Margins

By Gary Y. Okihiro:

Margins and Mainstreams: Recentering Women

"Those socially defined attributions of gender and gender relations were presented to women as 'virtues', like women's bound feet, a practice begun during the Sung dynasty were deified as paragons of feminine beauty and worshiped in cults of the 'golden lotus' and 'golden lily.' Throughout her life, the ideal woman was subject to her father as a child, her husband when married, and her sons when widowed, and she was taught the four virtues: first, a woman should know her place in the universe and behave in compliance with the natural order of things; second. she should guard her words and not chatter too much or bore others; third, she must be clean and adorn herself to please men; and fourth, she should not shirk from her household duties.

As for the cult of the "golden lotus", the poet felt adequate when confronted with the matchless beauty of bound feet:

Anointed with fragrance, she takes lotus steps;

Though often sad, she steps with swift lightness,

She dances like the wind, leaving no physical trace...

Look at them in the palm of your hand,

So wondrously small that they defy description.

There was a saying, "for every pair of bound feet a bucket full of tears."

The little things: feeling free.

The littles things: Quarters

This afternoon, my mother and I went grocery shopping. One produce store and the other Aldi. For those of you who don't know (assuming people read this), Aldi is an super discount "supermarket." At Aldi's, you need to put a quarter into the shopping cart to use it. When you are done shopping, you get that quarter back.

After we finished up at Aldi's, we were loading up the car and this woman came by and asked my mother for the quarter from our cart. My mother did not say anything and just looked at her. I said, just let her have it. The woman said thank you, God bless, happy new years, etc.

Then me and my mom spent 5 minutes talking about that quarter. She was not pleased that I gave up the quarter.

T: Are you really gonna miss that quarter? MY quarter?

M: How do you think you make dollars? By quarters! Yes, I will miss it when I am a quarter short of a dollar.

T: Mom. Really? We have a bunch of quarters at home.

M: Money is money. During these times, every little bit counts.

Normally, I would not give that quarter a second thought. Though I'm not the most fortunate, I know how fortunate I am. Even during this freezing time of the year as my family rations gas and depend on thermal blankets and space heaters, I know that there are many people out there that don't even have that option.

But my mother had a different mentality: the survival mentality. I know a lot of it comes from how she was brought up during the Cultural Revolution in China where every little bit does count. Times were hard. And times are hard for us now since she is now unemployed.

I just strongly believe in karma. I believe that the little things that you put out in the universe will come back to you. That quarter that I gave away will come back to me in a different form. That quarter may not change that woman's life. But that quarter may be what she needed to make that dollar she needed. Or maybe not. Maybe she'll still end up losing it, spending it elsewhere, etc. And I will be okay with that. How that energy is used is not up to me. I fully believe that the things I can control, like giving off positive energy, will eventually come back to me no matter how that energy is initially used. This is my faith, my religion, my belief in humanity. I have to trust that the universe will do its part as long as I do mine.

And maybe my initial thought was that that quarter was insignificant. But after my mother's reaction to something that comes natural to me, I saw that that quarter was just as significant to me as it was to my mother.

The little things: December in Chicago.

I stepped out of Charles' house last night around midnight. As he was locking the front door, I looked out into the street covered in white with a subzero breeze in the air. Most people freak, shudder, complain. I smiled. It was a "awww" moment.

That subzero feeling on a dimly lit street on the south side of Chicago brought me back to all of our memories as teenagers. The night time was the only time I got to see Charles as we both snuck out of our houses to see each other. I remember the Titanic-like foggy car windows, the crisp of snow beneath our feet, the burst of warm air coming from the car vents.

I remember him going in the alleyway to piss in the snow, the trip to Dominick's at 2 in the morning, the blanket we kept in the backseat of his car, the words exchanged through our vaporized breath.

Our teenage love affair. Last night, in the midst of snowy winter in December in the city of Chicago, I was reminded what love feels like.

Laziness?

It is entirely too easy for me to stop writing. I have no reason to write--so I think. I watched Julie and Julia. (Julia and Julie?) And it is concluded. My writing is not purposeful. There is not goal.

Yet there feels to be so much going on in my life. Family, boyfriend, friends, school, extracurriculars...

Well... let's see. Let's try to actually write about something.

I've been given the task/honor/privilege/challenge of making a speech for MLK Day for the MLK Scholar Celebration Breakfast. After the shock and flattery effects, I chuckled at my automatic desire to use that time as a soap box moment. Like how I hate we romanticize the man, how he is seen as a messiah, how he see him as perfect, how we strive to be him, how we define him based on one out of his many speeches.

Don't get me wrong. The man was a hero. He braced against the obstacles. He marched. He was the most visible activist during that time. But he wasn't the only. Far from it.

I adore the man because he symbolizes what ordinary people can do. He symbolizes the fact that one individual can gather millions. His accomplishments were remarkable. But even he realized his work for equality was left undone. After the Watts riot which happened after the March on Washington, he saw that even in places where there is no segregation, something was wrong. The problem wasn't as simple as dealing with "separate but equal." This was just scratching the surface of social, economic, and political issues dealing with poverty that has racial implications. He said it himself in a later speech, "My dream is shattered."

So I plan to examine the man behind the name for my speech.

We all like the sound of rainbows and butterflies. To me, it just looks like a way to cover the ugliness of what's really going on--what's really going on for millions of people everyday, all day.

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See? This is what spills out of my fingers. I hate sounding like that. It's me, undoubtedly, uncensored. At the same time, I wish this space was where I can relax, where I'm not on a soap box.

I wish this was a place where I'm sinking in a couch with a mug in hand, glasses and smile attached to my face. I want to talk about the little things in life.

Yes. The little things in life. We'll start there.

Testimony

"I still smell his sweat."

"How could God allow it to happen?"

"We put her away instead of trying to help her...I watched her die."

"There are strong women in my life."

"My mother is my idol."

The voices of my peers. The people who have taught me so much tonight. I cannot wait to see them grow and for them to help me grow.

Canvas

Ok, my new secret obsession: the bib necklace. Secret because I could probably never afford to attempt to pull it off. Plus, it'll probably draw just more unneeded attention to my chest.

A little de la Renta with a black tee/dress.

But hold on. Wait. Wait for it. Felt bib necklaces??????

Yes please.