Abandonment and Learning to Love Again

Many of us have known abandonments and heartbreaks in one way or the other. Maybe it was the father who left you (or was never there). Maybe it was the lover who broke promises. Maybe it was the best friend who had to move to a different town. So maybe it was no one’s fault, just inevitable big life changes.

The way we often deal is to fatalistically look forward to being left again. I personally always speak of “psychologically preparing” for potential disappointments. And I thought it was a good thing …until I thought longer and harder. I believe that our first acquaintance with separation plants a seed inside of us that may grow into a thorny tree which actively seeks to impale any solid hope that the next person will stay.

This idea of psychologically preparing ourselves for the worse has self-sabotage written all over it. In lowering our expectations, maybe we unconsciously lower efforts on our end which must be made in order for future relationships to work. Maybe we jump into these relationships with more negativity than we are aware of or would be willing to admit. This aforementioned tree inside of us, if not uprooted, the thorns may come out through our pores to prick everything and everyone attempting to get close to our heart.

Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable over and over again may be tough, yet a necessary risk we have to keep on taking until we get it right– if we truly wish to get it right. We cannot afford to water this tree or sharpen its thorns; we must make the conscious decision to not nurture the negativity past abandonment may have placed within us. To understand the difference between dooming a relationship before it even started by thinking “this person may leave me” instead of affirming “this person may love me” to the cosmos.

Why are we so reluctant to positively getting ahead of ourselves at the dawn of new human ties? How often do we operate under the assumption of inevitable defeat before the battle? Is it not worth it to consider that the same naivety that made us unprepared to cope with previous love related grief is by perplexing irony the same one necessary to sustain the purity of your love for another ?

Difficult a task as it may be, perhaps we need to remember to press a refresh button in ourselves and look at every new person, every new opportunity, with the same eyes we looked at them before we knew anything bad could happen. There is too much math and science in the way we love these days; it should simply be felt.

 

The Philosophy of Fashion

  
*This is a pre-edited version of my personal statement for a Global Communications: Fashion Track graduate program at the American University of Paris for which I applied. Some people were curious about my approach and asking advice on application essays in general, so I thought I’d make a blog post out if it and share 🙂 * 

I studied philosophy in college, and I was notorious for being so into the field that I exceeded the expectations by breaking a record and taking nearly twice the amount of courses required to graduate with that major. With that said, I can tell you that when many people hear “philosophy”, they immediately think of hardcore questions with which the average person does not want to deal. They are used to hearing sophisticated terms referring to the different branches in philosophy: metaphysics, epistemology, existentialism, etc. Small wonder, then, that when they hear my professor speak of his specialization in “philosophy of food”, they are perplexed. What deeper questions could there possibly be about food? Is it not something you just eat for pleasure or survival? I can imagine them saying the same thing when I speak of the “philosophy of fashion” in a world where fashion is seen as a vain and trivial pursuit. Yet, I disagree. If philosophy is defined as the love of wisdom, then anyone who does not rethink their position on fashion being irrelevant in order to realize its deeper impacts in the world around us –in how we express ourselves, in how we communicate—does not particularly seek to be wiser than before.

Having come from Haiti to the United States of America in my late teenage years, I have had the opportunity to experience life from lenses different than those who are accustomed to just one culture. I developed an interest in different cultures at a very young age partly because I was being taught three different languages as I was growing up. Even after I stopped learning them in school, my penchant for acquiring new languages led to my fluency in four of them and the ability to read and understand two more. Then as I became more mature, it became more than just about speaking a language; it evolved into a strong curiosity with regards to the nature of the people to whom the language was native. We may all speak a million languages, but I believe that there is a universal language of understanding that every human being should aspire to speak. A goal that can only be reached when we familiarize ourselves with cultural references, expectations, values, awareness of ourselves and others, how we communicate, the tools we use for communication, the subtleties. Indeed, as stated in the Global Communications program description, technology has made distance nearly irrelevant, intercultural challenges are everywhere; therefore, the need to explore and to ultimately have a general understanding, is now more imperative than ever.

Fashion leaves plenty of room for self-expression, yet in many places we can be limited by public opinion or even the law when it comes to choosing what to wear. Western civilization’s concept of freedom may reflect itself in how little clothing its people are allowed to wear, whereas on the other side of the world it is customary—nay, sometimes legally required—to be covered. Personally, despite my culturally intelligence and sensitivity, I believe we should have the right to reveal or conceal as we please. Moreover, my own parents strongly disapprove of the way I dress, yet friends and strangers admire my style—often being called a “fashionista” or being asked if I am a designer. My parents are Haitians who are used to traditional wear, clothing that are not exactly eccentric—just plain and simple. They are not from a culture where it is normal to stand out in a certain way. Suffice it to say that friends and strangers living in a culture, U.S., where celebrities are widely exalted for their bold fashion statements would be more prone to compliment my sartorial choices.

Ultimately, Fashion is as much a tool for communications as the words we use can be; even when I did not openly admit to being gay, the confession was written all over my outfits. Of course, we do not want to stereotype, but we also cannot deny that social symbols exist everywhere, and they give hints as to who we may be. Global Communications is a field worth exploring, fashion certainly has its place in it insofar as it speaks on our behalf as well; my interest in intercultural interactions, my predilection for fashion, mixed with my personal background and qualifications make this unique program a dream for someone like me, someone who aspires to work at the international level.

To Kill A Fire

What doesn’t kill you hardens your heart
And you are never the same
A lion impossible to tame
What doesn’t kill you sets you apart

Human you can no longer be
The roses you can no longer see
A new beginning as a beast or a god
You and Dionysus, two peas in a pod

What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger
Stranger, more strange, the stranger over there
Alien to these earthly feelings and emotions
Heart of steel, soul at war, mind of poisons

What didn’t kill me took my spirit and passion away
My joie de vivre; my Sun and my stars led astray
What didn’t kill me missed a spot
This Fire shall rise again and burn hot

TOUCH

Like fire, I’m fascinated by you
Afraid to touch you
Out of fear that I may burn
Oh, for your arms my senses yearn

Full of doubt, I put a distance
A shield of resistance
A self-defeating handshake
But for how long can I fake?

No longer can I evade on the surface
These two blue roses on your face
These two blue roses on my mind
That to face, courage I will find

I wanted to hug you from the start
Bring you near the gates of my Heart
Or me closer to yours, wide open
Us both near the gates of Heaven

Matters of Faith and Hope

Today is my birthday. Today is also Good Friday. I was debating between posting a reflection on my 22nd birthday (first year post-grad) and one on the matter of faith, religion, God, or what have you. I decided to pass on the more egotistic option and write on something presumably larger than myself, so the latter it shall be.

I do not remember when I lost faith. I quite literally cannot recall at which point I stopped being a fervent believer. What happened? Whatever it is, it must have happened so slowly that I missed it like one may lose the passing of an hour of a day. I also do not remember when I started having faith again. I went from militant atheist to agnostic to confused and I missed that, too. What happened? I am not quite sure. Of one thing I am certain: I may or may not be having a crisis of faith. I take solace in the idea that I naturally operate under the assumption that there is something higher anyways. That is, I have found that I am the same either way – believer or skeptic. This, however, is not about me. It is about challenging other people’s faith, it is about Reddit atheism (maybe), and it is about the Truth over against a person’s comfort and hope.

As a philosophically inclined person, a perpetual thinker, I often label myself “crusader of the Truth”, but I have done some soul searching in the past two years and arrived at the conclusion that the “Truth” might just be overrated. What is the “Truth” even? Is it not pompous to presume that any one person can attain that? Too many people precede me, too much happened before me; too much is currently happening, so I am finding it best to live in full and complete awareness that I may never have the final answer. And that is OKAY.

Myth or not, it is beautiful to think that a divine or quasi-divine being surrendered to the cruelty of mankind and let himself be crucified so that I could be here today. So does the Truth here really matter? This divine sacrifice is at the center of many people’s lives – many great people I have had the chance to meet. I find it beyond me that in such a seemingly cold and indifferent world that some still hold on so strongly to their faith, so I always say there must be something there. There is something about that. Something I cannot take away from people.

If there is anything I have learned in my observations – in the prayers I have heard, in the behaviors I have noticed, in the books I have read—is that this idea of a God is a symbol of hope for many. The ultimate Hope…and taking that away from people is a cruel thing to do. Not even the “Truth” of nature, science, or otherwise, is above that. Hope is all some people have. Some pray for 15 to 30 years in the hope that a certain aspect of their life may change, some pray that long for a solution. They have not given up on life just yet because they know/hope something good is coming …eventually…if not in this life, then in the afterlife.

I stopped being a social gadfly on the matter of faith and religion when I realized that I have no right to make anyone feel hopeless and helpless. My own skepticism, my own chaos, should not intrude on someone’s belief system when it serves them well—when it is a guiding light in their life. So long as you are not using your religion as a tool for oppression, I see no point in denying it to you, especially when it is indubitably full of wisdom. Besides, the possibility of an absentee God does not cancel the benefits of living by the philosophy at the core of many scriptures—be it love, compassion, or detachment. Parting words heard elsewhere: trust requires us to accept unanswered questions—my own addendum: and being able to live happily with that. Happy Easter!

Strip Your Soul

A dollar for your body

A smile for your story

I never give you a buck,

But I watch, I smile, and wish you luck

A dollar for your body

A smile for you story

I resist a regard below your chin

In your eyes I live, in your eyes I sin

 

A dollar for your body 

A smile for your story

Who are you dancing stranger?

To all the repressed in here, a lover

 

A dollar for your body

A smile for your story

One million worth of seduction

No price, ever, for affection

My dreamy face on your body on that pole

On that very pole, where you bear your soul

 

*** This is my first poem in about 5 years. Inspired by the idea of a hopeless romantic falling for an exotic dancer, finding love in an unusual, “hopeless place”.***

 

HISTORY AND THE SELF: IS HISTORY HURTING YOU?

History, as defined by many dictionary/internet sources, seems to be defined precisely in a way that I believe Nietzsche would not condone; basically, they all define it clearly and distinctly as documentation of past events—a somewhat reductive approach if I (and Nietzsche) may say so. If one decides to explore the different definitions, as I did, one may notice that there is a lack of real purpose. In most of these definitions is embedded the idea that history is merely an objective (or attempt rather) look into the past. It is defined in a manner which deceivingly claims historical records as entirely factual and/or objective.  A better definition, which I did not stumble upon, that I used to hear when I was studying history, is the one that sells it as not merely as a record of the past, rather as mean to understand the present, and prepare for a better future (supposedly).  The latter which sells history as a purpose for life, rather than just a science, is one that I believe Nietzsche would be more inclined to accept.

Political philosophers, in order to substantiate their views, have appealed to history in several different ways. Hobbes notices that we have a history of brutality, and derives from it that we ought to have a government where ensuring peace/protection is the main priority. Locke decides that we are not so terrible; however, we have some sort of [less than pleasant] history with property, so he tailors an ideal government around that. The contemporary political philosophers, such as Rawls and Nozick, do likewise. From this trend I am tempted to deduce that the field of political philosophy appears closer to doing justice to history as Nietzsche would want it to be. That is, history without philosophy — without serious thought on causes, consequences, and possible actions, is the mere “objective” science that we ought to avoid. Indeed, this happened in 1492 and that happened in 1804 are meaningless without the “so-what” of it all. In other words, how does one move beyond history as simple trivia?

We could all learn something from Nietzsche’s musings on historiography. I support the critical way of studying history because otherwise I am committed to accept a burden of responsibility and freedom that I am not quite sure I want.  To illustrate, I cannot perpetually blame history for the shortcomings of marginalized groups. However, I must recognize that it is an undeniable truth of nature that actions carry consequences. So, it is a meticulous look at history which will not allow me to stubbornly view affirmative action as WHOLLY unfair, for I believe that there are sound and valid arguments to be presented for retributive justice. On the flipside, within reason, I must accept Nietzsche’s idea of not going to the excess because then I live out individuals and their individual responsibility in the present — one simply cannot forever blame history for failures when flaws like laziness are attributes of individuals. The question, then, should be about where we set the limits.

Nietzsche also refers to the unhistorical person. I can see the merits and displeasures of being unhistorical even in my own life.  Haitian adults, for the most part, do not really communicate with their children about their past and the family history. I, for one, have no idea what is buried in my own past; so I often stop, reflect, and suddenly feel rootless. This feeling of being rootless, which sometimes come as an existential angst, is a curiosity about my past, where I come from — alas, how did I get here? So, one of the displeasures could be that angst. However, it is this feeling of being rootless, that sometimes gives me the freedom and satisfaction of being able to shape myself into whatever I want, for I have no blueprint by which I have to abide. The world is my oyster and I can be my own person. I can continue to live and achieve without feeling like I am disappointing the past, my family’s past, my past. In that very sense, as Nietzsche seems to hope that it ought to be, I am going against history, and in an inevitable ironic twist, I am making history in the process. The latter alludes to the first and second nature of individuals of which Nietzsche spoke (feel free to ignore that reference if you are not quite the philosophy reader or aficionado and have no time for that).

Ultimately, knowing my history and not being obsessed with it has benefited me on personal level and on a social level. I can confidently say that it has made me more welcoming of the “Other” than the average person; it makes me more open and comfortable with people belonging to the different social categories—constructed or in essence. For example, I know slavery happened, but I cannot and do not, like many, forever revel in resentment, frustration, and self-pity in face of the evils and consequences of said historical occurrence. This is simply not me, and it is precisely where I detach myself, deliver myself from the past. This is not to tell people who have suffered from the past to just “get over it”, rather to do some clearing, and make space for the present and the happening future. Living by that philosophy may at times even bring me accusations like “Uncle Tom”, “self-loathing”, or “sell out”, but to that I sarcastically apologize for allowing a critical view of human history to enlighten me enough to not take ignorance stances and have kneejerk reactions to the most banal things.

One can either look at history (or society) as a snapshot to then simply take the image for what it is on the surface, or one can take the higher, wiser road and look at it as a complex picture in motion with patterns of all sorts.  It is through a meticulous look at history that I find myself not excusing, but rather understanding racism (or perceived racism). I find that knowing historical facts, yet abstaining from cultivating a fully historical self, gives me ultra-perceptive powers (lol jk, I am probably so dumb). Why is it still common in this day and age for blacks and whites to be awkward around each other? Why are we still so alien to each other at times? Why are we still the “Other” to each other? Is it natural, is it a thing of humans, or does history have too firm a grasp on us at all times?

In effect, I find that what often impedes certain people from coming together is their obsession with what happened in history, yet not being brave enough to resist it, overcome their preconceived notions of each other, and change it all for the better. They embrace history too much, and do not go against it enough. And that is precisely why, at the end of the day, I do not feel so terrible about abandoning my roots and my history sometimes (or most times) , for that is what allows me to constantly live in the present and rebel, revolt, declaring war on history…even though that itself someday, after I past, will become history. The unhistorical element allows me to be in the open, to live in the open, to open my heart – making it receptive of all people, understanding of all experiences, forgiving and loving. Is this not, after all, what Jesus would want? If  there is a God, I do not see his promise of Heaven being compatible with an obsessive regard for our history when in the end repentance can efface it all. But I digress (when do I not?) …

Watch Your Language: On [the limits of] Political Correctness

Language can be problematic; at the footnotes of our linguistic history rest a multitude of terms that seemed fine for a period of time, but later become controversial or outright wrong to use if we want to keep the peace flag floating in the air. In reality, some terms were never “fine”, just fine enough to serve the purpose for which life was breathed into them – to offend, to debase, to dehumanize, to humiliate (see: nigger). Other terms were originally fine insofar as there was no malignant intent behind their invention or usage, no agenda other than attempting to describe certain human conditions (see: retarded). Arguably, the ones in that second category are terms that would still be fine today if we ourselves had not corrupted them through misuse, abuse, or vain use. Lastly, there are terms or expressions that should really be not that big of a deal, and ultimately the PCPD (Political Correctness Police Department) would be wise to think twice before demonizing those who utter them (see: disabled, third world country, black, freshman, white, etc.). A quick disclaimer concerning the latter: while I may not find them a big deal, in the name of civility I could try and watch my language around those that might be offended by them.

The admirable side of political correctness is the high regard it reserves for the intrinsic dignity of (wo)mankind. See what I did there? Adding that “wo” in front “mankind” was my attempt at going to the extra length to watch my language and consider women in mankind—that was my inclusive approach. The same rationale is at the foundation of my effort to not address everyone using the vague “guys” (what’s up, guys?!), but also saying “girls” or simply say “hey, everyone!” when both sexes are in the room. I almost find it ridiculous having to do that because I earnestly do not think there is any intent of “exclusion” in doing otherwise; some things we say are like reflexes –reflexes of the tongue if I may call it that. In other words, greeting everyone with “hey, guys!” in a room where both sexes are present is probably not thaaat big of a deal, after all. Yet, another part of me disagrees with the latter because the fact that getting so accustomed to saying something that it becomes a reflex does not necessarily make it OK. Habits can be broken, new ones can be formed, and excellence can happen (definitely stole that from Aristotle).

Political correctness considers the human; it seeks to respect you, to honor your dignity, to include you, to make you visible. It considers your feelings and emotions. Political correctness is mindful.  With that said, that is why although some, and I am sometimes one of them, might find it excessive at times, I believe that it carries an undeniable value in our society. It really helps you sleep at night, finding solace in the idea that there are, in fact, some folks out there trying very hard not to be a**holes.

HOWEEEEVAHHH, I cannot help but muse on the idea that perhaps sometimes we take political correctness way too far (as I implicitly stated in the paragraphs above). Granted: one can never be too nice or too considerate, so I guess anyone should be able to raise the red flag on absolutely anything they might find distasteful or offensive to others. Nonetheless, allow me to challenge that attitude on the ground that linguistic dictatorship, fake politeness, pseudo-activism, and obstruction of the truth can be as crude as political incorrectness itself.

You do not want to make it quasi impossible for anyone to talk to you because you tend to have a knee-jerk inflammatory reaction to what you might find offensive when, in reality, the other person meant no harm at all. You may scare or simply silence people when you police language to the point that it becomes dictatorial, thus leaving no room for the real, serious, deeper issues to be discussed. Some of the most genuinely polite people I know, who have not a prejudice bone in their body, have felt like they “can’t literally say anything” around “some people” for fear that they may “offend” someone. They are silenced. I do not think you want semantics to eclipse the roots of some controversial issues – to overshadow the real discussion we should be having. Would it not even be better sometimes to allow people to fully disclose what they truly think rather than only accepting the sugarcoated, fear-washed version? Indeed, sometimes I would rather get the politically truthful piece than settle for the politically correct.

While political correctness is good to the extent that we ought to acknowledge that words hurt, it is in my conviction that a certain line is crossed when we begin to value language – a mere tool for identification, reference, expression, or what have you—more than the deeper intention of others.  A line is also crossed when the truth is hidden under the guise of political correctness; if you call a cigar a cigar, you do not want to reach a point where you start creating euphemisms for “robbery” or “rape”, for “robber” or “rapist”. You also do not want your [attempt at] political correctness to form the illusion that you, the individual, are in fact politically correct in the grander scheme of things. Alas, the most fascinating yet is when terms deemed incorrect (that are sometimes not THAT incorrect, or at all) are later replaced with ones that are debatably equally questionable.

WAIT…what does it even meaaaaaan to be politically correct? What does “it” mean? Have you thought about that? Are you too busy replacing “black” with “melaninally gifted”? Is “differently abled” that necessary an alternative for “disabled”? Is “disabled” THAT terrible or is it you that is demonizing it? Am I being an a**hat of the highest order right now? What do we know? What is life? Did I even touch base on the point I set out to make? Was there even a point? Was the title of this post slightly misleading? Should you expect many more posts like this in the future? Should we end this series of question here? Also, why is it just now occurring to me that “politically correct” sounds like an oxymoron? Hmmm yeah, maybe we should all just be nice to each other?

*** I’ll be posting weekly (Fridays most likely) or just whenever I feel like it! Tune in and pretend to care about what I think just as much as I am pretending to know anything about life! yay! lol Stay awesome! 🙂