Oppressing Myself

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately about multiculturalism and how being a part of a race or ethnic group other than Caucasian can foster feelings of tremendous inadequacy. These feelings can lead to those in these groups seeking to dull the pain of their experiences through any number of means, including denial, assimilation, and even outright hatred toward their own heritages. Indeed, there is a desperation for some people to not only escape their situations, but also to escape who they are in general.

This is not light reading I have decided to pick up for myself on a whim. It is part of two college classes I am taking this summer. The prevailing opinion I seem to be picking up on so far is that white people – whether they realize it or not – are part of a privileged race. This privilege is not even necessarily evident; it simply exists because white people (white males, in particular) have traditionally been the dominant cultural group in America. As a result, many Caucasians have never experienced the type of prejudice and even hatred directed toward other ethnic and cultural groups. Therefore, they have less of a reason to loathe themselves because of their cultural station.

I’ve been turning this idea over and over in my mind, and I have come across a feeling of self-hatred for myself. It has not come from a sudden realization that I have acted in a racist way toward anyone, although I do not rule out the possibility that I have. I also do not mean that I necessarily feel as if I have been wronged by some other ethnic or social group, although specific incidents where this may have happened certainly spring to mind. If these two variables have been eliminated, then, where exactly does it come from?

Here’s what I have concluded: I have discriminated against myself.oppression-fists

How is this possible, you might ask? Well, it has to do with my depression and my lack of self-esteem. By result of my never believing I was very handsome, talented, skillful, or desirable, I denied myself many opportunities. It’s not that I didn’t want to succeed; it’s just that I didn’t particularly think I was worthy of it. Of course, external factors may have had a role in this as well, but the driving force in my desire to change myself came as much from inside myself as it did outside. Any barb or slight directed at me was not deflected by a sense of self-worth, but was rather taken to heart and assimilated into my personality.

I have reached a sort of crossroads in my life. I am starting to believe I am worth more, but I am concerned that I have spent so much of my life believing I was less that no one will give me a chance to prove otherwise. This is a hopeless feeling, to say the least. It almost describes the tree falling in the woods: If a person changes but no one takes notice, do they really change? Just as the answer to the question about the tree is affirmative, however, so is the one to this question concerning change. A member of an ethnic or cultural group who makes a lifestyle change does it as much for themselves as for the society around them. Perhaps that is the truth I need to focus on.

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I’m Still Here!

I have not posted anything here since last Tuesday, but I have a very good reason why: I am a college student again! My first night of classes began last Wednesday, and I also have one class online. These are summer classes, so everything is going to be pretty compact and intense. I spent all day today reading, typing up a paper, and making copies of pages from a workbook. Welcome back, my friend.

SUMMMER-SCHOOLThat last line may be a joke, but I had honestly forgotten about the intensity of college courses in general, and I had definitely forgotten how compressed a summer class can be. As a result, I have been more than a little overwhelmed just trying to set up some sort of routine to deal with everything. I believe the newness and initial shock will wear off, however, and I will find my groove eventually. In the meantime, my posts here may be sporadic, which is sort of a shame because I’m getting some great material to write about from these classes.

So there you have it. Just my quick little check-in to say I’m still here, I haven’t stopped blogging, and I will have some really good stuff coming up in the future. Of course, the future maybe two years from now, but… 🙂

Bring It On

As I mentioned in my last post, it looks as if I’m going to be a student again. I received an email Friday indicating that I have been conditionally accepted into the Ed.S. in Clinical Mental Health Counseling program at Murray State University. The “conditionally” part consists of my keeping a 3.0 GPA for my first nine credit hours. Piece of cake, right?

hate_schoolThis may come as a surprise to all my friends I grew up with who considered me a super-nerd for all those years, but I never really liked going to school very much. I know, you’re probably sitting there thinking, “Duh, no one liked going to school very much.” I guess to a certain extent that’s true. I didn’t know very many boys and girls who couldn’t wait for the big, yellow bus to roll by or, later on, for that home room bell to ring. There was a lot more high-fiving done at graduation than occurred on a Monday morning, for sure.

“Disliked” is probably not as accurate a term as “uncomfortable” was for me, though. That feeling of high school awkwardness that most people shed once they hit their college years never shook off of me. I actually went through whole semesters at the university level without speaking a word to anyone in my classes. I hated going to buy books and getting i.d. cards made and figuring out where I was supposed to park. I don’t remember many days that I wasn’t just anxious to get the whole process over with.

And, yet, here I am again.

I still have some things to work out. I’m going to be making some calls tomorrow to confirm what’s going on with my financial aid, and I’m going to be meeting with an adviser tomorrow as well. I’m strangely not nervous about any of this. In fact, aside from occasionally wondering how all these classes would be paid for, I haven’t felt the usual jitters about immersing myself in the collegiate classroom experience again. I figure this either means I’m on the right track, or I’ve just been away so long I’ve forgotten what everything is like. I’m hoping it’s the former rather than the latter.

I really don’t have much more to say about this at the moment. This post was just more to say this is where I am, and this is where I’m going. Or, at least, I hope I’m going. Now, where did I put all those papers…?