Feminism is a tricky subject. To some people, feminism means the empowering of women; to others, it's the belittling of men. Perhaps it's both. It's become a bit of word that makes people cringe and shake their heads, and with some feminists' actions, they can't exactly be blamed for that. Most of these people seem to be men, and while some of them seem to be anti-feminist for the reason that they enjoy patronizing women (from my perception, anyway), some have been told by feminists that their feelings aren't valid, that they're weaker, or that they don't matter. And in that case, well, power to them for choosing not to be part of a movement that has struck them down.
I do, however, consider myself a feminist. When I share that with other people, some of them are pretty cool with that, and others make their disapproval known. If I were to tell a random stranger that I'm a feminist, their perception of me may very well be based on interactions with feminists or observations of them, so I could either be seen as intelligent or as a misandrist. Which is fine by me. Even if I explained my views to them and what I specifically believe, there's still a great possibility that they won't like me, either because I'm still identifying as a feminist and they don't or because they don't agree with me. But hey! You can't please every single person here on this earth. There are over 7 billion of them. It's okay to disagree. Unless you think terrorism is cool and stuff.
So I, as a feminist, am set apart a little bit. I'm not a special snowflake, and I'm not better than anyone else. But I like to mold my idea of feminism to my own set of beliefs, which are:
-Pro-life, yo. I will love and care for any woman I come across who is considering an abortion, having one, or has had one. I won't go into any great detail as to why I'm pro-life, as I already did a post on that a few years ago, but I am.
-Men are cool. I don't really come across people who think men suck in real life, but you get to hear about it a lot on the most tolerant, caring place you can find - the Internet, of course. This form of elitism isn't exactly all that common as far as I know, but it's still out there, and it always will be. Regardless, men are great. Not all of them are, but my XY friends and family members (no significant other here) are fantastic and deserve respect.
-Other women need it more than I do. I haven't truly been discriminated against. I have had men whistle at me and say rather lecherous things to me before, but I think a good chunk of that is just because they were gross, not because they were men. Women can be gross too. That's the extent of the issues I've had with men, though. There needs to be more of a demand for equality when girls are shot for trying to have an education or kidnapped and sold to be defiled.
-Women are all different. I think this is also less common and being feminine is very, very embraced, but I still see men and women alike try to tell other women that you can't be a feminist if you're feminine. I think this also is displayed somewhat in books, movies, and video games - people are caught up in the lie that a great woman has to be able to kick butt. There was a time when Anita Sarkeesian of Feminist Frequency made the argument that Zelda of the Legend of Zelda games was too much a damsel in distress and was therefore sexist, even though Zelda has played a vital role in the games (a topic I've also posted on in the past). It wouldn't exactly be the Legend of Zelda if it weren't for her. Zelda has been portrayed differently in the games, but one of my favorite versions of her is the Zelda from Skyward Sword. Zelda has a very gentle and kind spirit, and yet reprimands Link for sleeping in and not practicing for the Loftwing competition thingy (someone remind me what that's called?). You do have to rescue her, but you also discover who she truly is and just how crucial she is to the plot. She's not unimportant because she gets kidnapped - in fact, she's just the opposite. And if you like seeing a woman who's good at fighting, take a look at her guardian, Impa. They're both very different, but they're still both important. Point is, women aren't all the same, and if they were, life would be incredibly dull.
-We need to treat all women with kindness. There was a lot of hate and criticism aimed towards Kaley Cuoco and Meghan Trainor, two famous women who said that they do not identify as feminists. I had to feel sorry for them; this was, after all, a personal decision. Isn't that what feminism should be, anyway? Celebrating women for who they are, even with decisions we might not necessarily agree with? I'm sure that when they received such negative comments towards them, it definitely would have kept them further away from considering feminism! I might not agree with you on something, but you'll have a friend in me if you're kind and you don't listen to Yoko Ono. (Kidding on the last part. Mostly.)
-A lot of "women's issues" are men's issues, too. How is it that Chris Brown abusing Rihanna was such a huge thing, and yet Emma Roberts abusing her boyfriend wasn't as big of a deal? Why aren't men taken seriously when they try to come out about being abused or raped? What makes it okay for women to catcall men, even in joking? Maybe some of these are less common, but that doesn't mean they're any less important.
So, yeah. Love me or hate me if you want. It's all whatever. If we're not friends, you get to miss out on a lot of benefits, such as me complaining about random stuff. I'm pretty fantastic, you see. In all seriousness, though, feminism is different for everyone, and I'm not any better than anyone who is pro-choice or whatever. I'm just another chick with those opinion things who likes to think and make decisions for herself.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Thoughts on Being "Petite"
I'm a skinny girl. I'm not saying that to be prideful, but just to state a fact. Throughout the day, my weight fluctuates often, but on average, I'm about 111 pounds. I don't think that's good or bad. It's a number, just like my age, my birthdate, my social security number, or my phone numbers. It's just another part of me, but it isn't actually me.
Several times a week this is made quite clear to me. "You're so skinny!" "How are you so thin?!" They're not insults. Just slightly annoying observations that (usually) don't have any harm intended. But there are some things that I (and likely, other skinny girls) wish I could tell you that I usually don't because you're usually a stranger or you're a good friend and I don't want there to be tension between us.
Several times a week this is made quite clear to me. "You're so skinny!" "How are you so thin?!" They're not insults. Just slightly annoying observations that (usually) don't have any harm intended. But there are some things that I (and likely, other skinny girls) wish I could tell you that I usually don't because you're usually a stranger or you're a good friend and I don't want there to be tension between us.
- I have health problems too. They're just not weight-related. In early January last year, I began to see a chiropractor, where I was told that I have a minor form of scoliosis. It wasn't painful like more severe degrees of scoliosis are, but it actually helped to treat my mental health. I have depression and anxiety, for which I have tried several different methods. Thanks to chiropractic care and counseling, they're better, but they will never disappear completely, and that's just something I get to live with. I don't have as many health problems as other people do, but I don't feel super duper all the time either.
- I'm no less a woman because of my weight. I've never really understood this one. You've probably heard it before - "Men like meat; bones are for the dogs," or "Real women have curves." Here's the thing - I'm a woman because I was born that way. I could, you know, explain how anatomy works, but I think you may have a good grasp on that already. I could also go on about how having kids won't make me (or anyone else) a woman, enjoying trips to the shooting range doesn't make me a woman (though I do enjoy them), or anything else on what womanhood is defined as besides basic anatomy, but I think I'll save that for another day.
- I don't like every single aspect of myself. Sadly, I don't think really anyone does. But there have been several times where if someone told me they wished they looked like me, I'd have to hold back a snort and say, "Please, you do not want to look like me. Really." And when those people have said that to me, there has always been something of theirs that I would have loved to have. Maybe they had really beautiful faces. Or a wonderful singing voice. Intelligence. Charisma. Wit. Patience. Something I lack. While this is no way an excuse, contentment with oneself is a hard thing to find.
So there you have it. Being skinny doesn't mean being happy. So go drink a frap or something. Treat yo self.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Warfare
Have you ever experienced fear to the point where you wish that whatever is attacking you would just hurry up and get on with it so that all your apprehension and agony would just go away? Perhaps not, but maybe you've had another experience that no one wants to deal with - depression, loss from the flood in September, or maybe cancer. Lots of us have gone through some sort of struggle in some way or another, whether we admit it or not, and we still have plenty of struggle to come. That's just the way life goes.
My struggle, for around a year now, has been dealing with fear of things that don't exist (or things that do exist but would never happen, if that makes sense). Things that I don't wish to describe here because I want to think of them as little as possible. It's not the worst thing someone can be afflicted with, but it's certainly not all unicorns and sunshine either. It's fighting a battle that I know I've already won without any armor and without any weaponry.
A shot to the leg.
A machete blow to the abdomen.
Oh, there goes my head. I think I needed that. I may be dead right now.
But I'm not.
Why am I not, though?
I should be.
The thing about anxiety is that there is so much and yet so little that can be done. My parents and I, while talking about meds as an option for the depression that I may or may not have, have agreed that meds are not going to be an option unless I am thinking of seriously hurting myself, which I'm not. So I've decided that taking meds for anxiety is going to be the same thing - unless they get to the point where they're truly unbearable, I'm not going to take them. For one thing, they have to be prescribed. Obviously, I can't wander into a pharmacy, pick up some anxiety meds, and go on my merry way. If I do see a doctor, they may not even prescribe meds, and if they do, they might not even work. They're not one hundred percent guaranteed for those who take them, even if they are mostly successful. And if there are perfectly natural ways to combat depression (such as prayer, doing things I enjoy, exercising, etc.), then there are perfectly natural ways to combat anxiety. Counseling's an option as well, but who has money or time for that? Even if it were covered by insurance and we found a time where I could go in and talk about anxiety for a couple hours (which is not something I desire), it's not necessary for me.
The second thing is that when I first had my anxiety, I flipped out. I didn't tell my parents at first because I thought that I belonged in a mental ward. I mean, being scared of something that wasn't even there? I'm no doctor, but I'm fairly certain that isn't exactly supposed to happen. So I kept my trap shut. But then when the anxiety kept going, I got to the point where I couldn't care less about what happened to me. I just wanted an end. So I told them, and they were able to help me through it. The point is, they didn't flip out like I did. Why? Because anxiety is actually fairly common. You might not deal with it and you might not know anyone else who deals with it, but there are many people out there suffering from it. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America estimates that for 18-year-olds and older in the U.S. alone, there are 40 million people suffering from anxiety. That doesn't even include people like me who are not yet adults. But I think it goes to show that if there are plenty of other people who are living with anxiety but are still perfectly fine. I may not be okay now, but I'll be okay at some point. I don't need to be put into a mental hospital.
In truth, this anxiety has been made it hard to see God at some points. It's easy to think, "Why the heck did God screw me up so much? I'm already ugly, stupid, and annoying to everyone else around me. Why would I need to add mental disorders - if I do have them - to the list?" I think this is just part of being human - we can always find some reason to hate ourselves even though we really shouldn't. I know I'm not ugly. I know I'm not stupid. I know I may annoy other people, but they are in no way obliged to spend their time with me. So I'm not screwed up. God didn't make a mistake, even if I feel like one. I'm still not a hundred percent sure why I'm here, but I'm here for something. So right now I'm trying to find God in the center of this. I'm in the eye of a hurricane right now; I'm freaking terrified, but I'm in the safest place I can be. I know God is not doing this because He hates me - quite the opposite. Do I know why exactly this is happening? No. I might figure that out someday. I might never know the answer. But there is one thing I'm sure of, and it's that even if I'm fighting now, I've already won this war. God had ensured that before I was even born.
My struggle, for around a year now, has been dealing with fear of things that don't exist (or things that do exist but would never happen, if that makes sense). Things that I don't wish to describe here because I want to think of them as little as possible. It's not the worst thing someone can be afflicted with, but it's certainly not all unicorns and sunshine either. It's fighting a battle that I know I've already won without any armor and without any weaponry.
A shot to the leg.
A machete blow to the abdomen.
Oh, there goes my head. I think I needed that. I may be dead right now.
But I'm not.
Why am I not, though?
I should be.
The thing about anxiety is that there is so much and yet so little that can be done. My parents and I, while talking about meds as an option for the depression that I may or may not have, have agreed that meds are not going to be an option unless I am thinking of seriously hurting myself, which I'm not. So I've decided that taking meds for anxiety is going to be the same thing - unless they get to the point where they're truly unbearable, I'm not going to take them. For one thing, they have to be prescribed. Obviously, I can't wander into a pharmacy, pick up some anxiety meds, and go on my merry way. If I do see a doctor, they may not even prescribe meds, and if they do, they might not even work. They're not one hundred percent guaranteed for those who take them, even if they are mostly successful. And if there are perfectly natural ways to combat depression (such as prayer, doing things I enjoy, exercising, etc.), then there are perfectly natural ways to combat anxiety. Counseling's an option as well, but who has money or time for that? Even if it were covered by insurance and we found a time where I could go in and talk about anxiety for a couple hours (which is not something I desire), it's not necessary for me.
The second thing is that when I first had my anxiety, I flipped out. I didn't tell my parents at first because I thought that I belonged in a mental ward. I mean, being scared of something that wasn't even there? I'm no doctor, but I'm fairly certain that isn't exactly supposed to happen. So I kept my trap shut. But then when the anxiety kept going, I got to the point where I couldn't care less about what happened to me. I just wanted an end. So I told them, and they were able to help me through it. The point is, they didn't flip out like I did. Why? Because anxiety is actually fairly common. You might not deal with it and you might not know anyone else who deals with it, but there are many people out there suffering from it. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America estimates that for 18-year-olds and older in the U.S. alone, there are 40 million people suffering from anxiety. That doesn't even include people like me who are not yet adults. But I think it goes to show that if there are plenty of other people who are living with anxiety but are still perfectly fine. I may not be okay now, but I'll be okay at some point. I don't need to be put into a mental hospital.
In truth, this anxiety has been made it hard to see God at some points. It's easy to think, "Why the heck did God screw me up so much? I'm already ugly, stupid, and annoying to everyone else around me. Why would I need to add mental disorders - if I do have them - to the list?" I think this is just part of being human - we can always find some reason to hate ourselves even though we really shouldn't. I know I'm not ugly. I know I'm not stupid. I know I may annoy other people, but they are in no way obliged to spend their time with me. So I'm not screwed up. God didn't make a mistake, even if I feel like one. I'm still not a hundred percent sure why I'm here, but I'm here for something. So right now I'm trying to find God in the center of this. I'm in the eye of a hurricane right now; I'm freaking terrified, but I'm in the safest place I can be. I know God is not doing this because He hates me - quite the opposite. Do I know why exactly this is happening? No. I might figure that out someday. I might never know the answer. But there is one thing I'm sure of, and it's that even if I'm fighting now, I've already won this war. God had ensured that before I was even born.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Fat Shaming Week
So Fat Shaming Week started on Monday the 7th and will end on the 14th, and I'm quite disgusted with the results. Surprised? Not really. But disgusted, yes. I'm still trying to figure out the logic behind such a thing, as this "fat shaming" is simply horrid.
What's Fat Shaming Week, you ask? Well, my friend, during Fat Shaming Week, you shame someone who appears to be fat or fat people as a whole. Why? Because it's helpful, of course! By shaming these people, you're really acting as a motivator to get them to lose weight! Hooray!
Not.
Fat Shaming Week is being carried out through several different things. Some are posting articles with titles like "5 Reasons Fat Girls Don't Deserve Love" and "5 Ways to Bully Fat Sluts on a Date." Some are photographing these women to make them feel bad about their weight. And some are posting about it on Twitter (because they, like many bullies, are cowards who hide behind their computers). Some tweets include:
"#FatShamingWeek Here's a tip for the ladies. You will not be as fat as you are if you eat less and exercise more. You're welcome." -@Kanamit2
"The moment I have to pay for your healthcare costs, I get to say what you do with your body. #fatshamingweek" -@ObserverWatches
"Not a lot of women participating in #FatShamingWeek. Because women are the bigger part of the problem (pun intended). They condone being fat" -@Feisty_Woman
I have so many issues with these that I don't know where to begin. But I'll try to organize my thoughts for your sake.
Issue 1: Fat Shaming Week is not positive motivation, but rather, blatant bullying. If there's one issue I have with people telling me I can't sing, it's that I know what kinds of mistakes that person is making when they sing. Similarly, my problem with these people is that they have a log in their own eye. They may be thin, but they're downright rude, and that's far worse than being fat any day.
Issue 2: Losing weight isn't easy. Fat Shaming Week, from what I've observed, seems to be misogynistic in the way that most of these tweets and articles are directed mostly to fat women. Let me tell you that losing weight is not easy for women. The way we were designed, we just tend to have more fat than men. If you don't know that already, then you're either oblivious or flat-out stupid. I've known guys who don't exercise any more than I do (in fact, they probably exercise less) and yet they're toned and muscular. That's just the way they are. I, on the other hand, may be thin, but I still have some fat on me. And you know what? I like it. Because I'm a freaking girl and that's how girls were designed!
Issue 3: Fat women aren't ugly. I still don't understand why weight equates to beauty. You know how some girls get girl crushes - you know, they're not actually attracted to those girls but they can appreciate their beauty and personality traits? Yeah... I get girl crushes on people who would be considered fat. I think they're beautiful. And you want to know something else? There are guys who prefer bigger women over the smaller ones. You were made by the One who created the moon and the stars, the vast oceans that go on for miles and miles, and towering snow-capped mountains. Don't you think those things are beautiful? If you think those are beautiful, then you are a thousand times that. He put so much effort into you, much more than He did with the sky and the oceans and the mountains. He knows the hairs on your head, how many breaths you've taken, how many steps you've walked. You are told you're fearfully and wonderfully made in Psalm 139:14. Nowhere in the Bible does it say you're beautiful because you're thin or because you have perfect teeth or because you're confident. It says you're beautiful because you were made by God, and unless you choose to think of yourself as beautiful, you're going to go your whole life thinking you're not. (Only recently did I realize this truth - that I am beautiful. I don't care if you think I'm ugly or if your friends do or whatever. God thinks I'm beautiful and that's enough for me.)
Issue 4: Some women are perfectly content with the way they are. You don't need to go running their lives. You have your business and they have theirs. Run your own life. It should be less stressful on you anyway if you only worry about yourself. It's kind of sad how many children understand that better than these adults.
I could go on and on, but I think I've made my point clear. Fat Shaming Week is stupid and pointless and negative and mean and a whole bunch of shizzit. People complain about this broken world and they don't even know that stuff like this is a huge part of the problem. This world will never be perfect - it won't even come close - but if we want to at least make it at least nicer, we need to accept differences. Stop with the fat shaming. It only makes you look like the playground bully.
What's Fat Shaming Week, you ask? Well, my friend, during Fat Shaming Week, you shame someone who appears to be fat or fat people as a whole. Why? Because it's helpful, of course! By shaming these people, you're really acting as a motivator to get them to lose weight! Hooray!
Not.
Fat Shaming Week is being carried out through several different things. Some are posting articles with titles like "5 Reasons Fat Girls Don't Deserve Love" and "5 Ways to Bully Fat Sluts on a Date." Some are photographing these women to make them feel bad about their weight. And some are posting about it on Twitter (because they, like many bullies, are cowards who hide behind their computers). Some tweets include:
"#FatShamingWeek Here's a tip for the ladies. You will not be as fat as you are if you eat less and exercise more. You're welcome." -@Kanamit2
"The moment I have to pay for your healthcare costs, I get to say what you do with your body. #fatshamingweek" -@ObserverWatches
"Not a lot of women participating in #FatShamingWeek. Because women are the bigger part of the problem (pun intended). They condone being fat" -@Feisty_Woman
I have so many issues with these that I don't know where to begin. But I'll try to organize my thoughts for your sake.
Issue 1: Fat Shaming Week is not positive motivation, but rather, blatant bullying. If there's one issue I have with people telling me I can't sing, it's that I know what kinds of mistakes that person is making when they sing. Similarly, my problem with these people is that they have a log in their own eye. They may be thin, but they're downright rude, and that's far worse than being fat any day.
Issue 2: Losing weight isn't easy. Fat Shaming Week, from what I've observed, seems to be misogynistic in the way that most of these tweets and articles are directed mostly to fat women. Let me tell you that losing weight is not easy for women. The way we were designed, we just tend to have more fat than men. If you don't know that already, then you're either oblivious or flat-out stupid. I've known guys who don't exercise any more than I do (in fact, they probably exercise less) and yet they're toned and muscular. That's just the way they are. I, on the other hand, may be thin, but I still have some fat on me. And you know what? I like it. Because I'm a freaking girl and that's how girls were designed!
Issue 3: Fat women aren't ugly. I still don't understand why weight equates to beauty. You know how some girls get girl crushes - you know, they're not actually attracted to those girls but they can appreciate their beauty and personality traits? Yeah... I get girl crushes on people who would be considered fat. I think they're beautiful. And you want to know something else? There are guys who prefer bigger women over the smaller ones. You were made by the One who created the moon and the stars, the vast oceans that go on for miles and miles, and towering snow-capped mountains. Don't you think those things are beautiful? If you think those are beautiful, then you are a thousand times that. He put so much effort into you, much more than He did with the sky and the oceans and the mountains. He knows the hairs on your head, how many breaths you've taken, how many steps you've walked. You are told you're fearfully and wonderfully made in Psalm 139:14. Nowhere in the Bible does it say you're beautiful because you're thin or because you have perfect teeth or because you're confident. It says you're beautiful because you were made by God, and unless you choose to think of yourself as beautiful, you're going to go your whole life thinking you're not. (Only recently did I realize this truth - that I am beautiful. I don't care if you think I'm ugly or if your friends do or whatever. God thinks I'm beautiful and that's enough for me.)
Issue 4: Some women are perfectly content with the way they are. You don't need to go running their lives. You have your business and they have theirs. Run your own life. It should be less stressful on you anyway if you only worry about yourself. It's kind of sad how many children understand that better than these adults.
I could go on and on, but I think I've made my point clear. Fat Shaming Week is stupid and pointless and negative and mean and a whole bunch of shizzit. People complain about this broken world and they don't even know that stuff like this is a huge part of the problem. This world will never be perfect - it won't even come close - but if we want to at least make it at least nicer, we need to accept differences. Stop with the fat shaming. It only makes you look like the playground bully.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
I'll Admit It. I'm Angry.
Before I start this post, I know I haven't posted in a while. Truth be told, I tried. I just haven't had much inspiration lately. But now I have some, so I get to blog.
Let me be honest with you. One of my biggest flaws is that I'm quite irritable and am easily angered. I almost never let it show around my friends because I don't like to complain to them, especially when I know that they're having bigger problems. Yet somehow, even when I know my parents are going through some problems, nothing stops me from opening my big mouth and expressing my anger. But right now, it's hard finding the words to say.
If you live out of state, you might not know that at the moment, Colorado is being flooded. We got more showers than expected and as a result, there has been water freely flowing through certain towns. The results have been devastating. As I type, there's an estimated six dead and over seven hundred unaccounted for. Some families have lost everything but their lives. Water is becoming unsafe to use in certain places due to it being contaminated by waste. And, of course, there are plenty of people who have been injured because of debris.
My family has been extremely blessed. We have food, water, shelter that's completely dry, and even electricity. I have absolutely no reason to be angry. But I am.
Why? Because this is still going on. Because even with the people who have died or lost their possessions or can't get to clean drinking water, this is still going on. And we can't stop it. There's nothing stopping this downpour except God Himself. And that is why I'm angry.
I don't get angry at God often. I owe so much to Him. He's what pulled me through every single thing that I've been through. But I've also been asking, "Why is this happening? Why is it raining now? Why are people dying? Why are so many people terrified? Why, why, why, why, why?!"
And it doesn't stop there. My anger has extended to certain people online as well. Yes, people I haven't even met. Because they've been complaining about rain. I've been tempted to be condescending and say, "Well, your rain hasn't killed people." Because all that's happened is that maybe their hair got a little damp. But the anger directed at them is sinful too, even if I'm not taking it out on anyone.
I don't even get why I'm feeling so emotional about this either. More lives were taken after the Danube River was poisoned with cyanide around thirteen years ago. More lives were taken after the city of Chernobyl was declared unsafe to live in because of radiation (and still is unsafe). More lives were taken in both World Wars. So why am I getting so upset over this? I didn't even cry when the Aurora shooting happened. I was upset, but I didn't cry. Whereas today, I just couldn't hold it in while thinking about it.
I have no reason to be angry at God. He can do what He wants and He has reasons for it. And I don't have reason to be angry at those people either. None of this is their fault. But I'm a Christian, and no Christian is perfect. Does that excuse my anger? No. But at least I know that with my very human mistakes comes perfect grace and forgiveness from God. And at least it can't flood forever.
Let me be honest with you. One of my biggest flaws is that I'm quite irritable and am easily angered. I almost never let it show around my friends because I don't like to complain to them, especially when I know that they're having bigger problems. Yet somehow, even when I know my parents are going through some problems, nothing stops me from opening my big mouth and expressing my anger. But right now, it's hard finding the words to say.
If you live out of state, you might not know that at the moment, Colorado is being flooded. We got more showers than expected and as a result, there has been water freely flowing through certain towns. The results have been devastating. As I type, there's an estimated six dead and over seven hundred unaccounted for. Some families have lost everything but their lives. Water is becoming unsafe to use in certain places due to it being contaminated by waste. And, of course, there are plenty of people who have been injured because of debris.
My family has been extremely blessed. We have food, water, shelter that's completely dry, and even electricity. I have absolutely no reason to be angry. But I am.
Why? Because this is still going on. Because even with the people who have died or lost their possessions or can't get to clean drinking water, this is still going on. And we can't stop it. There's nothing stopping this downpour except God Himself. And that is why I'm angry.
I don't get angry at God often. I owe so much to Him. He's what pulled me through every single thing that I've been through. But I've also been asking, "Why is this happening? Why is it raining now? Why are people dying? Why are so many people terrified? Why, why, why, why, why?!"
And it doesn't stop there. My anger has extended to certain people online as well. Yes, people I haven't even met. Because they've been complaining about rain. I've been tempted to be condescending and say, "Well, your rain hasn't killed people." Because all that's happened is that maybe their hair got a little damp. But the anger directed at them is sinful too, even if I'm not taking it out on anyone.
I don't even get why I'm feeling so emotional about this either. More lives were taken after the Danube River was poisoned with cyanide around thirteen years ago. More lives were taken after the city of Chernobyl was declared unsafe to live in because of radiation (and still is unsafe). More lives were taken in both World Wars. So why am I getting so upset over this? I didn't even cry when the Aurora shooting happened. I was upset, but I didn't cry. Whereas today, I just couldn't hold it in while thinking about it.
I have no reason to be angry at God. He can do what He wants and He has reasons for it. And I don't have reason to be angry at those people either. None of this is their fault. But I'm a Christian, and no Christian is perfect. Does that excuse my anger? No. But at least I know that with my very human mistakes comes perfect grace and forgiveness from God. And at least it can't flood forever.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
In the Hands of God
I loved Florida the moment I laid eyes on it. I loved the warmth, the hotel room (two TVs - we barely even had time to watch TV!), the pool... everything. As much as I love Colorado, it was definitely a nice change. Different scenery and weather. I was more than excited to just relax and get away.
The first couple of days were really relaxing. On Monday, we flew in, got settled into our rooms, and hung out. I went with some friends down to the pool and we chilled out there for a bit. Then the second group (the band was divided into two groups for flights and buses) arrived, and we all went to Downtown Disney for dinner. Though there were some things on my mind, I still had a good time eating my wrap, listening to street performers, and looking around, making a mental list of places I'd have to check out later.
The next day is when the true fun began. We all woke up bright and early and headed over to Magic Kingdom. It was hot as heck, but I preferred being out in the sunshine (probably because I was born and raised in California for eleven years), even if it did require using plenty of sunscreen and drinking a ton of water. I was a bit stressed because my friend couldn't get in with us because her ticket wasn't working, but I still had a good time on several rides. After that, we all went backstage, where they had to tell us to turn off our cell phones and cameras because they didn't want other people seeing what it was like. We then got into our uniforms, warmed up, and then marched in the parade in the Magic Kingdom. Let me tell you, that was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in band. Not only were the conditions perfect - it was night, so it wasn't hot, and it was the shortest parade I've ever marched - but the sight was incredible. There is nothing like marching out and seeing the castle all lit up in its full glory. This is just one of the many things that makes me pity people who aren't in band. The cool thing is that later, it turned out that there was an estimated 75,000 present. And there were people that we didn't know taking pictures and videos of us. How cool is that?
Later, we all got out of our uniforms and packed our stuff away, then rushed out so that we could go watch the fireworks. I went off with two friends with whom I hadn't spent time before, and they were both really sweet to me. One of them bought me lemonade, a gesture that I found very touching. After that, we all watched the fireworks together and headed back to the hotel to rest up for another long day.
I mention this to show that I had never anticipated what would happen the next morning.
I woke up early, asked one of my roommates if she wanted to shower, and headed for the bathroom after she said no. Now here's the thing: there are parts of that morning that I don't remember. I remember going to the bathroom and being in such a rush that I didn't turn the light on. It was for that reason that I also hadn't locked the door. The next thing I knew, I was being loaded into an ambulance. It scared me a little; I mean, I was being carried into an ambulance and I had no idea what was going on. It was also dark outside, so I thought it was nighttime, even though it was just early in the morning. I was wondering if something had happened and if I'd missed a good portion of the day or something like that. After I was loaded inside, a paramedic sat down by me. On the way over, he looked down at me and asked, "Do you remember what happened?"
"No," I answered warily. How would I know? The only thing I could remember was waking up and going to the bathroom, then searching for a door in the dark. He then nonchalantly filled me in on what had happened: I had had a seizure and was headed for the hospital.
It was hard to believe. I'm not epileptic, and I always thought that seizures were only caused by sensitivity to strobe or rapidly flashing lights. So a seizure had to be impossible. Had to. But I was wheeled into a room and asked questions, so reality had begun to kind of set in on me. The doctors made me do a pregnancy test, X-rays, and a CT scan, and finally released me after five and a half hours, along with another student whom they believed to be dehydrated despite the fact that he'd had a ton of water. We were taken to the hotel, where I quickly changed and grabbed my stuff, and then headed off to Epcot.
I got to enjoy the rest of the day with my friends. My band director was even kind enough to change the time for the meet-up to do the group photo so that we could be in it. Other than a soreness in my jaw and neck and my lip swelling to the size of a grapefruit (I actually tried to use lipstick to cover up the bruising), I felt completely fine, so I was able to walk around normally and go have fun. But the day after that, when I went to Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, I found out that I couldn't do a lot of rides because the doctors believed something - a strobe light, the jerking of a ride, whatever - could trigger another seizure.
I have to admit, it made me want to stop my feet and throw a tantrum like a two-year-old.
I texted chaperones until I finally found one willing to hang out with me while my friends did rides that I couldn't do. At first, I was pretty upset. Why do my friends get to go off and do what they want? I wondered. It's not like I'll have another seizure anyway. I feel like I'm being babysat. But the chaperone I hung out with was really nice and sweet and I just felt like I could tell her anything. So I ended up having a lot of fun, more fun than I thought I would. She even made a nice gesture and paid for my overpriced iced mocha.
I headed off to Hollywood Studios early with a small group of people. I managed to have a good time there also; one friend split a funnel cake with me (she paid for that, even though I was planning on splitting the cost with her - that makes three people who were generous with their money); I rode some gentle rides with some friends; I made a friend there after he approached me and told me he liked my hoodie; and my friend and I auditioned for the American Idol Experience, a smaller version of the true American Idol. We asked two chaperones to be there with us, as we weren't allowed to do it because we're minors, and then went in and did it. I went into a small room with one judge, sang the chorus of I Walk Alone by Tarja, and got some positive feedback (the woman told me that I need more confidence and that I need to emulate more of a pop or rock style - I'm apparently too classical). It'd been a pretty good day.
After Wednesday, it was smooth sailing. No more seizures. On Friday, we headed to Cocoa Beach, then returned to Downtown Disney, where we saw a Cirque du Soleil show and then broke off into groups again. With some friends, I had a pretzel for dinner, danced around to a guy playing guitar and didgeridoo (check him out - he is seriously really talented!), which got us the title of the Colorado Dancing Troupe, bought a new dress, and got to talk to a German guy. As you may or may not know, I am trying to learn German, and I know German people, but I just got really excited when I found him. My friends and I were outside the Lego store; I had started playing around with some of the Legos in one of the little tubs, trying to see what I could create, when I heard a man speaking to his two kids in German. One thing I loved about Florida was all the English accents that I kept hearing, but that was the first time I'd heard someone talking in German. So I put the Legos down and said, "Bitte, sprechst du Deutsch?" Excuse me, do you speak German? In my excitement, I guess I'd forgotten to be more formal to him and use Sie instead of du, but he chuckled and responded, "Ja, genug." Yes, enough. From there, we had a small conversation (I'd made another error; he'd asked if I was taking a German class and I answered, "nein, ich habe ein Buch" when I should have said, "nein, ich habe einen Buch"), and after a minute, he spoke to me in English. Probably because he could see I was struggling. But I was still really grateful that he took the time to talk to me in German despite my mistakes and despite the fact that he was probably pressed for time. He even explained to me how their school system works when I asked (I love learning about how schools in other countries differ from ours - I could probably go off on a rant about how Finnish schools are far superior to those here in the U.S.). I know it sounds silly, but that just made me so incredibly happy. I can't even explain the level of gratitude I felt to him simply for talking to me.
On Saturday, we flew home and I went to bed that night, grateful to be back in my own bed, where everything was nice and familiar. The next day, we went to church and then back home, where I relaxed for a bit before meeting with my friend and roommate. My mom and I wanted to ask her some questions, as I have an appointment with a neurologist soon, and we were still missing some details. Despite the fact that we're all a bit confused on what happened, she was able to give us some answers. Apparently, I headed over to the bathroom, but I tripped and fell on the way (though this was before the seizure, I don't remember it at all). My friend asked me if I was okay, and I'd said yes and continued to the bathroom. She said that she heard moaning and assumed I was singing, but came in after a moment to find me leaning over the bathtub, convulsing. She then screamed at my friends to go get the nurse, who came in and pulled me out. My friend told me that I was apparently really stiff, had wide eyes, and was really dazed and confused. The nurse called my name, but I apparently only responded with, "What?" I remember what happened from there - being loaded into an ambulance and heading to Epcot - but then she told me that throughout the day and the day after that, I still seemed confused, not being able to recall certain things. She told me that I'd asked her what the time was and that I'd asked her again a few minutes later. But she also informed me that I seemed fine on Friday - less confusion.
Here's the thing that struck me. From what my friends told me, the circumstances could have been much different. If I'd locked the door like I usually do, then my friend definitely would have had a much harder time getting to me, and if I'd started running the shower water like I usually do, I could have drowned - for whatever reason, the bathtub was plugged. But they were able to find me with ease, and obviously, I'm not dead.
Once again, these are the signs of God working in my life.
You may have heard the saying, "You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only option you have left." Which is true, in a way. But I've discovered something to be truer: you never know how much you need the Lord until something happens to you and holding onto Him with a viselike grip is the only option you have left. No, I'm not saying that I have a terrible life or anything. I am very blessed to have the life I have and am grateful I'm not in someone else's shoes. But that's not to say I haven't faced difficult times. Who hasn't? I remember the time that I was having panic attacks and dreading nighttime because that's when the fear heightened. I remember the time where I wondered if taking my life would be a good solution to my problems. I even remember getting picked on by this girl back in middle school, a relatively small situation. And you know what? My only choice through those things was to pray and trust that God would work everything together. My friends and family offered me support through these things, but I don't know where I would be without God. I can imagine, but I don't think I want to.
It amazes me that I get to use this as a testimony. I've been able to tell people how God has shaped my life and how He brought me through some difficult things. This is just another example. I've told people how, if it weren't for God, the way this all turned out could have been very different. I am just so amazed. Sometimes, it's easy to forget who I am. It's easy to just feel down and to think of myself as just another face in the crowd. I'd like to think of this as a reminder that no one is just another face. Everyone plays a part in this world. You're probably sitting there thinking, Christi, what does your seizure have to do with who has an impact on the world?
Simply put, God uses His people to reach to others. People may have gifts that they are able to use. The members of one of my favorite bands, Demon Hunter, are all Christians. Through their lyrics, they are able to reach out to people and share the Gospel. Others may have experiences that they are able to use. That is what I believe God is using me for. I have been able to tell people how God has changed my life, which is something incredibly mind-blowing to me. The King of the universe is using me - me - to further advance His kingdom. That's the thing reminding me that I'm not just another face in the crowd. I am an ambassador for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I get to be called to serve Him. It's a thought that brings tears to my eyes because it's just something too difficult for me to comprehend.
So that's the reason why I'm grateful for this seizure. Even though it's something small that happened to me, God is using it for something. I'm not quite sure what yet, but I have a good feeling about it. We'll just have to wait and see.
The first couple of days were really relaxing. On Monday, we flew in, got settled into our rooms, and hung out. I went with some friends down to the pool and we chilled out there for a bit. Then the second group (the band was divided into two groups for flights and buses) arrived, and we all went to Downtown Disney for dinner. Though there were some things on my mind, I still had a good time eating my wrap, listening to street performers, and looking around, making a mental list of places I'd have to check out later.
The next day is when the true fun began. We all woke up bright and early and headed over to Magic Kingdom. It was hot as heck, but I preferred being out in the sunshine (probably because I was born and raised in California for eleven years), even if it did require using plenty of sunscreen and drinking a ton of water. I was a bit stressed because my friend couldn't get in with us because her ticket wasn't working, but I still had a good time on several rides. After that, we all went backstage, where they had to tell us to turn off our cell phones and cameras because they didn't want other people seeing what it was like. We then got into our uniforms, warmed up, and then marched in the parade in the Magic Kingdom. Let me tell you, that was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in band. Not only were the conditions perfect - it was night, so it wasn't hot, and it was the shortest parade I've ever marched - but the sight was incredible. There is nothing like marching out and seeing the castle all lit up in its full glory. This is just one of the many things that makes me pity people who aren't in band. The cool thing is that later, it turned out that there was an estimated 75,000 present. And there were people that we didn't know taking pictures and videos of us. How cool is that?
Later, we all got out of our uniforms and packed our stuff away, then rushed out so that we could go watch the fireworks. I went off with two friends with whom I hadn't spent time before, and they were both really sweet to me. One of them bought me lemonade, a gesture that I found very touching. After that, we all watched the fireworks together and headed back to the hotel to rest up for another long day.
I mention this to show that I had never anticipated what would happen the next morning.
I woke up early, asked one of my roommates if she wanted to shower, and headed for the bathroom after she said no. Now here's the thing: there are parts of that morning that I don't remember. I remember going to the bathroom and being in such a rush that I didn't turn the light on. It was for that reason that I also hadn't locked the door. The next thing I knew, I was being loaded into an ambulance. It scared me a little; I mean, I was being carried into an ambulance and I had no idea what was going on. It was also dark outside, so I thought it was nighttime, even though it was just early in the morning. I was wondering if something had happened and if I'd missed a good portion of the day or something like that. After I was loaded inside, a paramedic sat down by me. On the way over, he looked down at me and asked, "Do you remember what happened?"
"No," I answered warily. How would I know? The only thing I could remember was waking up and going to the bathroom, then searching for a door in the dark. He then nonchalantly filled me in on what had happened: I had had a seizure and was headed for the hospital.
It was hard to believe. I'm not epileptic, and I always thought that seizures were only caused by sensitivity to strobe or rapidly flashing lights. So a seizure had to be impossible. Had to. But I was wheeled into a room and asked questions, so reality had begun to kind of set in on me. The doctors made me do a pregnancy test, X-rays, and a CT scan, and finally released me after five and a half hours, along with another student whom they believed to be dehydrated despite the fact that he'd had a ton of water. We were taken to the hotel, where I quickly changed and grabbed my stuff, and then headed off to Epcot.
I got to enjoy the rest of the day with my friends. My band director was even kind enough to change the time for the meet-up to do the group photo so that we could be in it. Other than a soreness in my jaw and neck and my lip swelling to the size of a grapefruit (I actually tried to use lipstick to cover up the bruising), I felt completely fine, so I was able to walk around normally and go have fun. But the day after that, when I went to Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios, I found out that I couldn't do a lot of rides because the doctors believed something - a strobe light, the jerking of a ride, whatever - could trigger another seizure.
I have to admit, it made me want to stop my feet and throw a tantrum like a two-year-old.
I texted chaperones until I finally found one willing to hang out with me while my friends did rides that I couldn't do. At first, I was pretty upset. Why do my friends get to go off and do what they want? I wondered. It's not like I'll have another seizure anyway. I feel like I'm being babysat. But the chaperone I hung out with was really nice and sweet and I just felt like I could tell her anything. So I ended up having a lot of fun, more fun than I thought I would. She even made a nice gesture and paid for my overpriced iced mocha.
I headed off to Hollywood Studios early with a small group of people. I managed to have a good time there also; one friend split a funnel cake with me (she paid for that, even though I was planning on splitting the cost with her - that makes three people who were generous with their money); I rode some gentle rides with some friends; I made a friend there after he approached me and told me he liked my hoodie; and my friend and I auditioned for the American Idol Experience, a smaller version of the true American Idol. We asked two chaperones to be there with us, as we weren't allowed to do it because we're minors, and then went in and did it. I went into a small room with one judge, sang the chorus of I Walk Alone by Tarja, and got some positive feedback (the woman told me that I need more confidence and that I need to emulate more of a pop or rock style - I'm apparently too classical). It'd been a pretty good day.
After Wednesday, it was smooth sailing. No more seizures. On Friday, we headed to Cocoa Beach, then returned to Downtown Disney, where we saw a Cirque du Soleil show and then broke off into groups again. With some friends, I had a pretzel for dinner, danced around to a guy playing guitar and didgeridoo (check him out - he is seriously really talented!), which got us the title of the Colorado Dancing Troupe, bought a new dress, and got to talk to a German guy. As you may or may not know, I am trying to learn German, and I know German people, but I just got really excited when I found him. My friends and I were outside the Lego store; I had started playing around with some of the Legos in one of the little tubs, trying to see what I could create, when I heard a man speaking to his two kids in German. One thing I loved about Florida was all the English accents that I kept hearing, but that was the first time I'd heard someone talking in German. So I put the Legos down and said, "Bitte, sprechst du Deutsch?" Excuse me, do you speak German? In my excitement, I guess I'd forgotten to be more formal to him and use Sie instead of du, but he chuckled and responded, "Ja, genug." Yes, enough. From there, we had a small conversation (I'd made another error; he'd asked if I was taking a German class and I answered, "nein, ich habe ein Buch" when I should have said, "nein, ich habe einen Buch"), and after a minute, he spoke to me in English. Probably because he could see I was struggling. But I was still really grateful that he took the time to talk to me in German despite my mistakes and despite the fact that he was probably pressed for time. He even explained to me how their school system works when I asked (I love learning about how schools in other countries differ from ours - I could probably go off on a rant about how Finnish schools are far superior to those here in the U.S.). I know it sounds silly, but that just made me so incredibly happy. I can't even explain the level of gratitude I felt to him simply for talking to me.
On Saturday, we flew home and I went to bed that night, grateful to be back in my own bed, where everything was nice and familiar. The next day, we went to church and then back home, where I relaxed for a bit before meeting with my friend and roommate. My mom and I wanted to ask her some questions, as I have an appointment with a neurologist soon, and we were still missing some details. Despite the fact that we're all a bit confused on what happened, she was able to give us some answers. Apparently, I headed over to the bathroom, but I tripped and fell on the way (though this was before the seizure, I don't remember it at all). My friend asked me if I was okay, and I'd said yes and continued to the bathroom. She said that she heard moaning and assumed I was singing, but came in after a moment to find me leaning over the bathtub, convulsing. She then screamed at my friends to go get the nurse, who came in and pulled me out. My friend told me that I was apparently really stiff, had wide eyes, and was really dazed and confused. The nurse called my name, but I apparently only responded with, "What?" I remember what happened from there - being loaded into an ambulance and heading to Epcot - but then she told me that throughout the day and the day after that, I still seemed confused, not being able to recall certain things. She told me that I'd asked her what the time was and that I'd asked her again a few minutes later. But she also informed me that I seemed fine on Friday - less confusion.
Here's the thing that struck me. From what my friends told me, the circumstances could have been much different. If I'd locked the door like I usually do, then my friend definitely would have had a much harder time getting to me, and if I'd started running the shower water like I usually do, I could have drowned - for whatever reason, the bathtub was plugged. But they were able to find me with ease, and obviously, I'm not dead.
Once again, these are the signs of God working in my life.
You may have heard the saying, "You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only option you have left." Which is true, in a way. But I've discovered something to be truer: you never know how much you need the Lord until something happens to you and holding onto Him with a viselike grip is the only option you have left. No, I'm not saying that I have a terrible life or anything. I am very blessed to have the life I have and am grateful I'm not in someone else's shoes. But that's not to say I haven't faced difficult times. Who hasn't? I remember the time that I was having panic attacks and dreading nighttime because that's when the fear heightened. I remember the time where I wondered if taking my life would be a good solution to my problems. I even remember getting picked on by this girl back in middle school, a relatively small situation. And you know what? My only choice through those things was to pray and trust that God would work everything together. My friends and family offered me support through these things, but I don't know where I would be without God. I can imagine, but I don't think I want to.
It amazes me that I get to use this as a testimony. I've been able to tell people how God has shaped my life and how He brought me through some difficult things. This is just another example. I've told people how, if it weren't for God, the way this all turned out could have been very different. I am just so amazed. Sometimes, it's easy to forget who I am. It's easy to just feel down and to think of myself as just another face in the crowd. I'd like to think of this as a reminder that no one is just another face. Everyone plays a part in this world. You're probably sitting there thinking, Christi, what does your seizure have to do with who has an impact on the world?
Simply put, God uses His people to reach to others. People may have gifts that they are able to use. The members of one of my favorite bands, Demon Hunter, are all Christians. Through their lyrics, they are able to reach out to people and share the Gospel. Others may have experiences that they are able to use. That is what I believe God is using me for. I have been able to tell people how God has changed my life, which is something incredibly mind-blowing to me. The King of the universe is using me - me - to further advance His kingdom. That's the thing reminding me that I'm not just another face in the crowd. I am an ambassador for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I get to be called to serve Him. It's a thought that brings tears to my eyes because it's just something too difficult for me to comprehend.
So that's the reason why I'm grateful for this seizure. Even though it's something small that happened to me, God is using it for something. I'm not quite sure what yet, but I have a good feeling about it. We'll just have to wait and see.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Zelda: Heroine or Victim?
Before I start this post... happy Easter! He is risen! What a beautiful day it is. I can't express how awesome it is to be accepted by such a wonderful Savior.
Last time I posted, I asked whether or not there are fake geek girls. In short, my argument was that yes, there are fake geek girls out there who pretend to be geeks for attention. It seems to be gaining at least some attention in the world of feminists and geeks alike, so I felt like giving my two cents about it. Now there's another issue that I've stumbled across, and that is the portrayal of women in video games. I'm going to be looking at Zelda today, as she is one of the main characters in one of my all-time favorite video game series.
I remember a while back, I saw on Facebook that a woman named Anita Sarkeesian was starting a KickStart (or whatever it's called) project to raise funds to do research on the way women are portrayed in video games. I at first supported it, thinking, "Hey, yeah. This chick probably has a point. Maybe some chicks are negatively depicted in video games." But after watching a video making a counterargument against the videos that Anita recently posted, I have to agree one hundred percent with that one.
The girl speaking in the video first talks about how Peach isn't a victim, but rather a hero in the way that she's a respected political figure. I really don't care much about Peach, as I'm not an avid Mario fan. I've played a couple of Mario Party games, but I'm just not a huge fan of the franchise. I was more interested in what she had to say about Zelda.
I'm not sure when exactly I got hooked on Zelda. I remember that when I was ten, I went to Oregon to see my grandparents and they had Minish Cap. I had no idea why. They just did. So my brother and I played that for a bit despite the fact that I had never heard of the game series before. I really liked it and was disappointed when we lost the game. (I believe we found it, but I'm not sure.) So I didn't really play much Zelda after that (I was more into Sonic Heroes anyway, so much so that I was writing fanfiction about it). Later on, though, after we got the Wii, my brother got Ocarina of Time, and not long after that, we got Twilight Princess (the first Zelda game I've beaten, which happened March 18th of last year). I can't remember when exactly I became a fan, so we'll just go with June 2006 when I was introduced to Minish Cap just to make things easier.
With that said, that's almost seven years of being a fan (minus a couple due to the fact that I didn't get to play any more). The entire time I sat there playing, I was either thinking, Wow, this is so awesome! I love this! or, Oh my gosh. This is so frustrating. How do I get past this part? You want to know what I wasn't thinking? Wow, how sexist of Nintendo to make Zelda this way!
Yet that seems to be the case with Anita Sarkeesian.
I'll be honest here. I haven't seen any of her videos yet. I'm planning on it, but I haven't seen any yet. So I'm not too familiar with her arguments or anything. But we know for a fact that Anita thinks that Zelda is a victim of male chauvinism due to the fact that she's seen as a damsel in distress.
Personally, I think that's a total insult to Zelda.
First of all, whom is the game series named after in the first place? Zelda. It is called The Legend of Zelda. Not The Legend of Link. It confused me at first, because though I knew Zelda was the princess, I wasn't exactly sure why it was named after her. I have my own opinions about it, but I won't get into that here. You can speculate if you want to. But that's what the title is. The Legend of Zelda. If Zelda didn't have any great value or importance, the games wouldn't be named after her.
Second of all, just... why? How has Zelda in any way been subjected to misogyny? Let's take a look at Ocarina of Time. Spoiler alert: after Link awakens after seven years to find Hyrule in a state of disrepair, Zelda disguises herself as Sheik to aid him in his quest to save the land. Not only that, but she is also the final Sage. Pure awesomeness right there.
Another example is Skyward Sword. I'm going to stop here, because we all know that Zelda is just so cool and I don't want to ramble too much, but look at it. I guess Anita could make a better argument for this game instead of Ocarina of Time, given that Zelda has been taken away to the Surface and Ghirahim finally gets his hands on her in the end so that he can use her soul to revive Demise. But come on. How is that fair to Zelda? First of all, Link's not just saving her. He's saving everyone on both the Surface and in Skyloft from Demise. Second of all, Zelda played a huge role in the game. Not just because Ghirahim needed her soul, but because she did certain things to help Link along the way. The best part? It turned out that Zelda was also the goddess Hylia. Now that is awesomeness.
So why are we so quick to jump to this conclusion that the makers of Zelda are total chauvinists? I'm not sure. It's beyond me. Zelda is a character loved and respected by many fans over the globe.
Here is the video that I watched for the counterargument to Anita's videos:
And here is the first in Anita's videos:
Last time I posted, I asked whether or not there are fake geek girls. In short, my argument was that yes, there are fake geek girls out there who pretend to be geeks for attention. It seems to be gaining at least some attention in the world of feminists and geeks alike, so I felt like giving my two cents about it. Now there's another issue that I've stumbled across, and that is the portrayal of women in video games. I'm going to be looking at Zelda today, as she is one of the main characters in one of my all-time favorite video game series.
I remember a while back, I saw on Facebook that a woman named Anita Sarkeesian was starting a KickStart (or whatever it's called) project to raise funds to do research on the way women are portrayed in video games. I at first supported it, thinking, "Hey, yeah. This chick probably has a point. Maybe some chicks are negatively depicted in video games." But after watching a video making a counterargument against the videos that Anita recently posted, I have to agree one hundred percent with that one.
The girl speaking in the video first talks about how Peach isn't a victim, but rather a hero in the way that she's a respected political figure. I really don't care much about Peach, as I'm not an avid Mario fan. I've played a couple of Mario Party games, but I'm just not a huge fan of the franchise. I was more interested in what she had to say about Zelda.
I'm not sure when exactly I got hooked on Zelda. I remember that when I was ten, I went to Oregon to see my grandparents and they had Minish Cap. I had no idea why. They just did. So my brother and I played that for a bit despite the fact that I had never heard of the game series before. I really liked it and was disappointed when we lost the game. (I believe we found it, but I'm not sure.) So I didn't really play much Zelda after that (I was more into Sonic Heroes anyway, so much so that I was writing fanfiction about it). Later on, though, after we got the Wii, my brother got Ocarina of Time, and not long after that, we got Twilight Princess (the first Zelda game I've beaten, which happened March 18th of last year). I can't remember when exactly I became a fan, so we'll just go with June 2006 when I was introduced to Minish Cap just to make things easier.
With that said, that's almost seven years of being a fan (minus a couple due to the fact that I didn't get to play any more). The entire time I sat there playing, I was either thinking, Wow, this is so awesome! I love this! or, Oh my gosh. This is so frustrating. How do I get past this part? You want to know what I wasn't thinking? Wow, how sexist of Nintendo to make Zelda this way!
Yet that seems to be the case with Anita Sarkeesian.
I'll be honest here. I haven't seen any of her videos yet. I'm planning on it, but I haven't seen any yet. So I'm not too familiar with her arguments or anything. But we know for a fact that Anita thinks that Zelda is a victim of male chauvinism due to the fact that she's seen as a damsel in distress.
Personally, I think that's a total insult to Zelda.
First of all, whom is the game series named after in the first place? Zelda. It is called The Legend of Zelda. Not The Legend of Link. It confused me at first, because though I knew Zelda was the princess, I wasn't exactly sure why it was named after her. I have my own opinions about it, but I won't get into that here. You can speculate if you want to. But that's what the title is. The Legend of Zelda. If Zelda didn't have any great value or importance, the games wouldn't be named after her.
Second of all, just... why? How has Zelda in any way been subjected to misogyny? Let's take a look at Ocarina of Time. Spoiler alert: after Link awakens after seven years to find Hyrule in a state of disrepair, Zelda disguises herself as Sheik to aid him in his quest to save the land. Not only that, but she is also the final Sage. Pure awesomeness right there.
Another example is Skyward Sword. I'm going to stop here, because we all know that Zelda is just so cool and I don't want to ramble too much, but look at it. I guess Anita could make a better argument for this game instead of Ocarina of Time, given that Zelda has been taken away to the Surface and Ghirahim finally gets his hands on her in the end so that he can use her soul to revive Demise. But come on. How is that fair to Zelda? First of all, Link's not just saving her. He's saving everyone on both the Surface and in Skyloft from Demise. Second of all, Zelda played a huge role in the game. Not just because Ghirahim needed her soul, but because she did certain things to help Link along the way. The best part? It turned out that Zelda was also the goddess Hylia. Now that is awesomeness.
So why are we so quick to jump to this conclusion that the makers of Zelda are total chauvinists? I'm not sure. It's beyond me. Zelda is a character loved and respected by many fans over the globe.
Here is the video that I watched for the counterargument to Anita's videos:
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