On Globlization

The Strait of Hormuz is a  small body of water that has recently been making big headlines. The US and Iranian navies, have been flexing their proverbial muscles in attempts to prove they have more control over it.  On September 18, The US moved more than twenty ships into the thirty-nine kilometer body of water, as a warning to Iran not to close the strait, if Israel does indeed attack its nuclear program.  Later in the week, Iran let it be known their naval-forces tested missiles in that water, as way to prove they that have the capability it close it. Some may wonder why this is significant. Oil is the answer. Twenty percent of the world’s petroleum comes from this strait.  No access to the Strait of Hormuz would mean no, or very expensive oil for North America, and of course, that would have grave economic consequences.  If one watches mainstream media he or she could get the idea that the US is trapped in two wars because the Middle East’s monopoly on this precious resource. The good news is, some people, including Miguel Angel Centro, the author of the article, “Left Behind” would argue that, the Middle East’s monopoly on oil is fiction, and that it is just one of the many reasons, the U.S. needs to pay closer attention to Central and South America.     Others include our problems with illegal drugs and illicit arms and most importantly, the health of thousands of people.

 Centro begins article by warning readers about the affects of ignoring and avoiding globalization.  He says that nobody can help but need resources and aid from other countries. Therefore, it is in the best interest of all nations to ensure that they do not rely too greatly on any country. He is adamant that is essential that the US government diversify its interests and that Latin America would be a wonderful ally to have in this global race to the top. Whether we like it or not, he says, were competing with the same powers: the European and Pacific countries that in terms of successfully globalizing their economies are beating us, fair and square.    If we do not band together as neighbors we will both lose.  Central and South America are rich in resources, namely oil, over which North America has waged the aforementioned wars. Getting out the wars would not be the only benefit.  There is not the issue of distance that we have with the Middle East. This of course drives down the cost of the oil. Secondarily, we are not nearly as indebted to any Latin American countries as we are to Saudi Arabia.  

Brazil supplies oil to us, and has great potential to become a powerful source of alternative energy.  It is quickly becoming a democracy, albeit with a communist president, complete with freedom of speech and of the press.  The U.S. states publicly that this is what they want for the whole world. If that is true, it has to be true all the time, not just when the government likes whoever is in power. Centro argues that we have the same issue with Venezuela. Hugo Chavez, their president, is extremely candid about his hatred for the U.S., but it is not completely unjustified.  Venezuela has been disregarded by the US both as an asset and as a threat.   Venezuela is virtually independent, and that upsets the U.S. We need to reevaluate are thought process. It is okay for other countries to be successful; we are all in this together.   

Being willing to work in tandem with Mexico’s government, regardless of whether or not we agree with all of their practices, would according, to Centro, help us with a lot of problems concerning illegal immigration. Together, the two nations could stop the drug trafficking of the Mexican cartel (which is a huge problem in both countries) and prevent Americans from being able to sell illegal weapons to Mexicans. Without friends on both sides of the boarder, this is unattainable goals. 

Improving relations with Latin America would improve not only our nation’s economic issues but humanitarian issues, also. Violence is a daily part of poorer Latinos lives’. Giving them aid would stop starvation and abuse. That is what we should be in the very front of our minds, and after that, we can make a continent to rule the world.

On... Me.

The one and only Monica Geglio nominated for the Sunshine award. That means I have to answer eight questions. It also means anybody listed on my What Cathleen Reads  page needs to answer them, too. Please. You all bring me tons of sunshine!

Here are my answers:

What is your favorite Holiday movie?

It’s a Wonderful Life is a close, close second, but my all-time favorite is any version of Little Women. It’s also one of my most favorite books, because Jo March is one the best characters ever written.  

What is your favorite flower?

That’s tough. My mom is a fabulous gardener and I have been lucky enough to grow up around lots of gorgeous flowers. Recently I have said daffodils are my favorite, but I love purple lilacs, too.

What is your favorite nonalcoholic beverage?

Apple cider, so I’m obviously pretty pumped about fall!

What is your passion?

I’m a pretty passionate girl, so it is hard to pick just one. Anything I enjoy, I enjoy thoroughly and anything I dislike, I dislike intensely. I hope that loved ones would say that I work hard to be an attentive and compassionate family-member and friend; that really matters to me most.

What is your favorite time of day?

I am most productive in the early morning and love to have fun at night. The only time of day I hate is from four to seven PM.

What is your favorite physical activity?

Swimming is my favorite way to exercise, by far.

What is your favorite vacation?

I have been on so many great ones. I love to see new places! I took an unforgettable trip to LA with my cousins, mom and aunt when I was 14. I am really partial to cities.

On the Bodies that Trap Us

A conversation I had with a friend recently inspired me to research whether or not there is any correlation between physical disability and eating disorders or what psychologists call "eating-disordered thought-processes." Eating-disordered thought-processes are the, often illogical chains of thoughts that people who consider or begin  starving,binge-eating and purging, or binge-eating OR purging, have concerning food. One can have these without engaging in behaviors typical of bulimia or anorexia.  Because of my minor in psychology, I have started a lot of papers that I could not complete because there wasn't enough scholarly research on which to write six to ten pages. This definitely would have been one of those papers , had even two pages been the length requirement. It seems virtually no official  studies have been done regarding the likelihood of someone with a physical disability developing an eating disorder or having eating-disordered inclinations, other than the obvious. We are more prone to obesity,which is an eating disorder, because of our sedentary lifestyles .

This really surprises me. I have spent most of my teenage and adult life as part of the blogosphere. Many of the blogs/online diaries/community posting have been written by disabled people; almost all of those writers (myself surely included) have discussed hatred of their own body or appearance at least once.The closest I came to legitimate research  on this was a sentence in a scientific journal that said "Most people living with ongoing physical challenges report feeling trapped in their own bodies." Then I realized  scientists don't peruse online-communities looking for topics to study... duh. Maybe we're such a small minority that society does not believe we could be a significant fraction of another minority, those with eating disorders.

Beyond that,  maybe individuals with disabilities and body-images issues have a hard time acknowledging that one has anything to with the other. We are constantly told by loved ones not to let our challenges affect things they don't have to.  Who we see in the mirror definitely falls under that umbrella. Maybe, it's really scary to think that we don't hate our bodies because they're ugly, we don't hate our bodies because they're too big, and we don't hate our bodies because we wish we were thinner. Maybe, we hate our bodies because they limit us, and at times that hatred manifests itself outwardly .  I started the last several sentences with the word "maybe" because as I said, I have nothing except my own inklings to support those statements. I wish some extremely educated person would research and publish about this  It would help a lot of people who are struggling to understand why they cannot see the beautiful girl her friends see. To all of my disabled readers: You're not alone in occasionally detesting the body that traps you . 

On Speaking for an Entire Community... Or Not

Because it is easy and natural for me to write about novels, I used one I had to read for an African American Lit course two years ago (I’ll never understand why these gifted writers aren’t included in other American literature classes, but that’s another post), to make what I believe to be an essential point about writers and their audiences. If you have not read Their Eyes were Watching God, you should, but I also think that my position will still be evident.

Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes were Watching God, though critically acclaimed, was originally was on the receiving end of a lot of harsh criticism. A fellow African American author, Richard Wright, went as far as to call it a menstrual show for white folks. Wright made this comment when race was an even more sensitive issue than it was in the 1960’s or is today. The fear of and dislike for black people who pandered to white people is more than understandable. As reader of the novel today, however, I find that not many insults could be further from the truth.

Their Eyes were Watching God depicted very nicely the life of African American’s in the 1930’s. What it did more than that, however, is tell the universal and timeless story of woman who really, really wanted to find powerful love and to live a life full of it. She goes through three husbands, lots of abuse, and spiritual journey trying to find it.    By the end, she learns  that the only things she can do is live for herself and hope that whatever higher power is out there will occasionally show her a little mercy.  This plot has been written and rewritten by men and women of all creeds and colors and cannot really be seen as unique to any group of people. I do not mean to say that aren’t pieces of the story that directly address the African American community, because there certainly are.  Maybe, despite what readers expect, however that was not Hurston goal. Maybe her objective was simply to tell a story about real life, real people and real feelings. After all, all sorts of women go through the trials and tribulations that her main character, Janie Crawford did. All sorts of men have the controlling nature that Janie’s first husband does and the wandering eye and insecurities of her second. Maybe, the fault lies with individuals like Wright, who expect every African American voice to speak for their entire race.

As I writer, I make no claim that this blog speaks for all disabled woman, all English majors or all 23 year olds. I speak for me.  

The gravest disservice we can do to any writer is to assume that we know their point of view.  Race is manmade and difficult to discuss. The same can be said about any difference one can name.  Wright’s insulting Hurston for the way she deals with it only further divides humankind. At the time, the greatest thing Hurston could do for her community was to illustrate that they struggle with the same issues as Caucasians and that those issues deserve to solved for them also.  She was not pandering to whites; she was simply trying to compose a story to which a large audience could relate. She did it! Why is she faulted for that when it is what society asks of every white male writer? 

I think even today we don’t look too closely at that question because the answer makes us ashamed of ourselves. Their Eyes Were Watching God tells exactly the story it intends to tell.

On Finding Sparkle in Weakness

In Kindergarten I received the “Mother Goose” award at the end of the year. It was an award they probably created for me. I was always looking out for other kids. I made sure they zipped up their coats, and comforted them when they cried; I even tried to end whatever fights broke out between my classmates. This is a facet of my personality for which I have been teased. They say I care too much or that I’m nosy, and for a long time I agreed that it was a weakness.

Years later, in high school I spent one period every year doing my homework in a resource room. I was there while most students were in gym, swimming and other classes from which I was exempt due to my disability.  Because of my limited mobility, I couldn’t “play safely” with the others.  The majority of the other kids in the resource room were there because of learning disabilities and cognitive impairments.  I have always believed they have it harder than me, like it was easier for me to defend myself against bullies. My handicap was visible and all onlookers knew when I was being picked on.  Other teenagers underestimated these kids so much that they assumed they didn’t know when they were being ridiculed, but they knew. They knew as quickly as you or I would.

A lot of people might have hated being in class with people labeled as intellectually beneath them, I loved them. They were always smiling and never said a negative word about anybody.  All of us could learn a great deal from the way they view the world.   The hour I spent with these students was the most fun I had all day. Because of these experiences I know that I want spend my career helping cognitively impaired individuals and their families.  For this I am incredibly grateful.  I’m not going to talk about the severely disabled students in my class. I’ll just discuss two boys who learned differently than others and had very little patience for school. We’ve all sat next them in class: the students who don’t take the time to spell properly, and never fully complete their homework but can tell you everything there is to know about basketball or hunting. Cody and T.J. would waste the entire study hall blabbing about whatever sport was in season and then complain about their grades when teachers warned them that they might fail.  

Their academic achievement did not reflect their intellectual capabilities, but I wouldn’t call them lazy. They worked hard when they weren’t stuck at a desk; school wasn’t organized with them in mind, and they didn’t seem to have families who were very concerned about it, either.  Once, our teacher walked out of the room crying because Cody’s mom was so unwilling to help him succeed in school.  His very cynical mother thought because academia was not his forte, it was not worth his time.  I had never been exposed to this way of thinking before, and it made me incredibly sad for Cody. It became apparent that it wasn’t just the other teenagers who underestimated him. I cried.  About a week later my teacher told me in a moment of frustration that most days TJ parents didn’t care if woke up early enough to start the day. After that I started to try to assist TJ and Cody in any way I could. I lost sleep thinking of nice words for them. They grew very fond of me and we became friends. “The boys”, as our teacher called them, confided in me and listened to my advice. We laughed together, and they trusted me to know about their after school partying and their flawed home-lives. I listened to them complain about girls, helped them understand Romeo and Juliet   and convinced them not to clobber other boys who irritated them.

 I didn’t realize how much I affected them until I saw them smoking one day after school.  When I approached them, they immediately hid their cigarettes behind their backs.  We had an awkward conversation and as I walked away, I saw TJ toss his pack of Marlboros into the trash.  The next day, I told TJ that I wouldn’t have said anything about his smoking. He told me he knew that; he said he felt guilty because he knew I would be concerned about his health. I don’t know that TJ quit forever, but I do know he tried to change his life because he knew he mattered to me.

This was a triumphant occurrence in my life. It was the moment when I realized that caring is not a weakness, that my nosiness can change lives.  That day, I learned that my mother-goose ways and I could make a difference. I may not be the best student, or the prettiest girl, I may not even be the most attentive friend, or the easiest daughter to raise. I am however, capable of seeing potential in those who have been written off, by their loved ones and by themselves.  

Since then, I have been many different therapists who have tried to teach me (among other more significant and personal lessons) to let go of other people’s issues. I finally found one who says that I will never do so. I am always going to be a mother-goose. I have to learn to do it in a healthy manner—and make a life out of it.

I hope that anybody reading this that has been told that have a weakness, finds the sparkle in it; and experiences the joy that I have.