I'm Not Writing This for You

This week, it seems like every woman* I know has written a #metoo post about experiencing sexual harassment, sexual assault or rape. Whatever their reasons for posting, I thank those women for their bravery. However, there are plenty of women, like myself, who have chosen not to talk about their traumatic experiences in a Facebook post. And that doesn't make us any less brave or desirous for change. It simply means that we don't owe you our stories.

I'm not going to share the details of my own experiences with sexual harassment and assault, but I will share some details about how #metoo has affected me over the past few days:

• Curiosity. I see a few posts that simply say "me too." I don't know what we're talking about. I keep scrolling through Facebook to learn more.
• Realization. I almost named this bullet point "horror" but I think that word conveys too much of a sense of surprise. I know what we're talking about. My heart hurts for my friends and acquaintances, but I am not surprised. I know this stuff happens. A lot.
• Solidarity. I start liking people's posts and think about making one myself.
• Doubt. Is being catcalled enough to make a post about? Is being grabbed on a dance floor enough to make a post about? Have I been sexually assaulted? Did I say no loud enough? Did I say no at all? Is that consent?
• Pain. I'm talking breaking-down-in-the-shower kind of pain. The pain that comes with realizing how much of rape culture you've internalized. The pain that comes with realizing that no one had to hold you down and force you to do anything because you had already created a prison in your own head.
• Healing. I'm not faultless, but that doesn't mean all of this is my fault. 
• Anger. When are we going to start teaching our sons how to recognize when another human being is in pain? When are we going to teach them compassion? And when are we going to expect them to act on it?
• Release. I text one of my best friends a stream of consciousness about what I think of all this. She listens and understands. She offers her point of view. She suggests I write a blog post. I write a blog post. I feel a little better.

I should let you know that I'm not writing this for you. Yes, you reading this right now. I'm choosing to share this in case it helps people who have also been struggling with the weight of trauma, but ultimately I'm writing this for myself. I'm being honest with myself. And I'm writing it all down as a testament to how far I've come and a reminder of how far I have yet to go.

Thanks for reading anyway.

*I realize that the people posting about their experiences do not all identify as female and I would like to acknowledge the important role of nonbinary and gender nonconforming individuals in this movement as well.

An Open Letter to White Americans

It's been about a year and a half since I last posted on this blog. I put it to bed after college ended and have been happily living my life, blog free, until today. Today, two days after this historic election, I need to write again.

I am a white woman and I am speaking to my fellow white Americans:

I would like each and every one of you to look at yourself in the mirror tonight and say "I am racist."

Just see how it feels. Does it make you feel dirty? Does it make you laugh? Can you even do it?

We need to do it. We need to admit that we are not perfect and that sometimes, even if we have the best intentions, we fail to love those who are different from us. Only then can we begin a process of healing. Only then can we start to truly love our neighbors.

It doesn't feel good to be called racist. Most of us try to be good people and would never intentionally hurt someone. We think if we are racist then that means we are the lowest of the low. We think, "I'm not a bad person, so I can't be a racist."

I wish it were that simple, but we live in a country where our ancestors systematically murdered the ancestors of Native Americans and kept the ancestors of African Americans as slaves. We live in a country that almost tore itself apart over whether or not those slaves had rights as human beings. We live in a country that put Japanese Americans in prison camps during WWII. That's not something you get over quickly. These racial conflicts had a ripple effect that still touches us today, not just in our policies as a society, but on a personal level as well.

We know it's wrong to judge someone by the color of their skin. We're taught that from the time we're very small. But the people teaching us that "racism is wrong" are often the same people who, usually unintentionally, plant racist thoughts in our heads, in such minuscule ways and over such an extended period of time that we can't even hardly detect them.

But they're there. There are psychological tests (like the Implicit Association Test) that show that different types of people tend to be automatically perceived differently. It's not about intention. It's not about good vs. evil. It's a product of the environment we've grown up in as Americans.

I've taken the Black-White IAT. I've seen my results and there is a difference in the way I perceive black and white faces. I hate it. It feels like there's a monster living inside of me, and I just want it to get out of my head.

The good news is that when we recognize these cognitive biases within ourselves, we can begin to combat them. We can start to pick up on those moments when we feel uncomfortable around someone different from ourselves (whether it's a difference of race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.). We can look at those moments with a critical eye and start to peel back the layers of fear and misinformation. We can fight that monster, but only if we recognize that it's there.

It's an uncertain time for our country. There's a lot of anger and fear and blame being thrown around. As white Americans, we can no longer pretend that race issues aren't our problem. We have a responsibility to our nation and to our fellow man to prune away the thoughts and actions that make us ugly. It's not an easy road, but I hope that we will have the humility to shed light on the demons within ourselves, and the courage to fight those demons, one blow at a time.

Adulthood

Well, it's official. I've graduated from college, memorized my social security number, moved into my own apartment, secured a full time job, and paid my first bill. I am, without a doubt, an Adult.

So why am I sitting on my couch, eating frozen pizza and reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban?

Being an Adult (as opposed to an adult, which is just a person who is old enough to legally buy his or her own lottery tickets) is kind of scary. It's a bit like being in school, where I need to keep track of multiple ongoing projects and responsibilities, except I have no idea how to do any of the tasks I'm "assigned". I can write papers and take tests, but what is a 401(k)? How do I pay for electricity? What do you mean I have to squish that spider in the corner???

It can all be a bit overwhelming. That's where the pizza and books come in. Being an Adult, I can buy freeze pops and fruit snacks if I so choose. I can watch Disney movies and play stupid games on the computer. I can balance out the scary Adult stuff with the fun childish stuff and not step too far out of my comfort zone.

With that sentiment in mind, however, I do caution myself. I don't think there's anything wrong with eating the occasional freeze pop (and there's no way I'm ever going to stop enjoying the Harry Potter books), but I want to make sure that I only do those "childish" things because I truly enjoy them, not because I need to use them to escape from something. Adulthood can be scary, but dependence is scarier.

At this point, I have to thank my friends and family, who have been extremely supportive, encouraging, and helpful. Without their advice and answered texts, I would be pretty lost. They keep me grounded and set wonderful examples. I'm so thankful to have people in my life who make me feel loved and connected, even when I'm sitting alone in my one bedroom apartment.

I have a lot of friends who have just become Adults, too. It's so exciting to hear about all of their accomplishments and discuss jobs, living situations, and plans together. And I can't wait for my adult friends to join us in the chaos that is Adulthood. It feels like we're really living now, like we finally have our feet on the path toward making a name for ourselves. I can't wait to see where our paths lead us.

No, I don't have all of this Adult stuff figured out, but as I sit in my apartment, looking out the window at the trees swaying in the breeze and the ducks gliding across the water, with paperwork in my hand, I finally feel like this is what my life is supposed to be: living on my own, starting a job at an advertising agency, driving my car, and singing along with *NSYNC as I look for the first stars to show up in the night sky.

An Open Letter to My Mom on Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

You're awesome. You've always been my role model and friend. I can talk to you about anything and you give me the advice that I'm too afraid to give myself. Thank you.

To be honest, I always get a little anxious in the weeks leading up to Mother's Day. Homemade cards and poorly cooked meals aren't as impressive as they were when I was a kid. There are so many nice things I want to do and say, but I just don't know how. One of my friends put my feelings perfectly into words: "How do you love your mother back?"

How do you repay her for giving you life? For going through hours of labor and getting no sleep and cleaning up your messes and brushing your hair even when you don't want it brushed and dealing with your tantrums and getting you dressed and taking care of you when you're sick and buying you stupid toys that you love but she doesn't understand and listening to your favorite music on repeat for six hour car rides and planning birthday parties and helping you with your homework and listening to you practice an instrument that sounds like a dying cat and talking about boys and driving you to the mall and coming to your volleyball games and lending you her jewelry and letting you drive yourself to school and helping you pack your stuff in a way that you will never be able to duplicate and waiting for you to call her on the weekends because she knows your independence is important to you and coming to your concerts and listening patiently while you freak out about finding a job or a place to live and--? 

How do you return all that love in one day?

It's impossible. I could spend my whole life showering my mom with gifts and it still wouldn't be enough. The love a mother gives is selfless and unconditional, and it's meant to be passed on. Someday I will love someone the way my mom loves me. Then that person will love someone else the way I love them. That love goes back throughout history and will last well into the future. It binds us together.

I hope you know, mom, that I am always grateful for your love and support. I'm so glad we've had such a close relationship. It's been so fun to continue to get to know and understand you as I've grown older. Thanks for always knowing and understanding me.

Lots of love,

Liz

Nice Notes

Earlier this month, I celebrated my favorite holiday: Easter. During this time of year, I always get wrapped up in the fun of family time, candy, and traditions, but it's also always been a great time for me spiritually. Taking the 40 days of Lent to really reflect on my life and then letting it all go and celebrating on Easter is very therapeutic for me. This year, I decided to give myself a little exercise to prepare for the big celebration.

Every day, for 40 days, I wrote down at least one nice thing someone else did for me and at least one nice thing I did for someone else. I put all the scraps of paper in a jar and didn't read through them until after Easter. It's a pretty simple exercise, but it was surprisingly challenging and extremely rewarding.

At first, I found it difficult to go through a whole day and then try to remember the interactions I had with others. Some of the nice things that happened throughout the day were small moments that I often overlooked. As time progressed, however, I realized that most nice things happened in small doses. There were some days when I had big heart-to-heart conversations with people, but most days consisted of holding a door open for someone, picking up trash, or giving someone a few dollars.

Writing down these moments each day made me realize how important it is to be present in our lives. It's so easy to feel hopeless or cynical about the world, but if we open our eyes, there are beautiful and powerful relationships forming everywhere, even if they only last for 30 seconds.

Reading through these notes also had a second benefit that I didn't expect. They helped me to remember things I would have forgotten. They served as a mini journal, preserving a few details of each day that triggered memories of bigger events as well. It made me smile to remember things like getting lunch with friends, visiting with my parents, making new friends, traveling, giving and receiving compliments, going on dates, throwing parties, and doing all the other little things that filled the minutes in between. It's amazing how much can happen in 40 days!

Although I haven't continued writing nice things down since Lent ended, I do find myself noticing some of the little things on occasion. It has made me a happier person to be able to notice the good in the world. Maybe someday I'll start writing myself some nice notes again. Then, when I get stressed, I'll go back to my little jar and read through some of the things that made me smile.

Summer Camp Ain't Easy, Y'all

Almost two weeks ago, I returned from my spring break trip to Blackville, South Carolina. That week spent working and living with members of the community was like a surreal summer camp. Now that I've really had time to digest my experience, I can honestly say that, even though I didn't spend my time sunbathing on a beach, it was the best spring break of my life.

I got together with a group of 11 other students to "walk with the people of Blackville" as part of the Marquette Action Program (M.A.P). We were basically strangers when we started. We all have different majors, are in different grades and have different personalities and senses of humor. And we spent nine full days together, with probably 48 hours of that in a couple of vans!

Early on in the trip, we talked about what we wanted to do over the course of the week. One guy wanted us to take risks and another wanted for all of us to become so close that we could drop the niceties and get angry with each other if that's how we felt. They wanted an authentic experience, and they both got what they wished for. We bickered, we got frustrated, we pushed each other's buttons. But we also shared our stories with one another, stepped out of our comfort zones, opened up to one another, laughed together, supported one another and lifted one another up. I now have 11 amazing friends, all with different personalities and senses of humor, and we fit together like puzzle pieces.

Tossing the frisbee around at the end of a beautiful South Carolina day

In addition to connecting with my fellow travelers, I also connected with the people I met in Blackville. From day one, I felt welcome and cared for. My group arrived late after two long days of travel and we had a hot turkey dinner waiting for us (with stuffing, peas, pies and all manner of other delicious foods). We were fed like that for the whole trip, with different families, churches and other community members giving us sweet tea and fried chicken until we were ready to burst.

During those meals, I felt like I became a part of the community. Everyone came together in prayer before the meal started, and everyone was joking and laughing and exchanging stories by the time the meal ended. One of our group facilitators was famously nicknamed "Passion Fruit" by a reverend who ate with us, and the name stuck. We came away from those meals with enough inside jokes to last a lifetime.

I also got to visit a lot of people's homes in the area and work on household projects while they chatted with me. One woman had us call her "Ma'am" and didn't ask for our names because she admitted she would forget them, but she was one of the nicest people we met. I talked with her about her family while I raked leaves in her yard. Laughing, she relieved one of the guys from our group of his leaf blowing duties (he didn't quite have the knack for it) and joined us herself. It was great to get to know her and work with her.

I could tell a thousand stories like that: Raymond, patiently teaching us how to use power drills and pounding down the ends of screws that we drilled through to the other side of the wood; Vivian, making us laugh with her blunt words of wisdom and feisty spirit; Miriam, telling me with such sincerity that I'll do just fine with my degree and that I don't need to worry; Evelyn, driving us all over to teach us about the history of the area and find us a beach even though it was a cloudy day; and so many others, whose names I've kept in a notebook and in my heart, who made me smile and taught me how to be a better person.

I am so thankful that I had that week to learn and laugh and eat and spill paint on myself. I actually laughed in my sleep while I was there (which was a little creepy for my roommate--sorry Sarah), and I felt like I was smiling all the time. It was one of my best college experiences because it taught me that loving others ultimately brings about a sense of joy and peace that can't be found through any other means. I'll take that lesson with me wherever I go, along with this one: summer camp ain't easy, y'all (but it sure is worth it)!

Three Months to Graduation: Some Valentine's Day-Inspired Feels

About a month ago, I started my last semester of college--what?!?! Wasn't I a freshman like a month and a half ago? Time flies...

Looking back on my college career, I'm really quite happy with how much I've grown to get where I am right now in my life. I still don't have a for-sure job or a place to live yet, but recently I've learned to trust that good things will happen if you let them. I'm working hard, but I'm not nearly as stressed as I was when I wrote my last blog post a month ago.

I truly believe this last semester will be the best yet. I'm taking four classes, all of which I'm really enjoying. I'm finally in clubs that are more fun than burdensome. I'm singing and speaking Chinese and doing a lot of the things I should have been doing since the day I first stepped foot on this campus. I know what I want to do for my career. I'm more open about who I am and I'm more accepting of who other people are.

I think I've come a long way since the beginning of freshman year, but there are still a few things I want to accomplish before saying goodbye to the place I've called home for four years. Here's an abridged list of things I want to do before I graduate:

1. Eat at different restaurants. There are some restaurants I've discovered that are AMAZING and I keep going back to them, but I would like to branch out a little more. There's one restaurant in particular that people have been telling me to go to for years and I've never managed to make it there. This semester, I'll make it happen.

2. Mix up my "party scene." From the time I turned 21, I got to know most of the bars in the nearest vicinity (even though I don't drink), but I'd like to extend my reach a bit more and check out some of the other areas of the city. It'll be fun to explore some new atmospheres and meet some new people!

3. Land a job in my preferred field. This one is more for my post-grad days, but it's still in the forefront of my mind. That being said, although I have a great job right now, I want something that will challenge me to think in new ways. (I love consumer insights research and strategic planning, so if you now anyone who's hiring, let me know, will ya?)

4. Eat in all the dining halls one last time. Yes, a lot of the things I want to do before I graduate involve food. The dining halls represent much more than their less-than-exquisite cuisines, though. I met wonderful people in those places. I built friendships in those places. I flirted in those places. I embarrassed myself in those places (see what I did there?). I need one last hurrah in the dining halls before I can say goodbye.

5. Utilize more resources on campus. There are a lot of great groups that I've known about for awhile, but never really got involved with. I'd like to change that. I've found the more people I meet, the more I fall in love with this school and this city. The more stories I hear, the more proud I am of my own story as part of a larger one.

I want to leave this campus in love. In love with the people, in love with the places, in love with the little things and the silly memories. I want to leave loving who I was, who I am, and who I will be. I am so lucky to have received a fantastic education, but I am even more lucky to have learned how to really love. That love is one thing I will take with me wherever I go.