Monthly Archive

Then watch “real Brawny men“. I know what you’re thinking - how could she stoop to watching this. Well, after you’ve seen the commercial 10 million times you do become a bit curious. And I have to say…it’s….well…its not riveting but definitely interesting. And pretty diverse I might add.
Oh yea and the Brawny guy is HYSTERICAL. Apparently he’s supposed to be like, the ideal man or whatever - “good looking sensitive” straight white man who lives in the woods and is one hatchet away from being out of a grocery store romance novel.

“But why is it that India arrives only when the West says it does? Our movies have nourished half the world for a century, as every Russian cabdriver in Manhattan will tell you. And if the West is now waking up to our energy and confidence, will we be tempted to change? Will Oscar fever mean we temper our spice to suit Western palates? Will the few Indian actors and directors cherry-picked by Hollywood shove the khadi and brocade under the carpet and make chick flicks on Fifth Avenue?”– Mira Nair, Hooray for Bollywood

Read the entire article (especially if you’re a bollywood movie/future Namesake watcher) here

It’s like I hit a second wind of exhaustion. It’s 9 pm and I’m going to bed. I hate feeling unable to pull myself out of that tiredness. Not even sleep-tired…just…done. Throw - your - hands - in - the - air - and - yell - I - can’t - do - this - anymore - done.

You know what? I’ve always dreamt of marrying someone I knew in college. Isn’t that funny? It almost seems outdated to say. But there it is.
Today I realized why.
It’s because I always wanted him to know what college was like for me - so that he would know the struggle I went through in college to get where I am in the future, whatever that struggle may turn out to be. So I wouldn’t have to narrate it. So he would believe me.
Life is so funny.

I really want to visit the Museum of Modern Art in the city. They have some neat new exhibits going on this summer. I’m debating if I should go alone or wait and see if someone wants to go with me. MOMA is a really personal space for me. Actually all museums are. I really like looking at art in galleries and museums - but there’s something about the San Francisco MOMA.
When I turned 18 I went on my birthday to see the big Chagall exhibit there. I always think that was the best time I’ve spent in a museum. But the truth is that the exhibit was so big and there were so many people - it was nearly impossible to enjoy the space.
Then I remembered what my all time favorite art museum moment has been.
I went with my art class in high school once - we had some time to roam around as we pleased.
There was a piece there by artist Abbas Kiarostami. It’s called Sleepers.

It’s a life size, real time, screen projection of a couple that is put onto a large block space on the floor of the showroom. It’s just this couple - sleeping. There are traffic noises outside that you can hear in the room and that the couple is obviously reacting to. I spent forty minutes with this piece. I wish I could articulate the kind of serenity and awe that came with it - you would initially think it’s creepy to be staring at a projected couple — but the way it was done - it was stunning.

Since then, I’ve felt that sort of feeling in a museum/gallery space only once..

“I used to believe that my feminist politics would make me strong. I thought strong thoughts. I held strong beliefs. I thought that would protect me. But all it did was make me aware of how badly I slipped when I lowered my voice and apologized for having a divergent opinion. For all my right thinking I did not fight back. But I have learned something. I’ve learned it takes practice to be a strong feminist….It was nice to grow up thinking this was an equal world. But it’s not….And it’s amazing what you can see when you are not hiding behind the warm, fuzzy glow of past feminist victories. It does not make me popular in the office. It does not even make me popular with women. –Ellen Neuborne “Imagine my surprise”

“Mom, Dad, Let me find my own husband”

read it.

Has anyone ever seen that movie?
I’ve always been a really big fan of romantic comedies. That formula for traditional privileged romance has always been something I wanted to live vicariously through.

Then yesterday I saw that Sandra Bullock Hugh Grant movie, Two Weeks Notice. Lucy, played by Sandra Bullock is made to be a protesting/activist/good hearted lawyer who ends up wanting to quit working for H.G because he’s an ass, frankly. Fast forward to the end of the movie - they fall in love after he suggests that the reason she can’t stay in relationships is because she’s “too intimidating” and should “get in touch with her feminine side a bit more”. At the end, when she chases after him, she apologizes for being so stubborn and for having such strong opinions.
It was a good movie when I watched it. But 10 min. after that feeling sets in. You know the one — the one that says
wait…what just happened?
Along the same lines of being comfortable in one’s own skin, I want to add that I don’t know where to find being comfortable with my own voice. I feel like every romantic comedy that I revisit (and I do revisit them. I’m getting better at turning the feminist woman of color voice off)
is suggesting that with a bit of self silencing, I too can be chased down the city by the love of my life.
Do I know that it’s a movie? Yes. Do I understand that it’s not meant to be realistic for anybody? Yes.
But I also understand the implications of My Best Friend’s Wedding - one of my favorite movies - a movie where the strong, self sustaining, emotionally closed off woman, “loses” to a young, blonde, ‘follow my man’, amiable and loved by all wealthy female.

Where are my examples?

They are there, of course. Perhaps not in mainstream media - they are friends and family members and a few articles and a lot of feminist text.

I’m reading Listen Up - voices from the next feminist generation (I should be reading those books for my paper but whatever). All of the writings are great, though I obviously relate to some more than others. Or certain passages will stand out. But I mean, all writing is that, really. So few can really speak to me entirely.

Strong girls, remember that sensitive liberal boys are our secret enemies. They disguise themselves with the androgyny of…quiet thoughts, but underneath they are just as much BOY as the young republicans of your choice. Be careful, beautiful girl, be strong — just because he holds your hand and looks you in the eye when you talk to him doesn’t mean he respects your body or your mind. –”Bloodlove” Christina Doza

That was one of those quotes that I wanted to write off as angry and bitter but ended up tearing up over because I realized that I have fallen into this trap. I don’t cry about the fact that those things happened either. I cry because I’m so relieved that I’m not the only one.

What I want are words to define myself without the connotations of absence. –”You’re not the type” Laurel Gilbert

Yes!
You know the other day on the phone my mom was relaying to an old family friend from Texas (a haughty Indian family friend, just for the record) that I was a women’s studies and English major. The friend told my mom it was good I chose a “trendy major” - as if that’s why I chose it. Then she laughed and asked if I had become “a feminist”.
My mom said no. It was really interesting - I wasn’t mad about it at all because I usually run from the term like the plague. And I think it’s because I still associate the term with a specific kind of feminist. Upper middle class, straight, white, Western feminism.
Which reminds me that this is another word I must reclaim for myself. “You lack this if you are this. You can’t have this if this. You can’t get a man if you’re a feminist. You must hate them. You want to burn your bra. You are oppressed. You are exotic.” etc. etc. I want the word feminist without the connotation. I want activist and liberal and woman of color, and South Asian American without the connotations of absence.
Where is the formula for that?

I feel compelled not to write daily and I think that is because I worry that I will begin to write out of habit instead of because I have something to say.

Today I realized that three people have commented on how it’s really great that I can post on a blog, something that is so public and open for people, unknown and known to me, to read.
This was very interesting because, to be honest, I had never thought about it. I mean, I knew that I would be posting onto a public space and that my link is on my facebook and AIM profile so it’s very accessible to people I know, but I never realized that there might be a difficulty in posting one’s process in a public space.

I’ve always regarded myself as a very open person - but the reality is, I’m a selectively open person that appears to be very open to many people. That’s because things that so many people keep kind of to themselves, I’m very willing to talk about and share. It’s not a problem for me to be like “here’s my life story”. I think maybe it’s one of the reasons why my ex’s have been intimidated by me - they feel a certain pressure to return that openness. And although communication is important, I rarely expect someone to be as open as me.

But here’s where the selective comes in. I’ve only realized, in coming to college actually, that I share a lot of things, yes. But there is a decent amount of stuff that I’m very secretive about. I don’t know what those things are specifically. I think people that know me well probably know what I’m talking about. There’s a sense that if I control what I want to share, and share things that seem like a big deal to the other person, then I won’t ever get probed or questioned because people will think I’ve laid it all out for them.

And in saying that, I feel very ok with that. I don’t think it’s something I need to change - I don’t feel a desire to become less open nor do I feel like I should be sharing my actual life story with everyone around me.
I’m very introverted I realize.
And I don’t write well when I’ve had the hiccups for a half hour.

I’m working on the painting that I posted about weeks ago. I had taken a hiatus from it because I was tired of being consumed.
Well the consumption ended up shifting. To Korean dramas.
Yeah. I watched this 16 hour Korean drama in less than 5 days.
I remember when H.M. would get really addicted to watching anime and how she said she’d get really absorbed in it because it allows her to get lost in another reality.
Yeah. I get that now.
I’m determined not to start another one, and shift to other things - like reading so I can write that paper and working on AAMP things. And painting.

I’m trying to find my other copy (I have two. The first was given to a friend..jeez that feels like ages ago.) of A Hero of Our Time. I loved that book so much and haven’t read it and wonder if it hits me the way it used to. I doubt it…and that saddens me for some reason.
I hate that the way we are influenced by text changes as we change. It’s not the same as growing up because then childhood text falls into the category of nostalgia. It’s having this attachment - you know the kind where you read this book or article and suddenly every particle around you seems to match up to some word or literary sentiment - and then one day that fades and you look at that text and it’s..lost its luster. I don’t know why but it makes me very sad. The text that moves me now is so different - and I love it. But still….

Let me post something interesting so I don’t feel that this was a waste. The whole Diversity Inc website is good so it’s worth browsing through.

There have been a lot of quotes I’ve been wanting to write down - people I know have been on a roll with saying brilliant things. But of course I can’t remember any of them. So there’s that.

Someone sent me the most beautiful message in the world, in regards to being able to relate to my posts. This made me feel so overwhelmed with hope. I love that woman so much. She is a fighter and is so inspiring. I hope she reads this and knows how I think of her everytime I write now.

Why do so many women crave to shed their skin? We’re constantly in need of validation about who we are, and as much as self affirmation becomes important, where else do we get it? It doesn’t seem to be the media and it doesn’t seem to be so many of the institutionalized programs and schools and systems and people around us. Where do we learn to affirm ourselves? Where do we learn to love ourselves without needing to be completed by someone else?

The skin I’ve wanted to shed is the remains of the skin that was built around me years ago. The one that depended on relationships and still felt awkward and inadequate around everybody. A part of that skin is never going to go away. Maybe it’s because I’m brown. Maybe it’s because I’m innately insecure. Who knows.

How does one shed that skin of insecurity to leave a new reclaimed one?

Wait! I remembered a quote. I’ll make it my title.