men who explain.
I have, in my 50 years, been a Mechanical Engineer and a television producer. I have a huge range of knowledge and experience. I have met, worked with and been entertained by members of the British royal family. I have travelled extensively. I have been through university, twice. And yet, still, I suffer from the men who explain. The problem is not one of gender, in my experience, at least not when it comes to the victims of these over opinionated fools.
No, men who explain just need a victim. They just need a victim. Your comments do not undermine the cause of feminism, but to take a portion of society that exists for everybody, and make it another tool with which to bash men not all men, as you kindly state yourself does not further the cause any, and may even give the men who explain more ammunition to fuel their foolish belief that they are the only ones who know. Thank you for explaining again how Solnit is wrong. That this is some kind of sexist comment? Oh, please…. I mostly never found it remarkable, just took it as part of life. Why are you belittling his experience? Sometimes men do it because they have been socialised to always act assertive and be right, trying to appear confident when they are not.
Women , in general, tend to question themselves and appear less confident despite knowing the facts. Both positions can be detrimental, maybe we just need to recognise that they both exist and that generally, one gender tends towards one behaviour. In most cases people do not do it to be demeaning or toxic or shirking responsibility or procrastinating. I just wonder how may times you have suffered this indignity of being told your opinion is incorrect on a subject you know well, by a woman?
Anyone different will suffice. Ah ha, Explaining Men is a thing then? I have some experience of them since my older brother has been one for the last 20 years. Surely these pedantic arseholes do it to everyone. No one in this day and age would patronise a woman just because she is a woman. I hate these kinds of articles — mostly, because they fuel the fire against feminism, when it is indeed an important battle to be won.
I suppose there is an argument that would suggest that they do fear, in their inevitable narcissism, a formidable contender, and I would hazard a guess to say that they would probably presume that contender to be a man. You take a couple of jerks — from very privileged positions — and you turn their behaviour — from just one encounter — into a generalised view of them as symbols for most men. And that will cancel out any self-comprehension of what is wrong about those men!
Which is a shame, really. He replied that it was. If anyone feels Ms Solnit lacks proof of her argument, perhaps that person should look at the gender of those writing these lengthy comments of why and how she misinterpreted her own experiences. Why is it not a counterargument? You probably have 4 times many men reading this page cause its on the internet. Growing up amid many bipolar men, I was occasionally shocked to find I was being heard every now and then.
Ever since it was imperative that what I said was interesting, factual and contributory. That formula has never failed me except when people are just too darn wrapped up in themselves to hear anyone and those people have been men as well as women. And competition as it pertains to communication is just another version of oneupmanship. Thank Jann, for injecting some far too uncommon common sense into it. As an aside, there is nothing wrong with explaining things per se. The term mansplaining is a sexist term for reasons that require no explanation for anyone with a modicum of common sense.
I put this comment on the MotherJones version of this article, so I might as well put it on here as well…. I do question her logic in assembling them in support of an argument about sexism. In the first, Solnit goes to a party with people she does not like, and at the end of the evening she and her friend stay with these dull, moneyed people, and a boor with whom they had chosen to extend their stay behaved boorishly towards them. Next, the reviews, which Solnit recounts in rude and dismissive fashion. It seems odd to enlist this criticism of one man by another man in an argument about sexism against women. Talk about burying the lede. Why is this article about man-on-woman arrogance, again? Solnit cites none. So maybe no gender there, actually.
What about — the in-theory doubly silenced — Condoleezza Rice? But is there any proper, empirical, non-anecdotal, adjusted-for-confirmation-bias research to indicate whether this behaviour or the perception of it is as gendered as Solnit argues? Maybe there is, but once again, Solnit cites none. Anyone with half a brain knows that sexism exists, and that men are often patronising to women. We could all write up the moments in our lives when we had been mistreated, condescended to, silenced or minimized by [insert socio-political-economical-sexual group here].
What does it achieve, other than to misguide the faithful and infuriate the middle ground? Perhaps Solnit assumed basic knowledge on the part of her readers. You know, things like unequal pay, unequal access to finance, and epidemic sized sexual violence against women. Wholesale structural gendered inequality has been well researched and documented. Solnit IMHO was describing how male behaviour reinforces this inequality, despite thousands of laws enacted to prevent it. It is disingenuous to think men, who have had everything their own way for centuries, suddenly respect women just because its or indeed Firstly — I loved this article, it really resonated with frustrations and experiences I have lived and felt.
I wonder to what extent there is some Explaining then in the premise of the article. I want to show her this article. I guess this is a broader question about the means by which feminist standpoints are expressed and diffused. How do we avoid mimicking the same patronising emphasis on patr tone that we seek to escape? Do either you or she have insight into this? Like living by the main road, the traffic noise and fumes becomes so much in the background as to be something you cease to be aware of but you life-expectancy is shortened dramatically the closer you live to the road — so unawareness does NOT mean irrelevance!
There is a big difference between genuinely trying to help someone with your greater experience and dismissively putting the other person down. The answer is in your motivation, and the recipient can feel the difference. Guess what? Some men and women, in equal measures, are idiots. The Gender wars are viscous. It really is that simple. And then, take a long, hard look at your own behaviors, ask yourself how you might change them to account for this new information, thank the person who shared it with you, and change. But it is your responsibility to change it. This is just an astoundingly absurd response to a well thought out, and well articulated comment pertaining to an equally absurd topic.
Well done. That does not really make any sense. Why would you post to every copy of the article you can find? You are being extraordinarily dishonest. I am often baffled at the difficulty some people have believing that the experience of men talking down to women is still a common occurrence. When she does, I acknowledge her correction and thank her, or if appropriate, apologize. I want to make sure she knows that she has a voice, and should always use it.
I hope Sam enjoyed it as much as I did. Sure but women explaining things to men when they have inferior knowledge on the subject, they cut them off, etc is not the default scenario. Men who do it to women is the default. Then the action for the woman to cut off the man who is talking about something that he does not know about is your job. And after you act so sheepishly you then try to pin this as sexist behavior. Yet you obsessively read them all, correct? Or, was it perhaps your assumption that all of these comments were directed directly and only to you, through both space and time? I think it boils down to this: when women are insecure around men they tend to traditionally get quiet; when men are insecure around women they tend to traditionally get louder.
Note that this is not saying that all women or men do this, but that the force of tradition and habit adds greatly to the dynamic. Thank God it is better than it used to be, and that insecure women are more likely to demand their voice while insecure men are more likely to let themselves sit with their uncertainty. But there is still a notable amount of the old traditional friction with women being demeaned without even being listened to, as seen in some of these comments.
Just accept that we inherited a mess and that the way we choose to move forward demonstrates our personal sense of nobility and fair play. I enjoyed reading this, and it gave me a lot to think about, about myself, and about the way society is structured. And I find myself concerned that the notion of evidence seems to be downplayed e. Surely, given that sexism is prevalent, there is lots of rich evidence of sexism at work available for the studying? If anecdote is considered sufficient grounds for argument, then why reject anecdote as counterargument? Men, naturally thought incorrectly, assume women want to know how the world works instead of the of the world as a magical.
Women have traditionally been less interested in empirical evidence than men, which also goes a long way to explain why women are far more likely to be regular church-goers. Old wives tales — a fair number of them have been proven to be very real and fact-based. Catch up. I am amused by flurry of mansplaining from the mansplainers whose thin skin was so easily pricked by this essay. Kate Marshall, I think most people accept the older people in their lives can pass wisdom on to the younger. I think there can be a little valid privilege to do so in experience. Instead of explaining to her, encourage her to educate herself.
This essay is one of many sources when considering the subject of feminism. This sounds more like what boys and men are being told by girls and women—and that any appearance otherwise is due to boys and men suppressing girls and women. It was too patronizing, wordy and arrogant. Women intentionally act stupid to get what they want, avoid confrontation, and not have to be the ones to step out on a limb. You may be suffering from what a bunch of other bimbos have been responsible for creating … but the root of origin is in women who intentionally create lower standards for themselves.
As far as sexist, raping murdering pigs in the middle east. It proves her point exactly! It was wonderful! Do you see how this is working? Oh and hey, also, what you said is unfounded and completely rude. Great article and essay… really enjoyed the perspective and the few chuckles along the way… really enjoyed the work. Also, the comment about restraining orders…. Uhhh, equality, anyone? As for domestic violence, I know people whose wives will take swings at them every time they get pissed off. Because that makes sense…..
It is my belief there is only way to create equality between people and it is achieved through respect towards all. Boxing a gender in based on some peoples behavior only serves to push the type of stereotypes that have diminished what we as a race should be working towards. I was going to leave a comment mansplaining why this article was wrong, as a joke, but after reading the comments here I realize that it would be impossible to distinguish that comment from the comments of men who are actually doing that. I actually take very seriously the subjugation of women and in spite of it I continue to act out — because of my own issues of needing to be heard and validated.
Hi, another man here! Right, and when I respond to articles that detail why blacks are inferior to whites or why women are inferior to males I wont make the comment that you seem to hate. Because arguments are not helpful or anything. Because allowing said opinions to be published without an opposition so that those watching can take a viewpoint rather than just going with the default. For the best example yet, see the comment by Bob above. This reminds me of all the ignorant fools who fight to have the last word on current events right after admitting they never read the news.
I think it is worth considering though that they may disproportionately give this knowledge out to women. However, if those who have commented here who seem predominately male themselves are so supportive of gender equality, but appear equally sure that this is not an example of its opposite, perhaps you could look at it another way. Could this not be happening here? To say that gender has no role within this though seems to overlook the very issue of power relations which it seems most people cannot deny exist.
What a condescending sexist woman. Being the only man besides my dad in family, I was raised by women. And Booya! Another ginormous strawman! Which is what this whole topic is…one big strawman arguement. They are called fallacies for goid reason. Thank you for a wonderful, insightful, and deeply familiar analysis. I wish you were an obligatory read in high schools. And I will make my students read it.
Go get them, tiger! I think that a lot of the Male answer syndrome what I have referred to it as over the years simply starts as a desire to fix things or tackle a problem. I have been known to in the past analyse or over analyse a problem or situation and infer things about the issue without having factual basis for said statement. Sometimes this has made some extraordinary BS escape my lips. I believe that inherently, this is a mechanism that stems from a good nature, that like anything else can be taken to the point of perversion. I noticed that a lot of these traits in relation to women were trained by common interactions at an early adolescent age in particular, dating roles.
Sometimes it is difficult to avoid this, especially in relationships in which you care about someone a great deal, but standing back and waiting for those who may need advice to come to you and instead of solving problems, giving advice and having those individuals make a solution is far more gratifying. As with anything else, a touch of arrogance and privilege not checked can tarnish any good nature. And how would you have any idea that the amount you have things explained to you is any less than men?
This is the problem when anyone starts yammering about how bad they have it compared to anyone else. All you have is your own life to look at. Maybe you surround yourself with arrogant people. No doubt that people like this exist. Beautifully written and well-expressed. There is a lot of truth to it. I certainly have met women like this as well. And how arrogant and patronizing her writing style is. And how her essay is counterproductive to the project of gender equality. Keep up the good work! I really enjoyed this. It is well written, timely, and pushes me to think about my actions and how they affect others. Clearly many people who read this article did not make changes in their behavior… at least not yet. Not to mention my solution usually turns out to be right.
But after reading the comments that were posted, I felt I had to say something. For those of you demanding empirical evidence in a controlled study, how exactly would you go about that? Since the common experience of most women — that of being interrupted, disregarded, dismissed and rejected as a liar or an idiot since birth — is not empirical enough, what do you propose, instead? I can say, as a woman, that I have experienced all of those things constantly since I was very young, mostly from men though not exclusively, of course.
Solnit herself concedes this. Just one. If anything is easier for women today than it was yesterday easy, even. The way you wrote that sentence only reinforces what Faruk said above:. I am in no way saying, and I am sure the author is not saying, that men have faced no difficulties. But it is a fact that societies the world over oppress and silence women and have done this for millenia, and that the primary source of this oppression has been men. This is not a competition. This is not a pity party. Women do not mean to delegitimize the hardships of the male sex by pointing out and seeking to alleviate the hardships of the female sex.
But for that to happen, men MUST acknowledge that the problem exists. And that, like it or not, you have probably perpetuated it in some way, perhaps unknowingly and unintentionally, in the same way that people passively participate in racism. I do not think you are evil or bad or wrong in the way a liar is wrong — I think you are a victim, too, of a system that has indoctrinated you to think of women a certain way. But we cannot throw off those chains by denying that the problem exists. We cannot make progress by trying to address a way in which men are hurting us and then be told that we are not reliable witnesses to our own experience. That will only make things worse for everyone.
Would he be applauded for his astute observations about women? Or laughed at for mistaking his own anecdotal experiences for actual research on a topic? So comforting that you can express these ideas so well. Reading this great article reminded me of our first trip to Europe, in We would see an American couple arrive at an art museum any art museum. The man would then invariably, and loudly, tell the woman and the rest of us which paintings to look at, what they were about, what to look for and so on.
Rebecca says that she is in her 40s. I have, however, experienced the situation of not being heard by both genders , despite having something important and useful say and actually taking the trouble to say it. Now, when I express myself, people listen. I know people listen to me now because I have confidence and self-belief. Before, I thought most people knew more than I did and that I was just a stupid kid.
IMO, the gender discrepancy that Rebecca is describing above is a result of the majority of men and woman being taught to value themselves differently from a very young age. So bosses, if they are men can be manly and have definite opinions. Female bosses with definite opinions can be categorised as overbearing and unfeminine. And this is where women are genuinely at a disadvantage. Firstly, yes, I am a man. Feminists, allow me to introduce you to someone: persecution complex although I think you know her well. Has it never occurred to you that perhaps gender has nothing to do with it and that there are just horrible, stupid, patronising or whatever people in the world?
People very often do bad things to other people. It is not always because of their gender. In any case, fighting gender generalisations with more gender generalisations is a really winning strategy, way to go. The police officer sat with me as I filed a report and gently told me how it was my fault for walking through the room, by walking into the unlocked classroom I invited it, because he was In Charge, and so when he ran at me, screaming, that was his way of being in charge.
The officer took my statement very poorly, the statement did not resemble my remarks at all, and the officer would not fix it when I repeatedly protested. The man assaulted another woman that same month, then people started to speak up and it ended up the guy had a long history assaulting female students, but each time it was like for me, probably other twisted statements and police officers who helped keep him in power. So he got a temporary firing, and came back later. The ombudsperson at the university said it was my job to learn his schedule and avoid him. This is daily for women, and the mansplaining is part of the constant self-reinforcement that illegitimate power has to engage in or it crumbles.
This is definitely a man thing. In the course of the meeting, one of the men asked a question, and instead of letting me answer and do my JOB, three different men, each with more convincing authority than the previous, gave three completely ridiculous answers. When I gave the correct answer, the level of annoyance was palpable. It was a real lightbulb moment.
It seems traditional gender habits are difficult to break on both sides. It might be an existing problem. But everybody in this conversation sould be aware that there is always a sender a receiver. This is very strong focused to a male sender. At least, such has been my experience among my testicled brethren. A very very long article. I loved finding this article when it was first published in A lot of men on here claim that Mansplaining happens to them as well.
Are we to discount their experiences? Is it at all possible that insufferable boors grate on both sexes equally, but that because of the climate of sexism, women experience this as misogyny? Remember, everyone experiences an explainer, but few ever experience the motive for why they explain. I too have seen the ashen look on the face of an explainer when their conceit is exposed. From my perspective, it appear to come from a crack in their facade of confidence.
I found it very hard not to see sexism and martyrdom in this article. Then, only 3 days after reading this essay and most of the comments following it I watched Mansplaining in action on Real Time with Bill Maher. Episode , round table the first half. Three men including Bill and one woman are in discussion. The more I think about my own life and working with men and women the more I see this as a reality. I would never say that this is exclusive to men; women do this to other women just as much when they are in the position do so. We are all the problem, from the Explainers male or female to the docile victims who laugh politely or bite their tongue.
PS I really enjoied the well thought out comments, left by either sex. The comments are twice as informative as the essay for me. This article is a complete disgrace toward real feminists who are trying hard to create and authentic discourse. This article is really about being transparently absurd so as to create an angry and polarized response. Solnit should be ashamed of herself and so should anyone who is gullible enough to print this. He asked a very straightforward question. We are left to wander how bad of a faux-pas he actually made if she subtracted all the hyperbole.
Here, let me just say that my life is well sprinkled with lovely men, with a long succession of editors who have, since I was young, listened and encouraged and published me, with my infinitely generous younger brother, with splendid friends of whom it could be said—like the Clerk in The Canterbury Tales I still remember from Mr. And then, as if in a 19th-century novel, he went ashen.
Some men disagree with you and its sexism by default? Not much credible information to go by here. So why is Solnit trying so hard to not be credible? High post-modern irony? It is reprehensible. Why is she writing this article if she sees how horrible it is when women are not trusted? Bonus points if he is explaining how you are wrong about something being sexist! People like Solnit are tools, political hacks, who will stop at nothing to disrupt honest debate. Thank you for writing this back in and for sharing it with us now! Oh how it resonates! The comments section provides quite an illustration, as well. I try not to behave this way, but honestly, I suspect I sometimes do. You WIN! If so, thank you very much.
Take an honest look at who says what to you, how and when. My brother, a lawyer, proposed some kind of deal with the family trust of which he is trustee asking for the approval of my siblings and myself. I sent him a series of questions I wanted answered before I made my decision. Interesting that all the comments taking exception with this article are coming from MEN. Why are you defending yourselves? This woman says this happened to her. That means it happened to her. How is this different? We have become a society wholly obsessed with ideology and hence, martyrdom.
This may come across as mansplaining to you, but that would say more about you than the explanation. T Clark — All of your comments in this thread have been dismissive, rude and quite frankly, irrelevant. Please stop before you hurt yourself. Brilliant, entertaining and insightful article, thank you …… And judging by the pompous long winded and somewhat embittered responses from many of the male critics it clearly irritates the very same male egos that you so skillfully eviscerate, once again …..
Thank you. How can you dissect and fix the issue without open discussion? The same goes for the opposite. Men must allow women to integrate into their formerly closed circles without resistance, but who wants to do that when our views are tossed aside? I stumbled upon this article after a google search because I wanted to know if this sort of thing happens to anyone else. Thank you for sharing this piece. It made me feel a little less alone in a world where I feel that everyone is always explaining things to me.
Most recently, my husband was lecturing my on how difficult it is to play songs by Franz Liszt on the piano because someone with hands my size would not be able to reach all the keys. Sort of incredulously Since I took classical piano lessons for twelve years from a very gifted pianist, the answer is of course, my teacher assigned quite a bit of Liszt for me to play.
Also, one facet that may not always get attention is one of cultural differences. I am a half American and half South Indian woman. There are a number of times where a Caucasian man has lectured me at length about the features of my own culture. I am beginning to think that at its core, this is less of a gender issue and more of a power and privilege issue. But I do believe that it likely masquerades as a gender issue because positions of power and authority have traditionally been held by men. Really glad to have come across this piece.
She does not end this relationship in spite of how bitterly she feels its impact on her. This is the point where I ask what else the situation is giving her or enabling for her — or, a more nuanced way of asking, why is she remaining there? The man needs to alter his behaviour AND the woman needs to alter hers. These are not behaviours that are ever exclusive to women but they are structurally reproduced in us and by us. Or that men can not have opinions on feminism or history, or that all men are always guilty of patronizing women. Rather she seems to be giving an account based on her experiences, and those of women she knows, that a pattern exists and is culturally promoted in which men are often uncomfortable with listening to and learning from women, and as such attempt to discredit or silence them.
As men I think we suffer in this situation as well, because we miss out on valuable perspectives, experiences, and knowledge that can enrich our lives. I believe men in general are trained to boast and carve their intellectual territory as a means of proving themselves and their worth, which is unfortunate. Because it has a tendency towards dogmatism, fundamentalism, and closed-mindedness. We might just learn a thing or two. I just reread this. I feel like we are literary and imaging daughters of Dale Spender and Judy Chicago. At least I am. The responses, IMHO, are such a waste of anything productive for me. I think there is so much lack of comprehension of where we are as people.
Find what does. Same with women driving race cars, girls climbing trees and playing with hot wheels, boys playing with dolls and men cooking the family meals. This fact of social norm by group that exists does not mean that everyone and everywhere that only ONE thing happened. We are not at a stage in conversation between the sexes where this confusion about what is going on is articulated. If one is on a ladder — as people are in hierarchies of relationships — for one person the rung of the ladder is up if one is below it, and the same rung is down for the person above it. It makes their position different in the world. The key is to get out of the domination of assuming that the reality of our world is the same for all of us when it is not as if one size fits all and at the same time to find the places where what IS the same for all of us on this planet is what is right for all of us.
I mean, both can exist. Did you ever have a rope or string that was all knotted up and pulled on the string that made the knots tighter and caused the knots to bunch up? Well, when you stop pulling and you loosen up the string at different places, you begin to unravel the knot. When things are all knotted up, they are neat and in order and aligned and symmetrical. They are chaotic and twisted and back and forth. Thank you Rebecca for putting into words an experience that I was having as a woman writer and artist whose got a brain and a need to express my inners moreso than many others. I heard it said once that what women experience for a lifetime, men experience for a few moments….
Men may experience the same thing from OTHER MEN — which is why the Declaration of Independence for Freedom was written, but they did not and do not experience a social world where they are confined to a home or social space because of a body part they have at the hands of women presidents, women organized militarily and women in control of the government. And they may not experience a world where it takes so damn long to explain the most simplest of their experiences and then get accused of taking up too much space in a world where we are all reduced to a whole new kind of literary dehumanizing which is mentally perceiving a whole person from reading about two paragraphs, or even five.
Just a few accusations before I leave. The ultimate of trashing people, IMO. When someone writes to share their subjective experience of something, I can either find it illuminating and thought-provoking, or not. Being an aging latino male, I find all this talk so confusing! Just stop dating short men! Now I will go find a wall to sit and lean against and drink tequila until I pass out and my sombrero touches my knees…. I will try to listen to myself more carefully to reduce the number of times I find myself engaged in this behavior.
Your experiences and your wisdom to put them in a perspective and context are helpful to me. Great article. Thanks to Rachel Maddow for indirectly exposing me to it, and Ms. Solnit for writing it. Made me reflective of my own attitude towards my interactions with women, and men as well. And thanks to the many, many fellow men who read and commented on this article and helped mansplain it to the rest of us. Thank you for writing this. Beside the grotesque examples, this exists in the dept of our Western society in a all accepted, more hidden but therefore nasty way. But there is a very elegant and beautifull cure, that helps and almost always works: humor. Thanks for the re-print. I came across the original article a couple of years ago and it opened my eyes.
A few comments suggest that Solnit believes men should not be allowed to question women, and that men are doubted just as much as women. But this is not the point being made. Men are doubted in stereo-typically feminine arenas such as child care. Women receive less backlash for preforming roles outside of their gender norms. However, there are inherent negative stereotypes against women in stereo-typically masculine roles, which creates volatile stereotype-threat. Women are doubted firstly on sex alone, in addition to other available stereotypes, until they are able often at the permission of men in power to prove their worth.
While women suffer harsher restrictions in their prescribed roles, men suffer greater backlash for violating masculine gender-roles. Such a case would be detrimental to both sexes, and is a symptom of gender-roles in society. The really troubling thing to me is, in spite of a solid belief in gender equality and at times being a good listener, I suspect that I may be completely unaware of the times when I become a Man Who Explains Things. Hard to believe that gender does not enter into that equation.
I think I will ask my wife to read this article too. It may prove to be illuminating and I hope not too painful. This was an interesting read, but I think she beats her drum a little too loudly here, thereby unwittingly giving credence to the very thing she is protesting. Look what happened to the sleezebag mayor of San Diego. That is a good thing. This woman keeps referring to her many authored books, as though those define her worth to be heard. Simply by virtue of her having a voice, any voice, she has a right to be heard, gender notwithstanding. The following link by Bozo Biden also infers that women are somehow weak and in need of separate legislation.
The Constitution affords ALL of us equal protection. Some men are certainly jerks, but so are some women. The real blessing is ridding our lives of all who are anything but lovely. We need to stop all this divisiveness and become unified. We are all humans. We are all Americans. We all love, feel pain, laugh, cry, eat, sleep, drink, mourn, and on and on. We should emphasize our vectors where we intersect and build on that. I liked this essay very much. Therefore I want the following to be taken in its proper context. Notwithstanding the offensive tone of the man with whom Ms. I suspect that Mr. Very Important II , like many people vaguely familiar with American politics, assumed that this is the period of activity to which Ms.
Solnit referred, and I think that his assumption was not idiosyncratic. But its downfall — in any interesting sense — occurred before What Ms. Solnit it cannot know, because she is not a man, is that even in a group of only men, the same men who mansplain to women tend to mansplain to other men. We quietly sigh to ourselves about it, maybe crack jokes behind the back of the worst offenders. It is mostly a non-sexist personality flaw that is rampant in men. It happens because men are socialized to desire to seen as authoritative, wise. The solution here is to teach women confidence in the same way men are taught it, but also to teach men humility in the same way women are taught it.
This is the reason Gen-X women date younger men. This article reminds me of a recent conversation with my dad, who is definitely guilty of mansplaining. I know the difference! I have a masters degree in climate change! My only question is why did you write this piece? It comes across to me as if you are angry about something that while it matters — matters little. You should just be proud of your accomplishments as a writer and realize the following: There will always be someone more knowledgeable and many less so. So why dwell on it? Congratulations on all your books! I have yet to write one! This was a great article. Everything you report I have witnessed and has made me ashamed of my gender. After a life in broadcasting and journalism I know that women have a far greater ability to understand, analyse and explain.
It is that uniquely feminine sensitivity that takes their thoughts and words far beyond the simplistic male. Now I must immediately buy and read your work, which, for my sins, I have never come across before… and yes, I am British. Thank you to him. I only want to ADD to his comment that my brain screams that what women have comes from what they are assigned to be and do. It is WORK — that is concerted effort and time that women put into things so they can have the results.
Work itself is framed in what men do. The results are seen globally. The results being that mothering itself is being driven by doctors with medications and statistics that does not translate into mothering. Like the loss of farming, the loss of the work of mothering is being turned over to big business and unless women can start getting respect for what they do know and that knowledge being valued as much as Bill Gates or Stephen Hawkings contributions to the world, there is and will be needless human suffering because of the lack of that knowledge. I hope this makes sense. It is very destructive to have men dominate the world and conversations as if their work and knowledge is the superior and only valueable. More can be see at karendee Thank you Karen…we are all people and carry equal responsibility for our work and lives.
Every gender brings unique qualities to solve every problem. We all deserve equal respect. Thanks for such an insightful article! It is so easy to criticize men as a group, and everyone knows they can get away with it. This article takes advantage of the fact that society tacitly approves of anti male sentiment, while harshly punishing any kind of criticism against women. For anyone who thinks this article is fair and reasonable, I ask you this: would you be just as comfortable with an article on how women can be such nags? Thank you, Ms. Solnit, and please continue to also fight the battle on behalf of women older than you. Since my hair has turned gray, I find myself increasingly interrupted and marginalized, to the point of invisibility. My experience is considered irrelevant and dated.
Second that, Katy. Besides, they were mansplained so much while young, it all make them glad to associate with others of like gender and age and leave the younger women to deal with mansplaining. Now we are living longer and I look forward to Ms. Reading articles like this I am struck by how much of the behaviour described could easily be an Alpha male talking down to a Beta male. It seems like there is a hierarchy of alpha, then beta, and women get to slot into their default position underneath both.
It would then logically seem that equality would mean that women have as much of an opportunity to become an alpha or beta themselves. Would we really want to perpetuate this system, though? So you have condescension at Alpha, resentment and bitterness at beta, and women get to be held on a pedestal that has no actual power or respect. They are the trophy and the currency, but have no agency in this system.
I feel like they are all parts of the same problem. Like there is this system and we are all stuck in it and encouraged to play our roles. Like the whole house needs to be demolished. If we all keep pecking we are just changing our position in that system, not stepping out of it. Not breaking it. Am I mansplaining here? I would be interested in feminist perspective of my man-theories. Women commenting here would not have to ask that. A man lacks the experience so he has nothing to contribute. Just worked a lifetime to articulate this mess in hopes of creating a harmonious world and good relationships. Question to provoke thought: Does this phenomena, arrogant men who explain things, tie in to the innocently ignorant conversationalist who asks for things to be explained while a discussion above their pay-grade is going on?
The other day I met with a man about 65 years old. He kept reminding me how young I was. But then I mentioned my parents, and mentioned my father would disagree with what he just said. Now I should mention this meeting was a professional meeting, this man knows nothing about my family or my father. I should also mention my father is 70…. For men to comment on this subject is a daunting no-win situation. Nevertheless — I think it is important to call out several issue from a male point of view. The Wildlife profession was one of the worst offenders in terms of lack of female representation.
However the last 15 years shows an interesting and positive development: the growing majority of wildlife graduate students and new professionals are female…. I find articles like this extremely discomforting. One of the biggest pitfalls of humanity is to make nonsensical correlations between two things with no cause and effect relationship. Like equating a mass shooting episode with a generalized misogynistic male culture, as opposed to a specific case of mental illness recent news. Or connecting the struggles of college educated female Americans with the life or death plight of a woman in a specific third world nation with zero cultural linkage to our homeland.
The bottom line is that there is a growing number of normal men and women leading normal lives that find harmony with the opposite sex in the workplace and at home, but find the surrounding culture of gender awareness to be an increasing pain in the ass:. One of the surprising outcomes of equality in the workplace is the opportunity for men and women to share in the frustration having bosses, feeling under-appreciated, spending too much time away from your children, and feeling stressed out all the time.
One of the worst parts of equality is that it produces a partnership with two work-stressed people who still have to be a family. I reserve the right to explain myself:. As so the war rages on. Because usually women with crazy exes are dead. Who is explaining it to you? Wake up! It's late already. We were supposed to open the restaurant earlier that day. Sometimes, they needed me to be the cashier; other times, I was the youngest waiter on staff. The restaurant took a huge toll on my parents and me. Working more than 12 hours every single day even holidays , I lacked paternal guidance, thus I had to build autonomy at an early age. On weekdays, I learned to cook my own meals, wash my own clothes, watch over my two younger sisters, and juggle school work. We began working at 11pm all the way to 5am.
So I started a list of goals. After two unsuccessful attempts, I got in. The rigorous eight months of training paid off as we defeated over international schools and lifted the 2nd Place cup; pride permeated throughout my hometown. Despite the euphoria brought by victory, my sense of stability would be tested again, and therefore my goals had to adjust to the changing pattern. During the summer of , my parents sent me to live in the United States on my own to seek better educational opportunities.
New responsibilities came along as I spent that summer clearing my documentation, enrolling in school, and getting electricity and water set up in our new home. In the midst of moving to a new country and the overwhelming responsibilities that came with it, I found an activity that helped me not only escape the pressures around me but also discover myself. My 15 years in Mexico forged part of my culture that I just cannot live without. Trying to fill the void for a familiar community, I got involved with the Association of Latin American students, where I am now an Executive Officer.
I proudly embrace the identity I left behind. The more I scratch off from my goals list, the more it brings me back to those days handling spatulas. I want to explore new paths and grow within my community to eradicate the prejudicial barriers on Latinos. So yes, this IS how I want to spend the rest of my life. My mother came to the U. But she fell in love and eloped with the man that eventually became my father. He loved her in an unhealthy way, and was both physically and verbally abusive. My mother lacked the courage to start over so she stayed with him and slowly let go of her dreams and aspirations. In the summer before my junior year I was offered a scholarship to study abroad in Egypt. Not to my surprise, my father refused to let me go. I accepted the scholarship.
And before I returned to the U. I received the unexpected opportunity to travel to London and Paris. It was surreal: a girl from the ghetto traveling alone around the world with a map in her hands and no man or cultural standards could dictate what I was to do. I rode the subway from Cambridge University to the British Museum. Despite the language barrier I found I had the self-confidence to approach anyone for directions. While I was in Europe enjoying my freedom, my mother moved out and rented her own place. We were proud of each other. And she vicariously lived through my experiences as I sent her pictures and told her about my adventures. I currently live in the U. S with my mother. My father has gradually transformed from a frigid man to the loving father I had yearned for.
We plan and execute school dances and create effective donation letters. After the political turmoil of the Arab Spring many Middle Eastern countries refuse to grant women equal positions in society because that would contradict Islamic texts. By oppressing women they are silencing half of their population. I believe these Islamic texts have been misinterpreted throughout time, and my journey towards my own independence has inspired me to help other women find liberation as well.
My Easter will drastically differ from past years. Rather than being locked at home, my mother and I will celebrate outdoors our rebirth and renewal. Every weekend, my family and I go to the bowling alley. Every Saturday night from 10pm to 4am, after entering the bowling alley through a back door, my parents dispatch my older sister Marlene and me to the lanes armed with broomsticks. Some months later my year-old baby sister was hit by a car. My mother was our only financial support, so we sometimes ate Cup of Noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I prayed every night that things would get better but first they got worse. In the eleventh grade my father suffered a muscle failure and my mother was diagnosed with a tumor.
Unfortunately, I pushed myself so hard that I ended up hurting myself, suffering a vain leakage in my brain. I was the fighter, the protector, and now I found myself needing someone to protect me. I was glad to have my mother by my side because she gave me the strength I needed. After some rest, I returned to school more focused than ever on preparing for my future. But perhaps my biggest support system has come through the four years on my high school soccer team, where my commitment and love for soccer won me the captain position for the past two years.
I am the student who works on the weekends scrubbing restrooms, carrying trash bags and mopping kitchen floors. I am the student who won't give a second thought to missing a party to help my parents babysit my sisters or accompany them to a new job. I know that one day I will not take my family to a bowling alley to clean it but to enjoy it. And who knows maybe one day I will learn to bowl. It was the first Sunday of April. My siblings and I were sitting at the dinner table giggling and spelling out words in our alphabet soup.
The phone rang and my mother answered. It was my father; he was calling from prison in Oregon. Fortunately, my father was bailed out of prison by a family friend in Yakima. Unfortunately, though, most of our life savings was spent on his bail. My father went from being a costurero sewing worker to being a water-filter salesman, mosaic tile maker, lemon deliverer, and butcher. Money became an issue at home, so I started helping out more. Sundays and summertime were spent cleaning houses with my mother. I worked twice as hard in school. I helped clean my church, joined the choir, and tutored my younger sister in math. Slowly, life improved. Then I received some life-changing news. The lawyer had an idea: I had outstanding grades and recommendation letters.
If we could show the judge the importance of my family remaining here to support my education, perhaps we had a chance. So I testified. Testifying in court helped me grow as a person, has made me more open-minded and aware of the problems facing my community. And my involvement in the urban farm has led me to consider a career as a nutritionist. Though neither of my parents attended college, they understand that college is a key factor to a bright future and therefore have been very supportive. And though we don't yet have the house with the small porch and the dog, we're still holding out hope.
Does every life matter? Because it seems like certain lives matter more than others, especially when it comes to money. I remember overhearing intense conversations outside the headquarters tent. My dad and his friend were arguing that we should treat the woman regardless of the treatment cost, whereas the others were arguing that it simply cost too much to treat her. Looking back, it was a conflict between ideals—one side argued that everyone should receive treatment whereas the other argued that interventions should be based on cost-effectiveness. I was angry for two reasons. First, because my father lost the argument. In short, that every life matters. Over the next four years I read piles of books on social justice and global health equity in order to prove my intuitive belief in a logical manner.
I even took online courses at the undergraduate and graduate level. But I failed to find a clear, logical argument for why every life mattered. I did, however, find sound arguments for the other side, supporting the idea that society should pursue the well-being of the greatest number, that interventions should mitigate the most death and disability per dollar spent. But I continued searching, even saving up pocket money to attend a summer course on global health at Brown University.
I searched my memories. Why was I convinced that every life mattered? When the woman with MDR-TB came to our team, she brought along with her a boy that looked about my age. Six years have passed since I met him, but I still remember the gaze he gave me as he left with his mother. It was, in a way, serene. It was almost as if he knew this was coming. That burdened me. In eighth grade, I was asked to write my hobbies and career goals, but I hesitated. Should I just make something up? I was embarrassed to tell people that my hobby was collecting cosmetics and that I wanted to become a cosmetic chemist.
I worried others would judge me as too girlish and less competent compared to friends who wanted to work at the UN in foreign affairs or police the internet to crack down on hackers. The very fact that I was insecure about my "hobby" was perhaps proof that cosmetics was trivial, and I was a superficial girl for loving it. But cosmetics was not just a pastime, it was an essential part of my daily life. In the morning I got up early for my skincare routine, using brightening skin tone and concealing blemishes, which gave me the energy and confidence throughout the day. At bedtime I relaxed with a soothing cleansing ritual applying different textures and scents of liquids, creams, sprays, and gels.
My cosmetic collection was a dependable companion - rather than hiding it away, I decided instead to learn more about cosmetics, and to explore. However, cosmetic science wasn't taught at school so I designed my own training. It began with the search for a local cosmetician to teach me the basics of cosmetics, and each Sunday I visited her lab to formulate organic products.
A year of lab practice taught me how little I knew about ingredients, so my training continued with independent research on toxins. I discovered that safety in cosmetics was a contested issue amongst scientists, policy makers, companies, and consumer groups, variously telling me there are toxic ingredients that may or may not be harmful. I was frustrated by this uncertainty, yet motivated to find ways of sharing what I was learning with others. Research spurred action. I began writing articles on the history of toxic cosmetics, from lead in Elizabethan face powder to lead in today's lipstick, and communicated with a large readership online.
Positive feedback from hundreds of readers inspired me to step up my writing, to raise awareness with my peers, so I wrote a gamified survey for online distribution discussing the slack natural and organic labeling of cosmetics, which are neither regulated nor properly defined. At school I saw opportunities to affect real change and launched a series of green chemistry campaigns: the green agenda engaged the school community in something positive and was a magnet for creative student ideas, such as a recent project to donate handmade organic pet shampoo to local dog shelters. By senior year, I was pleased my exploration had gone well. But on a recent holiday back home, I unpacked and noticed cosmetics had invaded much of my space over the years.
Dresser top and drawers were crammed with unused tubes and jars — once handpicked with loving care — had now become garbage. I sorted through each hardened face powder and discolored lotion, remembering what had excited me about the product and how I'd used it. Examining these mementos led me to a surprising realization: yes, I had been a superficial girl obsessed with clear and flawless skin. My makeup had given me confidence and comfort, and that was okay. I am glad I didn't abandon the superficial me, but instead acknowledged her, and stood by her to take her on an enlightening and rewarding journey. Cosmetics led me to dig deeper into scientific inquiry, helped me develop an impassioned voice, and became a tool to connect me with others.
Together, I've learned that the beauty of a meaningful journey lies in getting lost for it was in the meandering that I found myself. I have been pooped on many times. I mean this in the most literal sense possible. I have been pooped on by pigeons and possums, house finches and hawks, egrets and eastern grays. Actually, that I do mind a little. Their chances of going back to the wild, going back to their homes, rely on my attention to their needs and behaviors. My enduring interest in animals and habitat loss led me to intern at the Wildlife Center of Silicon Valley over the summer, and it was there that I was lucky enough to meet those opossum joeys that defecated on my shoes whenever I picked them up forcing me to designate my favorite pair of shoes as animal hospital shoes, never to be worn elsewhere again.
It was there that a juvenile squirrel decided my finger looked fit to suckle, and that many an angry pigeon tried to peck off my hands. And yet, when the internship ended, I found myself hesitant to leave. It was from the sense of responsibility that I developed while working with orphaned and injured wildlife. After all, most of the animals are there because of us—the baby opossums and squirrels are there because we hit their mothers with our cars, raptors and coyotes end up there due to secondary rodenticide poisoning and illegal traps. We are responsible for the damage, so I believe we are responsible for doing what we can to help.
And of course, there is empathy—empathy for the animals who lost their mothers, their homes, their sight and smell, their ability to fly or swim. These are not jobs that can be avoided or left half-finished. For some, the Arctic is simply too far away, and the oceans will always teem with life, while for others these problems seem too great to ever conquer. And while I have had these same feelings many times over, I organized letter-writing campaigns, protested, and petitioned the oil companies to withdraw.
I campaigned in local parks to educate people on sustaining the seas. I hold on to the hope that persistent efforts will prevent further damage. I sometimes wonder if my preoccupation with social and environmental causes just makes me feel less guilty. The upshot is that I simply cannot walk away from injustice, however uncomfortable it is to confront it. I choose to act, taking a stand and exposing the truth in the most effective manner that I think is possible. My story begins at about the age of two, when I first learned what a maze was.
For most people, solving mazes is a childish phase, but I enjoyed artistically designing them. Eventually my creations jumped from their two dimensional confinement, requiring the solver to dive through holes to the other side, or fold part of the paper over, then right back again. At around the age of eight, I invented a way for mazes to carry binary-encoded messages, with left turns and right turns representing 0s and 1s. This evolved into a base-3 maze on the surface of a tetrahedron, with crossing an edge representing a 2. For me, a blank piece of paper represented the freedom to explore new dimensions, pushing the boundaries of traditional maze making.
I found a similar freedom in mathematics. Here's what I wrote when I was The object of puzzles like these was to solve for every letter, assuming they each represented a unique positive integer, and that both sides of each equation are positive. These are not typical assumptions for practical mathematics, and I didn't even need 26 equations. Upon formally learning algebra, I was dismayed that "proper math" operated under a different set of assumptions, that two variables can be equal, or be non-integers, and that you always need as many equations as variables. Yet looking back, I now see that mathematics was so inspirational because there really is no "proper" way, no convention to hold me from discovering a completely original method of thought.
Math was, and still is, yet another way for me to freely express my creativity and different way of thinking without constraint. It's all about freedom. The thoughts are there, they just need a way to escape. The greatest single advancement that delivered even more freedom was my first computer, and on it, one of the first computer games I ever played: "Maze Madness. Through the years, I've made thousands not exaggerating of levels in a variety of different computer games.
I get most excited when I discover a bug that I can incorporate to add a new twist to the traditional gameplay. A few years ago I grew tired of working within the constraints of most internet games and I wanted to program my own, so I decided to learn the language of Scratch. With it, I created several computer games, incorporating such unordinary aspects of gameplay as the avoidance of time-travel paradoxes, and the control of "jounce," the fourth derivative of position with respect to time.
Eventually, I came to realize that Scratch was too limited to implement some of my ideas, so I learned C , and my potential expanded exponentially. I continue to study programming knowing that the more I learn, the more tools I have to express my creativity. To me, studying computer science is the next step of an evolution of boundary breaking that has been underway since my first maze. As a non-Catholic in a Catholic school, I knew I had to be cautious in expressing my opinion on the abortion debate. However, when I saw that all of the armband-bearing students were male, I could not stay silent. Some of my peers expressed support but others responded by calling me a dumb bitch, among other names. One by one, I responded.
I was glad to have sparked discussion, but by midnight, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. But instead, they told me to remove the post and to keep quiet, given the audience. I refused to remove the post, but decided to stay silent. I gradually began to realize that refusing to conform to the conventions of society is what propels us toward equality. As a junior coach, I spend my Monday and Thursday afternoons with middle school girls, running, singing Taylor Swift songs, discussing our daily achievements I got on my math test!
The girls celebrate their accomplishments and talk about themselves positively, fully expressing their self-esteem. I want to fight for social justice in the courtroom. Most people who know me also know that I dream of becoming a civil rights attorney. But I also have two lesser known dreams: becoming a political philosopher and economist as well as a well-travelled historian.
With unparalleled opportunities such as the Philosophy, Politics, and Economics PPE concentration, unique history-related minors, and exchange programs at various Sciences Po locations, I believe the University of Michigan will provide me with incredible resources that will help me achieve all three of my dreams. The interdisciplinary nature of PPE perfectly suits my desire to understand human beings through different lenses. I strongly believe that social and geopolitical issues must be approached in a multidimensional context--complex relationships between individuals and communities demand equally sophisticated analyses.
For example, the topic of immigration has philosophical implications regarding human dignity, political implications regarding border security, as well as economic implications relating to employment. Attempting to understand an extensive topic like immigration through one academic area feels like a gross oversimplification. However, by combining philosophy, politics, and economics, PPE would allow me to develop the theoretical and empirical knowledge necessary for acquiring a multidimensional understanding of global issues. I believe that history is another indispensable component of understanding humanity and the world we live in today.
During my internship at the Sejong Institute, I translated Korean research publications on topics like denuclearizing North Korea and resolving the South China Sea disputes. The same principle applies to national conflicts as well, which is why I believe that the two minors will be a synergistic addition to my studies in PPE. While academic concentrations offer different lenses to study the world, languages offer different lenses to experience the world. There is no other place than the University of Michigan where I will be able to achieve all my dreams without having to sacrifice one for the other. As a Wolverine, I know my future will be limitless. Growing up, my world was basketball.
My summers were spent between the two solid black lines. My skin was consistently tan in splotches and ridden with random scratches. My wardrobe consisted mainly of track shorts, Nike shoes, and tournament t-shirts. Gatorade and Fun Dip were my pre-game snacks. The cacophony of rowdy crowds, ref whistles, squeaky shoes, and scoreboard buzzers was a familiar sound. Hidden in the cracks of a blossoming collegiate level athlete was a literary fiend. I devoured books in the daylight. I crafted stories at night time. After games, after practice, after conditioning I found nooks of solitude.
Within these moments, I became engulfed in a world of my own creation. Initially, I only read young adult literature, but I grew to enjoy literary fiction and self-help: Kafka, Dostoevsky, Branden, Csikszentmihalyi. I wrote my first novel in fifth grade, my second in seventh grade, and started my third in ninth grade. Reading was instinctual. Writing was impulsive. I stumbled upon the movies of Hayao Miyazaki at a young age. I related a lot to the underlying East Asian philosophy present in his movies. My own perspective on life, growth, and change was echoed in his storytelling. Then, I discovered the books of Haruki Murakami whom I now emulate in order to improve my writing.
Like two sides of a coin, I lived in two worlds. One world was outward—aggressive, noisy, invigorating; the other, internal—tempestuous, serene, nuanced. Internal and external conflict ensued. Many times I was seen only as an athlete and judged by the stereotypes that come with it: self-centered, unintelligent, listens to rap. But off the court, I was more reflective, empathetic and I listened to music like Florence and the Machine. But why should I be one-dimensional? I had always been motivated to reach the pinnacle of my potential in whatever I was interested in. Why should I be defined by only one aspect of my life? I felt like I had to pick one world.
Then I had an ACL injury. And then another. After the first ACL surgery, my family and I made the decision to homeschool. I knew I wanted to explore my many interests—literature, novel writing, East Asian culture, and basketball—equally. So I did. I found time to analyze Heart of Darkness and used my blog to instruct adult authors how to become self-published authors. I researched Shintoism, read dozens of books on writing and self-improvement. My sister and I had been talking for a while about starting a nonprofit focused on social awareness, education, and community outreach.
Finally, we had the time to do it. While basketball has equipped me with leadership skills and life experiences, it is only one part of who I am. As a socially aware, intellectual, and introspective individual, I value creative expression and independence. I was named after my father and grandfather. I was born, raised and currently reside in the Phoenician city of Sidon, a port city in the south of Lebanon along the Mediterranean. I was raised speaking Arabic and, at age 6, I began attending French Community School where the language of instruction is French. Thus, English is my third language.
While I have been fortunate in many ways, I have had my share of challenges growing up in Lebanon. In , I witnessed my first war, which broke in the south of Lebanon and resulted in the displacement of thousands of people into my hometown. Hearing the bombs and seeing the images of destruction around me certainly impacted me. However, the greater impact, was working with my father to distribute basic aid to the refugees. I visited one site where three families were cramped up in one small room but still managed to make the best of the situation by playing cards and comforting each other.
Working with the refugees was very rewarding and their resilience was inspiring. The refugees returned home and the areas destroyed were largely rebuilt. This experience showed me the power of community and the importance of giving back. I am blessed with a family who has supported my ambitious academic and social pursuits. Today, my close friends consist of my classmates from various religious and social backgrounds. The programs were incredibly rewarding because they gave me a taste of the excellent quality and diversity of education available in the United States. At Yale University, my roommate shared with me stories about the customs in his hometown of Shanghai.
Other experiences, such as the mock board meeting of a technology company to which students from different backgrounds brought in divergent business strategies, affirmed my belief in the importance of working toward a more inclusive global community. I believe the United States, more so than any other country, can offer a challenging, engaging and rewarding college education with opportunities for exposure to a diverse range of students from across the globe. I intend to return to Lebanon upon graduation from college in order to carry on the legacy of my grandfather and father through developing our family business and investing in our community. My grandfather, who never graduated from high school started a small grocery store with limited resources.
Through hard work, he grew his business into the largest grocery store in my hometown, Khan Supermarket. My father, who attended only one year of college, transformed it into a major shopping center. Like my father, I grew up involved in the business and have a passion for it. I enjoyed every bit of it, taking pride in challenging myself and helping my father. My hard work has driven me to become the top-ranked student in my school, and I am confident that my ambition and desire to contribute to the community will ensure my success in your program.
I look forward to learning from the diverse experiences of my peers and sharing my story with them, thus enriching both our learning experiences. And I look forward to becoming the first man in my family to finish college. Smeared blood, shredded feathers. Clearly, the bird was dead. But wait, the slight fluctuation of its chest, the slow blinking of its shiny black eyes. No, it was alive. I had been typing an English essay when I heard my cat's loud meows and the flutter of wings. I had turned slightly at the noise and had found the barely breathing bird in front of me.
The shock came first. Mind racing, heart beating faster, blood draining from my face. I instinctively reached out my hand to hold it, like a long-lost keepsake from my youth. But then I remembered that birds had life, flesh, blood. Within seconds, my reflexes kicked in. Get over the shock. Gloves, napkins, towels. How does one heal a bird? I rummaged through the house, keeping a wary eye on my cat. Donning yellow rubber gloves, I tentatively picked up the bird. Never mind the cat's hissing and protesting scratches, you need to save the bird. You need to ease its pain. But my mind was blank. I stroked the bird with a paper towel to clear away the blood, see the wound. The wings were crumpled, the feet mangled. A large gash extended close to its jugular rendering its breathing shallow, unsteady.
The rising and falling of its small breast slowed. Was the bird dying? No, please, not yet. The long drive, the green hills, the white church, the funeral. The Chinese mass, the resounding amens, the flower arrangements. Me, crying silently, huddled in the corner. The Hsieh family huddled around the casket. So many apologies. Finally, the body lowered to rest. The body. Kari Hsieh. Still familiar, still tangible.
Hugging Mrs. Hsieh, I was a ghost, a statue. My brain and my body competed. Emotion wrestled with fact. Kari was dead, I thought. My frantic actions heightened my senses, mobilized my spirit. Cupping the bird, I ran outside, hoping the cool air outdoors would suture every wound, cause the bird to miraculously fly away. Yet there lay the bird in my hands, still gasping, still dying. Bird, human, human, bird. What was the difference?
Both were the same. But couldn't I do something? Hold the bird longer, de-claw the cat? I wanted to go to my bedroom, confine myself to tears, replay my memories, never come out. The bird's warmth faded away. Its heartbeat slowed along with its breath. For a long time, I stared thoughtlessly at it, so still in my hands. Slowly, I dug a small hole in the black earth. As it disappeared under handfuls of dirt, my own heart grew stronger, my own breath more steady.
Kari has passed. But you are alive. I am alive. From page 54 of the maroon notebook sitting on my mahogany desk:. I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth and whoever finds me will kill me. Here is a secret that no one in my family knows: I shot my brother when I was six. Luckily, it was a BB gun. But to this day, my older brother Jonathan does not know who shot him. And I have finally promised myself to confess this eleven year old secret to him after I write this essay. The truth is, I was always jealous of my brother. Our grandparents, with whom we lived as children in Daegu, a rural city in South Korea, showered my brother with endless accolades: he was bright, athletic, and charismatic.
To me, Jon was just cocky. Deep down I knew I had to get the chip off my shoulder. Once we situated ourselves, our captain blew the pinkie whistle and the war began. My friend Min-young and I hid behind a willow tree, eagerly awaiting our orders. To tip the tide of the war, I had to kill their captain. We infiltrated the enemy lines, narrowly dodging each attack. I quickly pulled my clueless friend back into the bush. Hearing us, the alarmed captain turned around: It was my brother.
Startled, the Captain and his generals abandoned their post. Vengeance replaced my wish for heroism and I took off after the fleeing perpetrator. My eyes just gazed at the fleeing object; what should I do? I looked on as my shivering hand reached for the canister of BBs. The next second, I heard two shots followed by a cry. I opened my eyes just enough to see two village men carrying my brother away from the warning sign.
Days passed. My brother and I did not talk about the incident. But in the next few weeks, something was happening inside me. That night when my brother was gone I went to a local store and bought a piece of chocolate taffy, his favorite. Several days later, I secretly went into his room and folded his unkempt pajamas. Then, other things began to change. I even ate fishcakes, which he loved but I hated. Today, my brother is one of my closest friends. Every week I accompany him to Carlson Hospital where he receives treatment for his obsessive compulsive disorder and schizophrenia.
After he leaves, I take out my notebook and begin writing where I left off. And Grace, my fears relieved Wooden bookshelves protrude regally from my wall. Atop the shelves, several volumes rise in lofty columns. The columns tremble. A strange commotion ripples through their pages. Sprawled upon one such page, I feel the parchment beneath me shuddering like the earth beneath a wild stampede. Before my incredulous eyes, the typed letters before me quiver, totter… morph into ants! The ants march to and fro across the page, ravenously following thoughts of quarks, hidden dimensions, and string theory. Instead, I reflect on my memories:. Awe overwhelmed my middle-school mind. My hand, a bottle cap, everything, was composed of not only atoms, but of smaller quarks, which were not static points, but oscillating strings.
Everything in my life might be controlled by infinitesimal, interconnected loops After studying cosmology at an extra-curricular astro-camp, I was certain: I wanted to be a theoretical physicist. I join their ranks, revisiting scenes of ballrooms, Civil War battles, 19th century St. Again, my thoughts wander:. As a sophomore, I loved venturing into the worlds of historic characters. AP European History quickly became my favorite class. I obsessed with particulars: Queen Elizabeth I and her rumored romantic interest in Sir Walter Raleigh, the infamous schemes and bizarre execution of the Russian monk, Rasputin. Studying history was like reading a novel, and I was determined to uncover the plots.
I aspired to become an historian. As we vacate Crime and Punishment, the ant before me halts jarringly. I pitch forward precariously. My arms whirl in a windmill-like motion. An ant nudges me from the left. Another from the right. All around me, the ants careen spasmodically — here, there, everywhere! As I listen to the thoughts swirling about I deduce the cause of the chaos: the little creatures cannot decipher my Latin copy of Carmina. Around me, my books pitch and heave mightily as ants swell from their covers.
They surge toward the center of my room, billow beneath my bed, and… disappear. The boisterous, animate rabble of thoughts vanishes, leaving behind the whisper of empty pages rustling blankly. I withdraw from my daydream and scrutinize my college application. I select the English option from the application menu. My future might be undecided but surely pursuing my passionate interest in literature is the best way to fill its pages. I eye my copy of One L. Perhaps an English degree will lead to a J. We paused and listened, confused by sounds we had only ever heard on the news or in movies. My mother rushed out of the house and ordered us inside. The Arab Spring had come to Bahrain. I learned to be alert to the rancid smell of tear gas.
Its stench would waft through the air before it invaded my eyes, urging me inside before they started to sting. Newspaper front pages constantly showed images of bloodied clashes, made worse by Molotov cocktails. Martial Law was implemented; roaming tanks became a common sight. Bahrain, known for its palm trees and pearls, was waking up from a slumber. The only home I had known was now a place where I learned to fear. September — Two and a half years after the uprisings, the events were still not a distant memory. I decided the answer to fear was understanding. I began to analyze the events and actions that led to the upheaval of the Arab Springs.
In my country, religious and political tensions were brought to light as Shias, who felt underrepresented and neglected within the government, challenged the Sunnis, who were thought to be favored for positions of power. I wanted equality and social justice; I did not want the violence to escalate any further and for my country to descend into the nightmare that is Libya and Syria. September — Pursuing understanding helped allay my fears, but I also wanted to contribute to Bahrain in a positive way. I participated in student government as a student representative and later as President, became a member of Model United Nations MUN , and was elected President of the Heritage Club, a charity-focused club supporting refugees and the poor.
As an MUN delegate, I saw global problems from perspectives other than my own and used my insight to push for compromise. I debated human rights violations in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from an Israeli perspective, argued whether Syrian refugees should be allowed entry into neighboring European countries, and then created resolutions for each problem. In the Heritage Club, I raised funds and ran food drives so that my team could provide support for less fortunate Bahrainis. We regularly distributed boxed lunches to migrant workers, bags of rice to refugees and air conditioners to the poor. Both Shia and Sunni candidates are selected, helping to diversify the future leadership of my country.
I was shortlisted to attend the training during that summer. But as I learned to apply different types of leadership styles to real-life situations and honed my communication skills to lead my team, I began to see what my country was missing: harmony based on trust. Bringing people together from different backgrounds and successfully completing goals—any goal—builds trust. And trust is the first step to lasting peace. October — I have only begun to understand my people and my history, but I no longer live in fear.
Instead, I have found purpose. I plan to study political science and economics to find answers for the issues that remain unresolved in my country. Bahrain can be known for something more than pearl diving, palm trees, and the Arab Spring; it can be known for the understanding of its people, including me. Tolkien introduced us to Middle Earth. George R. Rowling enrolled us in Hogwarts. In order to craft fantasy worlds that resonate with the widest audiences, the best writers combine their formal education with personal experience and distinct interests. Creatives must draw inspiration by integrating the depths of their psyche with their environment and, by studying creative writing and Asian studies, I believe the University of Michigan will provide me with opportunities to develop a strong minority voice in the predominantly Caucasian world of young adult fiction.
Through the Residential Colleges, I hope to be a part of a living-learning community that emphasizes critical thinking and creative expression while immersing myself in the development process. The ability to work one-on-one with an RC Professor and receive personalized instruction is invaluable, as it will give me the unique opportunity to address my weaknesses and improve my strengths. The Center of Japanese Studies and the Department of Asian Languages and Cultures will enable me to deepen my understanding of Japanese culture in the classroom and apply my knowledge by studying abroad in Japan.
The Residential College intensive language program will help me develop Japanese proficiency, allowing me to take full advantage of overseas study in Kyoto. Courses like Early East Asian Transformations, First-Year Japanese through Anime and Manga, and Spirits of Contemporary Japan will teach me to analyze spirituality, existentialism, and society in the context of classical and contemporary Japan. This can ultimately serve as a thematic basis for my writing. I can see myself attending live action and anime screenings on campus with club Animania and participating in cultural initiatives by the Japan Students Association. Although writing and Asian Studies are my passions, I look forward to attending a large school with diverse opportunities and want to remain open to post-graduate careers in either business or law.
As my sister and I have started a nonprofit, I may want to explore organizational studies. I also want to contribute to the UM community by becoming a Sweetland writing consultant and a creative writing intern at Ypsilanti District Libraries with Michigan. Over the course of my interactions with Brittany Simmons and Logan Corey and after much research, I have come to see that what UM has to offer aligns with so many of my interests and core values. No other school I know of offered courses in exploring my literary heroes Miyazaki and Murakami. In short, Michigan has become a top choice for me and, if I am able to afford it financially, I would love to attend. Drag Race showed me the endless possibilities of what being gay could mean.
Before watching the show, I was deathly afraid of putting on pride socks, even though they were hidden beneath my clothes. They inspired me to march in DC Pride, wearing a rainbow tutu, dancing like nobody was watching. They gave me the strength to speak up in class, to push past the nerves and allow my voice to be heard. I took leadership positions in clubs, fostering safe spaces for my peers to share their perspectives without inhibition.
As a president of poetry club, I created a platform for queer students to share their stories. At the conference, I learned how to expound upon my beliefs and was inspired to make a difference in my community. I developed an independent study focused on diversifying the English and History curriculum, to give a voice to the unheard minorities at my school. Now I have a newfound confidence, a passion for leadership, and a motivation to make change.
Today, I walk through the halls unafraid to be me—to dance in the middle of the hallway, to put on my pride socks and a pin too, to sing Chicago in the airport. My hope is that I can be to others what Drag Race was for me; I want to share my experiences with my peers and reach new conclusions with them, to be brave and inspire braveness in others, and to help create a community where all can share their beliefs without fear of rejection.
Lola the lamb. Diego the snake. Jack the Dog. Nutmeg the rabbit. And a Bearded Dragon named Zigzag. But why have I grown up with such a diverse cast? Do I just enjoy the prospect of unspoken understanding, interpreting the complex, and actually succeeding? For many reasons, my connection and experiences with these animals have been a major part of shaping who I am today. Nothing teaches patience like trying to catch 22 rogue quail in your backyard. I incubated 32 quail eggs and every day I dedicated my afternoons to watching the eggs, checking the water levels, and making sure the temperature was okay. In the days leading up to the expected hatch date, I sat there, face centimeters away from the glass, talking to them and waiting for any signs of movement. Once they did hatch, taking care of them wasn't easy and I had to learn a lot about how they acted.
I have taken these traits of patience and adaptability into other areas of my life. Learning how to love crew for what it is took time. She came from a farm that we later learned abused and abuses its animals and experiences high death rates of baby animals. Lola was really sick and needed constant attention 24 hours a day. Because of her previous bad experiences with humans, letting herself be vulnerable with me was significant to me. I had to trust that it was worth all of the effort and if I gave her my attention, she would get better. This ability to build trust has been important in my life in other areas, whether it be animals, plants, or working with my peers in Peer Connections.
And trying to maintain a saltwater aquarium for my seahorse taught me a lot about science. Saltwater aquariums are especially difficult because they involve simulating a large and complicated ecosphere. The levels of alkanes, nitrates, nitrites, ammonia, salinity, and pH are extremely important and must be maintained by an established community of nitrifying bacteria that will detoxify the water. Although the process of creating this ecosystem took many months, I was also able to connect with my dad. I learned from him how to take something you are passionate about and apply it in a practical way. Some lessons I have had to learn the hard way. I was heartbroken when my bird Jules died by hand, for example, or when I had to watch my dad cut the heads off chickens I had raised.
Raising animals exposed me to quantitative things like science and animal husbandry, but also qualitative things such as intuition and communication. All my interactions with my animals have been transformative in my development and understanding of myself and society. Three days a week, my great-grandfather Pop brought home ribs. After dinner, he'd go around the table inspecting each plate, making sure each rib was stripped down to the bone. If he found one morsel, you couldn't be excused. Pop believed that, before you could leave the table, you had to finish your ribs. This lesson has stuck with me. Whether I'm staying up until two in the morning to figure out the Radius of Convergence of a Power Series or identifying solutions to countless concerns issued by my school district, I strive to finish my ribs.
But this is just one of many lessons food has taught me During Thanksgiving, instead of going around the table to express "thanks," my family writes notes on the tablecloth—the same one for the past 26 years. You'll find thoughts from my Dad. But only until Or corny jokes from my step-dad. And you'll read "Family is everything" from my great-grandmother Non. My family is far from perfect, but it's in the presence of a tablecloth where time freezes and I begin to feel an unfamiliar sense of stability. It's where my brother Noah told my Dad he loved him after six years of not communicating; where Mom sat next to Dad without a lawyer by their side, and where my family has gathered for every birthday at the same restaurant since I was four.
To me, eating means celebrating—culture, people, life. And I celebrated Non's life by trying a dish I've feared since my first Passover: Gefilte fish, a stuffed seafood concoction. It's not the taste I remember clearly but rather how it began a cascade of tasting other Jewish foods—chopped liver, beef tongue, pickled herring. In the time since, I've realized Gefilte fish is more than just the unfamiliar food tucked away in my great-grandma's fridge, it represents the opportunities that arise from trying new things.
In some cases, Gefilte fish has meant testing different locations of bins to minimize food waste in a school with no cafeteria. Or researching how biofortification can create an allosteric inhibitor reducing the release of ethylene, thus increasing the shelf life of produce. The lessons I learn through food aren't just limited to traditional meals, though. For the past five years, I've sold Otter Pops, a type of popsicle, at Spokane's annual race. Every year my business growsI hire new employees to manage new stands throughout the course to sell thousands of Pops.
But while my popsicle empire expands, one thing remains true: I take a break amid the chaos to eat my own Otter Pops. It's the same reason I play volleyball with friends after a long week of school and swim in the river with my football teammates after we finish conditioning. I take tremendous pride in these things; in fact, I find them necessary. And when I cook, I transform a part of raw Earth into raw culture.
Preparing steak enables me to remember my great-grandfather while eating it reminds me of its destruction to the environment. This is how I understand the world— I cook to discover myself; I eat to learn about the world around me. But we've become a product of the industrial food system, leading us to believe food is just another commodity and rendering us unable to identify that it exists at the seed of our very identity.In this mosque They Call Me Muslim Essay is a small chamber containing a stone with the following inscription "A certain pious They Call Me Muslim Essay saw in They Call Me Muslim Essay sleep the Chosen One [Muhammad], who said to him 'Here is the grave of my brother Moses. Compare And Contrast The Challenges Of Industrialization source of his arousal? When players were unaware of the sex of opponent control condition Unveiling His Beauty, By Pamela Mcgoughy females played They Call Me Muslim Essay as well as males. Their cereal is jurjur, a They Call Me Muslim Essay of They Call Me Muslim Essay grained millet, which is They Call Me Muslim Essay exported to Echo Check Reflection.