Doctors are like teachers- you automatically assume that they do not have personal lives outside of their profession. Imagine: you're walking along in the produce section of the grocery store and up pops your high school math teacher. For some reason, you're surprised that the teacher is there. Teachers don't eat and consume beverage at will! This is craziness! The same goes for our medical personnel, who we assume have never set foot or lived outside of the hospital doors.
Until you bump into a few surprises, in the most unlikely of places …
Back in August I was experiencing some slight penile irritation from an unknown source (don't worry gents! Actual cause was too much coffee, I swear – Starbucks is the STD of the millennium). My doctor's office was fully prepared to test the myriad of possible explanations for this unpleasantness, including a fairly uncomfortable examination of my prostate by a young and friendly visiting intern.
The following Friday I proceeded to my gay locale of choice to enjoy a plethora of libations in a cozy cowboy atmosphere. And who should I see sweeping the dance floor without a lab coat? My precious intern!!!
Immediate drama ensued ("oh my god! Oh My God! OH MY GOD!!!"), but I kept my cool and avoided all contact with a man who knew my insides better than most (let's keep the snide comments to a minimum, please). However, it is difficult to avoid an intern who comes square up to your face and drags you out on the dance floor!
Later I was recounting the delicious doctor details to a friend: "It was so strange, Liz. One moment he has his lubed finger up my rectum, and the next minute we're doing the waltz!" Liz replied, "Yeah um … shouldn't it be the other way around?"
This fairy-tale (wink) is enough in and of itself to make any grandma keel over and demand oxygen, but wait- my doctor adventures were not over!
Last week I cruised into another enjoyable boy hot-spot in Dupont, where I came face to face with my orthopedic surgeon! Except this time, he was tending bar! "Why, hello doctor! Yes, my knees are doing better and I'll look into those supportive arches. Now, do a queen a favor and fetch us a Miller Lite." WTF …
I'll wrap it all up for you: a man who explored my rectal cavity asked me to dance, and another man who had a good, looooong look at the back of my "knees" while I was standing in my underwear bought me a beer.
Sigh … sadly neither of them were forward enough to check my throat with their tongue depressor.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Night of Broken Glass
-"Know before whom you stand"-
This is a quote from the Holocaust museum, in the section depicting the atrocities on the Night of Broken Glass.
This is the third time that broken glass has caught my attention this week. The first time was near the Metro, where a single pebble had fractured an entire wall of glass and had sent hundreds of unique engravings 10 feet high. The second time was at school, where vandals had shattered an entire window by busting it through with a rock. And the third time there, at the Holocaust museum.
The particular meaning for the cascading fractures of glass, and the quote, carry great significance for me today.
I have watched as a single pebble has pierced my own personal glassy window, spreading fragments all along the surface. The window remains intact, yet the impact of that pebble can be seen all over. It makes me think of emotions, and how a single event can profoundly impact our lives. A tiny pebble can suddenly become pervasive in what we see, do, think, and feel.
The reality was this- I did not know before whom I stood.
Someone who would trade my laughter for licentiousness, I guess. Someone who would trade time with me for fleeting moments elsewhere. Someone who doesn't appreciate something pretty special. When you finally open up and give what feels natural, only to learn that this isn't enough. Pretty sad, friends—pretty sad.
Time heals all wounds, and even all panes (see- I still have my sense of humor about me). Snippets of shattered shards slowly slink back into position, the window will become clear again, and emotions will settle back to their clean, transparent whole.
Ouch; even a tiny pebble can sting.
This is a quote from the Holocaust museum, in the section depicting the atrocities on the Night of Broken Glass.
This is the third time that broken glass has caught my attention this week. The first time was near the Metro, where a single pebble had fractured an entire wall of glass and had sent hundreds of unique engravings 10 feet high. The second time was at school, where vandals had shattered an entire window by busting it through with a rock. And the third time there, at the Holocaust museum.
The particular meaning for the cascading fractures of glass, and the quote, carry great significance for me today.
I have watched as a single pebble has pierced my own personal glassy window, spreading fragments all along the surface. The window remains intact, yet the impact of that pebble can be seen all over. It makes me think of emotions, and how a single event can profoundly impact our lives. A tiny pebble can suddenly become pervasive in what we see, do, think, and feel.
The reality was this- I did not know before whom I stood.
Someone who would trade my laughter for licentiousness, I guess. Someone who would trade time with me for fleeting moments elsewhere. Someone who doesn't appreciate something pretty special. When you finally open up and give what feels natural, only to learn that this isn't enough. Pretty sad, friends—pretty sad.
Time heals all wounds, and even all panes (see- I still have my sense of humor about me). Snippets of shattered shards slowly slink back into position, the window will become clear again, and emotions will settle back to their clean, transparent whole.
Ouch; even a tiny pebble can sting.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Suburbian Thanksgiving
I had to do some internet exploration (thank you, little blue "e") to find the right word for the concept I wanted to get across- mainly, my distaste for suburbs and all that they stand for (i.e. driving everywhere and wasting gas, not encouraging the general public to get up and walk, oh … and aluminum siding with florescent lighting).
Having said this, I acknowledge that suburbs do serve mankind; they get some people out of my way (haha). Wikipedia wasn't very much help, but the closest definition I could find was "xenocentrism": the preference for the products, styles, or ideas of someone else's culture rather than of one's own. Sadly, this was the exact opposite of what I was looking for, so perhaps I am an anti-xenocentrist (sounds like a comic book character – I am my own hero!). As people from the suburbs are of a completely different culture, I feel fully justified in applying this definition (for a full list of "isms" please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Isms). For those of you who say "no, you're simply an ethnocentrist", obviously you do not believe in hyphens and rarely-used letters of the alphabet.
My Thanksgiving Day took me deep into the heart of southern Maryland (a.k.a. Whites-ville … no kidding, there was an aerobics complex named "Big Vanilla", good lord …) to a friend's house where an enormous gut-blasting belt-popping tummy-rumbling feast of 2 turkeys and sides galore reeked havoc on my thighs and reservations. I still haven't recovered my appetite.
I looked around the neighborhood there and my anti-xenocentric self was immediately challenged: Wait! I kinda like the idea of a house and a yard and a fence with a dog and neighbors to smile at and quiet streets to stroll along. Dammit!!! My entire construct-of-self is being put to the test!
What was particularly interesting was that in stepping outside of my comfort zone I was more aware of who I am and how I behave. I am used to a college-aged environment in a highly liberal town; I don't give a moment's pause to bashing the President, openly discussing race and immigration, or disclosing my sexuality. Even the word "disclosing" seems oppressive to me.
And suddenly, there I was- careful with what I said, how I said it, and in what context. I was monitoring, calculating, evaluating; simply, I couldn't be myself. But in not being myself I was more mindful, more aware, and experiencing more presence than I usually do.
Anti-xenocentrism comes with its own challenges. It allows you to think you're always right, and rarely forces you to be accountable for your opinions, lifestyle, and worldview.
Damn you, suburbs … *wink*
Having said this, I acknowledge that suburbs do serve mankind; they get some people out of my way (haha). Wikipedia wasn't very much help, but the closest definition I could find was "xenocentrism": the preference for the products, styles, or ideas of someone else's culture rather than of one's own. Sadly, this was the exact opposite of what I was looking for, so perhaps I am an anti-xenocentrist (sounds like a comic book character – I am my own hero!). As people from the suburbs are of a completely different culture, I feel fully justified in applying this definition (for a full list of "isms" please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Isms). For those of you who say "no, you're simply an ethnocentrist", obviously you do not believe in hyphens and rarely-used letters of the alphabet.
My Thanksgiving Day took me deep into the heart of southern Maryland (a.k.a. Whites-ville … no kidding, there was an aerobics complex named "Big Vanilla", good lord …) to a friend's house where an enormous gut-blasting belt-popping tummy-rumbling feast of 2 turkeys and sides galore reeked havoc on my thighs and reservations. I still haven't recovered my appetite.
I looked around the neighborhood there and my anti-xenocentric self was immediately challenged: Wait! I kinda like the idea of a house and a yard and a fence with a dog and neighbors to smile at and quiet streets to stroll along. Dammit!!! My entire construct-of-self is being put to the test!
What was particularly interesting was that in stepping outside of my comfort zone I was more aware of who I am and how I behave. I am used to a college-aged environment in a highly liberal town; I don't give a moment's pause to bashing the President, openly discussing race and immigration, or disclosing my sexuality. Even the word "disclosing" seems oppressive to me.
And suddenly, there I was- careful with what I said, how I said it, and in what context. I was monitoring, calculating, evaluating; simply, I couldn't be myself. But in not being myself I was more mindful, more aware, and experiencing more presence than I usually do.
Anti-xenocentrism comes with its own challenges. It allows you to think you're always right, and rarely forces you to be accountable for your opinions, lifestyle, and worldview.
Damn you, suburbs … *wink*
Thursday, November 23, 2006
have your cake and eat it too much
We are a fat country that likes to avoid responsibility. For example, we don't mind that we are physically unappealing as sexual partners to other human beings, but god forbid if this morbid obesity would negatively impact our health! All this was made very clear to me in a recent CNN report on "resveratrol".
The report was as such: "Are you fat? Are you concerned that your clogged arteries will eventually cease their unheard plea for relief and finally collapse under the pressure of a cardiovascular system that's working so exorbitantly hard it's a wonder that the heart hasn't burst through your rib cage from mere expenditure of energy? Well good news, America! There's a substance called resveratrol. But don't worry! You can still be fat, gross, and completely repulsive even in dim lighting! Resveratrol will keep you healthy, despite your obnoxiously obese state of being!" (please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resveratrol for more information)
This news brief inspired me to consume an immense amount of cake in the past few weeks (along with the psychological trauma of being kicked in the face by my faculty at school). Here is my account of my caloric rampage:
Chicken Out – chocolate cake, fudge frosting
I know, I know. No place that's named Chicken Out should actually be frequented by people who aren't from Alabama, but hold on friends- this chocolate rocked my friggin' world. For locations near you please visit: http://www.chickenout.com
Cheesecake Factory – Chris' Outrageous Chocolate Cake
From the menu: "Layers of Moist Chocolate Cake, Chewy Brownie, Toasted Coconut Pecan Filling and Creamy Chocolate Chip Coconut Cheesecake". Well … just reading that makes me moist, toasted, and creamy all at once. This Chris fellow can chew, layer, and fill my coconut cake anytime (good lord, does that even make sense? This is where attempts at seductive dirty talk fall flat like a frat boy after homecoming)
Starbucks – Carrot Cake and Cranberry Bliss Bar
I root for carrot cake above all other cakes (if you get the pun I'll give you $100), especially when it is given to you for free along with a cranberry bliss bar (slightly disappointed, to be honest). I think the barista was hoping for some carrot bliss action in exchange for the free cake …
Soho – Chocolate Cake
Orgasmic, if you can tolerate the barista who looks like he accidentally mistook a porcupine for a suppository.
Kramer's – Death by Chocolate
Again, orgasmic (note: the French word for orgasm is "la petite mort", or "the little death")
Bread and Chocolate – The Oprah
God only knows why they named a piece of cake "Oprah", but I have to chuckle every time I think about saying "I wanna piece-a Oprah!!!"
Buca di Beppo – Chocolate Vesuvio
It's a humungous slice of chocolate-caramel cake stood up on its end, with one scoop of vanilla ice cream on each side. If your imagination cooks at high enough a temperature, you may even melt the ice cream…
The report was as such: "Are you fat? Are you concerned that your clogged arteries will eventually cease their unheard plea for relief and finally collapse under the pressure of a cardiovascular system that's working so exorbitantly hard it's a wonder that the heart hasn't burst through your rib cage from mere expenditure of energy? Well good news, America! There's a substance called resveratrol. But don't worry! You can still be fat, gross, and completely repulsive even in dim lighting! Resveratrol will keep you healthy, despite your obnoxiously obese state of being!" (please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resveratrol for more information)
This news brief inspired me to consume an immense amount of cake in the past few weeks (along with the psychological trauma of being kicked in the face by my faculty at school). Here is my account of my caloric rampage:
Chicken Out – chocolate cake, fudge frosting
I know, I know. No place that's named Chicken Out should actually be frequented by people who aren't from Alabama, but hold on friends- this chocolate rocked my friggin' world. For locations near you please visit: http://www.chickenout.com
Cheesecake Factory – Chris' Outrageous Chocolate Cake
From the menu: "Layers of Moist Chocolate Cake, Chewy Brownie, Toasted Coconut Pecan Filling and Creamy Chocolate Chip Coconut Cheesecake". Well … just reading that makes me moist, toasted, and creamy all at once. This Chris fellow can chew, layer, and fill my coconut cake anytime (good lord, does that even make sense? This is where attempts at seductive dirty talk fall flat like a frat boy after homecoming)
Starbucks – Carrot Cake and Cranberry Bliss Bar
I root for carrot cake above all other cakes (if you get the pun I'll give you $100), especially when it is given to you for free along with a cranberry bliss bar (slightly disappointed, to be honest). I think the barista was hoping for some carrot bliss action in exchange for the free cake …
Soho – Chocolate Cake
Orgasmic, if you can tolerate the barista who looks like he accidentally mistook a porcupine for a suppository.
Kramer's – Death by Chocolate
Again, orgasmic (note: the French word for orgasm is "la petite mort", or "the little death")
Bread and Chocolate – The Oprah
God only knows why they named a piece of cake "Oprah", but I have to chuckle every time I think about saying "I wanna piece-a Oprah!!!"
Buca di Beppo – Chocolate Vesuvio
It's a humungous slice of chocolate-caramel cake stood up on its end, with one scoop of vanilla ice cream on each side. If your imagination cooks at high enough a temperature, you may even melt the ice cream…
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Jesus, money, and sex
I know what you're thinking- "what do Jesus, money, and sex have to do with one another???" And then you start thinking about the temple and the money changers, and Jesus' alleged prostitute wife (don't look at me, blame Dan Brown). And suddenly I feel like we should be chanting "Jerry … Jerry !!!" whenever we crack open the holy book.
But before I step on any more toes (hey! he just washed those feet!), I shall share what religious sentiments have floated my way in the past few weeks:
-"Chaplain Gordon Klingenschmitt sues Congress for suppressing his First Amendment rights to pray in the name of Jesus at public ceremonies for the Navy."
I wonder if Chaplain Klingenschmitt ever considered how a gay person in the military feels when they cannot exercise their right to freedom of speech by disclosing their sexuality? Hmm… I guess it's alright- this poor guy probably has pent up aggression due to an embarrassingly longwinded last name (NO Gordon, you may NOT go out to recess until you've spelled your last name correctly!! – DAMMIT!!!!!!!!)
-A sign on campus advertising a seminar, and I precisely quote: "using scienctific facts to prove bible is true!"
I suppose correct spelling isn't valued in the scientific community, but I would recommend that this bible study group do some dictionary-thumping as well before they start explaining the trufth.
-CNN did a report on an "ATM for Jesus", in which a church had set up a "giving kiosk" where you could charge your offerings to the church by debit or credit card.
Right … So I'm imagining it's like at a restaurant when they bring you the bill (one entree of righteousness, a side of blessing-biscuits, and two filtered holy waters) and then you have to fill in the amount for the tip (Holy crap! Tax is 10%, and then another 10% for tithing!!! Then I have to tip this friggin' server on top of that???). It's OK, just slide your card and Jabez will multiply your earnings ten fold …
And that about wraps up our religious debriefing for the evening (and no, not that kind of de-briefing Mr. Foley! You can be religious and off your knees, you know…). Good night!
But before I step on any more toes (hey! he just washed those feet!), I shall share what religious sentiments have floated my way in the past few weeks:
-"Chaplain Gordon Klingenschmitt sues Congress for suppressing his First Amendment rights to pray in the name of Jesus at public ceremonies for the Navy."
I wonder if Chaplain Klingenschmitt ever considered how a gay person in the military feels when they cannot exercise their right to freedom of speech by disclosing their sexuality? Hmm… I guess it's alright- this poor guy probably has pent up aggression due to an embarrassingly longwinded last name (NO Gordon, you may NOT go out to recess until you've spelled your last name correctly!! – DAMMIT!!!!!!!!)
-A sign on campus advertising a seminar, and I precisely quote: "using scienctific facts to prove bible is true!"
I suppose correct spelling isn't valued in the scientific community, but I would recommend that this bible study group do some dictionary-thumping as well before they start explaining the trufth.
-CNN did a report on an "ATM for Jesus", in which a church had set up a "giving kiosk" where you could charge your offerings to the church by debit or credit card.
Right … So I'm imagining it's like at a restaurant when they bring you the bill (one entree of righteousness, a side of blessing-biscuits, and two filtered holy waters) and then you have to fill in the amount for the tip (Holy crap! Tax is 10%, and then another 10% for tithing!!! Then I have to tip this friggin' server on top of that???). It's OK, just slide your card and Jabez will multiply your earnings ten fold …
And that about wraps up our religious debriefing for the evening (and no, not that kind of de-briefing Mr. Foley! You can be religious and off your knees, you know…). Good night!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Protest Journal, 22 October 2006
October 22, 2006
I feel like the protest reached its climax yesterday with the parade. My only concern is that the peak of excitement and support will only give way to lessened commitment to the cause and weakened enthusiasm to keep the battle up. Alumni are leaving, students are slowly working their way back into their schedules, and the administration is biding its time simply waiting for everything to go back to "normal".
Normal??? Will Gallaudet ever know what that means again?
"Normal" would hardly describe my experience at Gallaudet since the protests began last May. "Normal" means ignoring the world around you. "Normal" means not paying attention to the neglect and atrocities that are constantly swirling in an endless flurry of complicated emotions. It's like ignoring a disastrous storm and pretending that nothing is going on outside even though your home is crashing down around you.
Is Gallaudet crashing? The administration would rather we weather the storm; are they prepared to deal with the clean up?
Think about hurricane Katrina: Will the survivors of the storm ever go back to "normal"? The government would like to think so. The tourism industry would like to think so. Ignoring the storm and refusing to deal with the serious consequences of the events, regardless of who is responsible, is a failure to identify the real issues surrounding the circumstances of people that are theoretically supposed to be "cared for". The government has an obligation to take care of its citizens and survivors of Katrina; Gallaudet has an obligation to take care of its students. Both have failed.
The parade was amazing. While walking along 8th street we came to a slight hill and I looked back to see how many people were following the march. The crowd went on for blocks and blocks. No matter what the affiliation or agenda or … how do I say this?... Despite the seemingly "conflicted" issues that have presented themselves during the protest, the mere number of individuals who were willing to give up their Saturday to make a stand for something they believe in was simply inspiring. The so-called "dissenters" casually strolled for an hour up to the Capitol: chatting, smiling, seeing old friends, and reinforcing the sense of community.
In reading King's letters and Fernandes' interviews with the press one might imagine that the participants of the protest were a rowdy crowd of animals trampling over the "paradise" of Gallaudet. I looked around me at the march- where were the angry faces? Where was the "chaos"? The "terrorism"? That is (verbatim) what Fernandes has called the protest. I didn't see it.
The tactics of the administration are slowly becoming more apparent to the general public. Whenever I am out in DC and people see me signing with friends they immediately begin discussing the protest – and I eavesdrop. 2 weeks ago people were saying "I don't really understand what's going on. What's wrong with Fernandes anyway?" Now they have started to say "Wow, things are really happening over there. I really don't see why she doesn't just quit. The students have made their case… how can she be so stubborn?"
There were two articles in the Post on Friday that further illustrated the confusion and mixed messages circling the protest. The first article discussed the disagreement between members of the Board of Trustees and some of their calls for Fernandes to resign. It was a fair balance between the protestor's demands and the responsiveness (or lack of responsiveness, as it were) of the administration. I was pleased with it. The second article seemed more like an editorial, and depicted the struggle of poor Fernandes in her pursuit for success despite the monstrosity of obstacles in her path. The articles painted very different pictures of the situation at Gallaudet; any reader should be able to identify the lack of congruence between the two, thereby knowing that while the administration attempts to distribute "factual" information regarding the situation on campus it is obvious flawed and construed to fit their own agenda.
And what is the administration's agenda? Ah… to get back to "normal", of course.
I feel like the protest reached its climax yesterday with the parade. My only concern is that the peak of excitement and support will only give way to lessened commitment to the cause and weakened enthusiasm to keep the battle up. Alumni are leaving, students are slowly working their way back into their schedules, and the administration is biding its time simply waiting for everything to go back to "normal".
Normal??? Will Gallaudet ever know what that means again?
"Normal" would hardly describe my experience at Gallaudet since the protests began last May. "Normal" means ignoring the world around you. "Normal" means not paying attention to the neglect and atrocities that are constantly swirling in an endless flurry of complicated emotions. It's like ignoring a disastrous storm and pretending that nothing is going on outside even though your home is crashing down around you.
Is Gallaudet crashing? The administration would rather we weather the storm; are they prepared to deal with the clean up?
Think about hurricane Katrina: Will the survivors of the storm ever go back to "normal"? The government would like to think so. The tourism industry would like to think so. Ignoring the storm and refusing to deal with the serious consequences of the events, regardless of who is responsible, is a failure to identify the real issues surrounding the circumstances of people that are theoretically supposed to be "cared for". The government has an obligation to take care of its citizens and survivors of Katrina; Gallaudet has an obligation to take care of its students. Both have failed.
The parade was amazing. While walking along 8th street we came to a slight hill and I looked back to see how many people were following the march. The crowd went on for blocks and blocks. No matter what the affiliation or agenda or … how do I say this?... Despite the seemingly "conflicted" issues that have presented themselves during the protest, the mere number of individuals who were willing to give up their Saturday to make a stand for something they believe in was simply inspiring. The so-called "dissenters" casually strolled for an hour up to the Capitol: chatting, smiling, seeing old friends, and reinforcing the sense of community.
In reading King's letters and Fernandes' interviews with the press one might imagine that the participants of the protest were a rowdy crowd of animals trampling over the "paradise" of Gallaudet. I looked around me at the march- where were the angry faces? Where was the "chaos"? The "terrorism"? That is (verbatim) what Fernandes has called the protest. I didn't see it.
The tactics of the administration are slowly becoming more apparent to the general public. Whenever I am out in DC and people see me signing with friends they immediately begin discussing the protest – and I eavesdrop. 2 weeks ago people were saying "I don't really understand what's going on. What's wrong with Fernandes anyway?" Now they have started to say "Wow, things are really happening over there. I really don't see why she doesn't just quit. The students have made their case… how can she be so stubborn?"
There were two articles in the Post on Friday that further illustrated the confusion and mixed messages circling the protest. The first article discussed the disagreement between members of the Board of Trustees and some of their calls for Fernandes to resign. It was a fair balance between the protestor's demands and the responsiveness (or lack of responsiveness, as it were) of the administration. I was pleased with it. The second article seemed more like an editorial, and depicted the struggle of poor Fernandes in her pursuit for success despite the monstrosity of obstacles in her path. The articles painted very different pictures of the situation at Gallaudet; any reader should be able to identify the lack of congruence between the two, thereby knowing that while the administration attempts to distribute "factual" information regarding the situation on campus it is obvious flawed and construed to fit their own agenda.
And what is the administration's agenda? Ah… to get back to "normal", of course.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Protest Journal, 18 October 2006
October 18, 2006
This is my first journal of which there should have already been many. Fatigue coupled with emotional upheaval (not to mention laziness) are mostly to blame, and I would like to make up for that by reflecting on all that has happened over the past few weeks… months, rather, here at Gallaudet with regard to the protest over the appointment of Jane Fernandes as the 9th President of the University.
It's been a nightmare, to put it lightly. I don't even know where to begin.
The curse of being a counseling student is the constant awareness of one's emotions, one's reactions to situations, and the unending analysis of the relationship between the two. Since Fernandes' announcement at the end of the spring semester I have been incessantly grappling with myself over my position, my involvement, my level of commitment, and my overall emotional well being.
Most of these had plateau-ed during the summer, and have only begun to change and take shape in the past month when the issues became increasingly more visible and … desperate. Time is running out.
Honestly… I don't know where to begin.
I have never been happy with the administration at Gallaudet. Everywhere you turn there are ridiculous and tedious rules that appear to exist for no reason. A rule can only be as strong as the rationale behind it; Gallaudet has always been lacking in its explanation of how its structure is built. "Welcome to Gallaudet" is an expression used most frequently by incoming freshman and 1st year graduate students meant to shrug off the frustrations of a system that obviously doesn't have its students' best interests in mind.
We have seen that attitude become abundantly clear in the past month's events.
I have seen many changes. My personal opinion of the protest has remained mostly the same since May: I do support the ideas of eliminating the "isms" of the current system, of having a diversified faculty, staff, and administration, and of unity for a common cause. My only issue with the protest from the beginning has been the varied agendas fought behind a common banner, cheapening some of the values I had and goals I supported.
Due to the gravity of the situation and the crucial need for solidarity in our voice to combat the administration, my initial hesitance to support the protest for the aforementioned reasons has fallen by the wayside. Yes, there are multiple agendas. Yes, some people are fighting for what I consider to be the "wrong" reasons. Yes, MANY new demands and calls for changes to the University that were not included in the original protest in May have been added.
It doesn't matter. The system must be changed. The issues must be addressed. Only by numbers and unity can this be accomplished, despite the confusion and chaos between agendas and purposes.
My concerns have been put aside. Those are to be addressed should Fernandes resign and the selection committee continues their work to find a new President.
It has been a difficult week. I have been suppressed from discussing the protest with my students at Kendall. I have seen letter after letter be sent in opposition to Fernandes, and continuously ignored by the administration and Board of Trustees. I have seen friends and peers cry. I have seen myself cry. We are all upset, and we are all hurting.
I have learned about sacrifice. I have learned to accept that sacrifice for a cause is important, and that some things must take a backseat- including my own education. How much am I willing to sacrifice for the protest??? I don't know. But more than I thought I would, that is for certain.
I have seen people look me square in the face and say "this protest doesn't effect the academic education of the students" at Kendall. I have seen the PR office distribute lie after lie about the "dissenters". I have watched an administration stall and hope that the momentum of the protest will die out. Perhaps it will … many people who are uninformed about the issues would like that.
I heard my own elementary students at Kendall say "I don't feel safe" the night of the arrests. I have cried so many times over this that I can't believe it. That one moment will remain fused in my emotional hardwiring for quite a long while. The ONE place where deaf children should feel safe- from oppression, from the hearing world… from a world that doesn't understand them and their extraordinary uniqueness- wasn't safe for them.
I'm crying even now.
How can that one moment affect me so strongly?
I've had it.
This is my first journal of which there should have already been many. Fatigue coupled with emotional upheaval (not to mention laziness) are mostly to blame, and I would like to make up for that by reflecting on all that has happened over the past few weeks… months, rather, here at Gallaudet with regard to the protest over the appointment of Jane Fernandes as the 9th President of the University.
It's been a nightmare, to put it lightly. I don't even know where to begin.
The curse of being a counseling student is the constant awareness of one's emotions, one's reactions to situations, and the unending analysis of the relationship between the two. Since Fernandes' announcement at the end of the spring semester I have been incessantly grappling with myself over my position, my involvement, my level of commitment, and my overall emotional well being.
Most of these had plateau-ed during the summer, and have only begun to change and take shape in the past month when the issues became increasingly more visible and … desperate. Time is running out.
Honestly… I don't know where to begin.
I have never been happy with the administration at Gallaudet. Everywhere you turn there are ridiculous and tedious rules that appear to exist for no reason. A rule can only be as strong as the rationale behind it; Gallaudet has always been lacking in its explanation of how its structure is built. "Welcome to Gallaudet" is an expression used most frequently by incoming freshman and 1st year graduate students meant to shrug off the frustrations of a system that obviously doesn't have its students' best interests in mind.
We have seen that attitude become abundantly clear in the past month's events.
I have seen many changes. My personal opinion of the protest has remained mostly the same since May: I do support the ideas of eliminating the "isms" of the current system, of having a diversified faculty, staff, and administration, and of unity for a common cause. My only issue with the protest from the beginning has been the varied agendas fought behind a common banner, cheapening some of the values I had and goals I supported.
Due to the gravity of the situation and the crucial need for solidarity in our voice to combat the administration, my initial hesitance to support the protest for the aforementioned reasons has fallen by the wayside. Yes, there are multiple agendas. Yes, some people are fighting for what I consider to be the "wrong" reasons. Yes, MANY new demands and calls for changes to the University that were not included in the original protest in May have been added.
It doesn't matter. The system must be changed. The issues must be addressed. Only by numbers and unity can this be accomplished, despite the confusion and chaos between agendas and purposes.
My concerns have been put aside. Those are to be addressed should Fernandes resign and the selection committee continues their work to find a new President.
It has been a difficult week. I have been suppressed from discussing the protest with my students at Kendall. I have seen letter after letter be sent in opposition to Fernandes, and continuously ignored by the administration and Board of Trustees. I have seen friends and peers cry. I have seen myself cry. We are all upset, and we are all hurting.
I have learned about sacrifice. I have learned to accept that sacrifice for a cause is important, and that some things must take a backseat- including my own education. How much am I willing to sacrifice for the protest??? I don't know. But more than I thought I would, that is for certain.
I have seen people look me square in the face and say "this protest doesn't effect the academic education of the students" at Kendall. I have seen the PR office distribute lie after lie about the "dissenters". I have watched an administration stall and hope that the momentum of the protest will die out. Perhaps it will … many people who are uninformed about the issues would like that.
I heard my own elementary students at Kendall say "I don't feel safe" the night of the arrests. I have cried so many times over this that I can't believe it. That one moment will remain fused in my emotional hardwiring for quite a long while. The ONE place where deaf children should feel safe- from oppression, from the hearing world… from a world that doesn't understand them and their extraordinary uniqueness- wasn't safe for them.
I'm crying even now.
How can that one moment affect me so strongly?
I've had it.
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