Just before I started driving at 16, a car hit me while I was riding my bike. It wasn't a bad accident, but I couldn't get back on again. Every time I thought about riding, it made me feel kind of sick. It was OK for other people to do it, but not me, no sir, nohow.
As the years wore on, the sick feeling never went away when I thought about riding a bike. Walking became my preferred means of outdoor exercise. "You see more than when you're riding a bike anyway," I'd think, feeling smug as the cyclists whizzed by. I'd point out a particular flower to Gary or Lindsey and stop to smell it. We'd walk down to the pond to see if the turtle was sunning himself on the log. I'd watch how the seasons change the gardens along the many paths I walk: the incremental changes you'd never see if you fly by on a bike.
Then a couple of months ago, my sister bought a bike. My mom and stepdad started riding again, too. We were all talking about it one day, and a switch clicked in my brain. I wanted to ride. I test drove my sister's bike in my Crocs and jammies in the back yard. I knew I wouldn't crash, and I didn't. I knew I could balance, and I did. I knew I could stop, and I did.
I rode for five miles on the Ralston Creek and Clear Creek trails yesterday. As I peddled harder, I felt the thrill of speed. Oh, I'd forgotten how fun this was. Birds and trees and ponds flashed by in seconds. I almost felt guilty, and I stopped a couple of times to look at this waterfall or that bird. But mostly I just took it all in. The smell of the water and the green spaces, the cotton flying up my nose, the bugs bouncing off me, the joy of moving along under my own power.
Perhaps it's a metaphor for the rest of my life, this taking charge of my fear and changing an old belief in the blink of an eye. What would happen if we pushed through that old programming every single day? What would my life look like? What would yours?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Pretty Privilege
I attended the Pedagogy of Privilege conference at DU this week. After a day of self-evaluation, reflection, identifying the roots and triggers of my prejudices, and talking to others about how I fight oppression and whether it's enough, I was utterly exhausted. Another attendee said to me as we walked from one building to another, "I feel this so much at the core of my being. I feel everything so powerfully. Now I want to go home and put on my sweats and read a trashy novel." I knew exactly what she meant.
I purposely started the day with something that I thought would be a bit lighter, a workshop on "the pretty privilege." Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I think that any privilege is laughable or unimportant, but you know me when I have to get up early: I just couldn't face workshops about pornography or race hatred first thing in the morning. I need copious amounts of coffee before I can deal with the heavy-duty stuff.
The pretty privilege is this: in Western culture, we value women who are young, thin, and have symmetrical features. And there are lots of other characteristics that make one young, thin, symmetrical person prettier than another: blue or green eyes, long hair, blond hair, white skin, large breasts, tall (but not too tall), full lips, beautiful clothes, straight white teeth, and no wrinkles. But a preference or bias does not a privilege make. There has to be power, too.
So is pretty a privilege? One could argue that there are plenty of women who don't fit the profile who have power and money. One could argue that pretty is fleeting, because once you age or gain weight, you're not considered pretty anymore. But do the ones defined as pretty have more power than those who aren't? Do the good-looking ones enjoy privileges others don't? Oh, you betcha.
Research quoted in the workshop stated that people who were shown sets of faces assigned these characteristics to the prettier ones: happier, smarter, more balanced, and more successful, among others. Research shows that teachers give prettier girls better grades regardless of performance and regardless of the gender of the teacher. And there are plenty more examples where those came from.
The pretty girls who were studied had scathing and hateful comments about women who were older, overweight, or not dressed right. They called the women "whiners, socially inept, and lazy." "If they just tried harder and were less focused on immediate gratification [referring to fat girls], they could look better." Better, but not pretty. In fact, the researcher argued with them for hours about the fact that overweight women can and do see themselves as pretty. It was beyond the pretty girls' comprehension. "How could they possibly feel good about themselves?" they queried. Sigh. When asked how the pretty girls are stereotyped by those not part of the group, workshop attendees threw out terms like stupid, vain, shallow, self-involved, slutty, thoughtless, and rude.
So how can we fight pretty privilege? I make sure to show my self-confidence and my happy, outgoing personality around them (thus fighting the perception that I am lazy and socially awkward) and befriending them when possible. There is truth in the idea that once you know "one of them," you are less likely to stereotype the entire group. That works both ways.
I purposely started the day with something that I thought would be a bit lighter, a workshop on "the pretty privilege." Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I think that any privilege is laughable or unimportant, but you know me when I have to get up early: I just couldn't face workshops about pornography or race hatred first thing in the morning. I need copious amounts of coffee before I can deal with the heavy-duty stuff.
The pretty privilege is this: in Western culture, we value women who are young, thin, and have symmetrical features. And there are lots of other characteristics that make one young, thin, symmetrical person prettier than another: blue or green eyes, long hair, blond hair, white skin, large breasts, tall (but not too tall), full lips, beautiful clothes, straight white teeth, and no wrinkles. But a preference or bias does not a privilege make. There has to be power, too.
So is pretty a privilege? One could argue that there are plenty of women who don't fit the profile who have power and money. One could argue that pretty is fleeting, because once you age or gain weight, you're not considered pretty anymore. But do the ones defined as pretty have more power than those who aren't? Do the good-looking ones enjoy privileges others don't? Oh, you betcha.
Research quoted in the workshop stated that people who were shown sets of faces assigned these characteristics to the prettier ones: happier, smarter, more balanced, and more successful, among others. Research shows that teachers give prettier girls better grades regardless of performance and regardless of the gender of the teacher. And there are plenty more examples where those came from.
The pretty girls who were studied had scathing and hateful comments about women who were older, overweight, or not dressed right. They called the women "whiners, socially inept, and lazy." "If they just tried harder and were less focused on immediate gratification [referring to fat girls], they could look better." Better, but not pretty. In fact, the researcher argued with them for hours about the fact that overweight women can and do see themselves as pretty. It was beyond the pretty girls' comprehension. "How could they possibly feel good about themselves?" they queried. Sigh. When asked how the pretty girls are stereotyped by those not part of the group, workshop attendees threw out terms like stupid, vain, shallow, self-involved, slutty, thoughtless, and rude.
So how can we fight pretty privilege? I make sure to show my self-confidence and my happy, outgoing personality around them (thus fighting the perception that I am lazy and socially awkward) and befriending them when possible. There is truth in the idea that once you know "one of them," you are less likely to stereotype the entire group. That works both ways.
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