Definitions and Hidden Convictions

(Written Sunday, December 19^th, 2010)

I’m writing this after spending an amazing day hanging out with extended family on my grandparent’s farm in the backwoods of eastern Ontario (though it won’t be posted till later because…well…it’s the middle of nowhere and my grandpa only has dial-up).  I love my family.  I treasure spending time with them more than I could possibly express. 

And yet… 

Every time that I’ve come here in recent years, I’ve found myself struggling to define myself in the midst of this world.  You see, my extended family (and my immediate family to an extent) defines itself and everyone in it by how well each individual fits into their preconceived definitions.  Are you married?  How many kids do you have?  Are you in the ministry?  Are you preparing to be a wife and a mother?  Are you acting like a young woman?

Women and men are talked about as rigid, immovable categories which define nearly everything that you need to know about a person.  From such mundane (though still patently incorrect) things such as “women like mittens” to more frustrating notions like the instruction that my brother must go help my grandpa do chores outside but I, a girl, do not have to.

In this world, I am defined by these stringent categories.  In my world, I must admit, I am still defined by categories.  I am defined by my GPA.  I am defined by my AU honours status.  I am defined by my major and my career goals.    Except these definitions do not bug me so much.  Because I fit; because I’m comfortable.  I can answer questions regarding these definitions with ease and without agitation.  I never feel the need to suppress my anger or my grief. 

It’s a different story in this place though.  My family doesn’t seem to understand the thought that these definitions, these categories might not perfectly suite everyone.  Yes, they recognize that not every girl gets married (at least not right away).  But women still must play different roles than men in nearly every area of life.  Your gender is still the most defining characteristic of who you are.  It tells you where you can go, what jobs you are and are not expected to do.  It tells you when you can speak or how well your speech will be respected. It tells you what you like and do not like, what you are and are not capable of understanding.

My greatest heartache at this moment is that I cannot be myself in this place.  There is one definition that I must suppress and it hurts me more than I would like to admit.  I cannot be a feminist.  I cannot declare my equality with man.  I must pretend.  Pretend that I’m ok with this constant understanding that women are lesser.  That I am lesser.  I am defined by what I am, and what I am first and foremost is a woman.  So therefore, I am less than.  I am not him.  I am her.  I cannot stand up.  I cannot speak out.  I must pretend.

            This person is not me.  This silent person feeling the need to shrink away to my room so that I can find my voice.  The only comfort that I can find is in knowing that as soon as I get to the hotel in London, Ontario on December 22nd, I can copy and paste this document into my blog and then hit "publish post".  I am clinging to the hope of that button, knowing that nothing can silence this voice in the darkness.

Yet, though I cling to that thought, it is not exactly true.  I am choosing not to be a voice in the darkness of this place.  Out of fear.  Out of intimidation.  Out of love.  I don’t want to upset anyone.  I don’t want to get into a fight or make anyone mad.  Honestly, I just want to relax.  But I’m finding it to be more difficult than I had anticipated.  I’m feeling stressed out and agitated because I have no clue how to interact in this world.

I always know that I’m going to have to hide parts of myself while I’m here.  From simple things like my tattoos to bigger things like my feminism, I know far in advance that portions of me must remain hidden while visiting this farm.  I always forget how stressful it is though.  I never remember the heartache, the headaches, the pain.  I forget the need to rush into a private room and express myself through writing.  I forget the sarcastic comments which rise like bile in my throat.  I forget the clenched teeth and jaw, the furrowed brow, the painful concentration that it takes to simply bite these barbs back.

Don’t get me wrong.  As I said at the beginning, I absolutely love my family.  I love coming here, and I wouldn’t give up my time here for the world.  One of my greatest regrets in life is not being able to get to know my grandparents better.  So please don’t take any of this to think that I’m hating my family or not wanting to visit them.  It’s just hard.  I can’t seem to find a balance.  I need to find a way to love my family and respect their opinions, traditions, and beliefs while still maintaining my own convictions and character.

Home is where the ambition is

So I've been missing for an entire month.  Fail me.

The good news is: I am done with all of my classes for the semester. The bad news is: I still have to write an unholy number of papers and finals before I can go home.

I just realized that I will be graduating from college in one year.  Very weird.  Not sure how I feel about it.  In so many ways, I'm not ready to be done with this place.  I love it here more than I could possibly express, and I honestly can't imagine leaving DC.  I feel like I have found a new home, and it's weird.  Because thinking back on my childhood home, I never could've imagined not feeling at home there.  But as much as I adored spending ten days back in my old house and old room over Thanksgiving break, probably for the first time, I felt like a visitor.  It probably had something to do with the fact that my old room is practically naked.  It still has my paintings on the walls, my bed, and my dresser, but other than that, it's not my room anymore.  No posters, no pictures of musicians that have changed my life, no quotes of influential people, no dozens of Canadian flags (ok, there's still four there, but still).  My bookshelf with all of my books and my stereo and everything that makes my room my room have all been transferred to my apartment here in DC.  I even found myself missing my bed at my apartment while I was home (thanks to no longer being on a crappy dorm mattress).

So what is it that makes me feel "at home"?  Is it the aforementioned furniture, decorations, and personal effects?  Or does it go deeper than that?  There is that age-old saying, "home is where the heart is."  But my heart is in so many different places.  My heart is here in DC, in this place which houses all of my friends and, perhaps more importantly, all of my passions and dreams.  My heart is also in Chicagoland, with my parents and my brother, Jason, sister-in-law, Laura, one year old nephew, Landon (who I miss quite terribly right now) and unborn niece or nephew (TBD by the beginning of the new year).  My heart is also in Mishawaka, Indiana, with my big brother and best friend Stephen, especially tonight and tomorrow as he performs in yet another show that I can send my heart to, but not my whole self.  My heart is in Camp Lejeune, Jacksonville, North Carolina, with my brother, Phil, the Marine who I am soooo proud of, my sister-in-law, Ashley, my nearly two year old nephew, Isaac (whose parents need to start feeding him more so he's not just skin and very tall bones!), and my unborn baby niece, Harmony Nicole, who doesn't seem to want to listen to anyone who tells her to slow down, just like her beautiful mom.  My heart is spread across Canada, but especially in London and Avonmore, Ontario, with my respective grandparents, who I am unbelievably excited to go visit over Christmas break.

So yes, my heart is torn.  There are so many different places which it resides on a regular basis.  So, getting back to the original question, why is it that I feel that DC, and not Chicagoland or any other place, is truly my home now?  I think that God has given me a passion for this place, these people.  I love the diversity.  I love the fast pace.  I love the politics.

But, more than anything, I love being in a place where I know that there will never be an end to new challenges and passions which will capture my heart.  I love being surrounded by people who have so many ambitions, not just to live inside their comfortable little dream-like bubbles, but to step out and change it.  Change everything.  Change the world.  It reminds of something that my old high school chaplain used to say when asked how my high school was able to raise over a half a million dollars in aid for a little town in Zambia.

"We gave them permission to change the world."  I love that saying.

I don't know exactly what it is about DC that I love so much, but I think it has something to do with this passion for world changing.  I've been to other places where such sentiments, such ambitions, were scoffed at, ridiculed, and considered unbelievably naive.  And maybe the sentiment is naive.  But it was naive high school students who sat around a table one day nearly a decade ago and decided to "do something" to combat AIDS in some random country in sub-Saharan Africa.  That was the catalyst for building an entire k-12 school, a maternity ward in a hospital, supplying food for an entire year, and countless other small projects in some random village in Zambia.  That village no longer needs our help.  It was a group of naive women who thought it would be fun to stand outside the White House with signs calling for women's suffrage.  These women were subsequently jailed and force-fed, all in the name of women's suffrage. We now have the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution.

I will never listen when someone tells me to temper my ambitions.  I may be young and naive, but I firmly believe that I do have the power to change the world.  And I love that DC has never tried to temper this.  In fact, this place has fostered and encouraged my ambitions beyond what I could imagine.

"Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen."