I want to take a moment and blog about my dog Xena.  My parents went to Mexico for vacation, so I had the pleasure of dog-sitting for 3 weeks.  Xena is a rat terrier with a lot of spunk.  She is splotchy brown and white (it looks like someone spilled paint on her) and is the queen of snuggling.  Her favorite thing to do is fall asleep on the heating pad and she has recently started to really like broccoli (with the occasional cheese).  Xena is a little high maintenance and she requires constant attention.   Taking care of her has been a lot of responsibility so far and it’s really made me think about adulthood and my future as a nurse.  College students, if not the majority of young people, are still pretty selfish in that they save all of their time for things they want to do and they worry about numero uno (themselves).  I would say that I’m still a selfish college student because my immediate worries only involve my needs and what I want.  I’m not scared about taking on responsibility and I think I’m fully capable of being a caring nurse, but it’s a little weird for me to think that eventually I will be an adult like the adults I see in my everyday life.  When will I feel the transformation?  Will it just happen someday?  When do you know you’re an adult?  Legally, I am an adult, but it doesn’t always feel that way.  Right now, it feels like it has always felt (go to class for two semesters, enjoy summer, winter, and spring breaks).  I guess being an adult is just taking baby steps and getting to where you want to be in life (I remember sitting in my high school art class thinking I would never get to college and that I would never be able to choose a major or future career).  For now, I’ll keep applying to nursing schools and waking up at 5 a.m. to take my dog outside.

        Currently, Syria is in the middle of great conflict, on the verge of, if not in total, civil war.  Numerous protestors have been killed and many people have basically been taken hostage by the Syrian government and forced to shoot upon and kill their fellow citizens (kill or be killed).  My wish for Syria is that they be able to end the violence (although it often seems that once violence begins it is perpetuated for quite awhile) and establish a working democracy (not that our U.S. politicians are perfect, but at least we voted for them).  Revolution is a necessary thing for many countries and it’s horrible that violence is a part of it.  My confusion with the situation in Syria is our (the U.S.) involvement in the whole thing.  I don’t understand how the United States picks and chooses which countries to meddle in or give aid to.  How can we have actively helped Libya with their struggle, but now sit back while Syria destructs?  I understand we can’t help everyone and that we have our own issues and reputation to look after, but there has to be a better way to divide our attention (at least publically...I’m sure the CIA and special forces are secretly in Syria supporting the anti-government factions).  I’m sure our class could have a good discussion on this using Appiah’s view of comospolitanism.

Two years ago, I read part of Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire in my Spanish 332 class (Spanish American Civilization and Literature).  My Spanish comprehension skills were just starting to really improve, so I couldn’t fully understand the content of the work.  I mainly focused on vocabulary and how it flowed throughout the translation.  After a little class discussion, I understood some of the material.  Spanish 332 is a class that focuses on the Spanish (and some Portuguese) colonization of Latin America and on the literature that came out of Latin Americans’ search for a cultural identity.  At the time, I understood Pedagogy of the Oppressed to be about the quest for Latin American identities and making sure that no one was denied their identity (since Latin America has a history of the Spanish defining ethnic identities and dehumanizing many of them).  I still think that Freire intended this in his book, but I understand better that he really wanted to improve the way that humans communicate with each other and learn about their differences and similarities, so that everyone feels they can own their identity and feel valuable (and able to make change and to critique) within their respective societies.

            Even after reading only the foreword, introduction, and preface I can already tell that Paulo Freire would be able to find common ground with Kwame Appiah.  Appiah stressed cosmopolitanism as a way to create a more harmonious world in which people of every culture can live peacefully.  Similarly, Beverly Daniel Tatum would appreciate Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed because it deals with educating people about the social construction of poverty and racism (in Freire’s case, the social construction between the oppressor and the oppressed, the teacher and the student). 

            I feel like Freire’s theory about the relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed, the teacher and the student really incorporates all struggles of humanity because it is applicable to many relationships and social constructs.  His focus, although he discusses the liberation of people in poverty and a new approach to education, encompasses the fight against dehumanization.  I like that he begins by discussing dehumanization and its presence throughout history, but then stresses that dehumanization isn’t a “historical vocation,” it isn’t “a given destiny but the result of an unjust order that engenders violence in the oppressors, which in turn dehumanizes the oppressed” (44).  Freire stresses that in order to make a true difference in oppressed lives we have to be positive and active in reconstructing social order and acknowledging that no one comes from a neutral position.  I’ll blog more about Pedagogy of the Oppressed after our week’s class discussions.

           This last Saturday, iconic singer and performer Whitney Houston passed away.  Her music and talented voice inspired many other performers and her fans.  However, her relationship with Bobby Brown and her addiction to illegal substances were detrimental to her mental stability and happiness.  Her downfall in the public eye probably led to her early death.  Being an addict and going to rehab is not easy and it certainly isn’t easier when the world is following your every move and judging each one.

            Thinking of human dignity, the media often (if not always) hounds a person/celebrity/official/etc. and picks apart their every move and when tragedy strikes that person the media goes after them relentlessly.  When there is nothing left to dissect, the media abandons the person.  Whitney’s last media appearance was on Bobby Brown’s VH1 reality show and after that we didn’t hear much of her.  Now, with her death, her songs are topping the iTunes charts.  It seems that forgotten celebrities are always suddenly remembered and praised for what they did after they die.  How come our society is always quick to feed off of negative media and quick to forget it as soon as the next big story comes along?  There are always stories about victims of violence or horrible disasters, but the media never follows up on them or tries to find a positive perspective.  The media exploits these people, but doesn’t care about the pain they cause.  I think this has a lot to do with our society’s increased use of technology and multimedia websites (texting, virtual friends, etc).  We need to find a better way to communicate with each other and the media needs to find a more sensitive way to present people’s stories.

            Last Thursday, we discussed Kwame Anthony Appiah’s Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a World of Strangers.  The debate we had in class was a little unorganized, but I think we covered some good ideas.  At first, I was a little fuzzy on cosmopolitanism versus cultural relativism, but after reading more of Appiah’s example, I think I have a good grasp on it. 

            I want to discuss Appiah’s chapter 10 “Kindness to Strangers” and the segments “Killing the Mandarin” and “The Shallow Pond.”  In “Killing the Mandarin” Appiah writes, “If we were to apportion our efforts to the strength of our feelings, we would sacrifice a hundred millions to save our little finger (Smith’s inference); and if we would do that (this is Rastignac’s corollary), we would surely sacrifice a single faraway life to gain a great fortune.”  These statements assume is that cosmopolitanism “requires us to feel about everyone in the world what we feel about our literal neighbors” (157).  Appiah goes on to say that the skepticism that many people feel toward cosmopolitanism is understandable because it is difficult to imagine caring about strangers that one isn’t necessarily close to.  Therefore, we need to think critically about our own morals and how we should/would react toward strangers and our global neighbors.  Appiah elaborates more in “The Shallow Pond” about how we should behave toward strangers or how we can at least begin to think about how we should behave.  Appiah quotes philosopher Peter Unger, “’To behave in a way that’s not seriously wrong, a well-off person, like you and me, must contribute to vitally effective groups...most of the money and property she now has, and most of what comes her way for the foreseeable future” (158).    Appiah remarks that Unger uses some of philosopher Peter Singer’s work to further explain his point.  Singer has written that if he saw a child drowning in a pond he would be obligated to rescue him even if it meant his clothes would get dirty.  Appiah calls Singer’s argument the “Singer principle” and he says that it “requires you to prevent bad things from happening if the cost is something less awful”.  He takes issue with the Singer principle because it doesn’t consider the idea that not acting, or not saving the drowning child, could prevent something worse from happening.  Appiah also has a problem with the Singer principle because it requires you to do the most possible to minimize the “amount of badness in the world” and because it doesn’t explain “why we should do so” (161). 

           Appiah revises the Singer principle to, “If you are the person in the best position to prevent something really awful, and it won’t cost you must to do so, do it” (161).  Appiah’s principle doesn’t call for extremes and it doesn’t require that a person sit down and “reduce all values to their contributions to the badness in the world” (161).  His principle, I feel like, relies on and trusts people’s sense of morality.  I like to think that most people do choose to act responsibly and do good in the world, but I also have a little bit of doubt lingering in the back of my head because humans aren’t always rational and don’t always act the way most people would deem correct.

            

                 For my Spanish senior seminar class, I am writing a research paper about domestic abuse against Latinas inside the United States (Latinas constitute immigrants and generations of immigrants).  There isn’t a whole lot of national data on Latinas’ experiences with domestic abuse, but there is research that tells us that it does happen and that current resources for victims of domestic abuse don’t meet the cultural needs of Latinas.  I find this interesting because the United States has a huge growing Hispanic population and while there are current movements that seek to promote Hispanic causes, there aren’t very many movements that are bringing light to domestic abuse within their communities.  This is largely in part due to the machismo and marianismo within Hispanic culture.  Machismo is the idea of dominant, powerful men and marianismo is the idea of the submissive, passive female.  In traditional Hispanic culture, the woman is expected to be sensitive and caring, to worry about the family and make sure that everything is harmonious (or at least appears to be).  She shouldn’t make scenes or openly question her husband’s actions.  The man is expected to be the head of the household and to economically support his family.  His word is often the final word.  Now, just to be clear, I know that this is traditional and over simplified.  In real life, these roles are subtle and not so easily recognized upon first glance.  However, they still very much exist.  Many battered women’s shelters, while they accept everyone, cater to the dominant white culture.  Thus, their resources are limited when it comes to understanding battered Latinas.    The first, most obvious obstacle for women’s shelters in understanding this issue is the language barrier—not everyone knows how to speak Spanish.  Another obstacle lies in understanding the dynamics of romantic relationships within the Hispanic community (what behavior is acceptable/unacceptable and what behavior, abuse, is never acceptable no matter what culture a woman is from.)  Perhaps the biggest obstacle is that many Latina immigrants don’t come forward with their experiences of domestic abuse and they don’t press charges against their abuser because they’re afraid of being deported.  This last issue can only be resolved within a community by building trust with its Latina members (outreach programs, talking to law enforcement agencies, making legal connections.)  I don’t have a ton of information yet, but I will continue to blog as I do more research and I expect to learn enough to be able to say what makes a good women’s shelter or what helps a community to better deal with all types of domestic abuse.

In Tuesday’s class, we watched the documentary “Arts: A Film About Possibilities, Disabilities and the Arts.”  It featured various types of artists from different disciplines and different types of training.  Many of the featured artists had some type of disability (Geri Jewell has cerebral palsy and there are others on the autism spectrum), but they were very passionate about how their disability contributed to their work and to their sense of pride.

            Overall, I thought the film was a little cheesy and, at first, hard to take seriously because of the spotty camera work.  However, I think the positive message that the film portrayed shined through well enough.

            I think it was wonderful to hear from the various artists what art meant to them and its role in their lives.  To some artists, their work meant everything to them and was very personal (like the woman with autism who HAD to cut out a piece of every painting she made before selling it), while others just thought it was fun creativity.  No matter the meaning, I got the feeling that it was important for all of the artists to create something that made them happy and made them proud.

            While I was touched by the documentary’s focus on people with disabilities loving the arts, I am more moved by the idea of art as a form of therapy.  Art therapy can work for anyone of any age, gender, race, social class, etc.  In my opinion, art therapy is a form of meditation and reflection.  In high school, when I volunteered at one of our state psychiatric hospitals, I had the chance of working with one of the art therapists and later helping her set up an art show of patients’ works.  It was amazing to see during art therapy sessions how easily patients opened up about their lives and their experiences—making art was a way of calming down and being able to think rationally.  When it came to setting up the art show, I was very surprised at how many pieces each patient (artist) had and I was equally surprised at how impressive the art was.  I was only 17 years old, so you have to forgive me for thinking the art of psychiatric patients would look like the art of hyperactive kindergarteners.  My volunteering experience taught me that just because someone has a mental illness doesn’t mean they are completely out of control or untalented or incompetent or infantile.  It also doesn’t mean that they won’t get better.  I guess you could say art therapy helped me realize that.

            The most inspiring artist in the documentary to me was Geri Jewell.  I was blown away by her ability to perform in front of huge audiences and to make light of her cerebral palsy.  It is also a feat that she has aged with cerebral palsy and still found a way to make her life meaningful, which really brings me back to caring for our senior citizens (I know Geri isn’t a senior citizen, but we all age).  I didn’t see one single senior citizen in the “Arts” documentary (unless they had great plastic surgery.)  Senior citizens still constitute a group that gets overlooked.