Horse Riders Are Stable People

At the age of three, I begged my mother to let me ride horses. We would pass a horse farm every day and I would squeal from the back seat, “I wanna do that!” When I turned five she took me for my first riding lesson. Ever since then, horses have been a major part of my life.

Traditionally, horse sports are regarded as an activity for the social elite. Horse racing, fox hunting and competition were reserved for those who could afford a horse with decent blood-lines and the appropriate equine accessories. Being an equestrian comes with a stigma- horse riders are extremely wealthy, snobby and spoiled. Granted, some horse riders can conform to this stigma, but not in my personal experiences. Horse care involves responsibility, dedication and perseverance.

I was taught appropriate horse husbandry from the begining of my equestrian career. I wasn’t allowed on a horse until I was able to prepare myself and my ride for a lesson. This is a difficult task for a five-year-old child. Grooming took me nearly thirty minutes and carrying a saddle seemed to be an impossible feat. In the schooling program I was in, the student did all the work- nothing was handed to us.

My extra-curricular activity took up nearly all of my spare time. The school bus dropped me off at the barn after school and I would stay there until dark doing innumerable barn chores. I began competing at the age of six. At that time, it was a fun experience. Every three months my mother and I would wake up early and spend an entire day at the James B. Hunt Horse Complex in Raleigh. Sometimes I would miss school and have to explain to my peers why I was able to miss school. Rationalizing with peers at six years of age is, well, pointless. They correlated my privileges with horse riding without understanding how hard I worked to earn those privileges.

As I got older, my competing became more and more serious. I spent all my time at school, the barn and my house. I had been so used to having the barn as a social life, I devoted little of myself to those outside the barn. To others, I was a snob that spent time with only ‘horse-people’. This misconception made my academic social life almost non-existent. The truth is, I spent every afternoon mucking stalls to make money for horse board. I spent about fifteen hours per week in the saddle, seven of which were lessons. I began teaching beginner lessons at thirteen to make extra money for competitions. At the height of my equestrian career, I was competing three weekends of every month.

By eighteen, I had become jaded with the politics of competition and rejected the idea of competing in a collegiate circuit. Now, I ride for pleasure. I still have my horse- whom I trained from the age of two- at a farm about twenty miles from Wilmington. Monday through Friday I work at the farm where Eli lives. I am responsible for eight horses and their health in exchange for board reduction. I wait tables to supplement other equine expenses because having a horse is not cheap.

All of the sacrifices I make in order to keep my horse are totally worth it. When Eli and I are together, I forget about my insecurities, approaching deadlines and everday stressors of life. I know Eli will always love me and never judge me.

A Brother's Love

There are many relationships in life, but there are none like those between brothers. Whether you’re the younger or the older, if you’re a brother, then you have a very special bond.

This is the greatest load of garbage I’ve ever heard in my life. This is the stereotype that I want to dispel, well at least for my scenario.

I’m the younger of two sons. My older brother is two years my senior, and while he has helped steer me through my childhood, he and I have never established any close bonds. Where we’re concerned our bond is reminiscent to that of the Malloy Twins from the “Ocean’s Eleven” film remakes. For those who have never seen those two characters, the long and short is that they fight verbally, physically, and psychologically when around each other.

Our dynamics are so close to that example, I thought maybe someone had created these characters after meeting us. We verbally spar anytime he comes to visit. He intrudes on my space whenever he feels like it. And he always forces me to change my plans to better suit his visits, even though I already have plans of my own. While these are minor annoyances at best, this is how it has been for our entire lives.


Yet the greatest example of why we're not close is that I can’t trust him. Ever since we’ve been old enough to have, and keep secrets, he’s always made me regret confiding in him. From telling my parents about incidents in school, to telling my cousins the girls that I liked, and then joining them in their teasing, he has always burned me in the end.

When most brothers have gotten into to their twenties, they are usually connected by experiences in dating, road trips, and other social dynamics through the first stages of adult living. That is not so with us. We’ve never taken one road trip. We don’t talk about our love lives, mostly because I don’t like his choice in women. And I really don’t like thinking about him in an intimate situation, then again who does like thinking about how you get a brand new niece. And for other social dynamics of adult living, I can’t relate to having kids or being married.

As far as being close, we both consider our cousins to be closer to us than each other. I guess we’ve always been so independent of each other that we never worried about establishing any communication between each other. I love my brother, for some reasons still unknown to me. I would do almost anything for my brother, but I’m not really interested in who he is as of today. He’s a husband and a father. Until he adds something else to his resume, then I’m content with us being the Malloy Twins.

Tolerance Is Key- Final

Stereotypes are born from the natural human desire to structure and organize people, things and ideas into groups. The brain is a complex organ responsible for a number of simultaneous tasks that allow the body to function. Grouping and organizing these subgroups makes it easier for the mind to store and recall thoughts from memory. Stereotyping is simply an unfortunate consequence of this process.

The grouping and classification of certain people depends on the environment in which a person was brought up and the events that shape a persons perceived judgments. For example, if an individual from a rural southern town in North Carolina visits a bar in New York City, the southern person who speaks slow and takes their time looking over the menu might be viewed as a mentally slow, ignorant redneck while the local bartender who speaks fast and with purpose would be perceived as a rude, inconsiderate Yankee. The southern town and busy New York city require different lifestyles and the people who live in these environments adapt accordingly. It is the lack of routine interaction between these two lifestyles that creates a clash of personalities and the eventual stereotype that results after visiting with one another.

Personally, I have been at the receiving end of a condescending stereotype on more than one occasion. The most common judgment I am faced with occurs every summer when tourists flock to the beaches of southern North Carolina in search of sun, fun and warm water. I am often times confused with the strung out, hippie, surfer beach bums that so many people have seen often portrayed in Hollywood movies such as "Point Break,” "North Shore," and "Big Wednesday" to name a few. I do get light blonde hair, bloodshot eyes and sunburn like all of my other fellow local surfers; however, I refuse to be associated with the "hey dude/bro" mentality that so many visitors bring with them to this beach I have called home since I was born. I work hard to correct this stereotype when I come across people with that mentality by showing them a hard work ethic, clear communication skills and desire to better my community.

In the 1960’s, surfers were viewed as bronzed beach bums who were part of a counterculture that was rejected by a capitalist society. The 1970’s and 80’s produced a more degenerate stereotype of the average surfer. The release of the hit blockbuster movie, Fast Times and Ridgemont High played a key role in developing the stereotype that all surfers are worthless drug addicts. Jeff Spicioli, played by Sean Penn, is a surfer who constantly abuses drugs and takes a carefree approach to life with no motivation to succeed.
Today, many surfers are working hard to rebuild their reputation and gain respect for what they love so dearly. The sport is becoming increasingly popular, as the Association of Surfing Professionals has begun taking command of the industry. Kelly Slater and Rob Machado are industry icons whose names and faces have appeared on billboards and commercials, allowing people who are unfamiliar with the sport to appreciate and respect surfers and the lifestyle they choose. The media has played a tremendous part in reshaping the typical surfer stereotype thanks to the amount of coverage contests and events receive on a national level.

Tolerance for those who are different and come from different backgrounds is becoming more widespread and acceptable with the information technology age. The diverse groups of people are having more opportunities to interact with each other and as a result share similar ideas, traditions and values. The media has played a tremendous role in bringing individuals from different backgrounds together to produce a common product. For example, MTV introduced the hit reality shows "Real World" and "Road Rules" in the late 90's. The casts of these television programs come from different lifestyles, regions and ethnic backgrounds. They were forced to live with each other and accomplish a number of goals throughout the duration of the show. The reality program served as an outlet for the audience of a younger generation to see for the first time how people who are so different, can get a long with just a little bit of tolerance and patience.

Stereotypes will always exist whether they are positive or condescending. It is important to remember that all people are inhabitants of this planet and deserve the same amount of respect, regardless of their race, gender, economic status or activities they indulge in. Keeping an open mind and being tolerate of individuals that are different than you will go a long way in creating unity and peace.

My American Stereotype

Throughout my younger years stereotypes were not a major part of my life. Things were simpler then and I felt more innocent. Now that I have had the experience of being stereotyped, and of having to deal with the misunderstandings from closed minded people, my outlook on the world has changed. I used to only be exposed to the every day stereotypes of African American’s being ignorant and criminals; the Jewish being shrewd and selfish; and of course, persons from the Middle East as terrorists or ones to be suspicious of. In my life I am lucky to only been subjected to minor stereotypes, the kind that won’t get you shot or feared.

Last spring I studied abroad in Fiji—a third world and very isolated country. Fiji is a simple land with simple citizens whose idea of America is solely commercial and largely anti-Bush. At first the stereotype, of only representing the above aspects, was casual and something I would brush off. Every day I would be bombarded, mainly by the less educated and isolated, with statements such as, “You’re from America? That sucks!” However, after two months of this it became irritating and bothersome. I would turn a corner and see these people wearing and worshipping products from America, yet scorning where they were produced. But that is what stereotypes do. Stereotypes cause one to not see the positive and only focus the negative aspects of the object. The Fijian’s were unable to get past the fact that the majority of the world disliked our leader, who to supposedly symbolized America, so they should too. Stereotypes caused this culture not be thankful for the technologies that we had given them or the pop culture they digested daily, but rather cast doubt based on one variable element.

My studies in Fiji, and the stereotype of being an American citizen, caused me to examine my own country and the stereotypes that we cast daily. I started to examine the things in my life I hide to prevent from being stereotyped. I went to private high school, but rarely tell anyone at UNCW that. No one wants to hear about where I came from or my life before high school. Nor do they want to listen to the reasons why my parents and I choose that route. People hear the word private and immediately associate rich or snobby. I would hardly consider myself either, but I go on daily suppressing my background in favor of saving myself the effort of explanation. It is safe to say that some of my best friends here do not know that I went to a private high school. Ultimately, the enigma of society is that it is more beneficial to hide a questionable part of your life rather than to open yourself up to being wrongly stereotyped.

Stereotypes are detrimental to society and culture. However, they are an unfortunate part of every day life. My semester abroad taught me that until you are faced with one, and have no way to prevent it, you can not understand how it feels. I can not begin to grasp how it is to be an African American at UNCW a predominately white university, but I do believe that I have a small understanding. American’s in Fiji and private schooled students at UNCW account for a small amount, so with humility I can say that I have been the brunt of stereotypes and that it is not a pleasurable experience. Thus, I make a conscious effort not to judge race, ethnicity, or social status but to rise above the cultural pressures effectively giving everyone equality.

Silly girl, driving is for boys!

Unfortunately, being a woman has several negative implications, many of which elude me, but one in particular which I can not handle: "Women can not drive." This has become more than just a stereotype such as blonde women being stupid, since it’s not really proven that blondes or women are more stupid than men or brunettes. But I have actually read supposedly scientific articles claiming that there is proof that men instinctively drive better, something about a great hand-eye coordination gene or something or the other, to which I say, as a true blonde chic, “Like, whatever!”

My family consists of four females and one male, that male being my dad. Guess who is the worst driver out of all of us? My dad. I can’t even count how many car wrecks he’s been in, how many speeding tickets he has received from policemen, how many times he has just barely avoided a major crash. Now, guess how many wrecks my mom and my sisters have been in all together? Three. One when my oldest sister Dominika was 16 and green; having not yet mastered defensive driving, she somehow could not avoid a trucker illegally running a red light and smashing into the side of her car. Another occurred when my sister Marta was driving across the country with her friend right after college. While shouting, “California or bust!” bust they did. But guess who was driving? Not Marta. Only I had the most careless crash of which I was to blame, when I was playing with the radio instead of watching the stoplight ahead and the car in front of me, which I eventually bumped into ever-so slightly. The driver didn’t even take my insurance down because the damage was so minimal. And my mom? Can you guess? None. Take that, science.

It’s funny that my dad should be such a bad driver, since his dad was a taxi driver, but I guess granddad’s genes skipped a generation and passed down to us girls. All of us have always felt natural in a car, as Marta became a delivery girl for the company she was working for in Lumberton, one of her most favorite jobs ever. I remember her always telling me that her favorite thing to do was to get in the car and just drive and discover new places around town. As for Dominika, she has put no less than 30,000 miles on her cars in summation, as she traveled back and forth from her homes in New York City and Los Angeles. I’ve made that cross-country trip myself quite a few times, driving all night and all day, both of us sure of our ability to make it from one coast to the other unscathed. We all know not only how to make sure our driving is safe, but to keep out of the way of other unsafe drivers, a lesson we all learned from Dominika’s first accident.

When I was in high school I was the unanimously appointed chauffeur, since most of my friends did not have cars, and the ones that did had already totaled theirs; by the way, most of my friends were boys. I am proud to say that even despite being distracted by all of my friends, the music, and the what-have-yous, I only once damaged my car, and thankfully have never injured any of my friends or myself in the process. I’m not going to turn around and say that all guys are bad drivers, but I just want to drive home the point that just because I am a girl does not mean that you can not get in the passenger's seat with me, and in fact, I would prefer for you to be in the passenger's seat of my car, rather than me in yours. I can agree with some other stereotypes about women--yes, sometimes we are moody, especially once a week every month, and yes, sometimes we can be a bit ditsy, but usually it’s only an act to get what we want from you. But driving, I have no excuse for, since I am a good driver, as is every other female in my family. In fact, if you’re a guy I even dare to say that I am a better driver than you. Take that, boys!

So You Think You Know Me?

One of the most restrictive human inclinations is the overwhelming need to categorize. People tend to think that life becomes easier the more structured it is because if not for organization, the days would unravel into utter chaos. When that theory’s applied in bookstores, music shops and libraries it becomes a matter of convenience, a system for simplicity. But when that same penchant for cataloging creeps into our views of other people, it can enter a narrow territory between understanding and stereotyping.

Halfway through fifth grade, while living in Raleigh, I learned from my family that during the subsequent summer we would be moving to Charlotte. At first forlorn that I wouldn’t continue school with the same friends I had always been with, I was then concerned about the prospect of leaving my hometown for another. And then my parents broke the bigger news--that I would be attending a Catholic middle school.

When I told my friends and various acquaintances at school about my destination, they were shocked. “A Catholic school? Aren’t those run by nuns who can hit you whenever you’re in trouble?” I had no idea. Were they? I spent the rest of fifth grade dreading sixth and having nightmares of rulers and wooden crosses.

When the summer came and passed, and I had started establishing a life in Charlotte, I went on to sixth grade and realized there wasn't a single nun or priest on the faculty. Mostly, my teachers were mid-twenties graduate students. When I listened to the views of others', my mind ran wild with images of maniacal sisters brandishing sharpened yard sticks, but what I really should have been worried about was how easily I let another’s stereotypical and preposterous view affect me.

I have always had very strong feeling toward pigeonholing someone or their beliefs because humans are too unique, too independently peculiar to be grouped together in any rigid taxonomy other than genetics. In my developmental years, I often felt out of place because I listened too intently to the voices of others instead of accepting myself without hesitation. Many of my so-called friends made me feel uncomfortable about reading out of class for pleasure. They considered that geeky behavior, and every middle school student is damned if he doesn’t want to be labeled a geek. So I stopped bringing outside novels to school and only read at home. Eventually, I gained the confidence to do what I wanted and began reading everywhere, but it’s frightening to consider what dangers the naive assumptions of others can hold.

Generalization can assist in the process of perceiving other cultures. Generalizations become hazardous when they result in harmful stereotyping—unrealistic and exaggerated attributes of a group of people. Real awareness begins by understanding yourself, then learning to understand others, not forming one judgment and applying it universally and for all time.

Serenity Now, Insanity Later

I do not like dealing with the public. It's like having a box of chocolates, except one of the chocolates has a razor blade in it, and you never know when you're going to get it. I try my best to be awake and chipper for all the customers at the restaurant I work at, regardless of how my day is going. Recently, a group of "ultimate frisbee" players came into the restaurant and ordered drinks. One of the players had gotten a lemonade which I started to refill with water. "Hey, stop pouring that," he snapped at me. One of the other players heard what he said and responded innocently, "Way to be an ass, Mike." Apparently this had confused the lemonade drinker because he then turned to me and said, "Was that rude?" I was momentarily taken aback by his brazen inquiry of his own manners. I don't remember what I said but it was probably something to the effect of "Nah" or "Of course not." Mr. Lemonade then turned and said something I will never forget, "Oh, well I can't ask you, you're from the South. You have to be nice." Cut to my fantasy sequence where I dump the picture of lemonade on his head and say, "Well you got half of it right."

Some would argue that I should have taken the statement as a compliment. I did get voted nicest in my high school, after all. It's not the word "nice" that bothered me. It was the principle behind the comment. Just because I am working in a restaurant in the South does not mean I'm from here. I like to think of myself as a chameleon, able to blend in anywhere and capable of getting along with anyone. I could have as easily been from Colorado, California, Canada. However, I am from the South and believe it or not, that is not why I'm nice. But believe this, I don't talk slow or like country music. I detest sweet tea and rarely go to church. I'm also a liberal-minded Democrat. But I am from the South and I'm proud of it. Just don't expect the slue of Southern cliches to follow me. I can't be labeled; moreover I've decided I don't want to be. I can't help it if all your knowledge of the South came out of a Faulkner novel. You're wrong about me.

Stereotypes by definition are a way to group people by labels. It's an inconsiderate way of judging people the first time you meet them. It is also a complete insult. If you look at someone and think you can tell what their personality is like, what type of music they listen to, or anything about them, you are as arrogant as you are inconsiderate. People are complicated, multi-faceted beings. To think you can tell someone who they are is a slap in the face.

If I could go back in time to the ultimate frisbee player incident, I would have probably handled it just as I did, by laughing and saying nothing. I'm a forgiving kind of person. I know that everyone makes generalizations and forms stereotypes from time to time. Besides, ultimate frisbee is a pansy sport anyway.

And I Can't Dance...

When Phil Collins sang, “I can’t dance,” in that scratchy Phil Collins type of way, it was as though he were singing to me. The stereotype that exist that white guys can't dance may not be true, but it's right on the money when discussing me.

While this stereotype is more laughable then it is offensive, it’s still no fun to have to deal with. When I've been drinking and since video devices are on everything, my embarrassment is usually played out the very next day by simply connecting a cord to a television or computer.

The worst descision I ever madeabout dancing occured at a wedding in Cali, Colombia. To understand how a wedding could go so wrong I should explain a custom that exist in this beautiful South American country. There are two major games that accompany a wedding; catching the garter and catching the bouquet. I participated in the garter catch, but they just don’t throw it there--no, they give you a glass of whiskey, and not just a small glass, but like thirty-five ounces. Then you take a swig, and pass it along the line of un-married gentlemen. You swig and pass until the bride raises her hand, and when she does the guy holding the whiskey gets the garter.

Feeling a little loose I attempt to salsa. Thinking that what I’m doing is turning the dance floor into gold, I continued, unaware that there were snickers of laughter behind me and camera phones pointed in my direction. My hips are moving, but it’s like steel trying to become flexible. Salsa is supposed to be this limber sexy dance, and when I do it resembles a seventy-three-year-old hip replacement patient doing the Macarena.

I return back to my table and it looked as though someone stapled a smile onto their faces. My dancing had drawn the stares, and then smiles, of the whole room. My cousin said, “You are so going to pay for that when the video gets back.”

My final embarrassment of the wedding came in the form of another game. The entire wedding party gathers in a circle and one by one a person enters, dances for about fifteen seconds, and then pulls someone else in. Oblivious to almost everything I get drawn into the middle of the circle. Like most people when they are put into a situation like that, I do what comes natural, imitation of Marky Mark dancing with the funky bunch.

My hands somehow get to a 110 degree angle and start circling. Then, completely unprovoked my left arm bends to behind my ear, my right arm finds my foot, and I shake my mid-section like I’m having an allergic reaction to air. For nearly twenty-five seconds I shake, turn, bounce, and gyrate nearly every part of my body. With what I’m doing I feel like there should be sound affects above me of rusted steel being stacked or something to indicate how un-natural these motions are to my body.

I hate to admit that Phil Collins is right, but I can’t dance, and that stereotype that white guys can’t dance is just proved every time that I find a drink in my hand and a foot on any dance floor. I guess the best way to end this stereotype is for me to stop dancing, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, listen to Phil Collins.

Stereotyping Leads to Many Other Social Problems

Stereotypes are simplified and standardized conceptions or images invested with special meaning and held in common by members of a group. Stereotypes are often voiced by people who do not understand a particular culture. They are best remembered as negative assumptions about a group of people. I have never heard of a positive stereotype. There is a saying that goes “Never assume anything because when you do you make an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’.” Most people are guilty of making a stereotype at least once in there life. I know that I have made many stereotypes about people or cultures that I didn’t understand.

A very common stereotype used among many northerners is that all southerners talk very Kountry and that many of them have a lot of animals just hanging around there houses. During Christmas break I had the opportunity to visit some of my family in Philadelphia, Pa. On one of the days during my visit, I mentioned to my cousin’s husband that I had three house dogs and one house cat. His immediate response was “Why do all country people keep so many animals in and around there house”. At first, I was confused by the statement but then quickly realized what he was assuming. I kindly told him that “not all country people have animals in and around there houses” and that we all don’t live on farms. After that he went on to question me about why my family had so many live-in animals. I explained to him that we loved all of our animals very much and that’s why we chose to have them. Recently, I realized that I have even stereotyped people in what I thought was a good light but in reality it was seen in a negative light.

Many Americans including myself have stereotyped all Asians as being smart. I believe that stereotype comes from the fact that we have been told that Asians are so much smarter than we are. And just like with any other general statement many people add their own views to it and that’s how we as Americans arrive at certain stereotypes. I have a friend who is mixed Asian and African-American and I learned from her that Asians do not appreciate it when everyone assumes that they are all smart. It is because in reality they are not all equally intelligent just like any other race or culture. I feel that people worldwide should get into the habit of not making so many assumptions and that would help eliminate some of the stereotyping problems we have as a collective culture. If everyone in the world worked towards a good cause then the world would be a better place. Eliminating stereotypes could help eliminate other world related problems such as terrorism and racism.

The Fairy Tale of Snow White and her Evil Stepmother

“The wicked queen dressed in a peasant woman’s clothing and went to the
seven dwarfs’ house. She knocked on the door and Snow White put her head out of
the window. “I cannot let you in. The seven dwarfs prohibited me to let anyone
in,” Snow White said. The wicked queen told Snow White that she was just selling
some apple and would let her try one, “I will cut the apple into two and eat the
white half, so you can trust that there is no poison in the apple. Now you can
eat the red half.”

I was anxious that I could not tell Snow White the red half of the apple was the poison half, but not the white half. I did not remember what message my parents wanted us to learn through the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (there was always a message of some sort); however, the one really drilled in my mind was the evilness of Snow White’s stepmother. To me at the age of seven or eight, someone could kill innocent Snow White simply because her beauty was beyond my comprehension. From then on, “stepmother” was synonymous to evil.

The process of growing up was parallel with the process of learning: learn from parents and adults around us, from books and schools, and sometimes from friends and other children; but learning was also a process of developing concepts, challenging them, and then denying and tossing some of those concepts away or approving and retaining the others. However, my concept of evil stepmother was never challenged. Growing up in Suzhou in the 80s and even the early 90s, remarriage was a foreign concept for most people. It usually happened to someone’s friend’s relative or someone else’s relative’s friend—a kind of urban legend. The story often ended with the stepmother either mistreating their stepchildren or trying to separate the children from their fathers. Although these stories revealed that the stepmothers did not really kill their stepchildren (thanks god), they certainly confirmed the evil-stepmother image. Little did I know at the time that I would become one of these “evil women.”

The relationship with my husband began as a friendship—he needed a friend in Suzhou and I needed an opportunity to learn English. Through our friendship, I fell in love with him for he was, unquestionably, my Mr. Right. However, there was one thing about Mr. Right was not right for me—he had two children and one of them was his twelve-year-old daughter. I would become that wicked queen stepmother if we got married, I thought, who would mistreat his “Snow White” or try to separate him from his children. Despite the belief that I could never be someone like that, I would become a stepmother though; and based on my knowledge, stepmothers were evil—I was confused.

During one of his visits home, my husband, then my boyfriend, called me and told me that he had to bring his daughter with him to China due to a family situation—“Maybe you guys can meet and see how you like each other,” he told me on the phone. I hesitated, but then “how bad can it be?” I thought. “Since I am not her stepmother yet, it might be easier for both of us to try it out.”

Though I took on the challenge, I still did not know what exactly a stepmother would do—would there be an evil power come with the role? Or would I start to talk to a mirror on the wall? I tried to do some research before their arrival—unfortunately to discover that there weren’t much of information I could find (not many people had that kind of experience in China, I suppose), so I spent many nights watching the movie “Stepmom”—one of the a few resources I found. The only thing I learned was that there was not any existing formula I could go by as a candidate of a future stepmother.

Without the confident feeling of “I am ready,” my stepdaughter, or future stepdaughter as I thought then, arrived in Suzhou the spring of 1999. She spent much time with me visiting various sites in Suzhou and meeting my friends; at the same time, she introduced me to her new friends—two baby turtles named “Rose” and “Thorn.” We went on trips to Beijing, Hong Kong, and Thailand to create an enjoyable visit for her, but the most memorable trips, to me, were the strange weekend pizza-hunting trips to Shanghai--so my American girl and her American dad could have the chances to enjoy some pepperoni pizza. I also remember the anguished comments like “I hate you” at the time when I did not agree to her requests and the hugs and kisses when I was on her side during the quarrels between her and her father.

Through the three months experience with my “future stepdaughter,” I learned that we could actually have a mutually enjoyable relationship. That did not mean she would accept me as her mother (she already had a mother and I had no desire to replace her or become the second one) or I would be her best friend as demonstrated in the movies. It only means that we would have a relationship that is comfortable for both of us. However, the most important thing I realized was that there were more intricate issues in the relationship between stepparents and stepchildren than simply who was evil and who was Snow White.

Later, my Snow White returned to China and stayed with us, not in a fairy tale but in the real world, for another three months. I did not acquire super evil powers, nor did I own a magic mirror, but I did learn a bit about being a stepmother.

southern living

I've been stereotyped over many things: being a cheerleader, not having the highest SAT score, driving a Mustang, being in a committed relationship and many, many more. But the one stereotype that I think I get the most is being from the south.

I'm expected to be a southern belle, as well as a sweet tea drinking, grits eating, collard loving, southerner. But I'm not. I hate sweet tea, grits, collards, and pretty much anything green that grows in those crazy gardens people love so much. But why is it when I tell people I don't like those things I get called a Yankee or a disgrace to the south? Not all people, regardless of where they are from, like the same things. So why yell at me if I'm not a sweet tea drinker?

I get this the most when I'm at work. Apparently, people that like drinking sweet tea are very picky over that tea. When I'm asked, "Is your sweet tea good?," I like to be honest. I respond with, "I really can't answer that because I don't like tea." That's when I get the, "Well you must not be from here." Guess what. I was born and raised in North Carolina and don't know anything different. And just because I don't speak incredibly slow and with a southern drawl, doesn't mean from I'm from another country.

Many times I have been told that I don't have a southern accent so there is no way that I'm from the south. People from the south say that I must be from the north and those from the north think that I from another country. Why can no one accept the fact that my family and I are from North Carolina? The heart of North Carolina. I probably will never understand.

But why should my location of birth and where I grew up relate to what I like and don't like. I didn't choose to be born in North Carolina. I didn't choose to not like grits and collards. And I didn't choose to not have a southern accent. My entire family are all these things, but not me. Sorry, I guess I'm just your true southerner.

I love where I've grown up. I love North Carolina and don't think I can really see myself living elsewhere for any extended period of time. But I also love New York City. I'm a small town girl who loves the big city life. But I know that I wouldn't love it forever. If I could live in New York City, I would only want to do it for a small amount of time. Maybe one day, instead of being told that I must be from somewhere other than I am, that I will just be me and it won't matter where I am from or where I live.

"Which Church Do You Attend?"

Moving to the south from the north was a new experience altogether. The people are nicer, all the food is fried and there are churches everywhere. The first time I came to Wilmington to visit the University my mom warned me about the presence of religion in the south. She is involved in our Episcopal church in Virginia and went to church every week where she grew up, in Nashville, Tennessee so she has been religious all her life. My mom knows that as much as I respect her views, I’m not much of a church-goer. Its not that I’m not religious, it just doesn’t play a big role in my life. She told me that I was going to meet “a new breed” of religious people down here because I was now living in the Bible belt. She warned me that religious southerns will look at me as an atheist because I'm not active in any religion. She was right.

“Which church do you attend?” is now just a normal conversational question to me, although, when I first got asked, I was completely caught off guard. The first time I was on the bus going from my off-campus apartment to class. I was trying to meet people since I had just gotten to Wilmington and so I initiated conversation with the girl sitting next to me. It went from “Hi” to “Where are you from?” straight to the question, “So, which church do you attend?” Not sure if my honest answer was going to create for an awkward situation, I lied. “Oh, I haven’t found one that’s right for me yet.” This has remained my answer to that question ever since.

I know it sounds silly to lie about something that I do or don’t do, but after seeing the faces on people when I tell them I don’t attend church almost merits a white lie or two. I have been asked if I want to go to heaven, why my parents didn’t make me go and most of all, why I am an atheist.

When I hear the word atheist, I think about someone who has no faith in anything. Those of us that believe in Him have our own unique depiction of who God is. Religions differ from country to country and neighbor to neighbor. People express their faith in all sorts of ways from abiding the Ten Commandments to murdering those who don’t believe in what they do. However in the south, especially if you are religious, you go to church.

I believe in a heaven, I believe that there is someone up there watching after me and making sure I’m safe. I have faith in a higher being. I go to church on Christmas and Easter and I pray at night and sometimes before I eat dinner. I don’t, however, regularly attend church because my religion is my own. I can’t tell you what I am, but I can tell you that it’s not atheist.

Sifted and Sorted

I am a woman and a feminist. I hate how "feminist" has been twisted to mean so many things that just shouldn't be automatically associated with the word. The word "feminist" is too often tied to "man hater" and this is not true. I do not hate men; I just don't believe that being a woman makes me not as good as a man. Feminist aren't always women either; feminist come in every gender, sexuality and ethnicity.

Sadly some women who are feminists do fit the stereotype in one way or another. I have been told that as someone who enjoys my femininity that I cannot be a feminist. Being a feminist should not be associated with being “man-like”. Feminists who are “masculine” because being "feminine" is to be associated with traits that are less than flattering, miss the point of being femininst. They knowingly accept and adhere to the belief that to be “masculine” is to be better.

If we have to have these categories (our minds work in a binary fashion so we may need them) of masculine and feminine then neither one should be considered less than the other. Both have strengths, both have weaknesses.

To be a feminist to should be about embracing who you are and what you love and not being ashamed of it. The biological differences between men and women undeniable, though they have also been exaggerated over hundreds of years. Girls are taught “how to be feminine” and boys are taught “how to be masculine” according to the culture in which they are raised, but this should not make one better than the other.

There are people who tell me that women are equal and that I should stop whining. They tell me that women in the United States have far more rights than most of the rest of world and I should be thankful. I am very thankful, and I am concerned about the rest of the world, but I am more concerned with my own country because it is where I live. Women have legal equality in the US – but our society has a long way to go. It is becoming more socially acceptable for women to have “masculine” traits and that is a step in the right direction. However, it is still not acceptable for men to exhibit “feminine” traits. This is because so-called feminine qualities are still considered less. People, though especially men, often say things like “Don’t be such a girl” to insult someone. If women were equal in society, more people would be using the word "cowardly" instead of referencing a gender.

Calling me names that people (women included) associated with "feminist" bothers me. No one likes being stereotyped, but the worst part about the names doesn’t come from the insults themselves. The worst part about being stereotyped is that once a person finds a group to put you into (these groups are generally negative) they no longer have to deal with you as a person. You are placed neatly into a category and the arguments you make are easily brushed aside because you are just another fill-in-the-blank.

How Much Do The Bosses Get Paid?

Forbes reported that, on average, America’s top 500 CEOs were paid $10.9 million a year in 2005, up from the $6.6 million in 2004. CEOs’ 2005 average earning was even higher than their average earnings of 2002, the end of the biggest bull market in U.S. history (Forbes). Despite Congress’s enactment of the Sarbanes-Oxley Act in 2002 and shareholders’ demand of more transparent in executive pay packages, compensation of corporate executives continue to climb. Through his article “Scandal Fallout: Tougher Evaluation of CEO Pay,” Jeffrey McDonald presented a few points of view in this controversial issue.

According to McDonald’s interviews with several compensation consultants, the new trend in executive pay is the customized performance-based compensation. In addition to the traditional financial performance, corporate boards added social performance to the evaluation of their executives.

Of course, the opponents, mostly chief executives, claimed that detailed requirements on executive performance evaluation would result in micro-management by the board of directors. Elected by the company shareholders, corporate boards are suppose to be the representatives of the shareholders and should play a vital role in overseeing corporate governance. However, the boards of directors of many public-held companies have taken a laissez-fair approach to their management oversight responsibilities. The corporate executives thus are given great freedom in their business conduct and an ever-increasing power. In fact, many CEOs of large multinational corporations have more influences than the leaders of some developing countries. These CEOs claim that corporate oversight would reduce operating efficiency and cause restriction in maximizing profitability.

Yet others are very concerned with the social effect of excessive executive compensation. McDonald cited a study conducted in Australia in 2000. Through that study, Professor Diane Swanson presented an inverse correlation between executive pay and their ethical standards. Such negative correlation confirmed that excessive executive compensation often results in minimal level of ethical conducts in the corporate corner offices.

Economists insisted that employee compensation, including the CEOs’, has a “market value,” which is a result of supply and demand of the labor market. Though we agree that employee compensation is, to a certain degree, the result of supply and demand, however the CEOs’ compensation in corporate America is much higher than their counterparts around the world. For examples, the average compensation of CEOs in the United Kingdom was ₤2.4million (approximately $4.6 million) in 2005 (BBC news)—maybe we should source our executive labor using foreigners. This should quickly tell us how committed our American executives are to out-sourcing jobs.

Others claim that high executive compensation is a result of the competition with searching for top management talents. As the pay packages rise in the private equity industry, many believe that executives may move to private equity firms if they are denied their high compensations. However, the private equity portfolio managers receive most of their lucrative earnings through company stock options; thus, their pay is closely tied to their performance in managing the portfolios. On the other hand, many CEOs receive their million-dollar compensation package even when they are terminated by the companies—the result of a “golden parachute” clause in their employee contract.

Of course, determining how the executives should be evaluated and how they should be compensated is a complex issue. Historically, corporate managers were only required to have a fiduciary duty to their shareholders. Today, businesses realized that, not only are they responsible for providing an acceptable return for their investors, they also have a social responsibility to the community in large. The new concept of corporate stakeholders included everyone who has a “stake” or interest in the corporate development—employees, suppliers, creditors, and government all have a different interest in the corporation’s success. How to balance the interests of the owners/stockholders and the other stakeholders requires tactics and considerations.

Certainly, most of us desire a cleaner environment, a well-paid job with a reasonable work/life balance, and a heft retirement account if we have extra money and invest it in the stock market. Executives are required to make all these things happen while still following laws and regulations, satisfying the creditors and other stakeholders, thus making the executives’ jobs much more challenging. In addition, good CEOs do have a positive impact on the companies’ performance; as a result, they probably deserve to be paid higher than the workers on the assemble lines. However, in June 2006’s “Economic Snapshots” that issued by the Economic Policy Institute, a nonprofit and nonpartisan think tank in Washington DC, stated that the ratio between the average CEO compensation and their worker’s pay is 262 in 2005, up from 238 in 2004. The same number was 24 in 1965 (Mishel). Though we agreed that the executives work harder and their jobs are more demanding than their employees are, the question arose: do executives really work 262 times harder than their employees? Many studies found that high executive compensation, with an extreme contrast to the compensation of their employees, causes low employee morale, worker resentment, and low productivity, especially in an economic downturn.

In contrast, many well-performing CEOs receive moderate compensations while providing high returns to their investors. For example, James Sinegal, the CEO of Costco Wholesale, received a salary of $350 thousand when the industry average was $1.0 million. His total compensation, in 2005 was $578 thousand when the industry average was $3.5 million (James). How much money can someone spend when he makes more than $100,000?--that was the question Mr. Sinegal asked during an interview with 60 Minutes.

Harvard Business School Professor Rakesh Khurana found that excessive CEO compensation is one of the investments that provide the least return for corporations in United States (Executive Compensation). Additional research found that several high-paid executives were also involved in recent accounting scandals, such as Dennis Kozlowski with Tyco International, Bernie Ebbers with WorldCom, and Kenneth Lay with Enron.

The truth is that effective executives do make great profits for their investors; they also provide jobs to employees and add wealth to the society. However, excessive executive compensation not only is an easy path to fraud and corruption, it can also cause social instability by widening the gap between the rich and the poor, which will ultimately shake the foundation of economic development for any country.

Work Cited

Bosses’ pay rise beats workers’. 02 Oct. 2006. BBC News 7 Mar. 2007. http://newsvote.bbc.co.uk.mpapps/pagetools/print/news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/5397752.stm.

DeCarlo, Scott. What The Boss Makes. Forbes. 20 Apr. 2006. 6 Mar. 2007. <http://www.forbes.com/2006/04/20/ceo-pay-options-cz_sw_0420ceopay_print.html>.

Executive compensation. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. 23 Feb. 2007. 6 Mar. 2007.

James D. Sinegal, CEO of Costco Wholesale (COST), Earns $578,016. Forbes. 8 Mar. 2007. <http://www.forbes.com/static/execpay2005/LIROAMI.html>.

Mishel, Lawrence. CEO-to-worker pay imbalance grows. 21 Jun. 2006. Economic Policy Institute. 6 Mar. 2007. <http://www.epinet.org/>.