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Posts Tagged ‘identity’

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Image Source: http://www.avclub.com/article/theres-mash-rainbow-road-themes-all-8-mario-karts-206528

I’ll focus on my own experience here but I know there are going to be things about my experience that many other queer people can relate to in this regard.

My experience with queerness has never been linear, it has indeed been very queered. It has consistently involved not knowing about a way of being queer and then being introduced to the concept, a moment of reflection and then realizing “oh shit that’s me.” But I’ve also consistently struggled with coming to terms with these new labels and seeing how they fit me.

From the age of 12 to about a month away from turning 21 I had been on a journey of denial, internalization, grief over myself changing and growing, complete secrecy, exploration, etc. etc. about me being bi. I had come out after years of being afraid of myself, but in that time I also developed a yearning for community. When I came back to UMBC after two years of community college I knew that I’d want to seek out my community. Since then my reality as a queer person has shifted so greatly. I feel so liberated. Yet I grieve. I grieve for the ways I have been, not knowing if they are different than who I am now. My sense of self has been questioned. I don’t know if my new state of existing is just blurrier, or if things have just been just out of my sight this entire time and it constantly feels like both. I don’t know how consistent this person who is me is. (more…)

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     After writing my paper on the argument of the body being a medium, it got me thinking about the question, ‘who am I?’.  In most cases, in order for the body to function as a medium of self-expression one need to know who they are in order to know what they are trying to express to others. So in order to express yourself, it is assumed that you know yourself. And of course this got me thinking about how would I answer the question “who am I”?

who-am-i     In my case the question ‘who are you?’ has to be one of the most difficult question for me to answer. Have you ever really looked at yourself and don’t know
really who you are? Like you know who you should be, what people (family, friends, etc,) expects you to be but apart from those expectations, you don’t know who you are? (more…)

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Blog post 3 image

My internet persona, which does not acknowledge or talk about the issues that plague my true, physical self

Every time I have had to write a blog post for this class, I have ended up sitting in front of the computer for what feels like hours, thinking through all the different personal stories I could share. I find a lot of the posts on this blog fascinating because I could not imagine being so open about my life online. I am afraid of letting the world know that I have problems just like everybody else.

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When I was young, I never really had an identity crisis. I identified as an Asian who is ethnically Cambodian. I grew up in a Cambodian household, was taught Cambodian traditions, and learned the language (Khmer). I knew who I was and I was proud of it. However as time passed, things changed very drastically for me. (more…)

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For me, identity has always been a difficult topic. For years, I only had a hazy conception of my interests, personality, and values. It may seem a bit weird, but I feel that part of my difficulty with forming an identity was because my family is poor. (more…)

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In class I was secretly, desperately hoping we would discuss people of mixed race. I am Korean and African-American. My mom is from South Korea and my dad is from Louisiana. I have identity issues.  (more…)

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So today we’re going to talk about my fun times with mental illness, since it’s the reason this blog post is late. Yay.

I didn’t plan on getting too personal for this blog; my list of topic ideas is mostly cultural critique. I’m sure I’ll come back to that list for later posts and even save some of them to put up on my own blog(s) eventually. Right now I need to process some meta before I can get back to doing the thing.

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Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the fairest one of all?
Is it the one over there, that skinny girl
or the one with the curves who should give the title a whirl?
Does it go to those wearing the latest brands
or those from the thrift store stands?
People who embrace their “natural beauty”
or those who wear make up as if its their destined duty?
Those dressed nice and straight laced
or those who take trends and happily deface.

Snow White you say?
Are you sure your opinion does not sway?
What makes her so special?
Her beauty is not so pure!
She sleeps with 12 men
and never goes outdoors…
(If you argue, take a look
at her skin which is as white as paper in a book)

No. I should not be crude.
My self worth is not based on how she is viewed.
Insulting her does not make me happy
it just makes me seem crabby.
No amount of name-calling will that change
I can only assess the problem in front of me, this issue I estrange

How dare you say I am not beautiful, not the fairest?!
You have no proof on that, I do suggest.
More than that, I know you’re wrong,
In my mind and heart your words do not belong.
I am beautiful, I do declare.
Your opinion, forever more, I do forswear.

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So much of my identity has been shaped by my body and the way the world around me has treated it that I often find myself wondering, “If I’d had a different body, who would I be now?”

Some of my earliest painful memories are of becoming aware of my weight as an issue—my parents’ noticeable concern for my young and rapidly changing body, being called fat by my peers, the inability to share clothes with friends, the list goes on.

As my fat seemed to be under attack by the world around me, I subconsciously began to fashion armor around it. My attempts at protecting myself began with denial, not letting myself believe I was a “fat kid.” At eight years old, I still had the sense that I was fantastic and beautiful and I wasn’t ready to give that up. However, as people grew meaner and more eager to inform me that I wasn’t as beautiful as I thought I was, I came to a sort of sad acceptance.

But because I was a rambunctious and attention-seeking kid, I decided that maybe I could use being fat to my advantage. (more…)

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Image

I feel I can safely say that the majority of women I have crossed paths with throughout my lifetime have, at one point or another, completely obsessed over the locks on their heads. What a woman does or does not do with the “filamentous bio-material” that grows from follicles in the skin on one’s skull seems to carry heavy social messages to the world around us.

I believe my hair tells a long and continuous story. The really ridiculous and really awesome things I have done to my hair are like little mental chapter markers; the hairstyles I’ve had are connected to memories of personal struggles and important events that have taken place throughout my lifetime. On one level, the long story of the obsessions I’ve had with my hair and what I have chosen to do with it is purely personal. Yet on another level, a much larger level, this post about the relationship I have with my hair can reflect the many struggles and external pressures that a large number of American women share.

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