Big T and little t

The last post was not really so much about the motorcycle. It was not even so much about frustration with being categorized and stereotyped and placed in rigid boxes. It’s really about my struggles to understand what’s true, what’s false, and what’s relative.

When I was in college, I took a class about race in the media, in which the graduate student who taught the class postulated that “race is a pigment of our imagination,” that is to say, that race is merely a social construction and not a fact. At first this caught me off guard because I’d never considered how a particular race might be scientifically defined. As the semester went on, however, this idea that race is not actually real began to rub me the wrong way. I just didn’t believe it. It doesn’t take more than a look around to know that people have physical differences, and while it’s not simple or easy to define, I believe that race is certainly real. What’s not real is that people who look one way are more or less valuable than people who look another way. And that basic characteristics of certain racial groups can be assumed across the entire group.

I’m suspicious when people resemble, to a T, the stereotype of the subcultures to which they belong. It’s not that I’m opposed to culture; I love traditions and all those small things that facilitate connections between people. However, I do think there is a difference between truth and culture. I can only assume that this difference is widely confusing-- why else would people conform (and feel pressured to conform) so much?

Truth with a capital ‘T,’ the kind that applies to all humanity and the cosmos and whatnot is of utmost importance, but I find in my daily life that I think just as frequently, if not more so, about what is and is not true for me personally. Theoretically, I believe that it’s just fine for people to be certain ways simply because culture dictates it—as long as they realize that it’s culture, not truth, that makes them that way. At the same time I believe that people should embrace some things about culture and reject others based on what’s true for them personally. For example, do you actually like tie-dyed yoga pants? Or is your primary motivation for wearing them the fact that they’re popular at the place you go for yoga classes? Maybe you have the opposite tendency to reject something you actually like, simply because it is popular amongst your peers.

I don’t know how important this kind of truth is. I suppose people who tend to conform place a lot of value on unity and those who refuse to conform place a lot of value on creativity. As I place a lot of value on knowing truth about myself personally, I find myself on the fringe of several subcultures, wanting to be more deeply connected, but at the same time wanting to separate myself.

The rest is just culture

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you decide to get a motorcycle? You don't really seem like the type."

This was the question posed to me by a friend recently, and no, I don't mind if she asks. In fact, I love that she asked. The answer is rather obvious: I wanted a motorcycle because they're fun and cool (why else would one buy a motorcycle?)

I understand that I don't "seem like the type." Interestingly, I do seem like the scooter "type," and since we bought the motorcycle, I've had many people ask why we bought a motorcycle instead of a scooter. Practically speaking, a scooter and a motorcycle are extremely similar: they both run on two wheels and are smaller than a car, they can be priced similarly, and you get wet if it starts raining while you're riding. There are design differences, and motorcycles are more difficult to learn to drive, but the primary difference between a scooter and a motorcycle is the cultural connotation. According to our culture, motorcycles are dangerous and are for rebels or adrenaline junkies. Scooters are cute and are for latte-drinking, environmentally-minded, middle class young people. According to reality, riding a scooter poses the exact same risks as riding a motorcycle, the fuel economy between the two is comparable and an able-bodied person of any demographic and subculture can physically drive either one.

I have nothing against scooters, I just prefer the "cool" of the motorcycle over the "cute" of the scooter. In spite of the fact that I'm a middle class young person.

I don't like being put inside boxes. Probably most people would say they don't like being put in boxes, but I think that overall, most people do like being put in boxes most of the time. It seems to me that one of the deepest human desires is the desire for intimacy. We want to know others and to be known, we want to feel like we belong somewhere. When we look, sound and think the same way as the people around us, we feel like we belong. When we meet new people, we look for indicators of potential for intimacy, and we put out indicators to make ourselves more easily identifiable to the people around us. This is why we conform to subcultures (advertisers know this and, as a result, have created niche marketing.)

But these indicators, the style of our dress, the language we use, whether we drive a motorcycle or a scooter, are simply a constructed identity and may or may not have anything to do with our real, basic identity. We use our constructed identity as an attempt to communicate our true identity. But all those things change according to the subcultures available to us. When we strip away the culture, our true identity remains the same.

In conclusion, stop putting me in a middle class young person box (or any other box for that matter) and asking me why we bought a motorcycle instead of a scooter. I just like them better than scooters, ok?

Floating around and coming together

I feel like I just sweated all of this week out through my pores. Sometimes this sensation is glorious, but sometimes it just ain't pretty. Today was less pretty. I had a hard time getting deep into my poses and staying there was even more difficult. It was incredible effort to open anything and transitions left me feeling light-headed. It's odd to experience these difficulties when you know that muscular strength and flexibility are not the cause. Indeed, my muscles feel strong and limber; it's the rest of me that doesn't. I think these are growing pains.

Last night as I was going to bed, random thoughts that have been floating around for months all came together, so I wrote them down:

*I think I have some good qualities, but not many of them make me an excellent employee.

*David likes it when I smell like soap and I like it when he smells like himself.

*I have handwriting fonts. Sometimes I decide to change my handwriting and sometimes it just changes.

*When I was 19 I went to Spain to study the language and explore the culture. I didn't miss my friends at home, but I longed for intimacy. I found a Spanish boy fairly quickly.

*Why not? Give it a chance. That has been my attitude.

*For someone as naturally introspective as I am, I sure don't understand myself very well.

*I feel that I am more than I am. Is that because my parents always told me I was special? (link) Or is it unrealized potential? Is it because I don't understand the fullness of my identity?

Last night it seemed strange that these particular thoughts would be coming to me at the same time. But I think I'm coming to realize that I have felt a life-long disconnect between me and...myself. Somehow. Not to say that I don't know anything about myself, because surely I do. I know what I like to do, I know what I want for my future, I know my interests, I know many of my strengths and weaknesses, I have seen patterns in my thought and behavior. The "knowing myself" I'm talking about it more subtle. Like how it surprises me nearly every time I cry.

Recently I have had a few instances where I felt like I knew myself and it was wondrous: I had a couple strange, detailed dreams that made sense to me in the morning. A few times I allowed someone to give me something and found that it was exactly what I needed, even though I had been only vaguely aware of the need.