Atlantic Avenue Subway Station I know graffiti is “just graffiti” and I shouldn’t read into it, but I did. I generally agree with the sentiment here (access to affordable, healthy food should be human right, especially according to the values on which our country was founded), but don’t think it accomplishes anything. Clearly, the intended audience is the government (unclear if it’s federal or state), and someone doesn’t like the inequity between rich people and poor people as status specifically relates to food. This just doesn’t sound productive though; it sounds spiteful and reminds me of an uninformed bumper sticker. Also, who’s even seeing this statement? Was it written out of sadness? Anger? Boredom? Does the door ironically lead to a hidden vault of unspent government money? (Ha!) My only point with posting this is that even though I’m questioning its original intent and effectiveness, it still made me think, which it might make you do, too. And maybe just maybe, one of my readers, or your readers or friends, will find some use for it to change attitudes or policy, and therefore do what no other single statement catalyst has helped our country to do. You just never know.
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Atlantic Avenue Subway Station

I know graffiti is “just graffiti” and I shouldn’t read into it, but I did. I generally agree with the sentiment here (access to affordable, healthy food should be human right, especially according to the values on which our country was founded), but don’t think it accomplishes anything. Clearly, the intended audience is the government (unclear if it’s federal or state), and someone doesn’t like the inequity between rich people and poor people as status specifically relates to food. This just doesn’t sound productive though; it sounds spiteful and reminds me of an uninformed bumper sticker. Also, who’s even seeing this statement? Was it written out of sadness? Anger? Boredom? Does the door ironically lead to a hidden vault of unspent government money? (Ha!)

My only point with posting this is that even though I’m questioning its original intent and effectiveness, it still made me think, which it might make you do, too. And maybe just maybe, one of my readers, or your readers or friends, will find some use for it to change attitudes or policy, and therefore do what no other single statement catalyst has helped our country to do.

You just never know.

Incredibly well-produced video by Alyssa and others at my high school. Very important, please watch and spread the word, just don’t say it.

Medicine, Sociology, Academia, Identity, Performance. Wit.

I was thrilled to attend an incredible preview performance of Wit at Manhattan Theatre Club, which officially opens this evening. Through the 30 Under 30 club, three girlfriends and I got great seats to this show, directed by Lynne Meadow and starring Cynthia Nixon, which far exceeded my already high expectations.

Original PlayI first learned about Wit in a medical sociology class that I took at Tufts University with Professor Martha Lang. The play, written by Margaret Edson, is told through the eyes of a no-frills poetry professor, Vivian Bearing, Ph.D., with stage four ovarian cancer. Ms. Bearing’s perspective and experience walk the audience through the emotional and physical effects of a life-ending disease in the context of an otherwise strong woman’s life transferred to a hospital setting. In my fo

rmer class, we broke the script down piece by piece, allowing time for digesting and breaking it into its components; in seeing the play, I was overwhelmed by the brute force with which everything hits the audience at once. For instance, in the first scene, Ms. Bearing is put into a wheel chair and wheeled off for round one of chemo. In class, we spent more than 40 minutes discussing the patient experience of sitting in a wheelchair, creating an automatic heirarchy between doctor and patient, the helplessness and loss of autonomy experienced by the patient, the mechanical routine that followed, the patronizing language employed… you name it, we discussed. It was incredible at the time to see how such a simple, ubiquitous action says so much. When I saw Cynthia Nixon perform the opening monologue into this scene with such grace and confidence against such a stark, sterile set, it really hit me hard that this play was about illness taking over identity and pervading throughout every scene.

I don’t want to ruin the show for folks who plan to see it, but it’s no secret that the performances, especially Cynthia Nixon and Carra Paterson’s, are incredibly strong and heartfelt. The actors have truly become their roles, and although not every cancer patient or every nurse is the same, the audience can gain significant insight into the true experience of those roles without ever having personally experienced them. There is a point in the play where the nurse talks with Ms. Bearing about DNR status (see photo at left) that caused a few tears to escape because it felt so real.

The experience of being the audience looking at a cancer patient also resonated strongly because even when we walk down the street on a daily basis, we notice sick-looking people. We stare often without meaning to; we infer things about them without thinking beyond the wheelchair or air canister; we speak slower and with simplicity. We ask how they are and resort to go get ‘em type statements when we are at a loss for what else to say. We get bored over time and eventually, zone out, which Ms. Bearing draws fascinating attention to during the play. It’s humiliating all around. Awareness of those dynamics is frighteningly intriguing.

I began this ‘review’ as it related to my academic background because the the play itself certainly stems from academia and an acute sensitivity to details that create tension and resonance. Without being much of an English Literature connoisseur, I appreciated the works referenced and explained, and how they very much were filtered through Ms. Bearing’s character. I also appreciated the playwright’s intentional exploration of social groups and norms, which she both showed and included pieces of in the narration to, on one level, increase the possibility that the audience would recognize these themes and, on another level, to show the awareness (or lack thereof) of the players within the build context of their roles.

I could go on, but I’d rather have you see the play and share your thoughts with me or everyone in the comments section below. I had a wonderful conversation with one of my friends who accompanied me about a huge range of topics surfacing in this play, and I’m eager to hear what others get out of it. I can’t promise that it’s a show for everyone, but I can promise that you won’t regret seeing it.

My cocktail waitress and I had thought we weren’t really a part of this. It was a temporary situation while we pursued loftier things. While that may have been true, we were still there, and definitely no better than anyone else in the customers’ eyes. They didn’t care about our educations, families, or creative pursuits. We were two more girls in push-up bras, there to cater to their every need. The dancers didn’t view us as superior either. They welcomed us in. One of them was nineteen and stripping to get a Business Management degree so she could open her own strip club. She saw the same thing I saw, unheard of profit margins and employees who paid to work. Later she got fired for getting into a fist fight with another dancer, but I have no doubt she’ll end up doing well for herself.

Sara Copeland, in her narrative about working at a Manhattan strip club for 3 days. It’s well worth a read for its sincerity, rawness, and humor. And, she’s my friend’s sister who I met once, so it’s like she’s my best friend.

Seriously though, the insight she gives is really enlightening and satisfying. I have mixed feelings in general about strip clubs - how they’re run, how the dancers are treated and need to act to succeed, how customers are allowed to act, where they’re located, etc. I don’t think strip clubs are a black and white issue; it’s a business like anything else. However, businesses should be run ethically, and unfortunately, strip clubs blur those lines. Sara brings up many interesting points on both sides of this argument, which is a rarely explored yet incredibly insightful perspective that deserves a read without bias.

This little girl sees through the marketing ploys; why can’t the rest of America? 

The only pink thing I own is my toolkit, which at least has some merging between traditional gender stereotypes. But, it’s still not there, and let’s be honest, it was gifted to me in lieu of a ‘normal’ toolbox because it was pink.

Gendered socialization is far from being changed, and it’s the job of families, the education system, and businesses to improve it. It’s important to keep working on because it’s unequal and makes those who don’t follow the normal lines of consumer consumption automatically outliers. This girl knows it, you know it, I know it; being an outlier isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s often not good, especially as kids are growing up and bullying happens at the slightest differences. Do we want cookie-cutter kids? No. Do we want kids to feel comfortable making individual choices without ridicule? I should hope so. The current marketing and consumption patterns don’t really allow for that, but hopefully, it can begin moving in the right direction.

On beliefs

A few nights ago, I went to a bar with a friend, and while we were sitting and chatting, this guy dressed in a red and black plaid shirt, tattooed arms, and those round earrings that stretch your ears sat down near us. He was an inebriated talker with a small amount of charm. He started:

I’m not from around here; I’m from the south. Yes, the south south. But I’m not racist or anything. I just think people shouldn’t be lazy. As long as they work to provide for themselves and give back a little, they’re ok.

So that was a weird start to an even weirder conversation. Sometimes, I just ignore people at bars who want to talk about things that maybe don’t quite interest me or sound quite right, but this was unavoidable, rather funny, and also got me thinking. He continued:

You know what’s messed up though? I work hard and mind my own business, and I come here, and I can’t even bring my marijuana on the plane. It’s like, how’s a guy supposed to get by? It makes me resent people, you know?

OK, fairly typical 20-something complaint. Fine. And he’s from the north part of Florida, so I give him a pass. He goes on:

I like you guys. You know, I’m not crazy or anything, but everyone I come into contact with in Florida, I hate. Like, really hate them. And I mean no disrespect, but it’s the same up here; everyone’s just trying too hard. People don’t know what they’re about but just what they think they’re about. You guys are different. You’re strangers and I can tell you get it.

This threw me for a loop a bit. On one hand, I was totally flattered; Mr. Tough To Please thought we were awesome! On the other hand, what vibe had I given off or words did I say to justify this? How was I any different from who he was describing - the people who just think they know what they’re about? And who is he to judge? He asks me if I had ever fired a gun. I say no and he goes on:

Look, you may think I’m crazy, but I believe strongly in the right to bear arms. Did you know it’s illegal in New York to own one? In fact, do you know how hard it is to own one lots of places in the country?

I actually agreed with him on this one, but added that it should be much more carefully regulated because too many people die. I also, however, know that it would be quite tough to regulate more, because not issuing a gun based on a person’s character, for instance, feels like a constitutional violation. I was a bit torn on this one because frankly, I don’t think about it much. He cuts in:

To regulate who can get guns would just be wrong. That’s like telling someone that they’re less American, and like I said, I’m not racist and I know that’s not ok.

Sociologist in me, by the way, is fixated on his preemping of any potentially racist remarks. He actually never said anything that sounded racist to me.

So yea, there’s really 3 things I stand for. The right to bear arms is clearly the most important. Socialism is definitely another. And of course, free speech. What do you believe in? What do you know to be a truth?

He popped the question and I sat more tongue tied than I’ve been in awhile. I used to be so principled, knowing what was right and wrong in my world and what ‘my mission’ or gospel was. I tell people how proud I am of my self-awareness and people tell me what a ‘do-gooder’ I am, and yet, I had no answer. I told him that in all honesty, I wasn’t sure, that there was nothing I felt so strongly about where I didn’t see the other side of the coin. I told him poverty really upsets me, to which he replied “Duh!” I said well, it’s not so intuitive for a lot of people. I continued that everyone should have access to good health, which felt like the main right denied to those living in poverty. He asked if that was it, without judgement but with opportunity to expand, and I said yes, I think that is it. 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this; is that really what my mantra has been reduced to? Granted, it’s not a small mission statement, but I used to passionately argue for it and preempt any counter-arguements that could be made. I used to make sure that everyone understands that health isn’t just physical well-being but mental and environmental well-being too. I used to feel driven to change the world and empowered enough to do it, and staunch enough in my beliefs to fight fearlessly for a good cause.

I have a strong set of values, but I wasn’t able to articulate them to this stranger at a bar. I’m not sure why I couldn’t say that I care about human decency and that I don’t support the death penalty, or that immigrants shouldn’t have to fear deportation while being asked to pay taxes. I would postulate that these beliefs stemming from my values are just internal drivers of my choices, and less so a gospel that I’ve ever needed to present. In a public arena, politicians are the key responders to the “what do you stand for” question, and the answers often sound overtly empty and lacking tangibility. Unlike politicians and this dude at the bar, I felt no need to sell my opinion or beliefs, though I wonder if sharing more precisely and passionately might have influenced anything.

To our new friend at the bar, issues were matter-of-fact, black and white. I respected his background and his grounded standpoint, but it wasn’t necessarily mine. Beliefs and values are important to have, but to me, they are more guidance than matter-of-fact, as they can be molded by circumstance and context. I still can’t figure out, too, what made him sit and want to share his staunch beliefs in such a measured way with strangers. I don’t believe it was for the purpose of influence, but for what then? Validation? Deep Conversation? Fire fuel? Profundity? Pride? And, why did I not feel any of that same desire to share? Weaker principles or apathy? Stupidity? Confidence, or lack thereof? Who knows.

All this is to say that a drunk 22 year old from Florida out with his twin brother and tobacco-chewing parents gave me a disturbingly fun train of thoughts, for which I am grateful. This much I know: I believe strongly in listening to people, strangers or not, sharing their beliefs and really thinking about it, because you never know what you can discover about yourself or the world.

“An Unrehearsed Poem” by M received this evening in a swap at the Swap-O-Matic at Ample Hills Creamery. I’m fascinated by this project’s purpose and social commentary, and even found myself weighing the options of what I wanted to take through the lens of what it would say about and mean to me. (If I take the dollar bill in door 12 and leave something of less monetary value, is that uncool? If I take a honeycomb-shaped bead, will I enjoy it as much as someone who makes hemp necklaces? If I take the gaudy tshirt, will defacing it into a rag feel ethical?) I wanted to just give, because it felt excessive to take (especially when I was so unsure), but to give I had to take (aka swap) since all of the doors were full (I wonder, are they usually?), and since I wanted to participate, I went for the swap and left a lucky penny (with label). I also learned in reading the poem aloud to my friend that it was authored by Max, the creme de la creme ice cream scooper with a knack for poetry and conversation. I support this project and I support good ice cream. Go check both out.
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“An Unrehearsed Poem” by M received this evening in a swap at the Swap-O-Matic at Ample Hills Creamery.

I’m fascinated by this project’s purpose and social commentary, and even found myself weighing the options of what I wanted to take through the lens of what it would say about and mean to me. (If I take the dollar bill in door 12 and leave something of less monetary value, is that uncool? If I take a honeycomb-shaped bead, will I enjoy it as much as someone who makes hemp necklaces? If I take the gaudy tshirt, will defacing it into a rag feel ethical?) I wanted to just give, because it felt excessive to take (especially when I was so unsure), but to give I had to take (aka swap) since all of the doors were full (I wonder, are they usually?), and since I wanted to participate, I went for the swap and left a lucky penny (with label). I also learned in reading the poem aloud to my friend that it was authored by Max, the creme de la creme ice cream scooper with a knack for poetry and conversation.

I support this project and I support good ice cream. Go check both out.

9 Skills Needed to Be a Super-Connector

Interesting blog post, though I have a few thoughts about / additions to it. Being a connector certainly is all of these things, but when there isn’t sincere interest in what you’re doing or the people you’re connecting, you can’t be an effective connector in the long term because people stop buying into it. How can you make each connection genuine? It’s also important in being a connector to remember that there are times not to connect; counter-intuitive, I know, but having the discretion to know the right timing if ever is key. Connections can be awkward if not done well, and then you’re adding a layer of complexity to someone’s life that perhaps is unnecessary. Finally, I would add that you should be strategic in not burning through or using up contacts. People don’t want to feel like they’re your token (for instance) finance buddy or comedy buddy or fundraising buddy. Make sure that you’re not tapping people unnecessarily or too frequently, because even if you’re great at managing a broad network, this may become overwhelming for them, which may affect your relationship.

Have you met Miss Gender?

This incredible documentary podcast by Jay Frosting featuring Ashley is an audio and visual commentary on a transgender girl’s transition and her adventures becoming a girl. It’s well-constructed, completely genuine, smart, and innovative. I like that Jay and Ashley are longtime friends, and that the format is just a sincere conversation. It’s not trying to achieve anything monumental, I don’t think, but in sharing an experience full of anecdotes with a generally not transgender audience, it does, in fact, monumentally put a very real, unassuming face to an otherwise foreign and perhaps slightly ‘weird’ idea. In other words, this podcast has a super comfortable feel with a normally more edgy subject, and this engrosses a listener quite effectively while also having potential to change attitudes. Granted, this podcast shouldn’t fully construct a listener’s view of every MTF, but it’s not trying to be that at all. In summary, it’s charming and engaging.

Definitely worth a listen and a follow on twitter.

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