I am a feminist. I think you could probably tell that. I think you can probably also tell that I have issues with a lot of things that happen in society. I recently came across a sign that said "If Eve doomed the entire human race for one apple, what would she do for a klondke bar?"
I get it, it's funny. I understand the concept of the sign, and it can cause giggles. I get it.
But I also don't like it. To me, this speaks to all the subtle and innate oppression issues that women face.
First things first. I am going to get a bit biblical here, and I am going to talk about my opinions. My own opinions. Not fact, not your opinion, but my opinion. I ask that you respect my opinion, and I will respect yours. I love a good debate and discussion, so feel free to start one if you would like, in a respectful manner.
There are a lot of stories in the Bible and biblical folklore that really bother me. But let's focus on one right now. It is this story of Adam and Eve, which can arguably be one of the most famous stories in the bible aside from Jesus being born. In my Lutheran upbringings and teaching, the story of Adam and Eve is that God created Adam first, then created Eve out of Adam's rib (first point: there is a bit of man in every woman). Eve was tempted by the forbidden fruit, and took a bite of a fruit that God said never to eat (second point: Eve, aka women, are easily tempted). After Eve "sinned," God's punishment was giving Adam and Eve human bodies, meaning they would suffer and die (third point: Eve, aka woman, caused the downfall of humans).
Let's also look at how Eve is a representation of all women, in popular society. She was, to use this story, the "first woman" and therefore, all other women were modeled and bore out of her. Because of that, and because of the above paragraph and story, there have been people that have oppressed and looked down on women solely because of a story the Bible wants us to believe.
I have personal views that could go on for years about whether the Bible is true, where it came from, and what this story is actually talking about. But here's the point. It doesn't matter what you believe, and it doesn't matter if you believe. You have to realize that this story has often led to issues with women. From the early years, women were seen as not equal to men, innate sinners, and not good enough because of this story.
Even if you don't know or don't believe this, the current oppression, subordination, and punishment of women can easily stem from this story. So by saying things like "Eve doomed human kind," you basically are perpetuating the myth that women are unequal to men and basically innately bad. It may not be a pervasive and explicit thing in society, but it definitely is in society in a more implicit way. There is a belief that Eve is the representation of all women. And if you put negative qualities and characteristics on Eve, you are then putting these same negative qualities on every single woman in the world. Whether you think so or not, it is happening. It has happened, it continues to happen, and it continues to be perpetuated.
The reality is, women are still second-class citizens in today's world. There may be many reasons for it, but I believe this is one of the reasons this oppression continues. Because people have a reason to justify it. But there is no reason to justify it. Do you think this story is fact? Could there be other interpretations? Could there be a reason this story was written this way in the Bible?
There's my opinion and my take on this. I understand that jokes are funny. It's funny sometimes to make fun of history, or make fun of stories. I am not a prude in that way. I also though, think we all need to understand the impact of our actions. By making a sign like that or by making a joke about Eve, do you know what impact that makes on people? On society? Think about it. And I just urge you to think about your impact, whether it be an explicit or implicit impact.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
That Wasn't Me
In my trend of social justice being the telling of personal stories, I want to continue to share some struggles that I have been dealing with and will continue to deal with. A personal caveat- these are solely my experiences, and nobody else's. Everyone deals with mental illnesses in their own way, and this is just my experience and opinion.
I have suffered from depression and anxiety my entire life. I think I have outgrown a lot of my anxieties, but depression is a very different story. I was at my lowest in my undergrad years. Medication and therapy helped a lot, and there was a time several years ago where I was just completely happy. I was in a great place in life, I was figuring out who I was, I was surrounded by amazing people, and I had a great outlook on life.
Fast forward to now. I thought, a few years ago, that I had "overcome" depression. That I had coping mechanisms and could deal with anything that happens in healthy and constructive ways. I have slowly been realizing that this is not true. I have not overcome depression and in fact, it probably is something that will always be there with me. It will be a constant fight.
It starts small, the periods of depression, for me. The urge to cry at the smallest thing, the urge to stay in bed for 5 more minutes. Typically I have been able to figure out my warning signs and talk my way out of it. Rationalize to myself and work to find "happy" things to deal with everything. But these past few days have shown me that this depression, as much as I want to think I have a handle on it, really is a sneaky little meanie.
One of the biggest struggles I have had, and continue to have, is validating that depression is a real thing. Yes, for me, it is incredibly real and I know and understand that it is not just in my head. It's a chemical imbalance, and something that I cannot fix on my own. But that wasn't always the case. Growing up, I had parents that told me sadness was "all in my head," and I just needed an "attitude adjustment." There was one point, in high school, that I was feeling so helpless, I asked my mother for a professional counseling appointment for my birthday. She laughed in my face.
The way I was raised, it took me a very long time to acknowledge that mental illnesses were real. Even now, I think I tend to simplify it sometimes, in order to hide the fact that there is something "wrong" with me.
Here's the thing I need to realize. There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with anyone that lives with a mental illness. I think society has stigmatized it for so long, from institutionalizing people suffering, to making fun of mood swings, to everything in between, it is an embarrassing subject. Nobody talks about mental illness, nobody talks about self-harm. And they need to. If people were to talk, tell their stories, don't you think mental illnesses would be seen as a common reality? Don't you think then, people would be more apt to ask for help and not feel embarrassed? That people would understand depression or anxiety in a better way, and not feel "weird" or "alone" in their experiences? Depression is an incredibly isolating thing. The fact that people don't talk about it and there is a danger in asking for help, only escalates the need for a person going through a depressed state to stay silent. And that's not right.
Until then, this is my story. I'm struggling. It'll pass, it'll get better, but at the moment I am not myself. I want people to understand that, to know that I would rather be curled in a ball in bed crying than anywhere else at the moment. And that's ok. It's not a bad thing, it's not wrong.
One of the highlights of my low point was last week, when I saw one of my favorite singers ever live. For those of you who don't know, that person is Brandi Carlile. She sings this song called "That Wasn't Me." The song was written about addiction, but while she was singing it, it struck me how the meaning could be transferred to what I was going through and experiencing. So if you are interested, here's Brandi:
I have suffered from depression and anxiety my entire life. I think I have outgrown a lot of my anxieties, but depression is a very different story. I was at my lowest in my undergrad years. Medication and therapy helped a lot, and there was a time several years ago where I was just completely happy. I was in a great place in life, I was figuring out who I was, I was surrounded by amazing people, and I had a great outlook on life.
Fast forward to now. I thought, a few years ago, that I had "overcome" depression. That I had coping mechanisms and could deal with anything that happens in healthy and constructive ways. I have slowly been realizing that this is not true. I have not overcome depression and in fact, it probably is something that will always be there with me. It will be a constant fight.
It starts small, the periods of depression, for me. The urge to cry at the smallest thing, the urge to stay in bed for 5 more minutes. Typically I have been able to figure out my warning signs and talk my way out of it. Rationalize to myself and work to find "happy" things to deal with everything. But these past few days have shown me that this depression, as much as I want to think I have a handle on it, really is a sneaky little meanie.
One of the biggest struggles I have had, and continue to have, is validating that depression is a real thing. Yes, for me, it is incredibly real and I know and understand that it is not just in my head. It's a chemical imbalance, and something that I cannot fix on my own. But that wasn't always the case. Growing up, I had parents that told me sadness was "all in my head," and I just needed an "attitude adjustment." There was one point, in high school, that I was feeling so helpless, I asked my mother for a professional counseling appointment for my birthday. She laughed in my face.
The way I was raised, it took me a very long time to acknowledge that mental illnesses were real. Even now, I think I tend to simplify it sometimes, in order to hide the fact that there is something "wrong" with me.
Here's the thing I need to realize. There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with anyone that lives with a mental illness. I think society has stigmatized it for so long, from institutionalizing people suffering, to making fun of mood swings, to everything in between, it is an embarrassing subject. Nobody talks about mental illness, nobody talks about self-harm. And they need to. If people were to talk, tell their stories, don't you think mental illnesses would be seen as a common reality? Don't you think then, people would be more apt to ask for help and not feel embarrassed? That people would understand depression or anxiety in a better way, and not feel "weird" or "alone" in their experiences? Depression is an incredibly isolating thing. The fact that people don't talk about it and there is a danger in asking for help, only escalates the need for a person going through a depressed state to stay silent. And that's not right.
Until then, this is my story. I'm struggling. It'll pass, it'll get better, but at the moment I am not myself. I want people to understand that, to know that I would rather be curled in a ball in bed crying than anywhere else at the moment. And that's ok. It's not a bad thing, it's not wrong.
One of the highlights of my low point was last week, when I saw one of my favorite singers ever live. For those of you who don't know, that person is Brandi Carlile. She sings this song called "That Wasn't Me." The song was written about addiction, but while she was singing it, it struck me how the meaning could be transferred to what I was going through and experiencing. So if you are interested, here's Brandi:
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