As a kid, I wasn't allowed to do a lot of things based on the notion that I would become "Too American."
I wasn't allowed to attend sleepover parties.
I wasn't allowed to go swimming.
I wasn't allowed to eat a hot dog.
I wasn't allowed to wear shorts.
I wasn't allowed to eat marshmallows.
I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend.
It was believed that if I were to do any of these things, I would lose my sense of culture, heritage, and religion. I quickly learned that these rules were imposed on me out of fear and a smidgen of ignorance, but mainly out of love and parental protectiveness. Except when it came to the hot dogs and marshmallows. That was because of religious food restrictions. But, my parents just wanted to keep me close, and away from the lure of glamorous American decadence. They were just trying to do right by me and our ancestors.
As an adult, I have now done all of these things and thoroughly enjoyed each and every one of them. Recently, I was told that I am not allowed to be happy. This is, by far, the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever told me not to do.
I'm engaged to be married to the most amazing person in the universe, and I want to be happy, damnit.
Actually, I AM happy. I'm happier than I have ever been before. My entire body has been smiling since the proposal. I hear birds chirping all the time now, and no matter how grumpy work makes me, or how frustrating job-hunting gets, or how many times I stub my toes, all I have to do is look at my left hand and see the physical representation of a joyful future, and I get giddy. Giggly, even.
So, when I am told that I have to keep this happiness a secret, I don't understand. We're HERE because of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Somebody forgot to read the fine print...
Showing posts with label opinion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label opinion. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Journalism FAIL
I saw Robert Fisk tonight. Rather, I heard him speak at a lecture called, "Politics, Journalism and Globalisation of the Middle East." Man, what a crock of shit.
Not only did he do his damnedest to sell his book(s) but he wouldn't answer my question. At all.
FISK: Yes, the young lady in the back.
ME: Mr. Fisk, since you have mentioned that online journalism isn't going to succeed, and print journalism is a dying art, where do you recommend readers get their news, and moreover, how and where do you think journalism is going?
FISK: Oh. You're an American, eh? Well... journalism is changing, and that change can be seen on the internet, and making sure that online journalists can maintain a readership is important, but completely different from MY experiences... blah, blah, blah, buy my book(s).
Listen up, Fisk, I know that you're a big shot and you don't have to answer to anybody because you've achieved a buncha great things in your life, but your profession has to answer to someone, and that someone is The Rest of Us.
I wish I'd gotten an answer and then I wish I hadn't re-read his articles, because now I'm just pissed off that this guy gets to write garbage and is revered for it.
i don't know that for a fact. i can't say that. he obviously has some serious in-depth analysis and his writing is cohesive and well-supported. but it's still biased. and now, so am i.
Can you answer to THAT?
Not only did he do his damnedest to sell his book(s) but he wouldn't answer my question. At all.
FISK: Yes, the young lady in the back.
ME: Mr. Fisk, since you have mentioned that online journalism isn't going to succeed, and print journalism is a dying art, where do you recommend readers get their news, and moreover, how and where do you think journalism is going?
FISK: Oh. You're an American, eh? Well... journalism is changing, and that change can be seen on the internet, and making sure that online journalists can maintain a readership is important, but completely different from MY experiences... blah, blah, blah, buy my book(s).
Listen up, Fisk, I know that you're a big shot and you don't have to answer to anybody because you've achieved a buncha great things in your life, but your profession has to answer to someone, and that someone is The Rest of Us.
I wish I'd gotten an answer and then I wish I hadn't re-read his articles, because now I'm just pissed off that this guy gets to write garbage and is revered for it.
i don't know that for a fact. i can't say that. he obviously has some serious in-depth analysis and his writing is cohesive and well-supported. but it's still biased. and now, so am i.
Can you answer to THAT?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
the hyphenated world
Identifying with a culture, class, religion and country has always been a strange fascination for me. I know I have written about the multi-cultural aspects of Ireland before, and I have also written about my own minor identity crises, but I still don't quite know what it is I truly identify with or how much it even matters these days. We are all hyphenated, to a degree.
Pakistani-Indian-Muslim-Middle-Class-American? In Ireland.
Ireland has a strange history of being oppressed and colonized, while struggling to find its own true voice in the world, and for that my sympathies go out to this country. But what about the fact that the Irish language is dying? What about the fact that Yeats CHOSE to write his masterpieces in the language of the oppressors? Why do we allow our native languages to be overshadowed by English?
I am trying to learn French. I have a bit of Spanish. I can understand most Urdu very well. I try very hard to pick up Irish phrases, but it's so unlike any other language I've ever heard that I can't make sense of what I read and how it should be pronounced, and I LOVE that.
When my mother speaks to me in Urdu, I hear her in English.
Yo le puedo oír sólo en inglés.
Je peux vous entendre seulement dans l'anglais.
Ich kann nur Sie auf Englisch hören.
I can only hear you in English. I can only dream in English. Yet, I have a heritage that is older than America, and I can't access it. And that makes me unbearably sad. When I see Irish words on the street signs and hear it on television, I feel so hopeful that this country will never let its language die, the way I let it die within myself. And why did I let it die? To belong.
All anyone wants is a sense that they belong somewhere. It's home. But what I didn't realize, growing up as a first-generation Pakistani-Indian in America, is that I would never fully belong in America. I have a strong grasp of English, and I have centralized my education on it, but I will never be without the hyphen -- that divisive line which reminds me of a past that hold precedence over my present and my future.
So, why is it that there is only 10 percent of Ireland that speaks Irish? What happens in 20 years, when it's only 5 percent? And then what? Will this gorgeous language become obsolete?
I saw a short movie today in class that made me weep. Yes. I WEPT. Here it is. I hope nothing gets lost in the translation.
Pakistani-Indian-Muslim-Middle-Class-American? In Ireland.
Ireland has a strange history of being oppressed and colonized, while struggling to find its own true voice in the world, and for that my sympathies go out to this country. But what about the fact that the Irish language is dying? What about the fact that Yeats CHOSE to write his masterpieces in the language of the oppressors? Why do we allow our native languages to be overshadowed by English?
I am trying to learn French. I have a bit of Spanish. I can understand most Urdu very well. I try very hard to pick up Irish phrases, but it's so unlike any other language I've ever heard that I can't make sense of what I read and how it should be pronounced, and I LOVE that.
When my mother speaks to me in Urdu, I hear her in English.
Yo le puedo oír sólo en inglés.
Je peux vous entendre seulement dans l'anglais.
Ich kann nur Sie auf Englisch hören.
I can only hear you in English. I can only dream in English. Yet, I have a heritage that is older than America, and I can't access it. And that makes me unbearably sad. When I see Irish words on the street signs and hear it on television, I feel so hopeful that this country will never let its language die, the way I let it die within myself. And why did I let it die? To belong.
All anyone wants is a sense that they belong somewhere. It's home. But what I didn't realize, growing up as a first-generation Pakistani-Indian in America, is that I would never fully belong in America. I have a strong grasp of English, and I have centralized my education on it, but I will never be without the hyphen -- that divisive line which reminds me of a past that hold precedence over my present and my future.
So, why is it that there is only 10 percent of Ireland that speaks Irish? What happens in 20 years, when it's only 5 percent? And then what? Will this gorgeous language become obsolete?
I saw a short movie today in class that made me weep. Yes. I WEPT. Here it is. I hope nothing gets lost in the translation.
Friday, August 22, 2008
One For The Ages
I have been following The Olympics, I won't lie. I have also been following a lot of the drama surrounding The Olympics.
The particular issue of the "underage" Chinese gymnastics team has caught my interest. They do not LOOK anywhere near 16 years of age, and this is a problem because:
A) Gymnasts must be at least sixteen by the end of the year.
B) The training and pressure put on such young souls is disgusting.
C) Someone might be lying and/or cheating.
My heart has gone out to those Chinese gymnasts. They have endured the type of training that could make a grown man weep for mercy. They have been stripped of the opportunity to be anything OTHER than an Olympian. They wear enough barrettes in their hair to make a stylist weep. And they are now facing the possibility of global humiliation, if those few are found guilty of being... adolescents.
At first, I was outraged at the sight of these prepubescent girls performing their astounding feats of agility and precision, until I realized that they were truly spectacular athletes. Then, I was amazed. When they placed higher than the U.S. team, I was outraged, once again, out of patriotism and a strong sense of fairness. For the past week, I have been teetering back and forth on the balance beam of morality, when it struck me that no matter what age these girls are, they will have to carry this possible scandal with them forever.
Consider this:
If those gymnasts are found to be underage, they will be stripped of their medals, and possibly banned from future Olympics. If they aren't banned, then the ghost of this scandal will haunt them in future Olympics, as well as their personal lives.
If they are found to be of age, they will STILL be chased with rumors, gossip and anger. They will have their medals, but humiliation can last longer than gold.
I still don't know whether or not they are of age, but at this point, I don't really care. They are amazing at what they do, and should be awarded for a lifetime (no matter how short) of dedication to their sport. After all, they're just kids.
The particular issue of the "underage" Chinese gymnastics team has caught my interest. They do not LOOK anywhere near 16 years of age, and this is a problem because:
A) Gymnasts must be at least sixteen by the end of the year.
B) The training and pressure put on such young souls is disgusting.
C) Someone might be lying and/or cheating.
My heart has gone out to those Chinese gymnasts. They have endured the type of training that could make a grown man weep for mercy. They have been stripped of the opportunity to be anything OTHER than an Olympian. They wear enough barrettes in their hair to make a stylist weep. And they are now facing the possibility of global humiliation, if those few are found guilty of being... adolescents.
At first, I was outraged at the sight of these prepubescent girls performing their astounding feats of agility and precision, until I realized that they were truly spectacular athletes. Then, I was amazed. When they placed higher than the U.S. team, I was outraged, once again, out of patriotism and a strong sense of fairness. For the past week, I have been teetering back and forth on the balance beam of morality, when it struck me that no matter what age these girls are, they will have to carry this possible scandal with them forever.
Consider this:
If those gymnasts are found to be underage, they will be stripped of their medals, and possibly banned from future Olympics. If they aren't banned, then the ghost of this scandal will haunt them in future Olympics, as well as their personal lives.
If they are found to be of age, they will STILL be chased with rumors, gossip and anger. They will have their medals, but humiliation can last longer than gold.
I still don't know whether or not they are of age, but at this point, I don't really care. They are amazing at what they do, and should be awarded for a lifetime (no matter how short) of dedication to their sport. After all, they're just kids.
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