Mother Nature's Mandate: Survive

Is it wrong for scientists to experiment on animals for medical research? Organizations such as People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) and Great Ape Project (GAP) believe that since animals have the capacity to feel pain, they should not be used to further medical knowledge. Because both animals and humans are sentient, many animal rightists claim that the two groups are equal; furthermore, they claim that animals should be granted certain rights that prevent them from being used as subjects in medical experimentation. However, sentience alone does not entitle an organism to hold rights: It is the ability to control one's instincts that counts.

All animals can be divided into two categories: those that can make moral decisions and those that cannot. Based on this observation, an intelligent inference would be that not all animals are equal. But because animal activists have overlooked this difference, they have arrived at false conclusions. Peter Singer, one of the pioneers of the modern day animal rights movement, says it this way in his book, Animal Liberation, “The core of this book is the claim that to discriminate against beings solely on account of their species is a form of prejudice, immoral and indefensible in the same way that discrimination on the basis of race is immoral and indefensible” (243). Singer fails to understand exactly on what quality discrimination against animals is based. It is not species, but rather animals’ lack of ability to comprehend and control their actions. After all, if an animal had the same abilities as a human but merely belonged to a different species, the animal would be treated equally to a human.

Only humans, however, are capable of making moral choices; that is, they can distinguish between right and wrong and evaluate the morality of their actions. Animals, on the other hand, cannot. They are ruled by a survival impulse, not a moral one. David S. Oderberg, Reader in Philosophy at England’s University of Reading, goes further, explaining that animals cannot possess rights because they lack the knowledge of why they behave a certain way and the freedom to choose how they behave. Chimpanzees are infamous for spontaneously killing their young, but, as Oderberg points out, animal rightists fail to imprison them. Also, animal advocates do not suggest protecting gazelles from the jaws of hungry lions. Why is nothing done to prevent this murder among species? This lack of action is based on a basic truth about all nonhuman animals: they are unable to do anything other than what their inborn instincts allow.

Animal rightists argue that because animals have instincts, like humans, they should be treated in the same way. Even though humans commit actions based on instinct, such as eating and reproducing, humans can decide whether they want to eat or reproduce, whereas animals cannot. The ability of humans to hold rights is found in this fundamental difference (par. 17-18). Humans can hold rights because they are free to act however they wish; they are not mere automatons controlled by instinct. Animals, as a general rule, will do anything within their power to insure the continuance of their own existence, even if that means harming other sentient beings. For example, if a tiger senses danger from a human, the beast has no moral restraint to prevent it from disemboweling the man or woman. Angus Taylor, author of Magpies, Monkeys, and Morals, summarizes the traditional belief that a being cannot claim a right unless it is able to respect the rights of others (43-47). Since they are incapable of realizing the wrongness of such actions as killing humans, animals forfeit all claims to any rights protecting them from the same treatment.

For the sake of argument and thorough refutation, suppose, just for a moment, the false premise that all animals are equal is true. This pretended equality among animals presents several questions: If all animals are equal, why should one group, the humans, be caretakers of the other group, the nonhumans? Are humans really unequal to nonhumans, possessing traits that qualify them for the role of global animal protectors? What trait makes humans more qualified than nonhumans? If activists answer, “Humans have no superior traits,” then their entire case for humans protecting animals goes up in flames. Or if, which is more probable, they answer, “Humans, because they are more intelligent, must protect animals,” then they admit that humans are mentally superior and, therefore, unequal to the rest of the animal kingdom. As evidenced by the futility of such a claim when confronted by a sound argument, the delusion that all animals are equal can be dissected and exposed for what it is: a mutation of reason hopelessly spotted with defects.

Also, if we assume all animals are equal, the assumption raises another question: If nonhuman animals, such as lions, snakes, bears, and chimps, have the freedom to maintain their own survival by any means necessary, why shouldn’t human animals be given the same opportunity? To convey this simple idea, let us use deductive reasoning. The major premise is that all animals, because of their equality, have the right to continue their existence using whatever method available, regardless of the method’s morality. Humans are animals. Therefore, humans have the right to continue their existence using whatever method available, even if that method is animal experimentation.

Realizing the absurdity of the claim that all animals are equal, some activists have strayed far from the main school of thought, asserting instead that animals deserve protection because they are inferior. They agree that humans are superior to animals; consequently, they are required to protect the “innocent” nonhumans. If superior beings, meaning animals that possess any type of mental or physical advantage, must protect inferior beings, then the rules of nature would need revision. Lions would starve, for they would be jailed for brutally killing and eating their so-called inferior prey. Also, the bullfrog, after completing the digestion of a fly, would be found guilty of exploiting a disadvantaged insect. This, obviously, is not what transpires naturally. Lions brutally kill their prey, and bullfrogs exploit insects. Unless we can alter the very workings of nature, we cannot expect humans to stop insuring their own well-being. In summary, humans using animals for research is not any more atrocious than birds eating worms for nourishment.

Animal experimentation has already helped and will continue to help scientists discover solutions to many of the globe’s serious diseases. However, in order for the human species to persist and evolve, rational men and women who look to the future of humans, not animals, must silence the irrational battle cries of the animal activists with one potent dose of solid reason.

Works Cited

Oderberg, David S. “The Illusion of Animal Rights.” Human Life Review Spring 2000:

Cl. Acedemic Search Premier. 17 Oct. 2007. EbscoHost

Singer, Peter. Animal Liberation. New York: The New York Review, 1990.

Taylor, Angus MacDonald. Magpies, Monkeys, and Morals. Canada: Broadview Press,

1999.

AP exam high school drop-outs

One man, Jay Mathews, said that the amount of people that take the AP exam is the most important factor in evaluating a school’s academic status, rather than the grades. He actually thinks this idea will work. I think this idea is preposterous. It creates unfair circumstances for schools and children. A problem such as exposing kids to tests they’ll definably fail is a factor that mustn’t be overlooked. Schools, in order to compete, have started to have kids that are under the AP academic level take the AP exam in an effort to raise their academic ranking. This accomplishes nothing but give false results of a school’s academic standing.

In my own high school, there were only two AP classes offered, so unless a student was in those courses, they wouldn’t do well on the exam. However, the AP classes were offered to every social class. It's been noticed that only rich kids have been the ones to take the AP exams. At my high school, people of every race and class were in the AP classes and took the exams. However, my high school wouldn’t have a high academic standing because of the lack of AP classes offered. With this new way of testing though, that will change. It’s not right to have kids from a high school take exams that they know they will do poorly on just because the school wants positive recognition.

Mathews is only looking at one aspect of schools’ academics. There is no way that one can tell how a school is doing by how many of their students take an AP exams. What will he do when high schools across America make taking the AP mandatory? There aren’t rules and restrictions to prevent flaws in his plan and he has already carried his plan out. Perhaps Mathews needs to look at other way to rate a school’s academics. For example, if he still wanted to stick to his people in numbers idea, he could look at how many students go on to college after graduating. Or he could look at the actual test scores. When I took my AP English exam my senior year of high school, there were only four of us taking it. However, we all did very well. Doesn’t that count more than one hundred people taking the exam and doing poorly?

Mathews aim is to strengthen the amount of kids learning AP material in high schools, but it’s much more complicated than administrating more tests. For example, my high school is always trying to expand its AP class repertoire, but there aren’t enough willing or qualified teachers to do it. If Mathews wanted to solve his problem, he should go to the source and find new ways of finding teachers to teach the courses. If my high school offered more courses, than I’m positive more students would take them and excel in learning. Getting into one of our two AP courses offered at my high school is very competitive and can only hold so many students. It’s as if Mathews didn’t consider any other options for improving his rating methods. I don’t think Mathew’s system will last for long because too many schools will find ways around it. When schools start getting outstanding academic ratings and a very small percentage go on to college, people will become suspicious.

My Rights Ends Where Your Rights Begins

Last year, in a major metropolitan city, several women stood nude on a street corner protesting the media and fashion industries portrayal of women as too thin and unrealistic. They carried signs featuring statistics about eating disorders and images skeleton-thin celebrities. They were arrested as their lack of clothing in public deemed them obscene. They claimed they were using their bodies to drive home the point that they represented what real women actually looked like. They were upset because they believed their right to freedom of speech was being violated. This particular situation is still being debated but the fundamental question still remains; does the right to freedom of speech include that which could be considered offensive?

This is a multilayer question. Determinations must be made defining what is truly offensive. Does it matter who is speaking? Do certain organizations have special regulation or protection? Do the activities being debated have to be deemed as legal? The ethical questions could go on and on, but there is one issue that can be clearly stated, in the United States, there is not the right to FREEDOM of speech, there is the right to PROTECTED speech. Our ability to express ourselves is limited; my rights end where the next person's rights begin. I don't have the freedom/right to yell "fire" in a crowded theater.

It you take the above statement as the correct application of the law, then freedom of speech does not include public offensive language and images. The most notable example of this argument is the one played out in with the anti-abortion protests. How protected are the rights of those who choose to display signs with terms "murderer" and "killer" on them and photographs of dismembered body parts? And how do those rights compare to the rights who are forcibly exposed to them?

This country has laws to determine what is obscene or offensive. Displays of graphic violence are included in those laws. Movies are given a R or NC-17 rating to keep those images from being to shown to minors, and movies are something a ticket must be purchased to view. Yet anti-abortion protestors stand on street corners and display bloody pictures of mutilated fetuses. Personal view of abortion is not the problem here. Instead, is it the predicament of publicly exposing the same children that would be forbidden to see the adult rated movies to such graphic images in public.

We all have the rights to our views and opinions. We also should have the right to express them; however, that right can't supplant those around us which may be in direction opposition to our views. It is the manner in which we express them that comes into question. Parades, protests, sit-ins, petitions and boycotts have traditionally been used to bring visibility and change to volatile issues. Techniques that use obscene content or incite to violence are not and should not be protected. They offend the rights of not only the opposing viewpoint but often that of the neutral one as well. As a society we have lost the ability to recognize that our personal rights are not MORE important than that of the person

AP Tests

Is the number of students taking AP exams a valid way to compare high schools? The names of the top hundred highs schools were published by Newsweek. The high schools were compared by the number of students who took the AP exam. The number of students passing or failing the exam is irrelevant. All that counts is how many students take it. The Newsweek article stated that some people supported this ranking while others thought it was an insufficient way to compare the schools.

The AP test is a valid way to compare the high schools for several reasons. The AP test is optional, which means the students have to take the initiative to take it. The students who take the test are diligent and have motivation. The Newsweek article stated that through two studies, researchers have found students who took the test and failed still had better college-graduation rates that those students who did not even attempt to take it. The researchers explained that it is the student's decision to take the test. If many students take the test, then it shows that they are responding to challenges just by taking the initaitive to show up for the test. By comparing the high schools with the number of students who take the exam, one can see which high schools are challenging the students to work hard. The high school with the higest number or students takign the test is regarded as the high school that is successfully preparing their students for college.

On the other hand, the AP tests are only one aspect of the high school. Not all students take the test since it is optional. If only one-fourth of the students in the school are actually taking the test, then that school is not going to be correctly represented. Some students are bad test-takers so they are not going to be interested in taking another optional test. Other students who could be extremely intelligent might not feel the need to take the test. The schools have other academic options so taking one aspect of the school is not a reasonable comparison. If the school does not have many available time slots for the students to take the test, then the number or students could be low as well. The high schools contain a variety of academics and other programs. Many others should be taken in consideration when comparing the schools.

Figuring out how to compare any type of school would require intense thinking. High schools are all different and each one has something unique about them. Comparing the schools by AP tests or any other test would cause some kind of controversy. The students are going to perform at different levels and it is important to have a good representation of your school. If the school is being compared by an activity in which they do not have good representation then naturally they would object. As long as each school is being judged by the same criteria then the outcome will show what strength that school has.

Saving Lives or Saving Lives?

Abortion these days has become an alternative to birth control. There are ways to take care of unwanted babies: one is using the pill or a condom, and the other is giving the child up for adoption. A lot of couples want to adopt children because they are unable to have children of their own. Now we see foreign countries giving Americans children to adopt because they are making money in corrupt ways. Instead of adopting some kid from overseas we could be adopting children from our own country. We have to take care of our own people first. The statistics show that women who have abortions that are raped or get pregnant because of incest is less than 1%. So something must be wrong with the women themselves. More than 93% of women get abortions because it isn’t convenient for them. Only 6% of the time is the woman’s health in jeopardy and she needs to get an abortion. So clearly if a woman doesn’t want to have children she needs to practice self control and start taking the pill and make the guy wear a condom every single time. The pressure of not having a child because society will call a woman a “slut” is a small price to pay instead of killing a helpless kid.

Aside from these facts the people having the abortion are not considering the child’s life. What if this kid grows up to be happy despite being born in an unfortunate situation? He might even be lucky and get adopted to a family that would actually care for him. Not every child is brilliant or special but most people aren’t so the parent shouldn’t feel justified in getting rid of her problem. If you do decide to have a child after receiving an abortion it is harder to conceive. So unless you don’t want children ever at any time you shouldn’t get an abortion.

On the flipside abortions may prove positive especially amongst poor and violent communities where it has shown to decrease crime. According to Steven D. Levitt who wrote Freakonomics there has been a drop in violent crime due to the fact that poor income individuals were aborted and didn’t live under hardship and economic poverty. Studies have shown that states with high abortion rates also have very low numbers of violent crime. There will always be crime and abortions isn’t a cure against would be criminals. On the other side abortions can get rid of many children who otherwise would grow up in poverty and may turn to drugs and crime. This is speculation but drugs and crime do prosper where poverty is.

Regardless abortions were still happening even before it was legalized. If a woman gets an abortion in some back alley might as well legalize it so she doesn’t mess it up and wind up infecting herself and whoever is helping her. If you legalize it then at least you can take responsibility for the procedure and have some doctors who know what they are doing perform so no one gets hurt. On top of this abortions may prove positive when a single mother who has no options to financially support the child. Why bring a child into the world when he is just going to live in poverty and hardship? Besides this it is ultimately a woman's choice what she does with her body and no one should interfere with her and her health. If she chooses to have an abortion that is her civil right. The worst thing is bringing a child into the world when he or she feels unwanted and ends up getting into trouble when they do not receive the love they deserve from their family and parents. It is unfair for the child's sake and he might as well not exist.

I should have been a scientist

It's inevitable. The question always comes up shortly after the obligatory handshake and the "my name is...nice to meet you."

"So what do you do John?"

I've been dreading the question with such with such vigor that I can't even remember the guy's name. Truth is, I wasn't really listening when he told me 30 seconds earlier. I was too busy fumbling for an alibi. Should i be the graphic designer this time? A bank teller? Maybe I should go with the "I work for the government, that's all I can tell you" bit. Alas, I'm too honest and a terrible liar to boot. I come clean. I'm a musician.

I hate that word, musician. I think its best reserved for the first chair violinist in the Boston Philharmonic. Only someone of that mold could do the name any justice in the eyes of masses. Try telling your mom that you're bringing home your new boyfriend "the musician." I think you'd save yourself a lot of trouble if you went with a blatant lie. Keep that musician secret under wraps, it's not worth the trouble.

A musician can't be taken seriously and I'll be the first to admit that most really shouldn't. After all, it's not a label you have to earn. Any Joe Six-String can call himself a musician. Go buy a guitar, maybe a drum set. If you're really a glutton for punishment just go ahead and call yourself a singer. Your car and shower might beg to differ if they could say their piece but I don't think we'll be hearing from them. So now that we've upped the population of those calling themselves musicians, let's think of all those wonderful adjectives that go with the namesake.

Lazy rebel. Uneducated dreamer. Promiscuous, drug-lovin' heathen. Tight-pants-wearing, unathletic pompous joker with a god complex. As with many stereotypes, the mass media might be the biggest culprit in perpetuating this image. Tommy Lee's newest fling or the latest drug overdose will always win airtime over Rivers Cuomo's new BA from Harvard. It's expected, but why do the majority of wannabe-rock-star "musicians" feel compelled to back the rest of us into a corner. Those lacking in talent often have to make up for it by "playing the part." No talent + alcohol problem + eyeliner = socially confirmed musician. It's all just a vicious cycle of life informing art informing life. That sounds like something a musician would say.

And then there's my friend, your standard musician with a sleeve of tattoos and a drinking problem. Hard to believe he went to college on a golf scholarship and regularly shoots in the low 70's. How about the virgin with a degree in theology? He's currently on the road with his band making six figures a year. Or me, a 2x state champion wrestler in a 10-year relationship. Musicians- I guess we're not all crackheads after all.

It's Just Jokes

“Let me ask you something,” I said, brimming with confidence. In my mind, what I was about to ask was an innocent question. I had no intention of starting an argument.

“What do you wanna ask me?” my friend Joey asked in anticipation. Joey and I had known each other since the third grade and we were good friends (we aren’t Turk and JD but were close). Joey is a funny kid so we got along from the start. Joey is also black.

“Are there white jokes?” After I asked it Joey looked at me like my dog looks at the microwave. It was a look of utter confusion.

“White jokes?” He asked the question with the same puzzled look on his face, as if he never conceived that those two words would appear in the same sentence.

“Yeah, you know how there are black jokes, do black guys tell white jokes?” Joey’s demeanor started to shift from confusion to anger.

“I’m not really sure what you mean. Why don’t you give me an example of a black joke?”

I wasn’t about to go near that land mine. Rarely in my life have I told a black joke and this was clearly not the time to break one out so I asked if we could forget about it and blamed the whole thing on being drunk. I apologized and then we changed the subject. We were at a party and I wanted to enjoy myself. I definitely did not want to start a drunken argument about race relations in America. This was not the time or place to decide who can say what and when they can say it.

I can see now why Joey was upset. I don’t think anyone wants to be told they are a certain way because of their race. Stereotyping robs people of their individuality. It’s crazy to think that a person’s personality and behavior are predetermined based only on their race. I have never heard a stereotype of a race and not known someone else that shared that characteristic.

People from all races are bad drivers. All races have good athletes and all races have bad dancers. There are women who are incredible at math. This is common knowledge. I think most people would agree with stereotyping is idiotic. But at the same time using stereotypes can be hilarious if done right. What made Chappelle’s Show such a great show is that he knew exactly how to work with stereotypes of every race. He was brilliant at it. At the same time he said that part of the reason he stopped making it was because he felt uncomfortable dealing with stereotypes all the time. I think it can make a lot of people uncomfortable. I just think as long as everyone involved realizes that stereotypes aren’t true, and that it is being done just so people can laugh, than joking about stereotypes is harmless.

Joey and I still see each other when I go back home. He’s still a funny kid. He still hasn’t told me whether or not there are white jokes and I am not about to ask him again. I’m sure there are though. I’m also sure they are only funny because they are based on stereotypes about white people. As long as people are laughing and having a good time then I don’t care.

Git 'Er Dun

I can change a tire, bait a fishing hook and shoot a shotgun. On any given night you can find me wearing cowboy boots and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt. I line dance to country music. I am a redneck.

In the last blog on stereotypes I denied my redneck self. In all actuality, this is who I am. The true stereotype isn't whether or not I admit to myself that I am a redneck, but it is instead the stigma that goes along with it.

Rednecks are viewed as the dirt-covered, tattooed imbreds that eat Spam and watch NASCAR solely for the crashes. Yes, I wear cowboy hats, but I have never had a mullet. And while it's true that I bite my nails, I never bite my toenails. The rebel flag is not painted on my pick-up truck. And I love my cousins, but I don't love my cousins.

I would like to classify myself as a new breed of redneck. A "sophisticated" redneck, if you will. I may spit. I may curse. I may throw back a bottle of tequila every now and then, but I do it with style. With class.

The movie Deliverance really popularized the many misconceptions people have about rednecks. Often times they are classified as uneducated, toothless racists who enjoy plucking away at the banjo. With myself it is quite the contrary. As a double major with a complete set of teeth, I love all races, including "Yankees", one of the rednecks' most fabled enemies. And as far as the banjo is concerned, I have not yet mastered the revered chords of "Dueling Banjos".

When people ask me what bars I went to over the weekend or when I mention my upcoming Brad Paisley concert, I see a startled look jump across their faces. "You like country music?" they ask incredulously as their eyes glaze over with talk of Hank Williams, Jr. and Larry the Cable Guy. By the time I get around to telling them about the newest litter of hound dogs and the latest update on the NASCAR finals they are backing away and throwing Skoal cans at me to get me to stop talking.

Although I sometimes perpetuate the image of rednecks by hollering out "Git 'er dun" in the middle of a conversation and having friends named Cletus and Bubba, it still angers me that people stereotype me this way. Just because I enjoy drinking my Bud Light and Jose' at City Limits doesn't mean I am going to end up knocked up, wearing cut-off flannel shirts while living in a trailer park and driving a John Deere tractor to the Feed and Supply store. I have plans. And they don't include barbecued Spam at a shotgun wedding.

Say Bonjour

I walked into the restaurant excited to try authentic French cuisine. I was in Paris and I had dreams of fromage, crème brulee, and escargot dancing in my head. The restaurant was classically French and every decoration and every person glittered with Parisian flare. I was with my tour group so I knew that we stuck out in the crowd, but I did not care. I was there for the experience. We were a group of twenty-five American college students and one British tour guide fresh from seeing basilicas and the Eiffel Tower.

As soon as we broke the plane of the door, every restaurant patron and waiter turned to look at us. We were dressed appropriately for the restaurant, we were not carrying backpacks or fanny packs, and we were not screaming like we were at a football game. How did they know that we did not belong? I was the first student in the door and I followed the tour guide, Michael, to the back of the restaurant where our table was waiting. As we walked by I could feel the looks of disgust following us and I have never felt more out of place. Something we were doing was telling that crowd of people that we were Americans. It was like we were carrying flags and pictures of President Bush.

Later, I tried to figure out what the restaurant patrons saw that I did not see. I started to think what Americans look like and the stereotypes that are associated with being an American. Some stereotypes that easily came to mind were that Americans are loud and obnoxious, we only eat Big Macs, and all listen to Elvis Pressley records. These are not all bad things, but they are not true of every American and they were not all true of the twenty-five Americans that I was traveling with.

As I thought about the American stereotypes, I wondered what stereotypes I came to France with about the natives. I thought that all French people would be snobby, skinny, and smoke twelve packs of cigarettes a day. I was right in some instances and wrong in others. There were eighty-pound smokestacks with their noses up in the air, but most of the people I met were very nice. They treated me nicely and were helpful because I did not know much French.

I was wrong about my stereotypes and they were wrong about theirs. The stereotypes that I carry with me are not good or bad, because they are necessary. We all need stereotypes so that we can classify people and have a frame of reference for the people we meet. While it is not good that we need these stereotypes, what is great is when they are broken. Those instances when someone is the opposite of what you expect really make you take notice. Maybe we will learn to put stereotypes aside one day but until then I will continue to apply them and have them applied to me.

Ethnic Stereotype

Walking down a crowded hallway I sense an awkward presence from the penetrating glares passed back and forth between peers. Thinking to myself who of these people actually fit a stereotype, it's an odd moment for me. I’m usually interested in my next move, where I’m going to go after I’m out of class, how good the waves will be over the following days, which girl I could call to go out to lunch. When I catch myself, wondering how could we be fit into specific stereotypes, is it what we do as a group of people who share a general action in certain situations?

A girl is slowing her stride as she enters my peripherals, I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. But anyway all I could call to attention about her were her legs, one stretching out slightly less perfect the other after each stride connecting as a musical raps flow. As I glazed upon the rest of her body I was struck by this gorgeous freshman. It was easy to tell: uncertainty flooded every feature; her eyes didn’t focus on anything, just searching. I figured out her gate was a product of uncertainty not long after.

Because girls were on my mind at the time, I stepped up to her to see if she needed help. She looked approachable, no heavy ethnic barriers, no pretentious attitude just confusion which I knew had to be fought through, and by the time she was across from me my instincts took over.

“Excuse me,” I cautiously interjected.

She turned looking a little more flustered, probably she probably wasn’t used to unsuspecting strangers approaching her, I thought.

“Pardon?”

I was confused, was this light skinned angel Hispanic, Puerto Rican, Brazilian? Anyway I was searching for a response, looking for some type of international sign for camaraderie, when I slipped, asking her out to lunch in my sharpest Spanglish.

She laughed, by now I had gotten embarrassed, doing my best to hide my miserable attempt to have lunch with her. I was comforted after she put her hand on my shoulder, I guess she sensed my uneasiness.

“I’m sorry senor, dinner won’t be for another seven hours.” She replied.

Obviously I had immediately been reminded that I had asked her to go out for dinner, instead.

She politely remarked that if I was able to guess her ethnicity she’d consider eating lunch with me.

I smiled, I knew from my experience with international Brazilian super models glued to the inside of surfing magazines, that she was none other then a Brazilian superstar. As far I was concerned.

I had landed, my many encounters with these advertisements confirmed my stereotypical response.

After she confirmed my guess, she asked me how I was able to tell. I told her about the magazines, then we had lunch.

I guess I didn't realize at first, nor put together the fact that she had said senor when Brazilians speak Portuguese. It was our first and last time seeing each other to date, as far as I know she is from Brazil until the day I die.

Damn Yankees

When I first moved to North Carolina, I found myself living in a town called Whiteville. From the moment I arrived in town I felt the icy stares of the local people, burning through every inch of my body. I seemed to be the center of attention walking through the local Wal-Mart. “You ain’t from around here” was the most common statement I received when trying to communicate with people in town. For some time I could not figure out why it was that wherever I went, people would only stare at me. No one introduced themselves to me, no one welcomed me to the neighborhood, and no one said more than two words to me. I knew I did not fit in with my Red Sox hat, dry accent, and rushed walk. I am what is known as a Damn Yankee. I don’t play baseball and I wasn’t a member of the band. I just happen to come from the Northern part of the country.

In Whiteville, everybody knows everybody. The older residents all grew up with each other. On Sunday mornings, the town seems deserted because everyone is in church. I lived alone in Whiteville for eight months, and very few people ever warmed up to me. Since I worked 40 miles out of town, it was difficult to find people to hang out with up in Whiteville. I was actually quite shocked at how rude people were to me for no other reason other than the fact that they didn’t know who I was. I saw the ugly side of many good people, but most of all I saw their fear.

Another few months passed and I found myself working in Whiteville, due to a job transfer. After a month of working with some of the residents, I gained some good friends, people I still keep in touch with today. Once people got a chance to know me and work with me, the stereotypes that I was oppressed for became nothing more than wise cracks. As for the rest of the town, I never won any popularity contests but I think the town residents got a little more comfortable with me being around. Even when I go back and visit today, I still get a few stares from unfamiliar people, but I don’t even pay attention. What was once uncomfortable to me has come to be expected.

Human beings are naturally curious. There is nothing wrong with curiosity but when combined with fear, the mix of emotions can be dangerous. I have seen several different stereotypes and experienced many. The truth of the matter is that people are the same all over. I find that people rarely travel out of their comfort zone by themselves. Fear controls their lives and in many ways prevents them from experiencing new aspects of life. But to me, none of it matters. The only thing that matters to me is how I perceive my existence, not how others do.

Rah Rah Rah

Since I was eight years old, holding pom-poms and shouting chants was my life. It started with my friends and me cheering for the local pee-wee squads, then in middle school, and then into high school. Being in a small town was an advantage because we all went to the same schools and stayed on the same squads. Afternoons of practice, game nights, and competitions were what we looked forward to. Spending hours together every day drew us closer, and my squads became more like my family. Cheerleading gave me the best experiences of my life. But it came with a price.

In my first years of cheerleading, name calling and labeling were never an issue. Everyone was there to have fun, whether you were a cheerleader or a football player. I was oblivious to the awaiting mockery and insults of my peers. Middle school was my wake-up call. The whole school was gathered in the small, compact gym for our annual pep rally. I was so excited my whole body was shaking. All eyes were on us as the squad ran into formation for our dance. We had been working on the routine for months; I practiced every day after actual practice to perfect my motions. This was it! The entire school and faculty watched silently as we began the opening dance. I fixated my eyes on familiar faces to ease my nerves. Ten seconds later I heard snickers echoing off the gym walls. Trying to stay focused I kept going but couldn’t ignore the horrible words drowning out the music.

“Stupid sluts! You can’t dance!”

My stomach dropped as I forced my body to keep going with the dance, cheers, and stunts. All of our faces looked like ripe tomatoes. Somehow we managed to get through the routine with strained smiles. As we ran off the floor my head began to hurt from the loud “Boo” that filled the gym. They hated us. I was overwhelmed with confusion; why was our own school against us? I had never heard degrading names towards cheerleaders before. I was humiliated and looked down upon for doing what I love. From that moment on, I had to defend the type of person I am simply because I was a cheerleader.

High school was even worse. People no longer labeled verbally; they demeaned me through interactions. One of my guy friends introduced me to a friend of his from another school. He came to the next home football game and showed interest in me. I excitedly talked with him after the game, and we ended up hanging out. After realizing what he his objective was, I quickly went home. I called my friend, and he could tell how upset I was.

“He wanted to hang out with you because he knew you were a cheerleader. I don’t know why this bothers you so much,” he calmly replied. I wasn’t aware that because I was a cheerleader, I was easy.

Guys loved us because we wore short skirts and danced around. Girls hated us because we were sex objects. Everyone assumed we were dumb, slutty, and useless. This could be said for any group of people. In reality, cheerleading had the strictest rules for GPA minimum and conduct in and out of school, as well as the most obligations. We were expected to be role models for our school and community, yet others treated us as if we were stupid, empty girls.

This made high school complicated for me. I had many friends; however there were also many others who gave me glares of disgust when wearing my uniform. The people who got to know me changed their judgment and expressed this to me. The first football game of my junior year, I came to algebra class dressed in uniform. I talked to my friend (who was a quiet, shy girl) about the past weekend. She kept looking me up and down; her eyes bigger than I had ever seen.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were a cheerleader,” she said in amazement.

“Yeah, I’ve been cheering for years”

“But you’re really cool. And smart. I can’t believe you’re a cheerleader!” She looked as if she had seen a ghost.

I will never understand what started the stereotypes about cheerleaders. I put my heart into cheerleading and had to defend myself because of it. Over the years I became extremely close to many girls on the squads. These girls are also the most respectable, genuine, and intelligent group of people I know. Nobody should be judged simply by what they enjoy to do. There has always been much more to me than the ability to yell “Go team, Go!”

There is a basis

It would be extremely stereotypical for me to write about not stereotyping. Instead of getting in a big huff over the issue, people need to relax and laugh at the situation. People laugh at stereotypes because everyone usually feels they have a little bit of truth behind them. Jeff Foxworthy is a rich man because of stereotyping. So is Dave Chappelle, and Richard Pryor laid the groundwork for all of them.

After spending my freshman year at UNCW in International House, I’ve found that there is a lot of basis for many stereotypes. James the English kid was the biggest drunk in the dorm. He also thought that he knew everything about American politics and once tried to argue the pronunciation of Jalepeno. He believed that it was pronounced ‘Jalapeno’ and not ‘Halapayno.’ His reasoning? His people invented the language, thus, he was correct.

James’ favorite pastime was engaging in drinking contests with the Irishman, Columb. It would generally end with unintelligible trash talking and things being broken.

Jake the Australian also had a strong interest in alcohol, nightly meetings with random females and a love for surfing. ‘Footy’ was watched via streaming video online and he didn’t ever let things get to him.

I’ve lived with two Indians for the past two years and they’ve let me in on a lot of their own stereotypes of themselves. Nearly every adult in the family is a doctor or owns a gas station. They’re a big, loud bunch of people who like to have fun. They don’t like spending money, but when they do things, they go all out.

Then of course there were those that disproved the stereotypes. My former roommate was from India and wasn’t pre-med or a math major. His family didn’t own a hotel and he didn’t work at a gas station.

Another former roommate was a black guy who is an environmentalist that doesn’t crave fried chicken or Kool Aid. He listens to underground rock music and plays a lot of basketball.

The first day that I moved into the dorm I got to experience a lot of that same stereotyping. I was asked which frat I was joining because I had my Polo shirts neatly pressed and hung in my closet. A black guy came running into my room because he heard west coast rap blaring from my speakers. My braided hair while wearing a nice, collared shirt drew plenty of funny looks.
My roommate for the past four years didn’t know many white people after growing up in a large Indian population in Canada. He was surprised to find out that my family didn’t sit down for dinner together every night, we didn’t own a dog and didn’t own every Jack Johnson album. He wasn’t surprised to find that my parents were divorced because ‘all white parents are’ and that I liked mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes have been nominated as the whitest food of all time.

One of my favorite experiences was when I was standing in line waiting for food at the mall. A teenage black male informed me that I was ordering from wrong end of the counter by changing to a ‘white’ voice and saying ‘You order down there, John.’ I looked at him funny and then laughed a little and said ‘Thanks for the heads up, Antwan.’

He laughed back and that was it. People have told me a fight could have come from it, but I don’t see why.

Between basketball and video games with my friends, I’ve been called everything from cracker to white bread. I’ve had a Muslim friend say he’s declaring a jihad on me over a prank. A couple of my black friends do the ‘slave dance’ when they’re winning drinking games.

People can embrace those stereotypes in a way that they acknowledge that they’re out there and it’s kind of a jab at people who honestly believe them. Stereotypes generally have some kind of basis.

The belief that getting to know other groups causes less stereotyping is in no way true. Am I more cultured? Absolutely. I’ve tried foods that I would have never eaten before and I’ve participated in traditions that I didn’t know existed. As far as stereotyping people one way or another, that will never change. So long as people maintain a good outlook and sense of humor about things, it's very obvious that there is a basis for stereotypes.

Your Baby

“Michael! Come on- Let’s go on the slide,” I stated one gorgeous summer afternoon. I grabbed his hand and started to lead him over to the playground. On our way over, an older lady sitting on a park bench walked toward us. “Aw, your baby is so cute!” she exclaimed. I sighed, glancing at Michael and said, “Thanks, but he is not my baby; he is my little brother.” I continued to lead him to the slide as angry thoughts arose in my head. Why did everyone assume I was a teenage mother?!

I often babysat my younger siblings for my mom. My little brother, Michael, was almost two. It never failed that whenever I took Michael out to the park or McDonalds, someone always assumed he was my child. I was sixteen years old, and I did not appreciate that I couldn’t take my younger brother out without being portrayed as his mom. I understood that more and more teenagers were becoming pregnant but I was not one of them. It made me angry to be bombarded by people’s assumptions. They didn’t even ask if he was my child—they automatically assumed.

One specific time, I had Michael and my younger sisters with me at the food court in the PX on post. My sisters were four and ten. We were eating a snack when a group of ladies approached us. My cheerful mood immediately fell as I saw them coming. I rolled my eyes. Here it comes. And sure enough, one of the ladies screeched out, “Oh! Your baby is the most adorable thing! How old is he? And look at those beautiful eyes!” Once the first lady started talking, the rest joined in. Finally, the scrutiny ended and I was allowed to talk. “He’s sixteen months,” I muttered and then sarcastically added, “And these are my daughters. Rachel is ten and Rebekah is four.” Looks of confusion crossed over the ladies’ faces. I stood up with Michael in my arms and said, "Let’s go guys. I want to tell mom that everyone thinks her children are adorable.”

We walked out of the PX to the car and once again I was left contemplating the world’s assumptions. For a while I no longer wanted to take any of my siblings out with me. I was just trying to be the big sister and spend time with my family, but I was tired of being labeled as a mom. If it had happened only once in a while then I wouldn’t have been so irked when people would approach. They didn’t even ask before they would state the words “Your baby.” Those words haunted me for a long time. He is not my baby. I was not a mother. I did not want to be a mother. I wanted to be a big sister.

The Dirty Face

“I don't believe in stereotypes, I prefer to hate people on a more personal basis. The measure of a truly great man is the courtesy with which he treats lesser men. An eye for an eye will make the whole world go blind.” - Mahatma Gandhi

There I sat, tucked under my mom’s arm, resting on her hip, little legs flopping loosely as she carried me through the doors of a retail chain to see my dad, hard at work. We wandered the aisles looking for the top of his head, which tended to stick out of crowds. I spotted him and pointed. His moustache was steady as he gave some instruction to a woman stocking shelves. We walked up and he pulled me from my mom’s arms and threw me into the air. “Bobby, this is Scottie. Scottie, Bobby.” He introduced me to the woman and I buried my head in his shoulder. “What do you say? Tell her hello,” he said, as Scottie fought to get a look at my face. I peered over from the corner of my shy eyes and asked, “Why do you have dirt on your face?”

My mom and dad both gasped, offering their apologies to Scottie while demanding one from me. Scottie just laughed and poked at my side, making me laugh. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t have dirt on my face. This is just how I look, how I was born.”

It was my first and most important life lesson; when every child at some point realizes that everyone is not like mommy and daddy, in fact, most people are quite different from mommy and daddy. It’s at this crucial point in a child’s life when mommy and daddy, or mommy and mommy, or step-daddy and Uncle Bruce – or whoever – must do the right thing. We must teach children to confront and discuss our differences, not to treat them as dirty secrets or creeping shadows.

But we all know that. Or it stands that we should by now. Either way, it cannot prevent stereotyping. Whether you’re Bo, the 62-year-old high school janitor from Dixie, Mississippi, or Meghan, the 33-year-old college professor from Cambridge, Massachusetts, you’ve been stereotype’s victim and perpetrator.

The question isn’t whether or not we should stereotype. Of course we shouldn’t. But first impressions and across-the-room judgments are hardly preventable. The question is how we can prevent it from running our lives and dictating our potential relationships.

The more people I meet and get to know, the more I realize how different we all really are, and that stereotypes rarely hold any truth.

The best stay-at-home mom I know is a dad. The most over-weight person I know is a vegetarian. My wife’s hairstylist is a man, and he is not gay. John Kennedy, FDR, Thomas Jefferson, Michael Jordan – written into our culture on stamps and currency and billboards as the stereotypical American heroes – all of them had mistresses. The straight family-man conservative stereotype has taken a few unnecessary trips to the restroom. The rational, scientific astronaut stereotype suffocated during a long car ride. The inferior-athleticism-of-women stereotype was torn off and kicked aside long ago.

Once differences are discovered, we tend to file them away into neatly labeled drawers for convenient retrieval. We need those notes to get through the day. But they’re inaccurate at best. The drawers cannot possibly hold the whole range of human possibilities. There are just too many options, too many people with their own experiences, making their own choices, who can’t live within such a confined set of rules and expectations. We all break stereotypes every day. We can’t help it.