Love, there is something so incredibly powerful about you. I can’t seem to put you into specific words, but you’re just something or someone I feel and know.
Love, you are so wonderfully romantic. Not always in the traditional connotations, but in a way that connects us all.
You wake us up in the middle of the night to call someone we describe by your name:
Loved One.
You drive us to points of sane insanity where we cannot help but want to scream your name:
I LOVE YOU.
You make us cry at the rain rolling down our cheeks, reminding us of a fond memory we share:
Hey, remember when…
You bring us from the darkest pits of hopelessness and loneliness and prove to us that we are truly:
Beloved.
You move our hearts to want to pray for and remember a child living in Tanzania because we all deserve:
To be loved.
You overcome all sorts of what-ifs and if-onlys, finding us when we least expected you and suddenly, our names have yours in front of it:
Lovely, Loved, My Love.
Even if I can’t have you in one way, you allow me to want to have you in every other way.
Never leave me, love. Although someday, you will grow cold, never fully leave us. Show us that we can still keep you in the darkest moments and have hope.
It’s frustrating to think that you will perhaps never get it. But, in another, twisted kind of way, maybe that’s what liberates me. To know that you won’t ever understand how you made me feel makes it easier to forgive you. To realize that maybe things were out of control for you too. To understand that loving someone does not always mean being loved back the same way.
To wish you to love me in an unconditional kind of way might be too much to ask from people who never understand the importance of family. It’s tragic, really. That I need to wish you would understand love. That all I ever wanted was your love. You left me longing for something that was so basic and fundamental that I was left at the edge of a cliff, grasping at straws of attention and affection from anyone and anything else. All I wanted was for you to show up. Just have been there when I needed you. Only to have been ready to give me a hug when my face twisted with grief. Simply to say the three words you stopped saying after a few years.
But to wish you to be anything other than what you are is foolish and in vain. It has come to my attention recently that there is a reason why I am in this season of my life. I have many prayers to pray and relationships to mend. Some of them, like the one with you, are not up to my control or decision making. Instead, I have realized, a relationship with you means letting go of control and allowing God to take over even if it hurts and goes against everything I have known. Maybe that means leaving your physical space. Or just putting up more boundaries to make things easier. I don’t exactly know what that will look like from now on, but I know I’m not going to give up on you. It simply goes against my nature to let go of someone I care about, even if that is what you did to me. I will not be the same person who you were for me, but I also cannot allow myself to continue to be trampled by your neglect and piercing words. So, however God wants me to do it, I won’t give up on you because I love you, even if you are someone who will perhaps never understand.
Oh, how I love who I am right now. I love you, my current season of life. I love who I am. Oh, how I love being a young woman.
Last week, I came home after a night of debriefing and ranting and just talking with two of my closest friends. When else am I going to be able to have nights like tonight other than right now?
And again, this weekend, all we did was have fun. We played frisbee on the beach, hiding our eyes from the sun. I napped while my friends swam in the ocean. We ate anything we wanted, within our budget, of course, because we are still young. It was simply a good day.
You are The Right Now: when I’m young and allowed to be foolish and call daily life an adventure and be emotional. When growing up is all I have to do. When I’m being told there is so much more to know and learn. When I can take risks and be bold and confident and just blame it on youthful naivety. When I can still stay up until late into the night and my body will let me.
Thank you, Right Now, for the beautiful youth I am enjoying. Thank you, my current season of life, for the independence and freedom I am delighting in and the diligence and knowledge I am receiving.
This is the first of a series of letters that I’ve been meaning to write. I did a similar piece a few months ago called “To the People in My Life”, but these dive more deeply and honestly.
If I could go back and tell my younger self something, what would I say? What could I possibly manage to say that would help her? Would she even believe me? Or would she still be too blinded by pain to hear the truth? The truth that she is loved. That she’s going to be okay. That better days are ahead of her. That one day, she will stop seeking validation in people and find Christ to be her greatest joy. How would she react? And even if she did believe me, would that change anything?
This is my story. And how it became one in which God worked his miraculous healing and salvation. How my story became God’s story.
I’d like to preface this with the fact that I am okay now. I am happy and have found love in my heavenly Father.
Growing up, I had a bad relationship with my dad. He physically and verbally abused my mom and brother, and as I grew older, me. I still grimace whenever these painful memories come back. Now, I understand how my life has turned out for the better, but I still have yet to grasp how a father who was supposed to cherish and tenderly love and adore me could hurt me in those ways. I never understood it, and I still don’t. I often wish I could forget my past because it hurts so much.
But where my earthly father failed, my heavenly Father healed. He gave me a community of believers who embodied the love of Christ and bore the weight on their shoulders with so much joy. I have never been happier, and nothing brings me greater peace than being able to worship and talk about my faith. Now, I’m not trying to cope with my past by saying that my present is better because of it, but rather knowing that my present is better despite it because of Jesus.
I can say, with full assurance, that the pain was not my story. That was simply the opening to the greatest love story I have ever experienced. That pain did not make my identity. It was a mere stepping stone to allow room for the story God wanted to include me in. My part in God’s story began from the moment He chose me to be born. I thought I would never be chosen and then I realized that God chose me from before the womb, finally giving me life through a healthy birth out of countless miscarriages. I was chosen from a place of prayer, being dedicated by my parents to live a life for God before I even took a single breath of this earth.
And for so long, I thought I would never be loved. And then I met Jesus, who showed me love even when I was at my worst. In fact, I saw His love shine through especially when I was at my lowest. I thought I had to fight for my life, and how I fought. Then, in my moment of greatest despair, I was told my life has already been won. I thought I had nobody, but then I learned God is ever present in my life and He gave me people who love me and are there for me.
So, dear younger me, don’t let go. My first instinct was to tell you not to worry as much, but I can’t bring myself to say that because part of me still wonders if that fear of giving up, if that anxiety for the future is what kept you going. It doesn’t make sense, but what part of this earthly life does? I know you’re going to worry and drive yourself mad, but don’t give up. Under no circumstances. It gets better, and I’m really not just saying that. It’ll take time, but I finally believe why people say, “good things take time.” We all wish they didn’t, but that time and patience and waiting and yearning for the better is what makes us appreciate the result moreso. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be so happy, so don’t give up. When life gets hard, lean on the God who has never let you down. Even when you’re angry at Him for allowing this pain in your life, lean on Him. Because He’s the only One who keeps His promises of love and faithfulness. Peace won’t be found in the things of this world, but in the love you find in God and His people. And once you’ve found this peace and joy, don’t be afraid to share it with everyone you cherish.
All of your tears will be worth it. All in good time.
I fear the deep ocean and abysses. I really don’t like how it’s just darkness and I don’t know what’s out there. I get so uncomfortable if I look at images of the ocean for too long. Actually, I’m pretty uncomfortable just imagining them right now.
I really don’t like when there are too many things collected in one place. This goes for crowds too.
I have an irrational fear of car accidents. I have had countless dreams of losing control while driving a car, And when I was younger, I often feared that my parents wouldn’t come back because they got into a car accident.
For so long, I hated making mistakes. I put myself down so much for a mistake that is so insignificant in retrospect. I still have trouble reassuring myself that mistakes are normal and even necessary. I’m scared of trying and failing because I wonder what the point of trying is if it can’t be perfect.
I fear losing loved ones. I fear getting attached to someone just to lose them. I overcompensate to try to keep them in my life, but this pushes them away further. I would change myself, but that just resulted in losing myself. I get scared that someone has stopped loving me just because of one off-hand comment. I love too hard, but I also fall away too quickly. I form meaningful connections, but I push them away when I think they are getting too close. I don’t tell the people I care about most about the vulnerable parts of my life. I fear they’ll judge me and I don’t want to lose them so I fear being authentic. And then I realized that most people in your life are meant to leave. I believe that people that were meant to leave are going to leave regardless of what you say or do. Better yet, I’ve realized that the people that were meant to say will love you more because of what you say and do. They will love you more because you show them your most authentic self.
I hate being misunderstood. I hate making the wrong impression on someone. I overthink so many interactions and the only reason I don’t obsess about all of them is because I can’t remember all of them.
I hate the feeling of being judged. I say the “feeling of” because I’ve realized that most of the time the only one judging you is you.
I fear losing autonomy and control. This relates to my fear of car accidents and abysses. I don’t like not knowing. And maybe this is why I like spending time alone so much. The moment another person gets involved, that’s one more opinion and voice and feelings I have to take into consideration. But I’ve grown to embrace ignorance and life’s beautiful quality of not knowing the future. So much of life’s beauty comes from not understanding exactly how something works but seeing how amazingly every piece connects. So much of life’s excitement comes from taking the risk to be vulnerable despite heartbreak and rejection. Letting yourself not be in control for once is ironically part of growing up.
I don’t like being at the center of attention. I’m so glad the world doesn’t revolve around me because I would simply faint from all the eyes on me. I know exactly what the clock on the wall looks like because that’s all I can look at while I’m speaking aloud.
I sometimes fear that I will never be loved. This affected every kind of relationship I had. And then I look around me and all I see love. A quiet kind of love. It took me 19 years to realize love is quiet. It’s so incredibly silent that you don’t even realize it’s ingraining itself into every part of your daily life. In some mysterious way, love has weaved its way around your delicate heart, which you swore to never let anyone break. Even in the face of rejection, I gave my heart. I stay for the person not the label. And I don’t know what “love” really means, but I realize I might have it. They offer nothing to me but their presence and for me, that’s more than enough. Even when I’m so tired, spending time with them isn’t a chore.
I too often fear that I won’t ‘make it’ in life. The doubt of my capabilities settle in and slowly eat away at my confidence, undermining my achievements and gnawing away at everything I love. I search online if my college is even a good school. If I’m doing enough for a 19 year old. And then I remember that I’m only 19 years old. I remember that I’m a writer. And that with that writing, I’ve healed people when I wasn’t even trying. I remember that even though I can’t always feel love around me, it’s there. God has shown love and continues to overwhelmingly love me through His word, the people in my life, the places I belong to, and the strangers I observe. I realize that this fear of not “making it” is a figment of my destructive thoughts. Because what even is a successful life but one in which you find happiness. One where you find gratitude for the people in your life and the beautiful world God created.
And I fear that I will always fear.
But then I remember that everything worthwhile is scary. That I have people and things in my life that are worth taking a risk for.
*a quick moment of reflection: i actually wrote this a few weeks ago and meant to publish it then, but i didn’t feel ready to until tonight. but i’m really glad i waited because i realized tonight that in the short span of a few weeks, these greatest fears of mine actually don’t daunt me as much anymore. this moment of reflection showed me how much i can change and grow and experience in such a short time and it warms my heart to see how much healing and growth i am undergoing.
I’ve previously known of the healing technique where you write letters to someone with all the things you would like to say to them, but unlike the traditional purpose of letters, you never send them. They aren’t meant to be read by the recipient, but rather to be written by the sender.
To the people in my life:
We see each other every day, but I honestly feel like our relationship is better when we don’t. When you’re away on trips or just not here, that’s when I feel most at home. You used to ask me what I did for your birthday. But can I ask what you did on December 11? Because all I remember is having to follow you for something you wanted to do. All I remember are tears rolling down my face. All I remember is a bruised left cheek as your gift to me, your darling dearest. And maybe you did apologize, but after 18 years of false hope, don’t blame me for not recognizing it. Not after you’ve stained my ears with hatred and confusion of my self worth and angry phone calls. Not after you make me question every “I love you.” and “I’m sorry.” And certainly not after you, who should have given me strength to keep going, gave me the reason why death sounded more enticing than living with you. But you know what hurts the most? The fact that I still love you even after all that.
Somehow you justified ruining my mental health for the uplifting of your own. I’m still confused by your logic. The same logic that gets angry and apathetic to my tears of protest when I didn’t answer the phone for ten minutes, but completely disregards the ten phone calls I made in frustration over three hours. Frustration over the little things because you were never there for me when I had to deal with big things. Like during milestones in school, I never saw you in the audience and I never had anyone to wave to. When I was emotionally broken down by people, you were busy for reasons that you refuse to let me cite. You were busy working hard to give me everything, but all I ever really wanted was your love. I just wanted you to hug me and tell me it’s going to be okay. To cope, I came to expect that you wouldn’t and you really never broke that mindset. But it’s fine now because I’ve learned to tell myself what I should have heard from you. I’ve stopped trying to be understood by you and instead I’m beginning to understand you.
Where were you when I needed you? Why did you always leave when I most wanted your company? Why did you make our friendship a memory and a past tense? Why did you never call us what I wanted us to be called? And why are you so easily able to call the new person in your life your “best friend” when it was that difficult for us? I used to wonder if I wasn’t enough for you. Yet, there were times when you made me feel at home when nobody else could and there were conversations I could only have with you. However, despite all that, life pulled us apart, and maybe that’s for the best. I guess that’s why we’re better off being distant and reconnecting every once in a while. Perhaps that also ironically shows how strong our friendship is: we withstand time and distance. I cherish all the memories I have with you, but I’m glad we have found new friendships that we are truly comfortable in, even if it’s not with each other.
You, in some mysterious way, when I wasn’t looking, made me understand and feel every love language. You are such an unexpectedly pleasant surprise in my life because I never imagined we would become this close. And now, every moment I spend with you is my favorite. Every hug leaves your smell on my arms. Every car ride is fun even if we aren’t talking and just nodding our heads to the music we both love. Every compliment I receive from you mends my broken heart. Every gift I get from you shows how well you know me and I put them everywhere I am most. Everything you do for me is out of love and care for me and even if it means going out your way, you never fail to be dependable. Thank you for being my every love language. (You might know me well enough that you would even be able to identify who each of these paragraphs are addressed to).
You’re so far away and I miss you so much, but I think our time apart has made me love you even more. You were my first friend and my closest ally. You know what I went through and I’m starting to tear up as I write this because you were the only one I could trust for such a long time. And while you certainly had your flaws and we went through rough times, you were still the only reliable one in my life. When the people who should have taken care of me couldn’t, you gave me your time, you took me out with your friends even if it was embarrassing, and you took me out for fun outings to distract me from a harsh reality. I wish I could give you a big hug, but I’ll hold onto it for when you come back.
I gave you my heart and yet, now, I can’t even call it love because of what happened. You are the only time I regretted my writing. You messed with my vulnerability. You laughed behind my back at my words. You never meant the things you said. I should have recognized your judgemental attitude and cowardly behavior, but naive me wouldn’t let myself move on from you. I held onto the good parts of you, or what I thought they were, and I was too blinded by infatuation to see that “we” were not meant to happen. But you still taught me so much, so I’ll be civil and say that I don’t regret having you in my past.
You are a new beginning. I don’t know much about you except a few things, but I decided to overcome my fear and just start things. I also decided not to hold you to such high expectations and to just see how things go. Because I finally know what I want, what I deserve, and when to say no. Because I finally love myself first.
I believe the people in our lives are there for a reason. Just as I didn’t (and couldn’t) write about all of the people in my life, there are so many people that pass by us in fleeting moments and experiences. Some people come into our lives to teach us something. Some people come into our lives for their own advantage. Some people seem like everything, but life takes them away. Some people slowly become everything to us. Some people come into our lives when we aren’t looking and make us want to become the best version of ourselves. People and the experiences they bring affect us in visibly clear but also unimaginable ways.
The people in your life come, stay, leave, and change. One thing I have realized is that you are the only constant in your life. How you treat yourself. How you treat others. And how you find love and understanding from your relationships with the people in your life.
Merry Christmas!! I hope every single one of you is having a wonderful holiday season and receiving many blessings, whether material or through relationships.
Maybe it’s the holiday spirit that’s taken control of me, but whatever it is, I’m glad I’ve become reflective lately. Specifically, I’ve particularly become deeply appreciative of love. Looking back, I have experienced so much love from my friends, unexpectedly my coworkers, and my family.
To start off, my coworkers were an unexpected addition to my life this year when I got my first job. I was extremely nervous to have to adjust to so many things at once: a full-time job, a new culture, working late nights, and a new environment overall. But everyone made me feel welcome and although there were certainly rough patches at first with certain people or with getting on the rhythm, I quickly became adjusted due to their welcoming and warm energy. As we have grown closer, their love has never shied from expressing itself and that with extreme care and detail.
In terms of friends, the sheer number of relationships I made this year and just watching the level of trust I was able to build (or not) with each of them made me more appreciative of the people who have stayed to this moment. I’ve made new friends this year that have caused me to feel a sense of safety and trust that I could never find in anyone else. Although I had people who I could share happy moments with, I didn’t have anyone I could tell my painful experiences to without feeling judged or doubted. Yet, for the first time in life, I made the decision for myself that I could tell my deepest secrets (nothing too dark haha) to my closest friends. They have shown me so much reliability and trustworthiness that even when I’m not constantly with them, I feel them backing me up. They have genuinely affirmed the love I know I deserve.
As for my family, a quarter of it was missing for this entire year with my brother’s enlistment. But even his absence has rather made me more grateful for his presence in my life. Even when he’s not in his room everyday whenever I need to talk to him, I am able to rely and depend on his advice and care delivered from hundreds of miles away. And my parents likely experienced similar struggles with having to send off their son, but I’m so proud of the changes and positive growth our family has made individually and together. Just due to a cultural uncomfortability, explicitly expressing love is never too common in many Asian families. It wasn’t too developed in ours either. But this year, it was a bit better. Maybe it was my brother being gone, so I felt I should always end every call or text with “I love you.” just in case it was the last time or he didn’t hear it enough lately. Or maybe it was being able to develop a more adult relationship with my parents as I became more independent while also realizing that I wouldn’t have them forever.
Love is such a precious thing, and yet, we take it for granted. It takes a loss or life change or just a long period of time for us to truly appreciate. But that more likely than not comes with the risk that it’s too late to express your love. So I’ve realized that love should be more openly given. Because everyone deserves it. And you deserve it.
Today’s message from my pastor poked my heart when he said something to this effect: People who do not feel love or have not felt love cannot truly be human. But the reality is that every single person on this Earth has been loved. We wouldn’t be here otherwise because when we were helpless babies with no thoughts or abilities, somebody took the time and dedication to care for us. We are simply denying that we are worthy of or have received love when we have all been given and do indeed deserve love.
He described God’s love being something so special because salvation can only be found and thus explained by love. And this got me to list the different kinds of love I could think of:
The love He has given us through His giving of His Son and Jesus’ giving of his own life.
The love we experience from God on a daily basis.
The love we experience from others, who, I believe, are blessings from God.
The love we give to others.
The love we give to God in reverence and gratitude.
And finally, the love we feel we individually deserve and how we love ourselves.
Love is such a strange thing because the love we receive causes us to love ourselves, but we can only truly receive love when we love ourselves. This is the basic conclusion I made from my pastor when he said, “Only when you believe can you truly feel love. Love’s power can only be expressed when it is believed in. But love’s power is the ability to CAUSE us to believe.”
As I described earlier, I think love is in everything. It’s in every person we meet because they have their own perceptions of love they think they deserve and the love they have or have not received. It’s in every success and, I think, moreso in every failure because it wouldn’t make sense to constantly discourage and hurt ourselves and take risks for something we don’t love.
For me, writing is something I have done for such a long time and I consider it my gift and my greatest accomplishments involve writing to some effect. Yet, it has certainly not come without its larger share of failures and moments when I would question why and who I was doing this for. But then, because of the immense love I have for writing, I realize I write because I love it and I write for myself and the people around me.
I believe we all have something worth experiencing failure over and people worth risking heartbreak (romantic, familial, platonic, whatever) over. This is because love makes us human. The ability to experience, to feel, to receive, to understand, to give love is what makes up our humanity. The moment we accept love is the moment we realize we are genuinely so precious. Both in the earthly sense that every life is priceless, but also in the belief that we are all precious in God’s sight.
And this acceptance of love for ourselves causes us to become more appreciative of everything in our life, no matter the circumstances.
Visible from the length of time it took for this final part of my series to be published, I struggled to choose a final topic to sum up my series. I actually wrote a full length article on grief, but in retrospect, it doesn’t seem to match my message although it is something I do wish to discuss in the future.
Then I realized that I needed to return to basics. My title. Why did I name it what it is?
I read through my previous posts and as I was reading part two of this series, I realized I had said that I certainly won’t be giving my own graduation speech. And yet, at the beginning of this month, I stood in front of my peers and gave one. For me, it was a decision that took a lot of audacity and courage and I’m so proud of myself for being able to go for it. In the past six months of pondering over and writing this series, I have taken more risks than I had ever anticipated. I honestly had no clear idea of where Dr. Brown’s message would take me and as I had mentioned earlier, even in writing this final article, I changed my mind about the topic several times. I didn’t want to just discuss grief and moving on, but how vulnerability often goes hand in hand with grief as we are daring to leave behind our comfortable stages.
This entails gaining experience at the expense of innocence. Realizing new passions while partially or wholly losing what we loved as children. Understanding the flaws of ourselves and the people around us. Healing our broken hearts from the friends who we thought would be there for a lifetime, from the parents who we saw as our supermen and wonder women, and from the personal selves we thought were all made and relatively perfect. Forgiving even when the memories cannot be forgotten and the pain cannot be erased. Blessing those who cursed you, wished the worst for you, and broke you. Choosing to take the risk to love even when you’re not sure if the other person will choose to love you.
I made all of these choices of vulnerability not to gain some sense of satisfaction or to feel free because honestly, at the face of some of these decisions, I certainly could not see the bright side. I made the choice to understand, to experience, to heal, to forgive, to bless, and to love because it was necessary. Vulnerability is an absolute necessity, particularly in a society where love is losing meaning of compassion and understanding and where blame is quickly placed over forgiveness. There is a lot of pain that I have experienced, but there are also tremendous inflictions which I have not undergone. And I certainly do not mean for us stay in a cycle of pain or excuse the things someone has done to you because as I have mentioned, vulnerability is twofold: to leave behind and to reach forward. I mean to make the choice to understand their position, to forgive, and to love. And to apply this love to yourself because you are important, priceless, and deserving of it.
Now, at the official end of this series in which I have asked society to put vulnerability on trial, I hope I have made my case that vulnerability deserves a second, third, fourth, forever glance. That it is a quality and way of living which everyone should understand and implement. That vulnerability is not something that can be instantly purchased and made ours, but rather that being vulnerable is a choice to be made every day. And this is what I meant when I titled my series, when Dr. Brown gave her speech and wrote her books, and when President Roosevelt said, “If he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly.” Rewiring vulnerability is a continuous journey and one which I am just beginning to understand, but am certainly grateful to have embarked and have shared with you.
One, two… Oh God, oh God, oh God… nine, ten… okay, breathe, you totally deserve this, so go own it… fourteen, fifteen… wow, I did it… sixteen… huh, was that all?
This post is inspired by Kyle Martin, class of 2019 valedictorian of his high school, who I came across in my dive into notable valedictorian speeches. They were each presented in their own unique way, but there was one thing in common: every one of these top of the class, over-achieving valedictorians reflected not on the college they had been accepted into or the exams they had aced, but rather the relationships they had nurtured through shared experiences.
We are steadily approaching the time for our own sentimental valedictorian speeches and although I will certainly not be giving one of my own, I took this opportunity as a chance to be reflective. I’ve come to realize that there are many things I did not choose to do, whether due to the circumstances or simply because I put it on a lower priority. And perhaps that is what allowed me to achieve all that I presently have, but also perhaps, I might have made more fond memories to look back on at this time. However, I would still not change anything about the last (almost) four years of high school.
The high school experience is truly unique to each individual, and yet, we have been brought together in the times that have been collectively special to us. This was the culmination of our childhood. It was when we began to finally realize what our niche was or at least feel upset and confused that we couldn’t. And here, we bonded over our collective lack of experience and our gradual exposure to what the real world will mean for each of us.
In the first part of my series, I mainly discussed rewiring our vulnerability to throw ourselves towards something uncomfortable. However, with this comes its counterpart: the things we leave behind. In fact, in some situations the courageous thing is to say goodbye. The necessary thing is to dust off our pants, to walk out, to turn away. Sometimes, that is what makes you strong. For us, we are at the point where we are both leaving behind and reaching forward. And for this courage, I commend each and every one of us.
However, with this strong leap towards a brighter tomorrow creeps the unsettling feeling of immense grief. A sadness that comes from realizing that we are growing up and with this, growing apart. I can only imagine how painful it will be to actually leave behind every comfortable corner we’ve known since quite literally the beginning of our lives. Part of this sting in my heart comes from the fact that I took the first half of high school for granted. As with other things, it took an entire global pandemic to realize the value of relationships and the corresponding importance of being intentional in such connections. Soon, we are not going to have the convenient meetings in the hallways in a safe, set environment. If we want our relationships to grow and stay with us over time, we need to put in concerted efforts to arrange purposeful encounters.
Through this rewired mindset, I approached my final year of high school. Ironically, if I hadn’t come to this realization, I probably would not have felt as much emotion towards the end of high school as I am now. And this brings me to my conclusion.
In hearing all of these valedictorian speeches and personally rewiring vulnerability, I have come to understand that we should be grateful for this grief we feel in leaving behind something. I like to think that this just means we have been fortunate enough to have undergone such profoundly insightful experiences that we are just not ready to let go. Blessed enough to have formed such valuable relationships that we are just not ready to say goodbye. We have found love and compassion and understanding in the people we have met in high school and this alone is so incredibly beautiful.
But in a sense, we are ready. The high school world, which seemed so incredibly large and full of possibility, was only a small, but important, but still small fraction of the rest of our lives. We (everyone single one of us) are the most ready we have ever been, whether we like to think so or not. And as we prepare to put on our brave faces and say goodbye, let us be grateful for the love we have found in each other and for the life ahead of us.
You would be prettier if you lost just a little bit of weight.
You eat a lot for a girl!
You’re not wearing makeup? Oh. You just look a bit tired, that’s all.
Why are you so emotional?
Why are you so serious?
You’re on your period? No wonder.
You’re so feminine!
You’re not like most girls.
Honey, remember that marrying a rich man is sensible.
Don’t be so loud and opinionated; it’s off putting.
How do you plan on balancing work and being a mother?
You’re so pretty! How are you not in a relationship yet?
Don’t worry about this. The men have it handled.
Are you sure you understood that?
Man up!
Well, it’s women’s basketball. What did you expect?
There are two women in this house, but still no dinner on the table.
If you act like that, no man is going to like you.
You’re a feminist, aren’t you?
We just celebrated Women’s History Month. I am purposefully posting this on the day after to emphasize that while a month of remembrance is important, this striving for equality and respect should be sought continuously and constantly.
For this purpose, I’ve chosen to focus on a topic called subtle sexism. The comments I listed above were compiled over the past month from my personal experiences, anecdotes from peers, and observations from the media. The most upsetting, but unfortunately not appalling fact was that such sexist comments are so common and part of everyday speech.
Subtle sexism is discrimnation directed towards women that is accepted as “normal” or even “good-natured.” For example, one of the most common phrases girls hear while growing up is, “If you lost weight, you’d be so pretty!” or something to that effect. It sounds rather considerate and almost like a compliment, hiding the fact that it’s setting a beauty standard based on specific physical attributes rather than personal preferences or even the quality of character.
Some of these phrases are so ingrained in our modern speech that the underlying sexism did not even occur to me until recently. Women are labeled as bossy and arrogant rather than assertive and powerful, referred to as the “mother” of the group or office (as a joke, of course!), and apologized to when the men have cursed or discussed a raunchy topic. By glazing over such horribly sexist speech so easily, we perpetuate this pattern of rather nonconsciously depicting women as mothers, emotional, delicate and needing protection, and inferior in one way or another.
Even sexism that doesn’t stem from malicious intent needs to be addressed and and corrected. When we hear these words, we should be offended and we need to clarify that such words are unacceptable. Women and men alike, we can counter subtle sexism by our own personal efforts to be more conscious of the language we use.
I am a self-declared, proud feminist.
I will act the way I wish.
There are also two men in this house. Let’s cook together.
Well, these women are just as determined, strong, and capable.
Be strong! Take control! Step up!
I understood that perfectly well the first time.
I will help you.
Regardless of my physical attractiveness, I don’t wish to be in a relationship at the moment.
I plan on giving my all in both jobs. It’s not different from how fathers balance it.
I am assertive and confident. I have worthy opinions and I believe I should be heard.
Mom, I’ll be rich.
Most girls are perfect and beautiful and unique.
There is nothing wrong with a more feminine woman or a more masculine woman.
Yes, I am on my period. Let’s normalize discussing that.
I’m not being serious. I just wasn’t smiling.
I am a human being. I have emotions.
Wearing makeup or not is my personal choice and you should not be commenting on that.
I eat how much I eat. There is no reason why you should be surprised.
I am beautiful the way I am. Losing weight or not is a personal choice and journey.
I did not ask for it. I am not the problem. She was not the problem.
Throwing like a girl means a strong throw, not a flimsy one.
My natural laugh is beautiful and unique.
I am sitting in a normal, comfortable human position.
If I want to sing or draw, I will. If I want to write revolutionary and timeless classics, I will. If I want to guide the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, I will.
As Written by Lois 