identity

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Who am I? Is my body expressing who I am?

     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? Continue reading →

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A Deep Fear of Sharing Online

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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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Yes I Am Asian and Yes I Am Cambodian

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. Continue reading →

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Dodging Glances on the Train

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.

Continue reading →

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Mirror, Mirror

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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The Girl That Fat Built

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. Continue reading →

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Do I Control My Hair or Does My Hair Control Me?

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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.

Continue reading →

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Bodies that speak

I’ll put my name in this post because it will make more sense.This is Renita.

So I was born in Cleverly, MD and I have lived in Maryland for 21 years I lived in Oklahoma for one year and I am 22 years old. However when I open my mouth and begin to speak something strange comes out – an accent. I have no idea why or how I sound the way I do. My mother who was born in Nigeria doesn’t have the accent and neither do my cousins who I spent a significant amount of with have one. So I have no idea where my voice comes from. Interestingly enough when in America and in other parts of the world (I have traveled a bunch) whenever I speak people accept that I am from Nigerian as opposed to when I say I am from America.

Usually the conversation goes something like this

“where are you from”

me – “Maryland”

“no I mean where are you really from”

me – “my family is from Nigeria”

“oh so where you born there”

me – “nope I was born here”

“oh so you lived there”

me – “nope I have lived here all my life

This conversation has happened many a time. It is very hard for me to explain to people that I am American and they never truly seem convinced. So more often then not I say I am Nigerian it is a lot easier then the long conversation. Or if I really want to make the person that I am talking to upset I say “I was born in America but I am from Nigeria”. My thing is that everyone has an accent to anyone else. There is no unified way that Americans talk. There are different southern accents, there are new England accents, new york accents so on and so forth. So why the obsession which trying to pin point where a ‘body’ is from based on how they sound. I mean if I wanted I could make my self sound American which probably means Caucasian (which by the way a lot of people that come from Nigeria and move here do). But sorry I am not going to make it easy. This is the way I speak.