Being Sensitive Isn't Hard

The other day I was thinking about how easy it is for people to be culturally insensitive, whether it be because they don't know it, or they do and they don't want to try and stop this bad behavior.  This was thrown into my mind because of a poster I made.  It was for the Spanish club at my university.  The extra posters that I had printed out where then clipped together and given to the Spanish teacher who ran the club.  He saw them later and asked my boss if she made them, and she told him 'No, Monica made them.'  The professor was so happy that I was not using any photos that were culturally insensitive or rude.  Nothing stereotypical either.  Just because, I didn't want to use those photos, and I knew they would not be well received by the professors (or anyone really).

I steered clear of cartoon tacos (with and without mustaches), photos of maracas, sombreros, and other cartoon photos like that that really only to seem appropriate on a middle school poster if appropriate at all.  I just didn't feel that 1) those photos were very symbolic of a university or belonged on a poster for a university club, 2) they were culturally insensitive and stereotypical towards Spanish culture, and 3) I just wanted pictures of flags.

I inserted four photos on the poster.  1) a photo of Spain with the Spanish flag on it, 2) our university's panther mascot, 3) a small banner of flags from Spanish speaking countries, and 4) a small poster that reads 'KEEP CALM AND GO TO SPANISH CLUB'.  These photos I felt were the perfect fit.  I placed the panther head on top of the Spain one, and off to the side so as not to hide the flag or the majority of the country, the banner of flags on the side, and the 'KEEP CALM' poster down at the bottom.  In between all these photos I added in text boxes with the information.  I made the color of each text box either black, yellow, or red to fit with the Spanish flag and complete an overall aesthetic of the poster.

So I was thinking later after my boss told me about her above conversation with the other professor, and about how the professor was happy that I didn't put anything insensitive on the poster: Why is it so hard for other people to be culturally sensitive?  When anyone makes a stereotype or joke towards those of American descent (because let's face it most who are culturally insensitive are American, myself included before I realized I was doing so), they get angry and wish that the person who said/did those things would not to it again.  It's rude and insensitive.  It's hurtful is really what it all comes down to.

So why is it that we do this to other cultures?  Put harmful and hurtful stereotypes out there and not expect that it will be hurtful to someone?  Why do we also quickly rush to defend ourselves?  Why not just admit that it's wrong and hurtful, and try our hardest not to do it again.  It was very easy for me to not use any of those hurtful/stereotypical images on my poster.  And the turn out was wonderful and professional.  So maybe really what I'm asking and wondering: What is causing you to be so insensitive (if you are being so)?  Why are you not taking the few extra seconds to just...not be hurtful?  It's so easy to not hurt others just because they are different.

Those stereotypical images (tacos, maracas, sombrero, etc.) and sayings that are harmful to others are not something to share around.  We should just stop with them.  I know that myself personally, I've used stereotypes and found them funny.  And certain ones are (New Englanders traveling in a snow blizzard for a Dunkins Iced, Canadians are just too polite, etc.) and that's because, to my knowledge, these ones are not harmful.  I know friends and family members who would and have braze a snowstorm for an Iced coffee from Dunkins.  I've read and heard so many stories of Canadians just being very nice and I think it's sweet.  So things like that are fine, because they hurt no one.  However, the ones that talk down someone and they culture, are not fine.  Those are the ones that are harmful.

I think that, we as a world-wide society, must try our hardest to stop spreading the hate.  Just spread peace and love (of course we still need to fight for our rights but do it peacefully).  We need to be more sensitive to those around us.  And not spread such hurtful stereotypes. Think about if it was you people were laughing at harmfully?  You wouldn't like it.  Now stop doing it to others.  It's honestly not that hard.

I'm going to make sure that I stay sensitive, and that I always make the effort to not harm another.  I hope you all will too.

À bientôt!

Meeting My Nephew

The other day, Monday, October 31, 2016, at 11:17, I was blessed by having my nephew Kaden Taylor Villafane be born.  But before I begin to talk about him, and how much I already love him, I want to start at the beginning...

It was February.  Our cat, Badboy, had recently died and I was still having a hard time remembering him.  I was getting home from class, planning on doing a bit of homework before meeting my friends at five for dinner at the dining hall on campus.  That's when I got the messages from my mother. "Are you home?"
"Yes, just got there."
"Get on Skype."  I thought it was weird.  She didn't usually force me to get on Skype.  And I was instantly worried something was wrong.  Who had died?  Who was in the hospital?  All those terrible thoughts in my mind.  I opened up my laptop and called her.  The screen only filled with her, but someone else's shoulder was in the frame.  After a few quick hellos, she turned the camera to my twin and her boyfriend.  I was told, "We have news."  And then she told me.

"You're gonna be an auntie Monica!"  I can't recall my exact feeling at that moment.  But I can tell you that I was excited.  I was going to be an aunt.  I was upset slightly.  My sister said she'd not be returning to classes after the current semester because of the baby.  I was okay with it, but I knew how badly she wanted to go to college.  But now the baby was the top priority.

Months go by, a few friendships perish, but my sister is still happy.  She's still strong in having a baby and finishing her semester out.  What with all the appointments and having to drive back and forth constantly in order to keep her child healthy.  During the summer she continued to work at her job, making a bit of money before Kaden came (they decided on the name during the summer).  At a small get-together with parents and siblings of both parents, we all learned the sex of their child.  I knew I'd be happy with either boy or girl.  Then my twin, Eryn, and her boyfriend, Brandon, moved into a new apartment.  The baby shower was in the beginning of August, her due date was set for Halloween.

October 29 rolls around and I joke with my sister about giving birth already.  She tells me that she has been having some cramps, and timing them.  But she doesn't think anything of it at all.  She stops texting me, like normal.  We've never held on really long conversations over text.  My mother tells me later on that same night that she is going over because her cramps are slowly getting stronger and closer together.  I got excited, that meant he was coming soon, right?

The next day hits, and there is really no word.  I text my mother and she says that they get closer and stronger, but not close enough to go to the hospital.  The day goes by, I watch movies with my roommate and we do some homework.  Next thing I know my sister and my mother are out and about, trying to get her moving.  Around 8pm my mother informs me that they are going to the hospital.  I made a quick little video on my phone telling her I love her and that she can do it.  Two of my roommates, Paige and Becca, and my friend, Jordan, were in the video too because we were all watching a movie together.

I got to bed after talking with my father later on.  I woke up around 3:30 the next morning when my sister sends a group text to my mother, father, and me.  She was getting an epidural and then trying to get some more sleep.  It wasn't until I woke up later that it really hit me...my nephew was going to be born.  I was on my phone all morning, texting my mother and father trying to get information.  All I knew by 10 am, was that she was pushing.  I wasn't able to talk more after that because I was going to my classes.  As I left my Creative Writing class, I walked into the Silver Center, going to Chorale.  I was halfway down the stairs when I got a text.  It was from my mother.  A photo was attached.  I continued to walk down as I opened it up, thinking nothing of it really.

Then I stopped where I was.  I was halfway down these stairs, and I was staring at a photo of my nephew.  The caption 'Meet your nephew' underneath.  My heart started to swell like the Grinch's once he learns to love Christmas and my eyes began to water.  I was officially an aunt.  I had a nephew who was living and breathing in the world.  Instantly I saved the photo to my phone and stared at it as long as I could.  I moved slowly down the stairs and made it to the classroom, showing all my friends who were also waiting to see the photo of him.  The rest of the day all I could do was think of him and how cute he was.

I was told that I wasn't able to see him until the Saturday afterward.  I frantically asked my friends and family for a ride down to go and see him, I also had to find a coworker to cover my shift at my university job.  I was able to get my mother to pick me up and bring me down.  When Friday came, I was going to leave right after my Creative Writing class and go home with my mother.  I was planning on spending the night with her at work because it would be easier for her to go straight there after picking me up.

As I walked to my apartment, I looked to the parking lot.  I saw my mom's car, but there was nothing in the backseat.  I don't know why I had looked.  She wasn't going to bring my sister and Kaden with her.  He was born a few days ago.  I made it to my door, where my mother was waiting outside for me.  I turned my key in the door and opened it.  I turned around to my mother as I stepped in, seeing her standing there just holding her phone up.  I remembered thinking 'It's not that special.  You've been here before.  Me opening my door is not that great'  then after a few more seconds 'SHE DID BRING HIM'

I immediately ran into the living room and dropped my bag and keys on the chair.  Then turned the corner to find my sister standing there, holding my nephew in her arms.  I had learned after my mother stopped recording that they conspired with my roommates to keep the door unlocked for them to get in before I would get home from class.  I was so happy.  I got to hold him and just smiled for days.  I can't wait for this child to grow up and realize how much he's loved.  I will be there for him whenever he needs me.

To see photos of Kaden that I have to go my Twitter, I will also see if my mother will let me post the video to my Youtube as well.

À bientôt!

Color Guard

As I've mentioned before (in my Welcome post), I love color guard.  I want to talk about that more and how much it's affected my life in such wonderful and even loving ways.

Now, imagine me, if you will, as a little eighth grader.  As a fun little after school activity, I joined the color guard.  We worked for four weeks (two days a week I believe) on a routine for the Memorial Day parade with the Middle School at Parkside band.  I wasn't even able to do half the moves, but I still had fun.  I was in the second row, in the middle of three columns as we walked down the street.  My friend Larissa was next to me.  We did our moves all the way down the street, I only dropped the flag a few times too.

But before we had walked onto the street, two girls from Manchester High School West (the one I would be advancing to after graduation) came over to talk to us.  I could see in the background others doing tosses and more advanced moves, I was impressed.  The two girls were talking with our instructor, who was also their current instructor.  One of the girls asked how to join the color guard in high school, and the older girls smiled.  They told us that it wasn't too late to sign up for the class, but I didn't think much of it.  After the parade, everyone hung up their flags and we went on with the rest of the year.  It wasn't until halfway through the summer that I'd even see a color guard again.

I was at soccer tryouts.  It was three days of working, running laps, playing scrimmages, and more.  All to see if you were good enough to go onto the varsity team.  I wasn't in that group.  Nor was I in the group to join the junior varsity team because there were not enough girls.  I was a bit heartbroken.  I had been playing soccer for eight years and I thought I was a very good player.  I went home with my mother, we now lived right next door to West.  When we pulled into the driveway, I saw something familiar.  Color guard.

I also saw my old instructor/choir teacher there.  I wanted to go over and say hello.  She told me she was happy to see me and asked if I was interested in joining the color guard squad.  I told her I wasn't fully sure if I wanted to or not.  My mother told me it wouldn't hurt to try it, and they were just starting practice anyway.  The high school band director came out, Mrs. Diane Francoeur.  She told me that it was okay for me to practice with the squad.  One of the girls helped me learn moves that I was not able to do just a few months prior.  I found that it came very easily to me to learn.  I was given a schedule of all practices and band camp when I left, I was also told that I would get color guard put on my schedule for the first day of high school.  I was so happy.  I felt that I belonged there, more than I did in any of my soccer teams.

During band camp I made friends, Larissa was in there too.  My twin joined the week after I had.  We learned a whole field show within a week and performed it in front of parents and friends before showing it off at all the home games (and a few away games too!).  We had different routines for each song, and four songs a show.  We also had to learn different routines for each parade we did.  I had so much fun.  The class period was the same time as the band, so while we practiced just outside, we could hear them playing the songs.  I had the most fun that I could.

Of course, there was drama, though.  Can't have a group of about ten girls and not have drama, but I don't want to shed light on that part of my color guard life, it's all about the love in this post.

The next year the class was a different period, which meant we used a recording to practice with music.  I still had fun though.  I was a squad leader, which is like a tier below captain in case you don't know.  I was happy and still doing something that I loved.  I still belonged.  My junior year I was still squad leader, but something caused me to not have the ability to take the class.  Luckily my instructor and Francoeur still allowed me to be in the squad.  I don't know what I would have done if they didn't.

The end of my senior year I tried out for color guard captain.  And I got it!  Along with another squad member, we were co-captains.  I still was not able to take the class senior year because of the chamber choir I was in.  But I made it work by practicing on my off periods and coming to every practice that we had (I think I missed a total of twenty practices all four years).  I worked hard getting my own routine written, and I used moves and techniques I had learned from my week at Drum Major Academy, or DMA.  And yes, DMA has color guard in it.  But they mainly cater to upcoming drum majors.

Both during Junior and Senior year, I went to color guard exhibitions.  I didn't perform in them, I went to watch.  I loved it.  The different elements, the use of props.  All of it.  I loved it all.  My mom bought me a guard charm bracelet.  I would have worn it more than I did if it didn't turn my wrist green.

The end of my Senior year became bittersweet.  I was saying hello to a new chapter in my life, but saying goodbye to something that had been my life for four years.  I was saying goodbye to spinning and tossing.  To the uniform and the makeup.  To band camp and coming home with turf in my shoes.  To half-time shows and Salem Band Show.  To all my lovely guard girls and my instructor.  I didn't realize until halfway through college how much color guard meant to me.  I was upset that I couldn't go to the practices (I had moved), and that I wouldn't be doing the half time show.  My college didn't have a color guard, and I couldn't get one started.  I still miss it.  I miss the slap of the rifle on my
hands.  The feel of the silk in my hands while at attention.  The swoosh of the silk as it rippled through the air.  The sound of the crowd when the big toss was caught.  I miss it all.

I still go back to my old high school and help them out.  I did it a few weeks ago.  It helps me relive those times that I was on the field spinning.  I know that I will continue to hold color guard in a special spot in my heart, and I will never stop doing it.  I just wanted to let you all know how much I loved it.

À bientôt!

Photo creds: banner, guard girl, irifle, flag toss, love,