Hotashi

Don’t you hate it when you go to get an edgy haircut and come out looking cute? Haha…ah well. It’s still a nice cut. And it has bangs! =D

Hmm…judging from my previous haircut, do you think they’re too similar? (aside from having bangs)

[EDIT] The pictures in this post have been deleted. [/EDIT]

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1. Finally got my sink fixed so the water drains. =D
2. Washed laundry yesterday so all my clothes are clean (except the ones I’m wearing right now).
3. Got an e-mail from Maki. ^_^
4. Getting to lecture about a topic I’m passionate about.
5. Fall is setting in and the trees look more beautiful each day.
6. Went to all you can eat Sushi last night and was completely satisfied. So yummy!
7. Exactly one week before I get to see my family for Thanksgiving. ^_^
8. Tokki is alive and healthy.
9. Heck, I’m alive and healthy. =P

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I had a really awesome conversation with the professor I’m working with (as her teaching assistant). She told me about the teaching world and the issues female teachers have to deal with. And she gave me advice about how to deal with students, which was really helpful. But she also said something that gave me so much reassurance in myself. She said that she would be lucky if she got to teach about all that she had planned to. This made me realize that as much as professors look like they are in complete control, they’re not. And that makes them so much more human and well, real. I remember for the first few years of university I was scared of my professors. I thought they were too smart for me and I was in no way qualified to even talk to them. I wish I had learned sooner how approachable they really are (although some are just jerks - I won’t deny that). When I heard her say that I was relieved to know that it’s not the job of the professor to spoon feed you all the information. It made me want to teach too, because there isn’t the pressure of having to know everything. And quite frankly, those who think they know everything are just full of it.

Another awesome thing that came out of this conversation was that she asked if I wanted to give a lecture. Now normally I would soil myself just with the thought (because there are over 200 students in the class), but because I will be lecturing on “race” and ethnicity (which is my area of specialization), I will actually be able to give a half decent lecture. I’m so excited to do it because I can talk about whatever I want…aka I don’t have to summarize the chapter reading. I can even talk about my research. Anyway, I will probably blog about it later. But I just wanted to say that I am really looking forward to it. =)

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I’m sitting next to my open window listening to the rain. It’s very soothing. When I look out, all I can see are the hundreds of leaves still on the branches of a rather tall maple tree. It’s my one source of strength getting me through my new life. For some reason, when I look out at this tree I feel closer to God. I have no idea why. When Jack came up this past weekend to spend time with me, I rearranged the pillows on my bed so that we could lie from the footboard to the headboard. That way we could lie there together looking out the window at the tree. He didn’t understand why I thought it was amazing. I told him that when we were married and lived together I wanted to put our bed facing the window so that we could lie in it on Saturday mornings and look out at the trees. He didn’t think that was so amazing either. I didn’t tell him the God part.

In all honesty the past few weeks have been tough. Aside from the workload from school, adjusting to a new house with new roommates and not many friends around is hard. I miss my old house and roommates terribly. I miss being able to go to Vanessa’s room and watch useless clips/dramas/movies all day. I miss going grocery shopping with Maki and cooking something for dinner with her. I miss hearing Megs say “I love you too” at the end of her phone calls with her parents. I miss Sarah saying “I’m so excited” at the end of every story she tells us. It’s not that I want to live in the past, but it’s hard to move on with such fond memories still so close by. My new roommates aren’t that bad, but it’s just not the same. And life just isn’t as enjoyable without the ones I love.

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I recently read an article for my Qualitative Research Methods class, which talked about receiving “the call”. “The call” refers to a moment when you realize that you cannot escape your “race”. It is a moment where something happens or someone regards you in a way where you realize that no matter what you do with your life, yourself as a person will be labelled based on your “race”. [side note: I put the word race in quotes because I believe that it is a term/ idea that people/ society has created based on phenotype, with very little biological evidence proof of a difference between people based on phenotype.] I’ve experienced many callings. So many that I have not only lost track, but I don’t even remember the first time I received “the call”. However, each time it happens it is still a blow.

When I was moving into my current apartment, the aunt of my roommate stated that during the apartment viewing the property manager mentioned that the other two tenants were Indian. Aside from the fact that our other roommate is Persian, NOT Indian, it was clear that the label of ‘Indian’ never leaves me. In addition to their urgency to find a place, they signed feeling comfortable that their daughter/ niece would be with other Indians.

This really bothers me. My skin has not grown thick enough yet for this to roll off my back, and I don’t know if I want to get to the point where I brush off instances like this as just a part of life. Why must I be labelled according to what others see me as. Why am I not allowed to classify myself? To some, I’m not a “real” Canadian while to others I’m not a “real” Indian. When I am in the presence of those who think I’m not a “real” Canadian, I feel the pressure to subvert any Indian-ness or foreign-ness about myself. When I am in the presence of those who think I’m not a “real” Indian, I feel the pressure to subvert my liberal and “non-traditional” values. This pressure gets stronger and stronger as I age. Why? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t ignorance be left in the past, not emphasized in the future? Was I just too young and ignorant to recognize the racism around me? Why must I feel this constraint?

I feel very angry. I’m angry that despite every individual having to create their own identity as part of life, mine feels the majority of the constraint based upon my “race”. I recognize that the fact that my able-bodied-ness and heterosexual-ness fits into the norms of this society, leaving me with less constraints from those categories. I also recognize that everyone feels constraints, even the privileged in society. BUT in a country that praises itself for being so open to multiculturalism, why to the ‘multies’ feel that their culture must fit the extremes rather than encompass a compilation of various sources? Why can’t who I am be reflective of myself as a person than the associations regarded with the colour of my skin, or my facial structure.

I really hate “the call”. I hate it so much. I hate that I have to smile back at those who label me because by calling them on it, I would be the aggressor. Do they know that when such vulgarity comes out of their mouth with such a sweet expression plastered on their face, that it takes so much effort for me to unclench my fist? Do they know how much bitterness I harbour?

I took my complaints to God. He already knows. It’s just part of life…part of the unfairness of this world…part of the hate and ignorance…part of the insensitivity…just part of life. At least I have Him. At least I have the retreat that unbelievers don’t have. I am able to dwell in His presence just as I am - no labels, just me. My God has no face, and when I stand in front of Him, neither do I.

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