I always feel guilty as I move through the Chick-fil-a line. I wonder if the workers at the eco-friendly and healthy restaurant beside the fast food establishment are sad as people stream by them, making the wrong choice, diving for processed chicken nuggets and trans-fat filled waffle fries, while a few students with dread locks and packs of organic cigarettes select from their varied colors of healthy, locally grown mush.
My guilt deepens as I think about the politics of Chick-fil-a; I think about how they donate to causes I consider abhorrent. They hate homosexuality; they ask potential employees if they're Christian in their interviews; they're closed on Sundays. But the dining hall line is long, and I only have time to breeze through the Chick-fil-a line, give my money to causes that repress, eat the food that slowly clogs my arteries, so I can get to classes on time that are supposed to teach me critical thinking so I don't make bad choices.
It's hard to find a seat. I think about how many more people could sit here if people sat together instead of alone, each facing a computer screen instead of a human face. But nobody talks without a friend to mutually introduce them, or a shared interest discovered through happenstance. You don't meet people while you eat your chicken; you can only eat with people you know. So I am forced to squash myself into an uncomfortable corner while a person and his computer sit at a table for four. Hypocritically, I turn my ipod up louder to drown out the crowd.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 10, 2012
Together We Are Carolina
I felt so many emotions Wednesday night: anxiety, nausea, anticipation, pride, shock, anger, frustration, helplessness.
Many say it's dramatic that such emotions are channeled into a basketball game--a completely arbitrary competition on which nothing intrinsically valuable depends.
But a lot does depend on it. Many of the sad faces in the crowd at the end of the game were wearing shirts emblazoned with the basketball team's motto: "Together We Are Carolina." We hate Duke together; we win together; we lose together. Right now, a huge group of students just passed the library window, making quite the racket protesting tuition hikes. Together, we make a difference.
The UNC Duke rivalry is often set in stereotypical terms, but I think the underlying value systems of the universities are really at odds, giving the competition a personal, emotional edge. UNC, lovingly dubbed "public ivy," is about accessible, affordable, quality education. You can come from nothing and come to UNC: cost is never a deterrent. It's about inclusion, not exclusivity. People are easy-going. Carolina blue embodies a campus that values social change, progressive ideas (except when it comes to Gender Neutral Housing *grumble grumble*), and diversity.
Duke is an expensive, private school. It's for the privileged, people who like calling themselves the elite. As a result, they're whitewashed. The privileged portions of society don't have any interest in changing the status quo. Duke's in a different paradigm completely.
Then take these two clashing ideologies about education and privilege, stick them within eight miles of on another, then make them compete for some of the best and brightest minds and athletes and professors in the world, and you get one hell of a rivalry, all culminating in those basketball games.
So winning is not about comparing Austin Rivers and Tyler Zeller. Winning is not about free throw percentages or three point plays. It's about loving your school and believing in it so much that you want it to be the best at absolutely everything. It's about passion.
That five minutes of stunned silence permeating Chapel Hill at the end of the game? Even though it was one of the worst feelings in the world, I wouldn't trade it. I love being part of this place. All of that emotion makes me okay with shouting at the end of the fight song, every time we sing it:
GO TO HELL DUKE!
Many say it's dramatic that such emotions are channeled into a basketball game--a completely arbitrary competition on which nothing intrinsically valuable depends.
But a lot does depend on it. Many of the sad faces in the crowd at the end of the game were wearing shirts emblazoned with the basketball team's motto: "Together We Are Carolina." We hate Duke together; we win together; we lose together. Right now, a huge group of students just passed the library window, making quite the racket protesting tuition hikes. Together, we make a difference.
The UNC Duke rivalry is often set in stereotypical terms, but I think the underlying value systems of the universities are really at odds, giving the competition a personal, emotional edge. UNC, lovingly dubbed "public ivy," is about accessible, affordable, quality education. You can come from nothing and come to UNC: cost is never a deterrent. It's about inclusion, not exclusivity. People are easy-going. Carolina blue embodies a campus that values social change, progressive ideas (except when it comes to Gender Neutral Housing *grumble grumble*), and diversity.
Duke is an expensive, private school. It's for the privileged, people who like calling themselves the elite. As a result, they're whitewashed. The privileged portions of society don't have any interest in changing the status quo. Duke's in a different paradigm completely.
Then take these two clashing ideologies about education and privilege, stick them within eight miles of on another, then make them compete for some of the best and brightest minds and athletes and professors in the world, and you get one hell of a rivalry, all culminating in those basketball games.
So winning is not about comparing Austin Rivers and Tyler Zeller. Winning is not about free throw percentages or three point plays. It's about loving your school and believing in it so much that you want it to be the best at absolutely everything. It's about passion.
That five minutes of stunned silence permeating Chapel Hill at the end of the game? Even though it was one of the worst feelings in the world, I wouldn't trade it. I love being part of this place. All of that emotion makes me okay with shouting at the end of the fight song, every time we sing it:
GO TO HELL DUKE!
Feb 3, 2012
The Problem with Everything...
This article makes me so mad.
After watching a documentary containing the startling statistic that only 17% of television protagonists are women, I was happy to watch this week's Parks and Rec. That, coupled with 30 Rock, is a solid hour of female leading ladies (actually, the unfortunately unfunny show Whitney is at least about a woman, so good going NBC). I think Parks and Rec does more for the feminist cause than 30 Rock, even though Tina's always my favorite, because 30 Rock's constantly harping on Liz Lemon's affinity for food, bad fashion sense, and all the other things that are stereotypical of "working women" who give up their personal lives and femininity to be more masculine, more "feminist," is not what I think feminism should be about.
Leslie Knope is a put-together, passionate career woman. She loves her job, and she is well-respected and competent. That's why this article is so infuriating. The author clearly thinks that being a feminist means you can't be a person. Independent women are allowed to get help from their friends (and boyfriends!) occasionally. You're allowed to fall in love and you're allowed to make sacrifices for the person you love if you want to.
Isn't the most empowering option for Leslie to stay with her man AND run her own campaign? She is far from a damsel in distress. She is allowed to have character flaws, too. The example of her behavior in the bowling alley just exhibited one of Leslie's weaknesses--she fixates on details and wants people to like her. That just shows how Ben is good for her, what women should look for in a partner: someone who evens them out, who makes them better. What's anti-feminist about a healthy, balanced relationship? Pretending that Leslie has to be a perfect role model without any flaws is silly and destructive. Media images of women being perfect is what is wrong with our society; making the ideal working woman is just as bad as the ideal photo-shopped model. The unattainability of it is the problem. Leslie's supportive friends and good attitude help her deal with her flaws in positive and constructive ways. THAT is a good role model.
In case the writer of this article didn't notice, Leslie is currently maintaining her job in the Parks Department with her usual competence, running her City Council campaign, AND successfully dating Ben. Where is she getting the notion that the show is making Leslie choose between work and love? I thought the writers handled that plot beautifully.
Also, if you want something truly anti-feminist, check out the opening line of this wretched article:
"If you’re looking to get into the pants of a feminist, wonkish liberal, make sure to work Parks and Recreation into your sweet nothings."
To get into the pants of a feminist. Really? Really?
Clearly, this writer doesn't know what feminism is, or why Parks and Recreation is and continues to be an important presence on primetime tv. Yes, bitches get stuff done, but they shouldn't have to be bitches to do so. Enter Leslie Knope.
After watching a documentary containing the startling statistic that only 17% of television protagonists are women, I was happy to watch this week's Parks and Rec. That, coupled with 30 Rock, is a solid hour of female leading ladies (actually, the unfortunately unfunny show Whitney is at least about a woman, so good going NBC). I think Parks and Rec does more for the feminist cause than 30 Rock, even though Tina's always my favorite, because 30 Rock's constantly harping on Liz Lemon's affinity for food, bad fashion sense, and all the other things that are stereotypical of "working women" who give up their personal lives and femininity to be more masculine, more "feminist," is not what I think feminism should be about.
Leslie Knope is a put-together, passionate career woman. She loves her job, and she is well-respected and competent. That's why this article is so infuriating. The author clearly thinks that being a feminist means you can't be a person. Independent women are allowed to get help from their friends (and boyfriends!) occasionally. You're allowed to fall in love and you're allowed to make sacrifices for the person you love if you want to.
Isn't the most empowering option for Leslie to stay with her man AND run her own campaign? She is far from a damsel in distress. She is allowed to have character flaws, too. The example of her behavior in the bowling alley just exhibited one of Leslie's weaknesses--she fixates on details and wants people to like her. That just shows how Ben is good for her, what women should look for in a partner: someone who evens them out, who makes them better. What's anti-feminist about a healthy, balanced relationship? Pretending that Leslie has to be a perfect role model without any flaws is silly and destructive. Media images of women being perfect is what is wrong with our society; making the ideal working woman is just as bad as the ideal photo-shopped model. The unattainability of it is the problem. Leslie's supportive friends and good attitude help her deal with her flaws in positive and constructive ways. THAT is a good role model.
In case the writer of this article didn't notice, Leslie is currently maintaining her job in the Parks Department with her usual competence, running her City Council campaign, AND successfully dating Ben. Where is she getting the notion that the show is making Leslie choose between work and love? I thought the writers handled that plot beautifully.
Also, if you want something truly anti-feminist, check out the opening line of this wretched article:
"If you’re looking to get into the pants of a feminist, wonkish liberal, make sure to work Parks and Recreation into your sweet nothings."
To get into the pants of a feminist. Really? Really?
Clearly, this writer doesn't know what feminism is, or why Parks and Recreation is and continues to be an important presence on primetime tv. Yes, bitches get stuff done, but they shouldn't have to be bitches to do so. Enter Leslie Knope.
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