What About the Muslim Children?

(Also published here.)

Two weeks ago, our university’s Muslim chaplain reached out to me and asked if I would be interested in a talking to a small group of Muslim parents about what Muslim college students thought about the recent Paris attacks. College students because we have all grown up in the almost immediate aftermath of 9/11.

We were five students in total and among us we were two undergraduates and three graduates, three boys and two girls. We all come from very different backgrounds and thus could offer different perspectives on the questions the parents asked us. Questions like what kind of language should we use when we talk about these kind of events to our children? Should we tell them that those people aren’t actual Muslims? How early should we expose our children to these news? How do we approach the whole process of “condemning violence” as Muslims? How do we ensure our children are safe and have the means and confidence in their schools to deal with what might come at them?

And I want to address not only how we, as Muslim college students answered these questions, but also the general necessity of this meeting and the fact that it happened. Because this is something we don’t usually talk about. We don’t talk about how the children raised in our communities feel and are treated because of these violent attacks and the ensuing Islamophobia. We don’t talk about how it affects the environment our children grow up in when even our parents aren’t sure about how to respond to these kind of events. When we have religious extremists killing in the name of Islam and constant anti-Islam propaganda, we look at how Muslim adults react. We don’t look at six and seven year olds who don’t even know the branches of the government. We don’t look at fifth graders who are left unaware of the thousands of civilians dead at the hands of the US military.

The broader frame of what we told these parents was that, yes they do need to talk to their children about this, and no they do not have to be sorry or ashamed of anything, they need to keep their dignity and stand their ground, and they need to trust their children in learning about and understanding complexities and nuances within these things.

Within this broader frame, we talked about how these attacks in the name of Islam are not simple. They are not done with a single goal and born out of a single motive. They are layered and complicated and multidimensional. They are not simply religious, they are political and ideological and based on dogma and prejudice and hatred. And this is something we need to address. We need to address how no matter how un-Islamic their actions may be, these terrorists still identify themselves as Muslims. And we can’t just say “No! Islam means peace! They aren’t real Muslims!” Not only is this trite and patronizing, it’s also confusing for children. Implying that all Muslims are somehow all great and faultless just sets our children up for disappointment. What do we expect will happen if they grow up with the notion that all Muslims are angels and then face the reality that Muslims are also people? And just like all people and all groups, they have good ones and they have bad ones. They have honor students and they have bullies. They have trustworthy businessman and corrupt politicians. At the end of the day, they still identify as Muslim, and they are a part of this 1.7 billion-people community, but they aren’t a monolith. They aren’t homogenous. They are different and diverse and yeah, some of them are bad, and some of them (most of them) are good (or try to be).

We talked about how some children don’t have the luxury of being shielded from these truths. Some children live under the shadow of ISIS and some children are born refugees. We talked about how when we hide these realities from our children, it can feed their ignorance later in life.

We talked about how to keep our dignity and pride with our children. How to not underestimate our children because they are really perceptive and they pick up a lot. They see and observe and they understand things that we don’t explicitly talk about. We discussed how children emulate their parents and thus how parents respond and react is especially important in keeping children confident in their identities and secure in their communities.

We talked about how we need to make sure children know that violence isn’t a Muslim problem. It’s a human problem. It’s in every community and it’s born out of oppression and lack of education. And it can be fixed but we need to work for it.

We talked about the difference between religion and politics and what it means in the context of all these violent crimes. We talked about how we have to be careful with the language we use when we refer to these terrorists. We need to instill the understanding that sometimes people do horrible things thinking that they are doing the right thing. And that good behavior is recognizable as is bad behavior. And the real distinction between people doesn’t come from race or religion – it comes from whether they are good people or bad people.

Especially within the Muslim household, we talked about how parents should enforce the way that God wants us to react to these kind of situations. With patience and dignity and consistency. With level-headedness and logic. How we shouldn’t victimize ourselves and be miserable. How we need to keep our heads up and condemn all types of violence and injustice by principle. How we need to be less reactionary and more regular in what we stand up for and what we stand against.

Muslims have been dealing with ostracization and marginalization since Islam came to be a religion. It’s not new that we are being targeted and harmed and being called names. But now people have means to do it globally. People are connected and millions of resources are at the tips of their fingers. People can trend #KillAllMuslims for an entire day, people can organize islamophobic events across the country, people can terrorize mosques and Muslim community centers with little to no planning. People can develop intricate agendas within governments to oppress Muslim communities. And it’s time to talk about how we can help our children process these. How we give them stable and strong foundations to fall back on when they are faced with bigotry and prejudice in their schools and among their peers. Born and raised post 9/11 kids. Here they come.

Lots of shields,
Belle

Muslim Disprivilege

Long time no see my dear blog, I have missed the formality you brought, and so I am back. I was never away yes, but I was not as present as I promised I would be and I have truly missed you.

This is another one of those blogposts that I had originally intended to be a vlog but I have only six more days until I travel up to Chicago and start the new chapter of my life that is college, and we both know videos take longer to create than pieces of prose. So here we are.

I first scribbled the idea for this post, at two in the morning a few weeks ago, as "Write about: white privilege is having nuanced stories." However, once I sat down to actually write about it, I realized that two in the morning me was not in a condition to speak about nuance when she narrowed down such a complex topic to something as structured and systematic as white privilege. So this is not a post about white privilege. It was never meant to be. This is a post about Muslim disprivilege.

Let's start with nuance. Muslim disprivilege in its root is not having nuanced stories whether they be individual or collective. We are neither allowed to nor can afford to have complex and multi-layered narratives. Muslims in the post 9/11 world exist as an ambiguous and ominous block of beings that have a flat image in society's eye. Muslims are in the media all the time, but always in the same roles and the same stories. Outside of a violent and dangerous image, we practically don't exist and are only there to incite fear and exude signs of being a threat.

There are certain perceptions about what Muslims are in society's mind and thus anything that goes against what people expect is on the one hand always expected, but on the other hand is surprising and has the potential to set all 1.7 billion Muslims back.

Despite the huge "block of beings" image we have, all Muslims are individuals with individual stories and backgrounds, who live all over the world. Especially in places where Muslims are in the minority, but are integrated into bigger communities, the untold but ever present expectation is that they don't fit the image people have in their minds of Muslims. When the media presents all Muslims as potential terrorists, obviously the expectation from someone whose neighbor is a Muslim would be that fingers crossed my neighbor is not one of those Muslims. So, the constant expectation is to be perfect and flawless and show no signs of anything negative to confirm people's fears about you. Be a good student, belong to a progressive family, and participate in things like community volunteering and gardening to look as harmless as possible.

But see, that's the thing. The pressure is that we have to prove everyone wrong and every Muslim individually has to uphold that standard. We aren't allowed to be human and make mistakes. Muslim disprivilege is to be stripped away from the second chances all other people get when they have issues. Not only do we have to be devoid of all problems humans could possibly have, we also have to make sure that other Muslims are living up to these expectations and disproving people's prejudices about us. This creates so many problems because now we have Muslims who are struggling with their personal image, their collective image, and the responsibility they are made to think they have on behalf of all other Muslims. I am not responsible for only myself, but for all the other 1,699,999,999 Muslims on the planet. Both for their mistakes and their image. My actions reflect them as do theirs mine, and occasionally we are expected to apologize for each other. As a result of our inner community policing, we also further problems that we already have in our local groups.

Muslim disprivilege is having everything I do being associated with my religion. While for myself, religion is a way of life, and it does factor into many decisions I make, I am not programmed into doing this. I choose to do it consciously. The assumption that it must be my religion endorses this notion that I blindly follow my religion and have no free will. For example, during my last months of high school, the majority of senior class was getting ready for prom. One of my teachers asked if I were going to go and I replied that I wasn't. The teacher's immediate reaction was to look at me with mock understanding and pity and ask me if it was because of my religion. And I replied that no, it wasn't because of my religion. While there are things in my religion that would suggest me to not attend an event like prom, the choice to take these into consideration is mine. There are Muslims who go to prom, and there are Muslims who don't. Now, while I am not averse to the prom scene itself, I felt more comfortable with a smaller party and thus attended a dance that one of our local community centers threw for us. Of course, the complications never end. There is the assumption that we create these kind of events to prove ourselves and subtly scream "Muslims can have fun too!!! You see???" The funny thing is that I have witnessed a similar teacher-student interaction where a non-Muslim student replied in the negative about going to prom and the teacher tried to convince the student and explain how fun prom was and how it was a once in a lifetime event and that students shouldn't miss out on it.   

Muslim disprivilege is always being extra careful with what I do and what I say and thinking ten steps ahead all the time. In a way, where God would show me mercy and forgive my personal mistakes, society decides to strike me with its wrath and alienate me. For example, I make sure to never make any jokes that can be considered threats even in the lightest sense. "I would kill for a cold glass of lemonade right now." You won't hear that out of my mouth. And the inner policing? Also a part of my life. Making sure my family doesn't make similar jokes or indicate any sign of negativity or dysfunction. My brother isn't allowed to have toy guns or play any violent games because we don't want these themes in his life. Now – this is layered. We don't want these themes in his life anyway, but we have to be extra careful about it because he's bound to be shamed about his toy guns not only because people disapprove of toy guns, but also because he is a Muslim kid and thus genetically prone to terrorism (duh). This is also the reason that it disturbs me when people who are not Muslim and who are so removed from the general experiences of Muslim people try to emulate Muslim people for their online pranks or try to create Muslim people in their shows and in their novels. This is the reason every time someone comes out with a social experiment (!!!) and makes a bunch of non-Muslim girls wear hijab and go out so they can compare their experiences to when they aren't wearing hijab, I get extremely annoyed. Not only are these people posing as something they are not, but every little action they take while they are in their little hijab getups adds to the pool of things that can be generalized for all Muslims. Oh and the fact that they ignore to actually ask real Muslim women about their experiences is the cherry on top. Why take the easy way out and interview hijabis to amplify their voice in the media when you can hire actors and arrange friends to act like they are Muslim so you can conduct a pseudo-experiment?

Talking about Muslim voice and representation in the media, where is it? When in the beginning I said we can't afford nuances, this is what I mean. We aren't in a state where whatever representation we get is representation and thus ultimately positive. Our position and image is already precarious, we really aren't looking for stale and poorly constructed Muslim characters and storylines in media. I run a tumblr blog where I get questions along the lines of "Can you tell me a little about Muslim culture? I  want to have a POC character in the novel I am writing. Thanks!" And this is not for me only. My Muslim blogger friends also receive these kind of questions and honestly these messages are pathetic and sad and uninformed.

You want to learn about "Muslim culture?" How about you first learn what a Muslim is? And then move on the distinction between culture and religion? And then maybe the generalization that you made about how all Muslims are POC (which is an even more layered topic for later discussion)? Oh and don't forget to learn more about doing research and using the vast resources that are readily available to you through the internet when writing a novel. Thank you.

There are people out there who think a few paragraphs from a random Muslim blogger they see on the Internet will teach them enough about "Muslim culture" so they can go on to create a novel with a Muslim character, pass off in some diversity litmus test, and then smile at the representation starved minorities while mouthing "you're welcome."

We aren't at a place where we can discuss issues in our communities with the outside world without backlash and judgement and multiplied bigotry. Obviously, we are trying to address them within ourselves, but if we tried to give depth to our own general Muslim narrative in the outside world, it would be perceived as if a disease caught a disease and now it's double the trouble, double the danger. And again, without doubt, some problems can be solved simultaneously, like preventing rape through changing society's mental attitude towards women, all the while being careful and attentive with rape cases and victims and offering them resources for healing and therapy. But this is Muslim disprivilege and that means we can't get that kind of complexity when we need to solve our problems.

We need to first humanize Muslims and integrate them into the society that is presented in the media. We need them out of the terrorist and oppressed molds and counter the decades long image with good Muslims. Good and trustworthy and loyal and hard-working. Practicing their faith, going about their daily, harmless lives, and not planning to bomb major American cities. And after we have a solid foundation that presents Muslims as mainly good people (7% vs. 93%), we can add more layers to the Muslim image in the world's eye. For example, Muslims have problematic families too. Muslims have issues with cultural patriarchy and racism too. Muslims can be lazy and drink alcohol and not be extremely pious too. Because Muslims are 1.7 billion people and they are all bound to be different and individualistic. Muslims are a part of the human species, and as humans are, not infallible. Whoa. Shocking concept I know.

So that's Muslim disprivilege. Overcompensating is a basic part of your life and you are always trying to make sure your intentions are well aligned and you aren't just putting up a nice and wholesome facade when you are in fact a hollow and purposeless shell. Fun lifestyle, don't you think?

Lots of ponderings,
Belle

Charms in A Lesson Before Dying

A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines

256 Pages

&&&

This was my final reading for Lit class and I am glad I chose it. A Lesson Before Dying is the story of a teacher, Grant, and a young black guy,  Jefferson. The story is set in the late 40s, Jefferson is sentenced to death while Grant is requested (by Jefferson's grandmother) to teach Jefferson how to be a man before he is killed. The passages I bookmarked were really long so I have screenshots this time instead of typed out selections. And because this review will be more in-depth than the usual charms post, they will be spread throughout the post.

Jefferson is wrongly convicted of murder which is why he's sentenced to death, and during his trial, his lawyer tries to prove his innocence, and how he was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time by calling him a hog. Jefferson has no intelligence, he is a fool. Killing him would mean nothing. That's the attorney's argument, which in the end doesn't work to save Jefferson, but it does affect Jefferson's grandmother. She knows she can't change the result now that the jury decided, so she wants Jefferson to at least die a man, not a hog as people made him out to be. 

She requests the town's teacher, whose aunt she's friends with, to go see Jefferson and teach him how to be a man. Grant, who is the narrator of the story, tells us his thoughts, meetings, and the life in the town during the time period between Jefferson's conviction and death.

To start off, Grant is not a very likable narrator. He is honest and thus reliable with his narration, but that's about it as far as redeeming qualities go (at least in the beginning). As a person, he is annoying and whiny. The first question I wrote in my notes was, "Why do they think the teacher will be able to teach Jefferson to be a man when he himself isn't man? He is immature – is the reader supposed to feel this way about the narrator?"

Grant doesn't really want to take up the task of making Jefferson a man. He himself questions the decision for his selection.What does he know to make someone a man? In fact, in his narrative, his girlfriend, Vivian, is the reason he himself is a man. Vivian, provides the support and encouragement Grant needs to keep visiting Jefferson and not giving up too easily.

The reason that this book is good, despite the narrator, is because not only is it really well-written in terms of style and prose, but it's also a nice, nuanced narrative of black living in the US. And it's timeless in how some most of the problems presented in the book are still relevant (sadly).  

 

These are some selections showing Grant's feelings towards being asked to visit Jefferson. Around this time, I thought that even though Grant starts out as a pessimistic miser, maybe the story will function in a way that he will grow together with Jefferson. While having a wise, more likable person go to see Jefferson seems like the more guaranteed way to go, sending someone that Jefferson can relate to, however surprisingly, might serve the story better. Or so I thought. But I never got that in the end. Does Jefferson learn how to be a man? Yes. Does Grant change marginally? Not so much. Sure, he has some character growth, but not enough to make the reader like him. I might have to do a second reading later because my Lit teacher said on later readings I would start to sympathize with Grant more. I am skeptical, but I will give it a chance.

[Warning for discussions of child abuse] This passage was important to me especially in shaping my view of the narrator. He lives in a small town and he teaches all the kids in the elementary school. He knows all their stories. He knows their families. He knows their living conditions. Yet, when he's angry or upset, he takes it out on the kids. He beats them and yells at them and he acknowledges that he is doing it out of his own anger and inability to control it. He is truly despicable in that sense, and even though we have discussed the time context of the story and how yes during that time and until quiet recently too teachers could beat up children in schools and it was totally fine doesn't mean that we can't hold these people to the same moral standards that we can hold any decent human being at any time in history. Just on a very scientific, evolutionary standpoint, even without religion or belief or any kind of mores, children are small and weak and usually ignite nurturing instincts in us. We want to protect them from harm, not inflict harm on them. The gist of the story is that I really hated Grant. But let's move on. [End warning.]

These passages highlight the racial nuances of the story and the conflicts black people face and have faced, both externally with other people, and internally within themselves. While I don't like Grant, I still appreciate what his character brings to the story. For example, examining how he approaches matters of pride and self-worth create interesting questions. He creates the gray area between the moral absolutes of right and wrong. 

He's also important for exploring questions like what actually makes someone a man, or how does education play into what a man is? How does religion? Grant himself acts like academics are the pinnacle of human potential. Once you are educated, you are better than the rest of your kind. Knowing science and math is what matters, nothing else. Living in any other way than the way of the intellectually elite is barbarism. That kind of thing. He questions his own position as a man in teaching Jefferson, but he does make it clear that he thinks there is a distinction between the university-bred young man and the farm-worker. This is of course, not wrong, these are two different classes of people. But to take away from them all the other facets of their lives is rude and superficial. University education does not make a man, instead, as it's popularly known, manners maketh man. And Grant is of the opinion that his job as a teacher is to make "people like [Jefferson]" to keep from going to jail, and while this might be true to some extent it's not true in the way Grant thinks it is.

Now the interesting thing that I liked looking at was how Grant was perceived in his town. Because not only does he himself think that he is different due to his education, but so do his people. He has went outside and gotten an education. He is respectable. He is the pride of the community. He is "the Teacher." So, while he isn't the best person they have around in terms of character, Miss Emma, Jefferson's grandmother, chooses him to go and speak to Jefferson because he has that prestige.

This is yet another theme explored in the book. Religion and education and how they can exist together, if they can exist together. Grant went to university religious, but he came back an educated and a no longer religious man. This is just to further the notion that religion and faith are for simple, uneducated people, and those of us who are advanced intellectually could not possibly be religious. I actually recently gave a speech at my school's Baccalaureate about this, but basically, I think it is complete BS as an idea. However, its presence in the book and how it reflects on Grant's character development is important and despite how much it frustrated me I liked it in the story.

And these are the final passages that I'll leave you with. They go further to show the racial issues the book is highlighting. I think they are extremely relevant especially this year, where we have had a ridiculous amount of racially motivated brutalities and crimes with no justice served.

Overall, definitely a book I'd recommend, and a book worth re-reading.

 Lots of quills,
~Belle

Charms in A Hologram for the King

A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers – 352 Pages

This won't be the usual salient charms post because I just want to focus on two passages in this book and actually start with a review. 

I heard about this book from one of my friends and I though I'd give it a shot. I was looking for an easy read to get back into the reading scene, so it seemed like the perfect gateway. Was it helpful in that aspect? Yes. I finished this in three days, and I enjoyed the writing.

The prose was simple. Short and clean sentences with a few longer, philosophical thoughts thrown about to give it flavor. And, now it sounds like I am giving you a recipe for the type of novel you should write if you want it to be intriguing and minimalistic at the same time. I cannot guarantee it'll work, but if you try, tell me how it goes.

In any case, this book is about a middle aged man who goes to Saudi Arabia to strike a deal with the king for a huge IT company. He is close to being bankrupt, he is divorced, he needs money to pay off his daughter's college tuition, and he is depressed because he's been kicked out of his  area of expertise due to the changing tides in the business world.

As you can see from my short synopsis, the protagonist (?) of the book seems like he might have potential for a good story, but that is not at all the case. He is not interesting or attention-catching. In fact, he is extremely dull and miserable. He is bitter, lost in his own world, and gloomy, ALL THE TIME. I can remember only a few scenes where he wasn't contemplating his mortality, his uselessness, his family problems, his lack of money, etc. etc.

The ending is dissatisfying, similar to this man's life I suppose. I finished the book and realized I had not changed as a person one bit other than being someone who had read the book. I didn't learn anything. I didn't even see a new way of writing, telling a story, or setting a scene. Everything in my life kept going on as they were, and I am blogging about it now because otherwise this book and the time it took for me to read it will really have been a complete waste.

A girl of about seven, wearing a burqa, came to Salem's window. Immediately he pushed a button to lock the doors. She stayed before his window, tapping it, rubbing her fingers together.

Now Alan noticed there were dozens of women and children, mostly female, all in black burqas, floating form car to car, approaching windows, floating away. 

Alan began to roll down his window. Seeing a more sympathetic face, the girl hurried to his side, her hands outstretched.

– Don't, don't! Salem said. Roll it up.

Alan obeyed, and the rising glass almost caught the girl's tiny fingers. Now she tapped on the glass with increased urgency, her head titled in inquiry, her mouth moving feverishly. Alan smiled and showed his empty palms. She didn't seem to understand or care. She kept tapping.

Salem got her attention and pointed upward. Like that, she turned and left. It was like some kind of magic trick.

– What does that mean, Alan asked, when you point upward like that? He mimicked the gesture.

Salem's attention had returned to his phone.

– It means God will provide.

– And that works?

– It ends the discussion. (p. 240-41)

I hated this passage. Not the passage itself but the reality of it. It reminded me of how there are people out there who think this way. Who try to comfort others this way. Who run from responsibility this way. Who think God is this wild abstraction that is capable of providing and does so in a weird comical irony.

God will provide. I believe this. God is the sole provider for me. Anything in between is a means. Trees, animals, shopping centers. The original source, I know, is God. And He provides. He provides more than enough for all of us. But we have to go and get what we want. Things we need don't simply materialize into our lives. I don't sit down on the dinner table with my family and wait for our plates and bowls to integrate out of the thin air. And just as we get what we need through multiple chains (e.g. world > soil > trees > fruits > farmers > grocery story > me), and just as we can facilitate the movement of what God gives us, we can also obstruct it. Greed, over-consumption, wastefulness. 

God will provide? God does provide. There are enough resources for our species. We just concentrate  it on specific groups and prevent it from reaching others. And when those in need call out to us, we are like, God will give you some too. Don't worry, keep praying. Or, we deflect. We come up with phrases like the ever famous, IF there were a God, why are these people hungry and living in poverty? It's not our job to look after them! Why doesn't God give them food and shelter? See! No God! Ha! 

How distorted does the notion of God have to be in a society for this kind of thinking to exist? Can anyone, who has an inkling of logic and observational skill, actually come to this conclusion or ask this question? Do people seriously look around themselves and reach conclusions like these? Do they seek answers to their spiritual questions through oversimplified naïveté? Apparently and sadly, yes. Yes they do, yes they can. And the concept of God – I don't think I want to get into the need for a structure in that realm yet. 

The other passage that struck home:

They went back to watching the valley below, but Alan was shaken. Yousef had been lighthearted during his questions, but there was something very serious and very sad under his smile, and Alan knew what it was. It was the knowledge that there would be no fighting, and there would be no struggle, no stand taken, and that the two of them, because they were not lacking materially, because despite injustices in their countries they were the recipients of preposterous bounty, would likely do nothing. They were content, they had won. The fighting would be done by others, elsewhere. (p. 276)

Basically the root of the continuation of all our present problems. Most of the time, only people directly affected by a problem try to change it, because while others might know that there is a problem and they should probably help to fix it, why bother risking the comfort they have for a fight that won't directly help them? And even then, even if fighting against the problem helped them, if they are in a slightly better position that the people facing the problem, why give up the privileges and bonuses of their position? 

So fights are done by others, elsewhere, and we sit back and relax because we have the luxury to do so. And what hurts the most about this passage is that we are self-aware. We know that we should be helping fight for these things, fight against injustices, but we are incredibly selfish at the same time and can't be bothered.

Lots of quills,

Belle

Vacuus

(Content warning for discussions of rape, abuse, and violence.)

Recently I came across my music library from a few years ago. It was filled with top hits of the year I downloaded them in and in general, songs I heard on the radio or from other people. If I liked an artist, I would just download as many popular songs they had as possible to make sure I was up to date on my music knowledge and knew the cool lyrics to songs everyone listened to. Cool lyrics being the key phrase here, when I reopened that library, and tried listening to a few songs, I couldn't do it. 

This is of course, not because I am trying to be a snobby indie kid who hates on pop music and disses auto tune in the music industry with every breath she takes, but because I want to use this revelation I had as a gateway into a broader topic I have wanted to write about for a while. 

As I always try to reiterate on this blog, I value personal growth and independence highly and think that everyone should always be striving to be better and and kinder and more open-minded. We should always be moving towards bigger self-awareness and confidence, we should always be learning more about things we don't know, we should always try to better ourselves and our world. Trying to achieve these types of dreams obviously isn't as easy as it is to type them, but I believe that in the past few years I have grown as a person. 

And now, I realize it's going to sound like I grew out of pop music and the Top 40, but that's not it. The reason I couldn't listen to the majority of these songs was because of the content and the ways the lyrics made me feel. They were mostly very degrading towards women, violent and dehumanizing to a point where the mood stayed the same from song to song and I felt really uncomfortable. The kind of songs that hypersexualize women, that encourage rape and non-consensual sex, that reduce women to objects to be used and devoured, that focus entirely on a woman's physical attributes, that normalize stalking fantasies and infidelity etc. etc.

But, where am I going with this? 

I want to tie this in to the human psychology and how our thoughts and beliefs and desires take form and what role the outside environment plays on them. A disclaimer before I get into it: I am not certified to speak on the medical and scientific aspects of psychology. These are only my theories and observations based on personal experience. 

I have already said that I have grown as a person, and I know this will make it seem like I am a part of this generation that old white men in power fear, the part that has progressive thoughts, unlimited hope, and radical ideas about how we should run our governments and what we should do about injustices – you know, the crazy kids who declare themselves feminists and activists, and place themselves on the liberal side of political scales, those kids. I am okay with that. Because while people will use my labels to try and invalidate my experiences and thoughts, the reality of the situation will remain as it is. I will have lived these events, and I will have had these thoughts. So yes, this is coming from a self-loving, always learning, joke making but also joke ripping feminist, who thinks and fights for social rights and is proud to be a part of those movements that try to make this world a better, more livable place. 

(Side note on this whole post: I haven't written an opinion piece in such a long time, I think my brain is overcompensating, but bear with me.)

In any case, I was okay with listening to those kind of songs at the time because I didn't really feel affected by them. They were endorsing ideas that were engraved into my mind and I had a huge supply of internalized misogyny to make me agree with some of them while taking others lightly or deliberately misinterpreting them. Not that I thought too much about the lyrics I was listening to – I just listened to them on repeat, sang along, and didn't feel conflicted. (It was horrible). I was solidifying the expectations and unwritten rules society had placed about women and I was siding with people who created and furthered these expectations and rules. Obviously, my self-respect and awareness was very very very misplaced.

Which is why, after beginning to improve myself, and opening my eyes to the problems we have as women, I couldn't really listen to these songs. But songs are only one part of the media we consume. And even from them, we can see how effective they are and how big of an impact they have on our worldviews. 

The point is – these things, they are not consumed in a vacuum. And people who treat them like they are are either super naive or super ignorant. The music we listen to affects us. It makes a place for itself in our subconscious. We repeat words and phrases that we don't wholly agree with or that we would never produce ourselves. We don't listen to music in a vacuum, where it stays only as a catchy tempo and never influences the way we see things. We don't play games or chat with strangers or write stories and poetry in a vacuum. We make conscious decisions to do these things and they affect us. 

I got involved in several arguments on Twitter over the fairly recent Gamergate controversy because a lot of men were insistent that what happens in video games stays in video games. Which is not true. When a gamer makes the decision to kill a sex worker in a game, to violate another body, no matter its virtuality, he is making that decision. He is thinking, I will now rape this character on my screen and then brutally run her over with my car. This is coming from the same organ he decides what socks to wear and what greetings to say to a cashier. We can't put dividers in our brain that can separate our actions and thoughts so absolutely. It's a thought he had? Then it is a thought he had. He can't just say it was only a game and he would never do that in real life. Sure, for the big majority of gamers this is true. 

If we think about it, the big majority of music listeners won't go out and commit rape either. The big majority of readers of fiction that has themes like pedophilia aren't going to be pedophiles either. Yes, that is true. But we need to stop acting like these things we consume aren't affecting us. Violence in our movie and television sector has become so brutally common that I am no longer affected by intense torture scenes. This is not a normal reaction to have. When I see a man's throat being cut or someone's eyes scooped out, I should cringe despite knowing that it's film effects because there are people, real people, who are victims of violence and acts like those. I should be aware that these are not normal, they are not something anyone should be used to. Because once something is normalized, we become indifferent to it and indifference is the worst disease.   

A lot of my Gamergate arguments were with people who believed that having these kind of fantasies (rape, violence, murder etc.) was okay and that the gaming industry only provided a safe space for people to act these fantasies out. This was shocking to me as I had not realized mentally and emotionally healthy human beings were regularly overtaken by fantasies of brutal homicides and gang rapes. Because while we are, as people, capable of these sort of acts, in peaceful and safe environments, we should see no need for them whatsoever. So, no, the gaming industry isn't providing a safe space for people to act these out, it's furthering the normalization of these sort of thoughts and desires in people. 

Of course, this is not a simple issue. We can't just say, let's stop talking about these. Let's just censor books and games and music and only talk about all things sugar, spice, and everything nice. This is more complex. And it's because we have a culture set up that pushes people towards these kind of wants. We need to ask ourselves, why do men fantasize about rape? Why do women fantasize about being raped? Why is killing people in a video-game considered an anti-depressant? 

How do we reach a middle ground where we can talk about these problems while cutting them down at the same time and not romanticizing them? Because sure, Lolita is a psychology novel with great literary merit, and a novel that raises a lot of questions, but it is not a one dimensional book created to only make us question how we interact with people of different age groups and ask ourselves if we can sympathize with a pedophile. Books and media in general, they come in layers. There is what the author intended, there is what the story says, and there is what the reader interprets. How do we reconcile all these in having a healthy discussion and supporting research to find answers and in providing one more way for people to further their thoughts and wishes of these things?

We can't police people's thoughts. We aren't in 1984. We don't want to police people's thoughts. I think what we want, or at least, what I want, is to make sure that we don't have these thoughts, because they are not healthy thoughts and they shouldn't make up a big portion of our lives. We shouldn't be enjoying music that glamorizes rape. So the question is, why are we?

Lots of figs,

Belle

the busy griever

this is an extended update about the last few days in my life, my counselor and a few friends told me to write about what happened and i will most likely be babbling, but i know that it will help because writing usually helps me. 

i learned that i lost my grandfather this past thursday, and that he made my mom promise to not tell me until she returned from turkey and could tell me in person and be there when i learned, and that just shows how great and thoughtful he was, and how much he loved me.

i was very close to my grandfather, when i was born, my dad was doing his phd and my mom was still in university, and because we lived fairly close, my grandparents looked after me until i started elementary school. my grandfather would take me out every day, and we would walk and go to parks and mosques and little shops from morning till noon and when i got back i would be tired, happy, and full, and my grandmother would give me a bath and put me to sleep. we had a route that we would follow and certain things we had to do no matter what. for example, after all our walking, when we were finally returning back home, we would visit the mosque next to their house, and we would make a stop at all the water fountains and i would play with the water from each faucet. after i had soaked myself from head to toe playing with the water, we'd make a stop at the small grocery store. it wasn't actually a grocery store though, it only sold fruits and vegetables and from there my grandfather would buy a hand of bananas that i would finish before we reached their house.

when i was talking to my counselor she asked me about my happy memories with him and i realized that all my memories with him were happy. that i had no bad memories with him. none. the ones i have are all filled with love and fun. i always felt good when i was with my grandfather. i felt important and i felt real. i felt loved. i felt cared for. i felt respected. i was beautiful and fierce. i was strong and invincible. and i plan to treasure those feelings. i plan to continue striving towards being a stronger and fiercer person. to make sure i fulfill the potential he saw in me. to make sure that i deserved his faith in me. to make sure that his memory lives on with me.

my grandfather had a lot of plants and he was so in tune with them that they would grow and bloom with his moods and wither and turn away with his discomfort and illnesses. it was like he had put a piece of his soul in the soil of their roots. when my mom first delivered the news to me, i felt a part of me die. but i am not sad over losing the tree within me because the first thing my grandmother said when my mom asked her about me going to college was to not worry because i had deep roots. i have deep roots. deep deep roots enriched with the gift of having my grandfather as my grandfather. strong and grounded and unyielding.

i just really wish i had been there with him. i always thought i would be, because even though i often think about death and how not even a breath is guaranteed to us, i guess i never allowed that thought to touch the people i loved. but i know that he passed away peacefully. he wasn't in pain and suffering, he was at rest. he was doing okay. he welcomed the angel coming to free his soul from his body. he told my mom that he saw two soldiers waiting to escort him. and they told him that they had prepared a banquet for him. and him not having been able to eat for the past two months, hearing that was a good omen for us. he was beautiful my mom said, he looked really peaceful. and so many people came to the funeral and they all had good memories of him. so many people, so many people that he touched. he had done something for every single one of them. he had fixed someone's plumbing problem. he had helped someone with their electricity. he had fed someone. he had given a good piece of advice. that's the kind of person he was. he was very generous and he had a solid character. he did what was right and wasn't afraid of anyone and he had a very admirable moral compass.

i am just really thankful that my faith helps me and i know that God is with me. there are so many things i am grateful for. i am grateful for how my grandfather left us and how hopefully he'll go to heaven. i am grateful for the strength God has given us to bear the sadness. and the will to pray for my grandfather to make his afterlife easy and comfortable. i am grateful that when we die, we don't become nothing. we aren't lost into the void. we just make a transition from the limited to the limitless. we are rid of pain and hurt and are rewarded justly with good things. i am grateful that i have the opportunity to meet with my grandfather once again. to meet with him and be with him eternally. i am grateful that God made us one of the people who had knowledge of Him and who loved Him.

and i know that some people don't look too kindly upon the use of religion and faith when it comes to matters of death and mortality. and while everyone has their own opinions about what happens to us after we die, i am not interested in the pessimistic worldview that i will delve into nonexistence not only physically but also spiritually. not only do i think that this sort of thinking is toxic and unhelpful to a griever, i also think it's a bit absurd. but those thoughts are for another time.

in the end, i hope that i'll live a life that'll make my grandfather proud. please keep him in your prayers.

lots of pondering moments,
~belle

Louis C.K. Thinks He's Smart

I have been trying to find an inconspicuous way to show people how my brain works. To tell them about my general thought process without extending them an invitation that reads, “Please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the wild ride we’ll take through the mind of a 17-year-old.” But at this point, I can no longer hope for discretion, so please, stay for a brief demo.

The oversized shirt is from freshman year. It’s a faded royal blue and has a big picture of a small motor protein on the front. I am sitting on my bed thinking about a few lines from one of Louis C.K’s standups, “As humans, we waste our words. It’s sad. We use words like ‘awesome’ and ‘wonderful’ like they’re candy. […] You use the word ‘amazing’ to describe a sandwich at Wendy’s. What’s going to happen on your wedding day, or when your first child is born? How will you describe it? You already wasted ‘amazing’ on a sandwich.”

When I process what he says, my first impulse is to start an extensive research project about sandwiches. They shouldn’t be as easy to dismiss as that, and I will prove it. A sandwich can be amazing, because in the end, can’t most things? A rock could have heard secrets, absorbed classified information, and witnessed disasters and miracles. And that potential for a story would make the rock amazing.

And, I find it as laughable as it is upsetting that as humanity advances, we start calling our once most prized inventions basic. Combining two slices of bread with meat and spices in between to create a sandwich, John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, left us a great legacy. The sandwich is now a subculture in the western world and has also become a verb, expanding our language. But not being able to call a sandwich amazing makes me wonder if there will come a day when we’ll be condemned if we call our VE-DIC (video-enhanced differential interference contrast) light microscopy – which helped us discover kinesin, a motor protein – ‘amazing’ as well.

This little guy (the motor protein) carries cellular cargo that is about 240 times its weight across a little microtubule in every cell in our body. If we think about it in circus terms, a tightrope walker would be carrying two average sized elephants on her back. And to compete with the motor protein, the tightrope walker would also have to be working in complete darkness, have no consciousness and no senses, just little magnets on the soles of her feet to guide her on the rope.

So, every time I make myself a sandwich and then eat it, I think to myself, there are a hundred trillion miniscule circuses in my body working together to help me enjoy my sandwich. To be able to make this sandwich, thousands of people came together. Farmers, marketers, packagers, cashiers, health inspectors, this teenager. The history geek in me nods appreciatively to the science enthusiast while the budding etymologist smiles at my choice of words. My taste buds rejoice in different flavors as my brain supplies a fitting adjective. This sandwich is amazing. 

&&&

Another college essay, I hope you liked it.

~Belle

Reunion

As you probably noticed, I haven't been too active lately. 

Cue blogger's reasons about busy schedules, and lots of things to do, too little time etc. etc.

Cue formal apology to readers and promise to update them.

Cue post.

//

We all know how this usually goes, and I am a little tired to come up with a new and unique way to do it, so we'll follow the script. I wasn't able to update as much as I would have liked to because being a senior this year overwhelmed me a little. I was busy with college applications, keeping up with five AP classes, financial aid forms, citizenship things, comforting friends, making new ones, creating about a ton of new blogs here and there, reading books, writing poetry, complaining about things in my life while trying to organize it and give it some semblance of order.

I hate that phrase by the way, the "semblance of order," but since we are following script, I used it.

I am currently enjoying my spring break, ready to get back to updating regularly and finishing my drafts and spilling my thoughts onto the virtual world. We'll see how that goes.

In the meantime, here are the five blogs I am managing on the side. There are a few more but that's for maybe later.

Here is where I am posting my poetry.

Here is where I am posting my photography.

Those are blogs with my own original content. I manage three more that are compilations of things I like.

Here is the one with art and architecture I like. 

Here is the one with interior design and fashion I like.

And here is the one I recently started where I'll have things to make me a better person, in body, mind, soul, and heart. We'll also see how that goes.

//

Lots of clicks,
~Belle

pH Scale

Clorox has a pH level of 13, and if I want to go far in life, they tell me I have to be Clorox. I have to be sodium hypochlorite because nothing else works. I have to be strong, unforgiving, and indiscriminate. React quickly and destroy whatever is in my way. Be known for my instability. Make people’s breathing harder. They tell me, that in order to move forward, I can’t let myself be diluted. I have to keep that active ingredient safe but volatile.

So I am angry. I am stubborn and unreasonable. I forget negotiations and truces. I do not show emotion. I do not look vulnerable. My friends can leave. My family can be scared. It does not matter. I will not cry and I will not care. I turn a simple game of Taboo into the awaited apocalypse and kick the new guy out, because if he was born to reduce my winning streak to an unbeaten one, he should reconsider the purpose of his existence. This isn’t just a game, and anyone who thinks that way doesn’t deserve to play with me.

I was born to mimic gaseous weapons from old wars. Be corrosive. Create burns. They tell me. And I listen.

I listen until I realize that the amount of bleach I apply does not correlate with how clean something is. After some time, I start breaking down the fibers of even the most resistant fabrics. I destroy, as I was taught, until they stick warning labels on me. My persistence causes permanent damage, and even time can’t to heal the wounds. People try to avoid me because I am everywhere and excessive exposure to me only means wearing masks and getting rid of every trace I have left on their skin.

My ambition overcomes me and my aim for absolute perfection no longer attracts people. I give my middle school graduation valedictorian speech to a room of people who are tired of my vitriol. I force humor and quirkiness into my paragraphs and act as if I know the secret of life. Some boy calls me a demon; another says diabolical, and I get mad because I had to look up what that word meant, and I didn’t think I lived up to it.

Snuggle has pH level of 5, and I finally understand, it isn’t being sodium hypochlorite that’s challenging. Clorox does not prevail over all other detergents. Bleach can’t replace the fabric softeners. Sometimes I have to be a quaternary ammonium compound (maybe dipalmitoylethyl hydroxyethylmonium methosulfate, which I can’t pronounce well, but I know the meaning of). Sometimes I have to work with acrylate polymers, calcium chlorides, and even water because I do need my process aids and a little bit of dilution. Sometimes I have to be the softening agent – give people comfort. Prevent static cling rather than produce it. Increase resistance to stains; not try to erase history.

I had to be lonely for an entire year before I realized people hugged you tighter when your jackets were soft. I trust my friends. I delegate responsibilities. I can now work in a group without assuming all the work. I am getting used to constructive criticism, and learning that I can set standards only for myself. I have become the friend who listens to stress-induced rants at two in the morning and gives sound advice and motivation. And sometimes, I feel like a mother, but I think I am getting ahead of myself there.

I may have been created to neutralize negative charges; I need to be mindful. Because people will come along and revel in the serendipity of finding me, the misplaced fabric softener, in the bleach aisle.

&&&

I am coming back and updating you guys more often after this week, don't give up on me. In the meanwhile, this is the essay I wrote for my University of Chicago application. Hope you enjoyed it!

Lots of fractals,

~Belle

Questions, questions...

Anonymous asked: hey sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I have a question about faith. I want to believe so bad. I've always believed in something, I just don't know what. My life's been pretty rough so far and if god were real, why would ze let all this shit happen? I'm really interested in islam and I have been for a long time, but I'm a mentally ill smoker coming from a long line of alcoholics and drug addicts. I'm really freaking myself out here, but I don't really belong anywhere. sorry to bother you :(

Hi friend! You aren’t disturbing me at all (:

Many people want to believe but they want to know why God would let all these bad things exist. Why would he let world hunger be a problem? Why would he let good people die, or catch diseases, or be victims of unnecessary wars? And it’s very human to ask that, isn’t it? We should ask it. If God is the most just, and the most merciful, why would he let all these horrible things happen?

And I can guarantee you, everyone, believer or non-believer, had these questions. I still have them sometimes. Because, on the surface, it really doesn’t seem fair. Why did kids die in Pakistan? How come I was born into this relatively privileged life and they weren’t? How is that any fair?

The answer is simple but expansive so I hope I don’t lose you. OK, so let’s divide the bad in the world into two categories. One type of bad we can help, and one type of bad we can’t. So Holocaust would be a bad we can help, and mental illness, disabilities, being born in a third world country, having a disadvantage because of your race, would be a bad we can’t help. One we, as humans, could prevent, one we can’t.

Now, the first type of bad roots from humans. Wars, exploitation, discrimination, 19 kids dying every day due to preventable diseases or hunger, is our fault. Our greed and our selfishness prevents us from helping each other and stopping these things. Islamically, one of the five pillars of faith, is to give zakat which is basically alms. So almsgiving is a part of the material solution. People are required to give 1/40th of their earnings+assets annually to those in need. Imagine that, now, projected estimates to end world hunger are around $30 billion dollars. You know how much alms could the US give depending on our GDP, in a year, we can give $420 billion. Yup, that’s right. We could solve world hunger 14 times. And that’s just the US.

But what about immaterial things? Like fraud, racism, hate crimes? That has a simple solution too. Religion is a way of life. It’s not something you confine to a single day in the week, or a single week in the year. It’s a guideline to help you lead a decent life. What does Islam say? Well, it gives you a few ethical decencies to stick to, and the rest is easy. Don’t lie, don’t gossip, don’t assume things about people or judge their actions (because you don’t know their hearts, only God does) & do tell the truth, do be kind, do know that you are also human, and in front of God you are all equal. Did this solve like all of our problems? Yeah, it pretty much did. I mean, c’mon, if we have people understanding that they are all equal in front of God we would dismantle entire institutions. Men, women, whites, blacks, homosexuals, heterosexuals, you are all equal in your humanity. No better, no worse. God is just.

I also mentioned bad we couldn’t help. Things we can’t change.  You being a mentally ill smoker coming from a long line of alcoholics and drug addicts isn’t something you signed up for. And yes, it sounds awful and really, just unfair. Why did you get these problems, when your next door neighbor is leading the apple pie life? Well, two things.

1. Don’t think that these mere 70 something years you are promised make the entirety of your existence, because they don’t. That would be highly contradictory if God said he was the most just being, but gave you that many years and a random set of circumstances to live through right? It might be insane to think about, but yes, your life isn’t limited to what you do on Earth. You will die and you will be resurrected and God will show his justice. After all, would it be fair if you and your neighbor died and that was it? She had the perfect life, no worries, no problems, and you suffered. And then bam, you die and that’s it. That’s all you get. That doesn’t fit the definition of justice. Justice is, testing you on this earth with different scenarios and weighing your actions in accordance to your circumstances. You have to struggle, you have problems, life is harder to get through for you, would your God overlook that if he was just? No, but he is just and he won’t. It’s sort of like a weighted grading system. Think of yourself as if you are in AP classes or taking harder courses and your neighbor is taking normal classes. Your work and grades affect your GPAs differently. You go through more, so your B is the same as your neighbor’s A in a normal class. You will be rewarded accordingly. God will say, you suffered through a lot my dear, every day you woke up was like worship, every breath you took was a prayer, deciding to hang on, deciding to go forward earned you this high throne. And to your neighbor he will say, you lived in comfort and wealth, did you help those in need, did you do good deeds with what was available to you, did you show gratitude, did you seek me?

2. Think about if we lived in utopia. Would you really seek God? Imagine he made everything perfect. No wrongdoing humans, no lies, no cheats, no pollution, no mutations, no disabilities, no mistakes, no nothing. Imagine we really lived in utopia. If everything was perfect, why would we look for God? We wouldn’t. Everything is already working like a nice clock, why wonder about who does it? I mean, even with the world we live in now, there are so many perfect things that we overlook.

Our location in space is just the right place for us to be. Jupiter’s mass, our moon’s tilt, our location in relation to the sun etc. The scientific argument says we evolved here because our planet is the only planet to support life, but that is true only from a human perspective. Humans cannot live without water, oxygen and vitamin D. Science says we evolved from a single-cell organism into photosynthesizing plants, into vertebrates, into fishes, into amphibians, and finally into mammals. Venus’s atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide, why didn’t photosynthesizing plants that could endure high temperatures evolve there, and go through a complex evolutionary process to finally arrive at a being equivalent to a human who could maybe photosynthesize, or not be affected by high carbon dioxide levels and temperatures?
  
Coincidences are miracles in disguise. We are presented a vast amount of bounties yet we ignore them because we use them regularly. We can start listing everything that science claims to be the product of complete chance in our body and see how it cannot all be by mere chance. For me, life in itself is a miracle. Modern technology envies our heart, a machine that keeps working for decades. Fancy iPhones and brand new cars only last a few years, and they require constant repair, while your heart creates enough energy to drive a truck for 20 miles in one day, and in your whole life, you could go to the moon and back with that energy. Our brain can hold approximately a million gigabytes of information. That’s the same as leaving the TV open for 300 years and absorbing everything on the screen. Our stomach acids are strong enough to dissolve metal. Our noses can differentiate between 50,000 different scents. Our eyelashes curl outward instead of inward and don’t stab us in our eyes.

We have everything we have now, and we can still say it has all happened by itself. How did the world originate in the first place? The Big Bang Theory states that it all begun with an infinitesimally small and hot singularity. The singularity exploded and now it is still expanding. Where it came from and why it came, science cannot answer, and when science cannot answer a question, we do not delve into that topic too deeply. Mathematically, everything happening by coincidence is impossible. Although, computer scientists code programs to test probabilities, life isn’t a computer simulation.

If we lived in utopia, nothing to make us question God’s existence at all, would we seek him? It’s hypocritical to talk about fairness when we associate all bad things with God but we don’t go to him for the good. World hunger – Hey, where is God? Sacred geometry – wow, look at these awesome coincidences!

So yes, we have suffering, and we have struggle. But we need to have those. Just like you need darkness to understand the importance of light. It makes us ask questions. It makes us think. It leads to, “I always wondered why somebody doesn’t do something about that. Then I realized I was somebody.”

And it leads to lots of pondering and smiling because did you know God tests those he loves even more. It’s similar to the teacher who pushes your limits and you hate him for a while but in the end, you get the highest grade in the exam. It leads to, God will never put you through anything you can’t handle. After all, he knows you better than you know yourself. He created you. He knows how strong you are. How perseverant you are. He knows what you can handle, and he will never give you anything that is not solvable or curable. He is the most just, and he is the most merciful. He is the most loving, and he is the all knowing. He knows you. He knows your heart. He loves you. He loves you and he loves me and he loves all of us, together and individually. And he knows you now. He knows what you are going through, he hears your pleas, he hears your wants. You don’t even have to pray directly to him, and he knows you are praying if you are trying to recover. He is with you. And isn’t that beautiful?

And whatever happens, your desire to believe in something is amazing, and in the end, if you don’t label it or have a name for it, don’t worry because even a grain of faith can and will save you. God has pushed you to this point, he has given you this desire, he wants you to learn and know and believe. Think of your doubts and your questions as a personal invitation from God. Isn’t that really cool? Think about it. The creator of all that exists, the being that manages everything – everything, the red blood cells in your body and the stars around our galaxy – sent you, one of his most beloved creation, an invitation. It reads, come, ask questions, wonder, think about yourself, think about your place in this realm, think, try to find answers, try to find me. Just come, I will lead you to me. Take one step, and I will run to you. Your heart is open, your mind is accepting, just come.

Think about that (: