A Grand Adventure

Those who know me know that I’m a planner. I may pretend to be spontaneous, but in all honesty, spontaneity makes me crazy. That is, until about a year ago when I realized that adventure or spontaneity in life is something to long for not dread. I don’t why it took me the better part of twenty years to figure this out; it just did.

What I do know is that these past two weeks only served to cement my new found realization. Arriving in Grand Cayman only three days after my mom moved to the island to start a new job, I flew to the little piece of paradise hoping to relax on the beach, swim in the turquoise water, and of course, spend some much-needed quality time with my mom. Since I had just finished a grueling finals week, I didn’t have the energy to plan out my week in the Caribbean, so I decided to wing it. Initially, I hoped that my mom had learned enough to know which breathtaking sites would be devastating to miss, but soon after landing, I realized that this was a wholly unrealistic expectation. My mom barely knew how to get to work let alone which sites were most important to see.

So, the adventure began. Together, we learned the ins and outs of Georgetown (Grand Cayman’s city center), Seven Mile Beach, and the West End. We swam with green sea turtles, ate fresh ahi tuna at a beach side restaurant, explored the Ritz hotel, and shopped at Camana Bay. We found the best coffee shops, bookstores, and WiFi hotspots… perfect places to enjoy each others company while getting our respective work done. After all, just because finals are over doesn’t mean I get to neglect my thesis or ignore my post-grad service applications. Although sometimes, I wish it did.

All in all, I had an incredible week in Grand Cayman. Certainly, the best part was seeing my mom, but I also loved Grand Cayman’s Turtle Farm and the delicious seaside cuisine. All good things eventually come to an end, though. So, on Christmas Eve, I flew home by way of Atlanta and Salt Lake City.

I landed in Los Angeles just in time to shower, change, and head to my grandma’s place for her Christmas party. It may seem ironic that a Jewish family chooses to get together on Christmas rather than Hanukkah, but for me, it’s all I know. Although I attended religious school for years, went to Jewish camp every summer, and was bat mitzvahed at age 13, my family always celebrated Christmas Eve with my grandpa on my mom’s side and Christmas Day with my grandma on my mom’s side. I can only speculate as to why my grandparents decided to celebrate Christmas over Hanukkah. Maybe they just like the holiday better or maybe it stems from the fact that as workaholics, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were the only days they ever willingly took off of work. One thing is for sure; there has never been any religious aspect to our Christmas celebrations. We simply get together, eat, and exchange presents. At my grandma’s Christmas party this year, she hired carolers, which I really enjoyed since listening to Holiday music is one of my favorite December activities. Even my mom, who unfortunately had to work on Christmas back in Grand Cayman, got to enjoy the carolers via Skype. Her nearly hour-long video chat with me and other members of our family brought her, my grandma, and both my aunt Debra and my aunt Shari to tears.

Adventure wise, Grand Cayman was essentially a warm up since just two days after getting back to Los Angeles, I took off yet again—this time for Boston. I was stoked when I arrived in the gorgeous—albeit cold—city because I had never been. I was also excited to see my dad who was meeting me in Boston to spend two days with me before I left for Israel and he left for Los Angeles. As I expected, Boston not only further cemented my realization that adventure is something to long for, it also turned out to be one of the most incredible cities I have ever visited. I could even see myself moving there one day. My dad and I packed in as much as possible to our two days in Boston. We went to the Faneuil Hall Marketplace, the Boston Common, and the movies. We even walked the Freedom Trail, ran a few errands, and slurped delicious pho in Chinatown. Best of all, we had the chance to talk. For whatever reason, talking to my dad always makes me feel better even if he doesn’t tell me what decision I should make.

Sadly, Boston—another good thing—had to come to an end. However, although leaving Boston means leaving my dad, it also means that I get to go to Israel. And, so it begins. It’s time yet again to have an adventure… this time in Israel.

Home Sweet Home

It’s been a little over a month since I moved into my new apartment and it’s finally beginning to feel like home. I especially love my roommate, Lindsey. She is incredibly sweet, considerate, and just plain fun. We have a great time together whether we’re taking a dip in the jacuzzi, working out at the gym, or going out for drinks. What’s more is that her family has essentially adopted me. It’s really cute! Of course, no one will ever replace my real parents. However, it’s incredible to know that if I am ever in need, there are countless people who will be there in a heartbeat.

I’m not going to lie. This last month has definitely been harder than I ever imagined. Studying for the Law School Admission Test (LSAT) has truly been a test. But the experience has already had an immense payoff. It has taught me to take it one day at a time and take advantage of the love and support my family always provides. I can’t help but think that the LSAT would be much more manageable if I didn’t have the added stress of school and my honors thesis. However, what’s done is done. I’m already over committed. There’s nothing I can do about it besides quit (which isn’t in my vocabulary). So my only choice is to hunker down and get it done. At the end of the day, my LSAT score probably won’t be stellar, but I still wholeheartedly beleive that I can pull a 160 or above, which will get me into most of the laws schools on my list.

Anyway, there really isn’t much else to update you on. My life has primarily consisted of school and LSAT prep since I got back to Los Angeles. Sure I’ve squeezed in a few fun things here and there, but this last month has not been nearly as fun as my summer in Washington. There is definitely a couple of things coming up though that I’m tremendously excited for. First and foremost is the fact that Finding Nemo 3D came out yesterday. It may sound silly, but I’m so excited to take the night off tommorow night and go see Nemo with Lucy. It’s just the thing I need during this final push to the LSAT. I’m also really looking forward to my parent’s visit to Los Angeles and our trip to Hawaii. I can’t wait to spend a week tanning on Maui’s beaches and catching up with my grandparents. It’ll be the perfect reward for putting up with all of the immense stress that goes along with taking the LSAT.

As far as the Peace Corps is concerned, I’m definitely moving along in the application process. I actually heard from my recruiter today and she has asked to set up an interview with me for the last week of September. I’m thrilled simply because I’ve taken the next step toward fulfilling my dreams. I’ve also started exploring some back up options in case the Peace Corps doesn’t pan out. I’m thinking that if the Peace Corps doesn’t accept me, I will spend a year (maybe two) volunteering in Israel. This will allow me a similar opportunity to travel and it’ll still allow me a much needed break from academics before going to law school.

That’s all for now, I suppose. I’d promise to update you all soon, but that’s not likely given the amount of pressure I’m under right now. More than likely, it’ll be at least a month until I get around to blogging again.

 

 

Deciding Factors

“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.”
~Robert F. Kennedy

It’s due time that I face it.  I’m a dreamer.  I want to make a difference.  I want to change the world.  I want to be part of something bigger than myself.  I know that these are broad dreams achievable in any number of ways.  Regardless, I know that if I do not achieve them, I will not find life fulfilling—not entirely anyway.  Theodore Roosevelt said, “The best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.”  This quote summarizes my fundamental belief that the way to feel fulfilled is to seek out opportunities to make an impact. 

Further, achieving dreams is not even remotely possible unless you take calculated risks.  That is what applying to the Peace Corps is… a calculated risk.  And I certainly understand that, but I keep asking myself: where would I be in life if I had never taken a risk?  I know one thing is for sure.  If I had never taken a risk, I would not be an undergrad student at Loyola Marymount University on track to graduate next May.  If I had to pinpoint just one thing that I learned from my experience attending Mills College and subsequently transferring to Loyola, it would be that… failure happens.  It’s simply a fact of life.

So, why the Peace Corps?

In the course of my college career, I have been lucky enough to have two significant experiences living/volunteering abroad.  They were both inherently different as one was in Nicaragua and the other in London.  Despite that these places are polar opposites, both required me to immerse myself into a culture completely different than my own.

Immersing myself in British culture allowed me to have a richer experience than I had as a tourist on prior visits to London.  Before my study abroad program, my friends and family tried to tell me how different British customs are, but I didn’t believe them.  I couldn’t imagine that an English-speaking country would be so different that it would make my head spin.  The day after I arrived, I went to Starbucks thinking how much of a godsend it was that I could have one American comfort while there.  I ordered a latte and the barista asked, “Is that for take away or eat in?”  He said it fast and between that and the accent difference, I had a hard time understanding him.  This is when I realized that I was in for culture shock.  Working for a Member of Parliament further immersed me in British culture because I was not just a visitor, but rather an active participant.  Just like other working folks, I traveled on the Underground to/from his constituency office.  My research as his intern also served to familiarize me with local issues.  It took two months to get adjusted, but in the end, I was able to live like a Brit.

While I didn’t realize it at first, spending a week in Paso Real, Nicaragua changed my life.  I had never done anything like this before, so it was challenging, especially when it came to living with no electricity and running water.  In that one week, I grew more than I did the entire semester.  London somewhat prepared me for my alternative break in Nicaragua, however it didn’t teach me the skills necessary to overcome gender and language barriers.  The trip had us working with a group of single mothers to build a water reservoir and irrigation system.  Because we were working alongside men who had never seen a woman level an area for irrigation or mix cement, we had to overcome gender stereotypes.  Although I know conversational Spanish, the language posed another obstacle.  It was difficult to engage in the most basic conversations.  Despite the challenges, I could see that our presence alongside men at the work site and women in the kitchen built a sense of trust and comradery.  I figure that if this trust can be built in one week, then it will certainly be there after living in a community for two-plus years.  

What I learned from my trip to Nicaragua and from living in London is that learning to live and thrive in another culture is nothing short of transformational.  I will surely bring this attitude to my Peace Corps service.  I will also bring my work ethic and my outgoing and flexible nature that I’ve acquired through my experiences as an employee, volunteer, student, and traveler.  Yes, immersing yourself in a culture that’s different from your own can be overwhelming, but it’s worth it because it ultimately teaches you about new people, a new place, and mostly about yourself.

The Peace Corps will be challenging, but challenges ultimately lead to rewards.  I want to grow like I did while living in London.  I’ll face challenges that I probably won’t anticipate and I’ll learn things that will change my life.  Integrating into my host community’s culture will be among the greatest challenges I will face.  It’ll certainly be a huge learning experience.  At the end of the day, I know I’ll succeed for two reasons: (1) I’ve faced this challenge in Nicaragua and overcome it, and (2) I have the attitude, flexibility, track record, outgoing nature, and passion to make it work.  Not only will these skills help me integrate, they will be essential in representing the people and traditions of my host country once I return.  Preparing my family and friends for my commitment to serve abroad will be challenging.  My parents are supportive, but I expect that it’ll take some convincing to bring the rest of my family and friends on board.

I want to represent my country.  It may sound trite, but I am proud to be an American and I would like nothing more then to prove to just one community that ignorance isn’t a characteristic of all Americans.  Through my alternative break, my semester abroad, and my experiences as a women’s/human rights intern in Washington DC, I realized how impactful it is to represent the United States.  There’s nothing more rewarding than spending two-plus years strengthening the connections between America and the world and thereby deepening appreciation for each other across cultural boundaries.

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I know that my decision to apply to the Peace Corps is going to excite some, surprise some, and upset others.  I hope that all of you will at least try to understand my decision to apply to volunteer with such a prestigious organization.  I am asking each of you, particularly my family and friends, to keep an open mind and try to understand my reasoning before reacting.  This is a choice that I did not make lightly as it involves somewhat of a commitment from each of you.

Additionally, I want you to know that I am here to answer any questions you may have about why I made this decision, the commitment I’m making if selected for service, and/or anything you would like to know about the Peace Corps.  I promise that if I don’t know the answer, I will get it for you.

A Bittersweet End

Alright, I admit it.  I have a countdown of the days until I come home from Washington D.C., which at this point is one.  Yay!  I know, I know… I am in one of the most amazing cities in the world working at an incredible non-profit, doing things I never even imagined I would have the opportunity to do.  I have even made an incredibly good friend here and lucky for me, she attends Loyola Marymount University as well, so I have no doubt that we will stay friends.  But regardless of how amazing this summer has been, I am still beyond excited to go home—even if it means that my life will be utterly swallowed up by scantrons, number two pencils, logical reasoning, mind-boggling logic games, and any other things that go along with prepping for the Law School Admission Test (LSAT).  I truly have a love-hate relationship with Washington and especially since I’ve had to deal with more drama than I’m used to throughout the semester, I just couldn’t shake my homesickness. 

Despite my love-hate relationship with Washington, it’s clear that since arriving, I have been afforded more opportunities than I ever dreamed I would have.  I attended a leadership summit at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM), heard Secretary of State Hillary Clinton speak, went boutiquing in Old Town Alexandria, and toured Mount Vernon—to name just a few.

Prior to arriving in Washington, I had a number of expectations for what this semester would be like.  And as I anticipated, some hopes were met and others were not.  Of all the things I learned, one became infinitely more important about two weeks ago when I was faced with the end of yet another remarkable experience and that is the importance of taking advantage of each and every potentially life-changing moment that presents itself.  There’s no question in my mind that I changed this summer—probably in more ways than I realize.

I view this experience as a beginning with room to see much more and continually learn.  Despite spending only two months in Washington, this opportunity has truly enhanced my worldview.  Having lived my whole life in Los Angeles, I have been very sheltered from world events.  Prior to spending this summer in Washington and this past fall in London, I found it fairly easy to ignore issues that didn’t directly affect me.  But my studies at Loyola Marymount University, in Great Britain last fall, and now here, in Washington, are helping to change that for the better.

Working for the Institute for Gulf Affairs (IGA) has helped me in more ways than I realized it would.  I came to Washington with sound skills in time management and teamwork—both of which stem from my experiences as an athlete—as well as an ability to work with little guidance and take initiative when needed.  All of these skills were incredibly useful as I came to Washington and was expected, from the get go, to make my own to do list.  Although he didn’t say it outright, my supervisor also expected me to produce tangible results.  Yes, it was stressful at times.  But now that I’m done, I’m grateful that my supervisor put me in this position.

By far the most incredible aspect of my summer in Washington was attending the USHMM’s What You Do Matters: A Leadership Summit on Hate Speech, Propaganda, and Civic Engagement.  The fact that I was able to turn my attendance at the summit into a civic engagement project was a huge bonus.  The two-and-a-half day summit was, for obvious reasons, exhausting, but completely worth it—given what I took away.  I learned more in my one weekend at the summit than I probably learned the entire summer.  It was not even the speakers that truly made the weekend unforgettable.  In fact, it was the other participants (leaders in their own right) that shaped the summit.  Nowhere else have I had the opportunity to meet so many genuinely inspirational people.  Everyone I spoke to had such a unique story to tell—one that truly conveyed their passions.

The time I have spent in Washington has been tremendously rewarding.  I wish I could say that there were no disappointments.  However, my class, The Mass Media and National Politics: Explaining Washington to the Public, was definitely the least satisfying piece of this program.  The class was taught like a introduction to journalism, which was incredibly frustrating as I am not interested in pursuing a career in this industry.  And since I have taken basic journalism classes, it was incredibly repetitive.  In addition, the professor was completely arbitrary and subjective in his grading.  The assignments were severely restricting and his expectations were not clear.  Nevertheless, I have learned that I can survive disappointment.  I found ways to minimize the pain and make the best of the unchallenging, repetitive curriculum.  And I definitely grew as a person from this adversity.  Experiences do not necessarily have to be all-good, all the time to be beneficial.

This last week has been much more emotional than I expected.  I didn’t do much in the way of sightseeing, but I did manage to squeeze a lot into this past few days—namely Olympic watching parties, a movie, a couple of art museums, coffee (and lot’s of it), and two dreadful LSAT prep sessions.  On Monday, we had commencement, which I assumed would be an absolute drag.  However, much to my surprise, commencement was actually fun.  We got to see a slideshow of pictures from the summer and hear from a classmate who wooed the room with his charm, hilarious personality, and Australian accent.  And to top it off, I won The Washington Center (TWC)’s Civic Engagement Pillar Award for my project on hate speech.  Among other things, I was applauded for the creative approach I took in applying what I learned at the USHMM’s leadership summit to design my Word Conscious Wednesday blog series and an innovative program, which I hope will start a dialogue about the problem of hate speech.  With over seven hundred students in the TWC program, it means a lot to just be nominated by my program adviser let alone actually win the award.  It is definitely a moment I will remember for years to come.

Despite all of the amazing opportunities I’ve been afforded while in Washington, I do want to go home.  However, getting on that flight tommorow is definitely bittersweet because now that I’ve spent a summer here, I truly see myself living in Washington.  I see myself reading Emily Giffin’s new novel on the steps of the Capitol on a Saturday afternoon, boutiquing in Old Town Alexandria, going out for drinks with friends in Dupont or Adams Morgan, and working for either a non-profit similar to the IGA or in a government office such as the Department of State’s Office on Global Women’s Issues.  This city is incredible—one of my favorite cities in the entire world.  I will certainly miss it.  When all’s said and done, I know I will be back so there is really no reason to dwell on what I will miss the most.  There is absolutely nothing I would change about this summer.  Was it perfect?  No, not by any means.  But making mistakes is a part of growing up.  At the end of the day, I know that I grew by leaps and bounds over the past two months and I can’t wait to see how the changes I see in myself translate when I go home, dive into LSAT prep and my honors thesis, and continue to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself.   

A Much Needed Vacation

Wow! It may be cheesy, but that’s exactly what I said as my US Airways flight landed in Bermuda this past Thursday afternoon. I couldn’t wait to spend a long weekend with Lucy, my parents, and their friends.

It turns out that spending four days in Bermuda hurts—especially when you don’t put nearly enough sunscreen on. Unfortunately, Lucy and I are flying back to Washington today with cherry red sunburns. Lucy’s is much worse than mine, but their both painful regardless.

Despite our new skin color, however, we had an incredible weekend. It was a whirlwind for sure, but amazing nevertheless. I mean just Thursday included stops at more than ten different places—five of which were bars or restaurants I might add. Let’s just say that my parents and their tight knit group of friends really enjoy alcohol. You might even say that drinking is their sport.

Thursday afternoon started with lunch on Swizzle Inn’s outdoor patio. Of course no visit to this Bermuda spot is complete without a pitcher of Swizzle (a mix of rum, rum, and oh yeah rum). After lunch, Lucy, my dad, and I headed to my parent’s apartment in Flatt’s Village. After getting reacquainted with my dog, Jenni, we went for a swim in the crystal blue water just outside their place and took a dip in their ocean-side pool. After our swim, we relaxed for a bit and then took the car into town to get an iced coffee and do some shopping. It turns out that Bermuda is incredibly expensive, so we didn’t really buy anything. But regardless, it was nice to walk around Hamilton occasionally getting a break from the heat in stores along Front Street. When stores started to close up, we went for drinks and appetizers at the Pickled Onion. Next was sushi at my parent’s favorite Hamilton dinner spot—Beluga Bar in the Washington Mall. This place is quirky, but delicious. It’s an added bonus that Sammy, Beluga’s owner and head chef, is both creative and adorable. He treats my parents just like family. The best part of dinner was finally getting to meet my parent’s friends. It’s one thing to hear about them and a completely other thing to finally put faces to the names. After Beluga, we headed to Harry’s Bar where the remaining seven of us enjoyed dessert and another few drinks. Suffice to say, by the end of the day, we were all in food commas.

Friday and Saturday were filled with pink sand beaches, crystal blue water, delicious food, and of course drinks. So for obvious reason, Friday and Saturday were incredible—maybe even better than Thursday. We started our morning with a real breakfast at Paraquet Apartments—a diner and hotel of sorts. I had the most delicious banana, malted waffles with freshly made maple syrup. We then headed to Horseshoe Bay—a pink sand beach on Bermuda’s south side. There is isn’t really much to say about our morning at the beach. Who wouldn’t love soaking up the sun in a private cove about a fifteen-minute walk from the tourist ridden Horseshoe Bay? Suffice to say, it was unimaginable. Lucy and I even climbed up one of the cliffs for an unforgettable view of the entire beach and south side horizon. After tanning on the beach all morning, we packed up the car and headed back to the apartment to shower, change, and relax for a few. We then took the mopeds for a spin—heading up to the Crystal Caves situated on one side of Bermuda’s Harrington Sound. The Crystal Caves are gorgeous—and frankly, that’s an understatement. I have never seen somewhere so beautiful outside of Europe. After the Caves, we headed to the yacht club my parents recently joined for dinner basically on the water in Hamilton. It was beautiful scenery accompanied by a delicious dinner and an interesting game of Snookel—me and my dad’s version of Snooker. Essentially, Snookel is a made-up cross between Billiards and Snooker.

Sunday was short simply because Lucy and I had to catch an early afternoon flight back to Washington. But it still didn’t disappoint merely because my dad made homemade pancakes and bacon. It was nice even if it really made me miss my family’s quiet, unadventurous life in Calabasas. However, now that I know that my dad can still cook an incredible brunch, I will be expecting it on every one of my future visits to Bermuda or wherever my parent’s dreams take them.

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This entry is dedicated to my parents (Marla and David Greenman) for always believing in me and my dreams and for showing me how to see the world. I love and miss them both, but at the end of the day, I know they will always be there for me—no matter where in the world they happen to be living. 

A Taste of Success

“One person can make a difference, and everyone should try.”
~John F. Kennedy

Don’t get me wrong. I have had an incredible time living and working in Washington D.C. To say that this is the center of American politics is a complete understatement. Washington is the center of anything and everything international. That said, working for a non-profit that has little to no funds has really given me a taste of the real world—you know the one most are not privy to until they graduate college and move out of the “bubble”. It’s no secret that university’s are essentially paid to help student’s turn their idealism into action. As ignorant as it may be, I came to Washington with the hopes that the real world would be similar if not the same as university life. Boy was I wrong…

Positive reinforcement just doesn’t exist in the cut-throat world that makes Washington famous. I know that constructive criticism is crucial to growing up, but it would certainly be nice to be told just once in a while that I’m doing a great job even if it’s for no other reason than to boost morale in the office. If there’s one thing living and working in Washington has taught me, it’s that working in the public sector is hard. It’s rare that you see even the slightest payoff for working tirelessly toward a goal. It’s rather surprising how little people care. I know people are bombarded everyday by organizations who ask for money and claim to be campaigning purely for the joy of helping others in the same sentence. But how hard is it to share a Facebook post or re-tweet a Twitter post? Such small actions can have such a tremendous impact.

I’m not going to lie, it’s hard to stay motivated when you don’t know if anything is going to change as a result of what your doing. But just when it gets exhausting, somebody sweeps down and gives you a taste of success. For me, this moment was a couple of weeks ago when I received an email from an assistant to Senator Mikulski saying that the Senator was very interested in the template letter  we sent her and would like to take the lead in getting the letter signed by all the women Senators and sent. It was huge given what I went through to garner the satisfaction of reading that one line in an email. For those of you who don’t know, the last three weeks of my internship have been consumed with meetings on the Hill, mostly with legislative aids to various Representatives and Senators. The meeting with Senator Mikulski’s aid was the first to yield even the slightest success. However, that taste was short-lived as it became increasingly clear that the constant emails back and forth between Senator Mikulski’s assistant and I was not going to result in what I wanted.

But, still, we pressed on hoping to convince someone to stand up for Saudi women and girls. Each meeting had a different tone, as my coworkers and I adjusted our pitch to be relevant to the particular lawmaker we hoped would support our campaign. Despite our quest to pitch our campaign perfectly, we got largely the same responses from each legislative aid–Representative so and so or Senator so and so would love to get involved, but only if others do first. No one was willing to take the lead, even in an effort to get a letter to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) and United States Olympic Committee (USOC) signed and sent. I was astonished. Our so-called leaders didn’t want to take the lead. At first, I didn’t get it. Why wouldn’t a Representative or Senator want to stand up for what’s right? It eventually dawned on me. This isn’t about women or human rights; it’s about politics. What lawmaker would want to change the status quo when it might mean hindering the U.S.’s ability to import oil? Maybe its cynical of me, but I just don’t know any other reason why no one has taken a stance against the Saudi’s gender discrimination practices until now.

I mean the IOC’s unwillingness to act, since the Institute for Gulf Affairs (IGA) brought this issue to their attention in 2010, is about oil too. It’s certainly not about engaging in “direct and discrete dialogue” with the Saudi National Olympic Committee as the IOC has claimed both publicly and in replies to IGA correspondence. If you don’t believe me, then look at the IOC’s record in combating discrimination. Prior to the 1964 Summer Olympics, the IOC banned South Africa for a total of 28 years from Olympic participation because of their racial apartheid practices. They even held their gumption when the country offered to send seven non-whites as a part of their 62-member team. More recently, prior to the 2000 Games, the IOC actually banned Afghanistan from participating citing the country’s “oppression of women, [and more] specifically laws forbidding [women] to play sports.” So in other words, Afghanistan was banned for the exact same reason that Saudi Arabia should be banned. Except for one difference… the Afghan’s don’t have oil whereas the Saudi’s do.

I know my outlook is bleak, but it’s impossible not to adapt this attitude when day in and day out you put the effort in and little to nothing changes as a result. This pessimism doesn’t change my dream to change the world, but it certainly makes me think twice about the practicality of my dream. Can one person, actually, change the world? I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe I will. Maybe all of that hullabaloo I heard as a kid from my parents about being able to do anything I put my mind to is, in fact, true. Maybe it really does only take one person to change the world.

Word Conscious Wednesday: Slut

I’d first like to apologize for not publishing my third Word Conscious Wednesday post last Wednesday. Things got a little hectic between school and packing for my weekend trip to Bermuda. Regardless, I hope that because of the small step I’m taking with this blog series, you begin to think about what impact the words you use have on others. If you have an idea for a word you think I should shine a spotlight on, I encourage you to post a comment or email me (alixandragreenman@gmail.com).

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“Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated.”
~Coretta Scott King

As a woman, ending the stigma surrounding women and sex is of the utmost importance. I never understood why men who sleep with multiple women are considered players while women who do the same with men are considered sluts, bimbos, or whores. Unfortunately, it’s still common for men to refer to women as sluts in a derogatory fashion. Sure, some women are empowered enough to not care that they are called sluts. But just because some people don’t care about a word doesn’t mean that it doesn’t cause harm. It still undermines women who are in charge of their sexuality.

Calling someone a slut, in any form, insinuates the same message—that women should feel guilty for having sex. As if having sex makes you a bad person or makes you dirty. Perhaps even nonredeemable.

It bothers me too that slut is often used as a catch-all term. If I don’t like another woman, I have plenty of other insults I can use—ones that have to do with her rudeness or lack of critical thinking abilities. In essence, there is a plethora of other words that are actually relevant to my interactions with her. I don’t care what she wears, or who she sleeps with, and neither should you.

How many times have you carelessly said, “Yeah, she’s kind of slut?” It’s not that fundamentally different from saying something like, “Yeah, he’s kind of a fag.” I’m not going to claim that this word isn’t used anymore, but I do think it is much less acceptable in our society than slut.

Why do we have to use a derogatory word to describe someone’s sex life? Why do we have to use derogatory rhetoric at all? How often have you gossiped about someone’s sex life? How often has that hearsay actually told the full story? Remember that our words have incredible power. So I challenge you to…

…ask yourself the next time you use the word slut, bimbo, or whore to think about whether choosing this word is necessary.

…stand up for what’s right and politely correct people if you hear them use the word slut, bimbo, or whore.

This is the only way that things will ever change. One person at a time.