gender-emotion-blog

[gender-emotion-blog]

the intersectionality between empathy, compassion and grief pt 1.

My first significant experience with death occurred when my mom’s mom passed away from ovarian cancer when I was six years old. I don’t remember very much of her being sick, but the aftermath will stay with me forever. My mom is an only child and was very close to her parents. Grief manifests in all shapes and sizes, there is no universal definition that characterizes how someone is supposed to cope with the loss of a loved one. In fact, to my understanding, grief is one of the emotions that cannot be judged or placed in a box because the coping techniques are completely individualized based on perception and reaction to the social norms surrounding grief. That being said, grief is not immune to society’s expectations of emotional work and labor that often require people to create an acceptable external facade. This leaves me wondering, how long do we give people to grieve? When do we expect them to return to a “normal” lifestyle? Is it possible for one to fully recover from the loss of a parent?

My mom didn’t leave her bedroom for one month and could barely speak for three. She was either crying or completely shut down, no one tried to mediate her grief process. Yet she knew that she had to continue on with her responsibilities at some point. Daina Harvey articulates that one of the strategies of coping with the inevitable suffering that couples with grief is connection. After a considerable amount of time, I watched my mom begin to reconnect with her life and the people in it and I felt her parenting style shift. She threw herself into my sister and my lives, demonstrating a tremendous effort to be present and involved. She started volunteering to raise awareness for ovarian cancer, which is very underrepresented in research and funding. She also committed to telling her mom’s immigration story from Cuba, which is one of great turmoil, resilience and perseverance.

Now it has been 15 years and she told me you never fully recover from the loss of a parent but the pain becomes bearable and it is possible to re-cultivate connection and meaning in your life.

[gender-emotion-blog]

the intersectionality between empathy, compassion and grief pt 2.

When I was 10, my dad’s mom died of breast cancer. He did not have the same level of closeness with his mom that my mom had with hers but nevertheless, the loss was immeasurable and even though he tried to maintain a composed exterior, I knew he was broken. Men are expected to deal with grief differently. It is less acceptable for them to break down and cry, especially in public, and my dad definitely felt the pressures of that expectation. He was also the sole source of income and had to really mask his grief in order to continue his job. It was interesting to observe the differences in how others treated him with compassion versus empathy. Matias and Zembylas state: “the object of compassion exists primarily within an imaginary realm that sentimentalizes the other and avoids any action that shows caring in practice.” In other words, compassion encompasses feeling sorry for someone’s suffering but not necessarily taking action to alleviate that suffering. The majority of people demonstrated compassion towards both my parents when they lost their moms. Empathy on the other hand, is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. It can be hard to recognize situations in which one can honestly *understand* someone else’s experience, but my mom was one of the few people who could share my dad’s grief because she had just been through a very similar situation and is obviously very connected to him. Her ingenuity and trust allowed him to open up and have dialogue surrounding his grief so he didn’t always have to keep it in and strategize a facade. It was really beautiful to watch my parents help and lean on each other, and later my mom expressed how grateful she was to share such a heartbreaking but inevitable experience together that made them even closer.

Empathy requires truly seeing someone and taking the time and energy to invest in the connection of a shared experience. Even so, no two experiences are ever truly the same and there are limits to empathy. But the fact that my parents were able to nourish their relationship and bolster their connection in the wake of unbelievable grief is truly magnificent and inspiring to me.

[gender-emotion-blog]

The Presence of Love, Envy, and Jealousy Amongst the Chosen Family

This will begin the first of two short stories that revolve around the emotions of love, envy, and jealousy within friends or “chosen family”.  These stories will also have the presence of other emotions that coincide with love, envy, and jealousy. However, these three emotions will be the main focus.  The story will be about Alice and Jace who have been friends for years.  

Alice and Jace both love each other but what does that mean? Throughout our society there has been many debates on what constitutes as love.  As Felmee and Spricher point out there are even debates over whether or not it is an emotion.  Advocates on the pro side see love as a basic emotion that focuses on the immediate short-term moments.  You can tell that there is love between people when there is a relationship between them, soft and tender facial expressions, mutual gazing, hugging, and kissing.  Advocates on the con side see is as a mixture of other emotions, therefore, it could not be one as its own.  They see love as a goal-oriented motive in which the goal is to preserve and offer the well-being of the valued object.  Acknowledging these points of views allow us to see how individuals can view love through a biological, psychological, and/or sociological differences. This determines how you see emotions.  

The debate over whether or not love constitutes as an emotion leads to the theory of love.  Sternberg claims that there are three primary components that makeup love: intimacy, passion, and commitment.  For Sternbreg intimacy is the warmth, understanding, caring, support, and connection that one can have with another.  Passion occurs when there is a physical attraction and arousal for a person.  Commitment refers to the decision to stay in the relationship and maintain it with another.  There are various types of love that one can experience in their lifetime.  

Alice and Jace have a companionate love but Jace is slowing finding himself having a passionate love for Alice.  According to As Felmee and Spricher companionate love is when two people feel for each other when their lives are intertwined.  For Alice and Jace, they met when they were in eighth-grade.  Their lives became intertwined when they got paired up for an English project.  They became friends and realized that they would be going to the same high school in the fall and continued on with their friendship.  They would hang-out whenever they could and keep each other up-to-date with their lives constantly.  It soon became second nature to have each other on their side.  

This shows the level of emotional intimacy that Alice and Jace have created for one another.  Normally people interpret intimacy as meaning sex or physical displays of affection like kissing or holding hands.  What Alice and Jace have created for one another was a form of intimacy that often gets overlooked.  Having an emotional intimacy means that two people have created a bond in which they feel comfortable sharing their deepest thoughts, dreams, and feelings.  

However, Jace is adapting a passionate love for Alice.  Passionate love is a state of intense longing for another and associated with “fulfillment and ecstasy”.  Through passionate love one is more likely to experience jealousy.  Jace is starting to experience these feelings of passionate love towards Alice.  He longs to experience what it would be like to move their relationship to next level of intimacy.  He feels that they have a solid friendship and wants to gain a deeper connection with her.  With an upcoming dance, he plans to start to move their friendship towards a relationship and letting her know how he feels. 

[gender-emotion-blog]

The Presence of Love, Envy, and Jealousy Amongst the Chosen Family Part 2

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and the school that Alice and Jace attend will be planning a dance.  Jace sees this dance as a perfect opportunity to show Alice how much she means to him.  Jace has developed a passion for Alice.  Like Felmelee and Sprecher claim, passion is a motivation characterized by physical attraction and arousal.  He wants to make a commitment to her.  Many see commitment as a defining moment in a relationship.  It is often the hardest part of a relationship to find someone who is willing to commit to you. Felmelee and Sprecher see commitment as cognitive and refers to the decision to stay in the relationship and maintain it.  

Jace plans on asking Alice with a Valentine’s Day card.  He wants to give it to her on their walks home.  He considers these moments the best part of their days and where they talk about everything and anything.  On that particular day Alice started their conversation by saying, “Adam asked me to the dance and I really like him!”.  With the Valentine in his back pocket Jace become overwhelmed with a feeling that he was not sure of.  Alice continued on and on about this guys and the valentine grew heavy in his pocket.  Jace started to become annoyed and angry for a reason he could not explain.  He acted like his mom needed him for something and cut their walk short. Once home Jace ran into his room and crumpled his valentine and threw it in the trash.  

Considering Jace’s reaction to Alice’s news it can be assumed that he was experiencing jealously.  Within Deri’s article they point out that men often respond to jealousy with anger.  They claim this is due to the fact men want to avoid the humiliation that comes with jealousy.  Understanding what jealousy is complex.  Jealousy can be seen as a sign of love and noble reaction to what you think that your partner may be doing outside of your relationship.  

Deri provides the insight for the different types of jealousy that Jace could be experiencing.  The type of jealousy that Jace is experiencing is called fait accompli.  This is where the threat or 'rival' (Adam) is known and/or the relationship is in real jeopardy such as when a lover has left one person for another.  Jace realizes that he may have waited too long in telling Alice how he feels towards her.  He becomes angry within himself and starts to pull away from Alice.  

She starts to realize that something is wrong and tries to address it but he ignores her.  They are in his room when she tries to talk about it but he brushes it off and tell her that that nothing is wrong and they should go watch television downstairs and leaves. Alice becomes frustrated with the fact that he does not want to talk about it but starts to follow him downstairs when she accidentally bumps his trashcan and everything falls over.  Annoyed at herself, Alice starts to pick up everything and put it back into the trash can when the valentine catches her eye.  

Alice realizes that the crumpled up piece a paper is more than just homework that Jace threw away.  She notices that her name is on it and starts to open up the paper.  In it she reads how Jace feels towards her and decides to crumple the paper back up and put it into the trash.  She cares about Jace but does not want feel the passion that has seem to have developed from him.  

[gender-emotion-blog]

Pride in Sports

In major sports, there are people that are prideful about a given team or organization. I am no different in this assumption. I have gone through my life representing my sports teams while also being proud of the team when they win or accomplish a huge goal. I will try and support my team as well as I can, and this aspect of my life with stay with my till the day I die.

           Since I was a little kid, I was brought up to be a fan of USC football. My dad and many family members went to USC, and there was a culture in my house that I was introduced to and loved. There are many reminders of USC in our house, and many of them are easy to spot. My dad is proud of his past and will show off the fact that he loves the school and does not care what the other people think. The reminders are one of the four ingredients that Marci Cottingham talks about as she is talking about Interaction Ritual Theory. One of the ingredients of the theory is group symbols, and they are everywhere in my household. There is a USC flag hanging outside my house, there are USC cups and silverware present, and there are even USC themed lights for when there is a football game on. The symbols are the one ingredient that is always present, but when it is game day the others show up. My uncle and my dad’s friends would come over and watch the games, and would show two more of the ingredients: group solidarity and emotional energy. They would cheer on the team together and would share the emotions depending on how the game went. If USC scored or made a great play, they would cheer, but if there was a bad play or the other team scored, they would be upset and more than likely blame the referee. These emotions would fluctuate until after the game, where the winner had already been decided. If USC lost, my dad and his friends would have been upset. However, when they won, they would celebrate and talk about how much better USC was. Their pride would shoot through the roof if we went anywhere after the game, my dad would still be wearing his USC apparel and be proud of it. There is a sense of power when your team comes out on top. When USC won, my dad felt a sense of power even though he had nothing to do with the outcome. But my dad just knew he had an upper hand, especially when he saw fans from the opposing team. The little banter is an example of pride coming out and revealing itself to the outside world.

           Now, I am a part of the traditions and emotions associated with USC football. I know see how I act and how my pride can show up when my team wins. I have noticed this through all sports, but USC is always more intense because of the environment as well as the power than I could potentially feel.

[gender-emotion-blog]

Mami

“Hijo, te dejè tamales en el refrigerador.” (Son, I left you tamales for you in the refrigerator.”) That night, Mami’s note sat on our small kitchen table waiting for me. When my older brother Brian, and sister Maria moved out, our wooden framed portrait of The Last Supper was all that was left to watch over Mami, Papi, and I. I saw my mother suffer from loss, but could not understand it.

That night, when I laced up my running shoes to find Mami, I ran harder than Brian, the family track star, ever had. As I hugged Mami under that tree, the degrading smell of Clorox on her shirt was proof of the toilets she had scrubbed earlier that day. Putting down the rope to take my hand, I knew I had exceeded the powers of the wooden portrait. My mother had given me a glimpse into her world. I was not ready to suffer from loss. Mami would not end her life that night.

I feared that my mother’s final memory might have been of my cowardice, my inability to stand up and confront her suffering. The “quiet suffering” I was trained not to hear. Walking on egg shells was a response to my mother’s “normative” suffering (Harvey, 2012). During that moment under the tree, I made it clear to my mother if she left us, she would miss the triumph that was yet to come. I wanted her to see me enter college and become the man she always hoped I would become.

Watching my mother scrub the floors of my privileged classmate and struggle to get the care she needs, is difficult. We fear failure in a world rigged against us. We are both fighting for stability in our lives and our passage out of poverty. It is because of the “marginalizing practices” of segmented labor that my mother internalizes her suffering as punishment (Harvey, 2012).

The night Mami almost left us allowed me to see the power of hope. Today, I am excited to gain the education I will need to transform my barrio school district, and to give hope to all the families who suffer from loss everyday.

Soon, I will return home to put a college diploma on the wall next to the wooden framed Last Supper. At that moment, we will all know the power of hope.

[gender-emotion-blog]

Happiness in Friendship

Generally, I like to think of myself as a happy person. There is not much that will get under my skin and always looking forward to what each day presents me. But how do I do it? I’ll admit, there is a bunch of negativity around me all the time, but there are certain things that I focus on that keep me happy throughout each and every day.

           One important aspect of my life that encourages my happiness is focusing on the positive relationships that I have with other people. At this university, there are so many people that I have a relationship with that it makes me feel wanted and I feel like I have something of value. This cannot be more true with the organization/fraternity that I am apart of: Alpha Phi Omega (APO). In APO, one of our three pillars is friendship, so making connections with other people is a big deal. With APO, I have developed some life-long friendships, and through the friendships is where I get my happiness. But what leads to finding happiness in these relationships? According to Sara Ahmed, there are  “things” that society connects to happiness, which include sexual intimacy, marriage, and family. I would argue that APO is my family away from home, so others can see that I am in a place with people who care about me. This is evident as some people get jealous whenever they try to intervene in the relationships because they know the bond is nothing similar. Even though I have bonds with every person I meet, there are certain aspects within the relationship that keep bonds together and other aspects that keeps other friendship bonds together. For example, with the people in APO, the bond that is shared consists of different memories and a willingness to support each other. Different bonds are supported by different memories and circumstances, which is what makes my bond with the people of APO unique. This aspect is similar with a real family, as no one outside the family can really understand the bond that is within. I believe that the source of the happiness is within the bonds of the relationship and is part of the reason how I stay happy all the time.

           I feel that the other reason that I am so happy is that I take the time to really appreciate what I have accomplished. Everyone gets so focused on where they want to go and once they see how long it will take them to succeed, they get down and sad. Don’t get me wrong, striving to achieve goals is important. However, you need to be able to look back at your accomplishments and be proud of what you have done so far. Using APO as an example, there are situations where I have been proud for what I or others have done. In the fall semester of 2017, I was really stressed about taking a position and in the middle of the semester I was overwhelmed because I had events to plan and I did not think they were going to be very good. It was not until one of my friends pointed out what I have done prior to that point that I realized how proud I was for what I accomplished. I had already planned more events than the last person who ran my position and everyone seemed to like my event very much. Then again, I only know from what my friends told me but I was able to reflect on my accomplishments and was proud of my accomplishments. Once I felt pride, I was able to regain my happiness and moved on from that point.

           In short, I strive to live everyday with happiness because I also believe that happiness is infectious. When one person is happy, the mood spreads like a virus. The happiness can stem from many places, whether it is the connection between the individual or the realization of things or relationships in your life that make you happy. However, unless you separate yourself from society, there will always be one relationship that you are proud to have.

[gender-emotion-blog]

white america

Hey, white america. Fear is inevitable. In white america, the lived experience of brown and black bodies is a dark, and violent reality. We all fear each other out of lack of trust and understanding of each other. To occupy a body of color, means to have no control over the safety of that body. This translates into a life of constant fear and internalization of inferiority. Because advocating for our rights is an indication of our defiance.

Instead we must learn to live in our own bodies, circumventing whiteness. Ta-Nehesi Coates articulates this in Between the World and Me:

"This need to be always on guard was an unmeasured expenditure of energy, the slow siphoning of the essence. It contributed to the fast breakdown of our bodies. So I feared not just the violence of this world but the rules designed to protect you from it, the rules that would have you contort your body to address the block, and contort again to be taken seriously by colleagues, and contort again so as not give the police a reason."(Coates, 90).

I hate that I have to change for you, white america. Yet, I did not even realize that I code-switch to survive. My body scares you, because you made it scary. I am fearful because I have no control over how you manage your emotions and actions towards me. I have to tailor myself to go unnoticed, to be accepted. As a brown body, I am reassured that I must not only be fearful of my actions but those of others who look like me. Because another brown body has made you feel afraid, I now make you fearful also.

We all possess a “fear bank” (Wasielewski, University of Redlands). As we navigate the world, we hold emotional implicit biases linked to race. I have learned to fear you, like you have learned to fear me. You operate through a “white racial frame,” allowing you to benefit from fearing me. You created the master narrative. A binary. white or non-white. Fearful and the feared. My racial frame defends your position of power without me even knowing it. I have internalized all that you have deem wrong with me to be my fault. So when I walk into a store and am followed by security, I feel guilty despite my innocence. Because it does not matter how I feel about myself to you. I have internalized the fact that your treatment of me is a result of my own defects. I refuse to capitalize you with the power that you have exerted over me. I resent you.

I challenge George Yancy’s “elevator effect,” which describes a situation in which “a white woman enters an elevator already occupied by a black man and upon seeing him moves to the opposite end, avoids sustained eye contact, and clutches her belongings” (Torres, Cannito-Coville, Rodriguez, 1119). I propose the “scared animal” analogy. The idea that animals are more scared than humans with learned phobias. But you would not know unless you stepped into my world. white america, you have trained your people to not only not understand, but also to hate. So when you “clutch” your belongings, I also refrain from making any sudden moves. The truth is, when you cross the street, I too feel safer. Because if I crossed the street first, I’d be arrested for jaywalking and charged with the crime of my body. white america, my body is probable cause.

But of course you knew that. You knew that when Zimmerman followed Trayvon Martin, against orders, and destroyed his body. You have racialized power without your followers even knowing it. You have divided us with the violence embedded in our emotions.

[gender-emotion-blog]

The Middle Child

     On Tuesday January 23, 2018, I experienced my first anxiety attack after a few months. The last one I had was last August, and since it hadn’t happened in a while, I thought I had overcome my anxiety attacks. The days leading to the attack, I felt chest pains. I assumed the pains were due to lack of air, but I was wrong.

     I had a very busy day that day. I barely even had time to eat. I was rushing from school to my doctor’s appointment to work. I had some time to spare before having to go back to work, so I decided to go home to eat with my family. When I got home, my sisters and nephews were over. When I walked in, my mom immediately served me a plate. As soon as I sat down, I wanted to do nothing else but cry. Being in a safe place I call home allowed me to just want to breakdown.  My dad noticed something was wrong so he asked me if I was okay. I looked at him and responded yes.  When really deep inside I was breaking apart. I couldn’t tell him what it was I feeling. I didn’t it even know. After all, this was my “first” anxiety attack. I knew that if I stayed sitting at that table a second longer, I would burst out in tears. As soon as my dad asked how I was, everyone else turned to look at me. I suddenly became the center of attention, which was the last thing I wanted. My emotions were all over the place. Till this day I still can’t seem to explain what I truly felt. I think it is because I hadn’t experienced an anxiety attack prior to that day. All I know is that my body felt hot, my hands were shaking, and I couldn’t really focus on what was really happening. Although everything took place in a matter of minutes, it felt like hours to me.

     I looked at everyone, apologized, and headed towards my room. As soon as I laid down on my bed, I began to cry. I cried like those girls in a movie scene when they get their heart broken. I couldn’t catch my breath. All I was able to do was cry and cry.

     My walked into my room and asked why I was crying. At that moment, I didn’t know how to describe my emotions to my mother. I kept saying, “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong (I just wanted her to leave me alone).” She kept insisting for a response, and since I wanted to be alone, I lied and said, “I am just stressing about school”. She finally left. But I know I didn’t convince her. My tone of voice and facial expression said something completely different. As I laid in bed, I couldn’t calm myself down, so I called boyfriend hoping he could help.

     I don’t know how my boyfriend did it or what he said, but he was able to calm me down. He made me realize that I was okay, that it was okay to feel the emotions I felt even though I couldn’t explain what provoked my anxiety attack. Knowing that the person I loved so much understood me and didn’t judge me, really calmed me down and allowed me to just let loose. After hanging up the phone, I decided to take a nap since I still had to go to work.

      It was time to go to work, and I was scheduled at the front desk where I had to communicate with customers, which was the last thing I wanted to do. I didn’t want my emotion work to affect my ability to perform my job like I am required to. It’s as if I had to wear a mask for the day and act as if just 30 minutes ago I didn’t have an anxiety attack. Now that I think about it, I don’t know how I pulled it off. Or maybe I am just a good actor. At least that is what most people say about females. They call women “bipolar” because we can go from being angry to happy by simply giving us food, and somehow it is accepted by society to behave this way, and sometimes they even call it “cute”. But if a male drastically changes his emotions, they are looked at as a crazy men guy. Why can’t we just accept that we all have emotions and that sometimes we can’t express or explain them?

Picture by: The YU Observer

[gender-emotion-blog]

The Depressed Cousin

           If you are a depressed or anxious teenager, you will most likely be sent to the doctors. At least that’s what happened to me. I was in eighth grade when I was “diagnosed” with depression. I quote it because it was all bullshit. I wasn’t depressed, I was in need of love and attention from my parents. I had the brilliant idea to tell my mom “I feel lonely; I feel like no one cares about me”. So of course, my mom freaked out and took me to the doctors because she was scared I’d hurt myself. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell her that I needed more of her time. I guess I was embarrassed since I was already “old” and I shouldn’t need much attention from my mother.

           We arrived to the doctors and it felt like I was being interviewed with all the questions I was being asked. After being asked what felt like 100 questions, I was evaluated and diagnosed with “depression”. You feel this way, my doctor said, because your brain isn’t working right. You need to take drugs which are anti-depressants, and they will help balance your chemicals. So instead of leaving with an appointment to see a counselor or something (at least that’s what my mother and I had in mind), I left with drugs. Sure the drugs were working, or at least that’s what I thought. But after taking them for a while and not seeing a difference on how I was feeling, I began to think there was something wrong with me. It’s as if the pills were making me feel depressed. I began to lose interest in what I would normally love doing. I refused to attend any family parties because I know it required me to talk to people, which is something I hated.

           A few months had passed since I was given those haunting pills. I honestly felt like they were killing me. Now, I actually felt depressed, and didn’t want to live anymore. I was rushed to the hospital the night of September 23, 2011 after attempting to take my life away. Since I was still conscious, I clearly remember that night. I will never forget the look on my mother’s face when I was laying on a hospital bed that night. She kept asking why and all I was able to say was sorry. After being checked and monitored by multiple nurses, the doctor finally came into the room and pulled my mother aside. He had told her that I was going to be taken away to some type of rehab center for teens that suffer depression.

           I was only at that center for about 3 weeks, but it definitely felt longer. My room had no doors, no windows, no mirrors. Just a bed. The restrooms were scary. No doors, no knobs, no windows, no mirrors. Basically, all the rooms in the facility were built for weird teenage girls that attempted to commit suicide. They wanted to ensure that we didn’t have access to anything that might be used as a weapon.

           We were to be up every morning at 5:30 am. We spent majority of the day doing group activities and we each had an assigned time to meet with our counselor to discuss about our progress. Our families were allowed to visit but it would only make it harder for me, especially when it was time to say goodbye. After the first day, I knew I had to do everything that was asked of me in order to get out of there as soon as possible. I had to act certain way in which they hoped for. I had to make them believe I was sane in an insane place. And if I stayed there, I would only get worse.

           It’s been 7 years since I went through that phase in my life and I know I am still seen as the “weird cousin” that went through depression in the family. Thing is, there was never really anything wrong with me psychologically. It all started from wanting attention from my parents and ended with being prescribed drugs and sent to a center for help. There was just a lot going on in my life which were good reasons to make me feel depressed which is sociological, not psychological how my doctor made me believe.   

Picture by: Lolitpop

[gender-emotion-blog]

What is love

This valentine’s day has been one for the books. I have never had an official valentine so my friends and family make up for it. This valentine’s day I was not home so my family sent me a package and I got the notification to pick it up on the actual holiday. This was nice because it showed that they still thought about me even though I wasn’t there. It truly made me feel what love was from afar. This valentine’s day I decided to show my love for the ones that are there for me daily through thick and thin and, that was my best friends and roommate. I bought them all their favorite candy and then got them balloons and a card. I made sure the cards were extremely heartfelt and I told them how I feel about them. These people have truly made an impact in my life and they brought me to all my senses when I had nothing left in me last semester.

           These lovely group of people make me know what it is to feel love and show what love is. Ever since I was a child I was always searching to find love because my parents did not show me any kind of love. My father did not want me and my mother got into a bad place and lost me as her child. Through this all my grandparents were blessings and obtained guardianship of me and they have shown me that I am able to be loved. My friends continue to show me and never let me not talk about my feelings.  

           I do not tie love to any gender because regardless of gender you will always want to feel love is. There could be toxic love which would be a setback but you will always want to feel some sort of connection.

[gender-emotion-blog]

Embarrassment

My mother has dragged me through so much through my childhood. This specifically is going to be about the shame she went through because she could not support her daughter through anything in life. She has told me so many times that she has felt so many different emotions along with them shame. She has experienced guilt, jealousy and envy. My mother saw everything that other families were doing with their kids and providing them with and she had the embarrassment of not being able to do it because she lost her job and had no motivation to get another. I always believed that she would change as I got older to help me through college and she told me she would get back on her feet but she fell into some funk and never got out .

All this has caused me a ton of emotional pain. Seeing my mother have no motivation to get her life together after 16 years is devastating. She is near homeless and living in a hotel living day to day. This causes me so much pain and anger. I try so hard showing her available jobs and am even willing to go buy her work clothes. I have learned that not everybody wants help no matter how much effort you contribute to help them. I see normal happy families that have both parents in their life that work and are there to support their children through everything and I become extremely jealous and envious. I keep in the back of my mind that I am happy that they don’t have to go through anything like that but still wish I was in their shoes. For example all the kids at my high school had their families there with them when they made homecoming court but my mother decided last minute not to show up. I did have my grandparents who are my number one supporter but wanted my mom there as well.

Although I have lived with my grandparents since I was 3 because my mom had no means to support a child I really wish I had my normal mother back. She isn’t herself in this position and seeing her just makes me cry because I get so angry and am filled with so much hurt from this situation along with many more.

[gender-emotion-blog]

the intersectionality between empathy, compassion and grief pt 2.

When I was 10, my dad’s mom died of breast cancer. He did not have the same level of closeness with his mom that my mom had with hers but nevertheless, the loss was immeasurable and even though he tried to maintain a composed exterior, I knew he was broken. Men are expected to deal with grief differently. It is less acceptable for them to break down and cry, especially in public, and my dad definitely felt the pressures of that expectation. He was also the sole source of income and had to really mask his grief in order to continue his job. It was interesting to observe the differences in how others treated him with compassion versus empathy. Matias and Zembylas state: “the object of compassion exists primarily within an imaginary realm that sentimentalizes the other and avoids any action that shows caring in practice.” In other words, compassion encompasses feeling sorry for someone’s suffering but not necessarily taking action to alleviate that suffering. The majority of people demonstrated compassion towards both my parents when they lost their moms. Empathy on the other hand, is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. It can be hard to recognize situations in which one can honestly *understand* someone else’s experience, but my mom was one of the few people who could share my dad's grief because she had just been through a very similar situation and is obviously very connected to him. Her ingenuity and trust allowed him to open up and have dialogue surrounding his grief so he didn’t always have to keep it in and strategize a facade. It was really beautiful to watch my parents help and lean on each other, and later my mom expressed how grateful she was to share such a heartbreaking but inevitable experience together that made them even closer. 

Empathy requires truly seeing someone and taking the time and energy to invest in the connection of a shared experience. Even so, no two experiences are ever truly the same and there are limits to empathy. But the fact that my parents were able to nourish their relationship and bolster their connection in the wake of unbelievable grief is truly magnificent and inspiring to me. 

[gender-emotion-blog]

the intersectionality between empathy, compassion and grief

I’ll never forget the night my grandma, my mom’s mom, died of ovarian cancer in my childhood home. I was only 6 years old, but the image of my mom sobbing and praying as my grandma took her last breaths will forever be etched into my mind. My mom is an only child and was very close to both her parents. Her dad died one month after I was born, which must have resulted in the most overwhelming mixture of emotions. Grief manifests in all shapes and sizes, there is no universal definition to characterize how someone is supposed to cope with the loss of a loved one. In fact, to my understanding, grief is one of the emotions that cannot be judged or placed in a box because the coping techniques are completely individualized based on personal perception and reaction to the social norms surrounding grief. That being said, grief is not immune to society’s expectations of emotional work and labor that often require people to create an acceptable external facade. 

My mom didn’t leave her bedroom for one month and could barely speak for three. She was either crying or completely shut down, no one tried to mediate her grief process. Daina Harvey articulates one of the strategies of coping with grief is a connection. After a considerable amount of time, I watched my mom begin to reconnect with her life and the people in it - she demonstrated a tremendous effort to be present and involved. She started volunteering to raise awareness for ovarian cancer, which is very underrepresented in research and funding. She also committed to telling her mom's immigration story from Cuba, which is one of great turmoil, resilience, and perseverance. Now it has been 15 years and she told me you never really recover from the loss of a parent but the pain becomes bearable and it is possible to re-cultivate connection and meaning in your life. 

[gender-emotion-blog]

supposed to feel

When reading Hochschild’s take on how people are “supposed” to feel towards a certain scenario, it made me think of how I hold those same expectations for other people.  I often find others expecting me to feel the way they feel, while I am confused for the same reason (why they are not experiencing the same emotions I am).    

The most frequent time this happens is with my significant other.  Coming from two very different backgrounds and being raised differently, we come across our differences.  Growing up in Rialto, my boyfriend has been through some of life’s hardest obstacles at a very young age, forcing him to grow up faster than most kids.  On the other hand, I grew up in Redlands with no hardships in my life.  Given the way he grew up and his background, he does not stress over “little” things.  Having lost a brother among other devastating incidences in his family, he knows how much worse things can be.  So, he is often “desensitized,” as he likes to say, to the majority of things I see as a pretty big deal.  Although this is not his intention, he tends to brush my feelings under the rug because he sees them as so insignificant compared to what he has been through.  Unfair to me, but also understandable from his end. However, I am not on his end.  I have not been through anything close to what he has experienced.  So, when I tell him all the things that cause me stress, sadness, and anxiety, he doesn’t acknowledge them as real problems because “things could be worse.”  While this is 100% true and it has in fact helped me get through my own obstacles, it makes me feel like I am not allowed to feel any negative feelings unless a total tragedy occurs in my life.  But until then, my issues are insignificant.  

I just recently joined a sorority and the time commitment can be a bit overwhelming.  I once talked to him about my busy schedule and how many things we have to do in these next six weeks, along with the pressure to impress all of the members in efforts to build a relationship with them all.  Given that he is not in a sorority, I did not expect him to understand the anxiety I get from it.  However, knowing that I have anxiety in general, I was hoping he would know what to say to make me feel better about my situation.  When I was expecting a response that is something along the lines of, “I don’t blame you for feeling overwhelmed, that all seems pretty stressful for you.  But it’s going to be okay.  I know it’s hard right now but try not to stress out about it so much because it’s supposed to be fun,” I was a bit disappointed hearing, “Babe, calm down, it’s not that serious.”  By him saying, “it’s not that serious” makes me feel as though my feelings are not valid. This is when I get frustrated with him because he is not trying to put himself in my position.  I responded with frustration when he dismissed my problems.  Why couldn’t he just see that just because my problem may seem insignificant, my feelings are still real and it doesn’t help when he just tells me to let it go?  But while these thoughts are going through my head, he is thinking “What is she so worked up over? There are so many other things in life to be stressed over, so don’t waste your time on such little problems when you know it will be fine?”  We are both wondering why the other isn’t reacting the way we think they should.  

This was a bigger problem in the earlier times of our relationship, but over the years we have both progressed to the other side.  He acknowledges my feelings about things he perceives to be so small, and I have learned that there really are bigger things to worry about. The acceptance of each other’s feelings and emotions is the emotion work that both of us experience.

[gender-emotion-blog]

anger misunderstood

When reading Amy Wilkins essay “Not Out to Start a Revolution,” I immediately tried to put myself in my boyfriend’s position.  Since he his African-American, he “face(s) different expectations of their gender performances than white men” (38).  And I have seen it first-hand.  

My boyfriend and I have been together for about four years.  In 2013, his older brother was shot and killed.  My boyfriend (for privacy purposes, I will leave his real name anonymous, but we will call him Sebastian) was only a sophomore in high school at the time.  Since I have been in his life, I have seen many different ways of how each person in his family copes with this tragedy.  While they all have their methods, whether it be praying to God, smoking weed to ease the pain, crying, dismissing all emotions, reminiscing on the good times, or all of the above, they all have one thing in common: anger. Although it is not as prevalent as it was years ago, anger remains constant in all of them; anger towards the unknown.  Not knowing who killed their brother, son, father, boyfriend, uncle, nephew, or cousin. Not knowing if they will ever get justice.  Not knowing why it had to be him.  With so many different emotions, many people struggle with how to deal with them. Although dealing with emotions isn’t Sebastian’s strong suit, the most effective way he deals with his anger is through sports.  Since he was eight, he has played football.  Given that football is a very physical sport, this gives Sebastian an opportunity to be able to express his emotions without actually talking about them with someone (because God forbid he feel vulnerable).  Sports, however, are a common emotional outlet for many people who have difficulty expresses themselves with words.  

I believe that Sebastian has such a hard time expressing his emotions comes from his background and ethnicity.  Growing up in a house full of boys, as he has five brothers, he was taught that boys don’t cry.  And if you did cry, you were immediately made fun of.  So, at the risk of vulnerability and embarrassment, expressing deep emotions was kept at a minimal.  Another reason why Sebastian, along with the other men in his family, finds it difficult, and maybe even unnecessary to show any softness is because it paints them as someone they are not.  My boyfriend is African American, and faces many restraints on a regular basis. For example, I drove Sebastian to court to help him resolve a parking ticket miscommunication.  Considering my boyfriend is not the most patient person, you can imagine the immediate frustration he felt when he realized he had to wait at the end of a line of thirty people at 8 o’clock in the morning. After waiting for an hour, we finally reached the front desk, only for the employee to tell him that there was nothing they could do for him.  He began to get frustrated and some people sensed that.  The security guard walked up to us and told him to calm down. Sebastian simply let it go and we left. And on the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about that security guard.  I didn’t understand why he felt the need to approach my boyfriend and I to diffuse the situation.  However, there was no situation that needed to be diffused.  Sebastian didn’t yell, curse, or act out in any way, other than a present tone of anger in his voice.  But while reading Wilkins essay, all of my questions were answered.  She claims that “black men’s anger signals their lack of control.  Thus, when black men display anger, they do not gain power, but instead lost credibility and risk institutional sanctions” (38).  The fact that black men have so much of a constant restraint on them that they can’t even express something as simple as frustration is confusing and irritating in my opinion.  So even when I get frustrated that getting Sebastian to talk about how he feels is like pulling teeth, I can’t blame him.  I’ve had to remember how he was trained to deal with emotions, and that is to not express them.  I believe this is why he finds football to be such a reliever and because of football’s physical nature, the anger behind the tackle is masked with the rhythm of the game.

In general, black males are seen as dangerous criminals even when they are not.  People have placed this stereotype on black men and to this day they still face adversity because of it.  My boyfriend has never committed a crime or hurt anyone, yet he is still labeled dangerous based on the color of his skin.