In college it was a lot easier to be a sissy. Unlike during high school, there were open and out homosexuals all around me. The confidence in which some of these guys embraced their “feminine” gestures made my level of being a sissy pale in comparison.
Gay jokes didn’t exist in my group of friends. In my fraternity there were always at least a couple gay guys who would make self-deprecating gay jokes but none of the straight members ever made a gay joke to them or to any of the straight members of the fraternity.
This doesn’t mean that there wasn’t some comments that were said. I was asked if I was gay a handful of times. One of my close female friends told me when she first met me that she wasn’t sure if I was straight, and others commented on gestures or the way I did things. There wasn’t any meanness connected with these comments but they still made me take pause and think about the way that I carried myself.
When something happens in life that reminds you about a characteristic that you don’t hold as a central part of your identity, it’s annoying. When someone makes an Asian joke, I’m reminded that I’m Asian. I’m not ashamed of this fact, but it’s not something that I think about all of the time. When someone makes a comment that I’m more feminine than they think I should be, it reminds me that in their mind I don’t fit what it means to be masculine.
Of course it doesn’t matter what they think as long as I’m proud of whom I am. That’s true, but it’s still annoying to hear these kinds of comments. But not being reminded of this in college as often as in high school gave me time to become comfortable with myself.
In the same way that my parents embraced my interests which were not stereotypically “straight,” I found other guys like me who also loved boy bands who were straight and girls who thought it was awesome that I could play songs from Rent on the piano. Somewhere within all of that, I came to accept the “sissy” parts of myself that my parents did all those years ago.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
On Being A Sissy: Part 1 - What It Meant To Be Called (And Call Others) "Gay"
Late last year I was a member of a wedding party. They had decided to rent a limo and take us around downtown Chicago to take pictures. Being in a wedding party is a unique experience when people who know the bride and groom and sometimes don’t know each other, put their lives aside to honor the bride and groom by doing everything possible to make the day go smoothly.
Part of this is making a concerted effort to get a long with the other people in the wedding party regardless of what they say or do. That’s why I didn’t really respond when one the bridesmaids commented to me “you have very feminine hand gestures with the way that your wrist moves when you talk."
I’ve heard these comments all my life. Last school year a third grader commented to me “men, don’t cross their legs, why are you sitting that way?” In college someone asked if I was gay and then in high school there was the constant gay jokes that were directed at me that I also directed at other people.
Recently I heard an episode of This American Life titled “Sissies.” This episode took the perspective of different people dealing with the issues of being a sissy and the ways that they felt about this issue. It really made me think about my own life and how much I really was a sissy and also how I’m okay with that part of myself, now more than ever.
When I’m talking in front of my students, I don’t try to hide the way that I sit, which is often with crossed legs or with one leg folded under me or the way that my hands move when I talk. It’s not uncommon for me to make a “feminine,” gesture with my hands. And I do have remnants from a speech impediment that I grew up with that doesn’t exactly contribute to my manliness.
I feel it’s so important that I’m myself in front of my students and genuine, so I let myself be me, and let my voice modulate to higher pitches if it’s what comes natural. I do this because it feels natural and also because I want the “sissies” in my class to not feel afraid or ashamed to be themselves.
We’re not talking about homosexuality here. I’ve never doubted my attraction to woman. We are talking about the small things that people do that do not conform to our definitions of masculinity. For many people it’s not the homosexuality itself that makes people uncomfortable but the fact that many homosexual exhibit mannerism that don’t conform to gender stereotypes.
When The Little Mermaid came out I was visiting my cousins in New York. I remember going to a bookstore after watching the movie and being excited to see a The Little Mermaid songbook on a display. This was the last copy of this book that the store had and it was beaten up. My mom does not like to buy products that are not pristine in stores but after some arguing, I convinced my mom to buy this book.
For the next three months, I studied this book, memorized the lyrics and sang the songs to my hearts delight. Through all of this time my mom or dad didn’t stop me or discourage me from singing these songs and act out being a red-haired mermaid.
They didn’t stop me when I became obsessed with The Phantom Of The Opera and I got on a Broadway kick. My parents even encouraged this obsession by buying me Broadway CDs and taking me to see musicals.
I was never told at home that something I did was “girly” or that I shouldn’t make a certain gesture. They loved me for whom I was and never shamed me for what came naturally.
School was a different story. Some boys in elementary school thought it was weird that I didn’t play sports and that I played violin, but things didn’t really get mean until middle school.
Now, I wasn’t made fun of to the point of tears or bullied to the point that I was truly hurt. Part of the reason I dealt so well with the gay jokes was the fact that I could spit them back right out to other people with just as much venom.
I’m not proud of this fact but it got me through those times. In high school, the comments continued but I didn’t really care as I made similar comments about other people.
While these insults sometimes went beyond implying sexual activity to sometimes explicitly telling someone they did something to another person or family member, it wasn’t really about homosexual sex. These comments were more in reactions to being a sissy, to not being a true “man.”
My friends and I didn’t really care so much about the sexual activity or interests people had, we just knew that if someone acted even slightly feminine, they deserved scorn.
As I was mocked for defending my love of the Backstreet Boys, I started building a chip on my shoulder. While I could play the gay insult game, I knew deep inside that what my peers were saying about me was true and that was scary. They saw a part of me that I didn’t necessarily want them to know but that I couldn’t hide.
I couldn’t name any players on the Seattle Mariners except for Ken Griffey Jr., but I could name every member of ‘N Sync. I loved reading; singing music, Broadway musicals, and the idea of playing football in the mud appalled me. They were right, I was a sissy, but I refused to feel bad about this fact. I told myself that I was better than them for being who I was and this thought process continues to unfairly put a shadow over the way I view many of my high school peers.
Not everyone in high school made me feel bad for being a sissy. There was the various female friends who accepted and loved me for my interests and insights (that’s another thing that made me a sissy, I had many female friends who weren’t girlfriends.).
As much as I wish that I didn’t contribute to the gay jokes, I did, and I’m appalled at some of the comments I made in high school. In some ways I’m still paying penance for the people that I aimed to hurt so that I could look cool and not be the focus of attention. I wish I was brave enough as a high school student to take the punishment and not redirect it at others. I am strong enough now to take the comments and that’s something I’m proud of as much as I’m ashamed for my past transgressions.
Part of this is making a concerted effort to get a long with the other people in the wedding party regardless of what they say or do. That’s why I didn’t really respond when one the bridesmaids commented to me “you have very feminine hand gestures with the way that your wrist moves when you talk."
I’ve heard these comments all my life. Last school year a third grader commented to me “men, don’t cross their legs, why are you sitting that way?” In college someone asked if I was gay and then in high school there was the constant gay jokes that were directed at me that I also directed at other people.
Recently I heard an episode of This American Life titled “Sissies.” This episode took the perspective of different people dealing with the issues of being a sissy and the ways that they felt about this issue. It really made me think about my own life and how much I really was a sissy and also how I’m okay with that part of myself, now more than ever.
When I’m talking in front of my students, I don’t try to hide the way that I sit, which is often with crossed legs or with one leg folded under me or the way that my hands move when I talk. It’s not uncommon for me to make a “feminine,” gesture with my hands. And I do have remnants from a speech impediment that I grew up with that doesn’t exactly contribute to my manliness.
I feel it’s so important that I’m myself in front of my students and genuine, so I let myself be me, and let my voice modulate to higher pitches if it’s what comes natural. I do this because it feels natural and also because I want the “sissies” in my class to not feel afraid or ashamed to be themselves.
We’re not talking about homosexuality here. I’ve never doubted my attraction to woman. We are talking about the small things that people do that do not conform to our definitions of masculinity. For many people it’s not the homosexuality itself that makes people uncomfortable but the fact that many homosexual exhibit mannerism that don’t conform to gender stereotypes.
When The Little Mermaid came out I was visiting my cousins in New York. I remember going to a bookstore after watching the movie and being excited to see a The Little Mermaid songbook on a display. This was the last copy of this book that the store had and it was beaten up. My mom does not like to buy products that are not pristine in stores but after some arguing, I convinced my mom to buy this book.
For the next three months, I studied this book, memorized the lyrics and sang the songs to my hearts delight. Through all of this time my mom or dad didn’t stop me or discourage me from singing these songs and act out being a red-haired mermaid.
They didn’t stop me when I became obsessed with The Phantom Of The Opera and I got on a Broadway kick. My parents even encouraged this obsession by buying me Broadway CDs and taking me to see musicals.
I was never told at home that something I did was “girly” or that I shouldn’t make a certain gesture. They loved me for whom I was and never shamed me for what came naturally.
School was a different story. Some boys in elementary school thought it was weird that I didn’t play sports and that I played violin, but things didn’t really get mean until middle school.
Now, I wasn’t made fun of to the point of tears or bullied to the point that I was truly hurt. Part of the reason I dealt so well with the gay jokes was the fact that I could spit them back right out to other people with just as much venom.
I’m not proud of this fact but it got me through those times. In high school, the comments continued but I didn’t really care as I made similar comments about other people.
While these insults sometimes went beyond implying sexual activity to sometimes explicitly telling someone they did something to another person or family member, it wasn’t really about homosexual sex. These comments were more in reactions to being a sissy, to not being a true “man.”
My friends and I didn’t really care so much about the sexual activity or interests people had, we just knew that if someone acted even slightly feminine, they deserved scorn.
As I was mocked for defending my love of the Backstreet Boys, I started building a chip on my shoulder. While I could play the gay insult game, I knew deep inside that what my peers were saying about me was true and that was scary. They saw a part of me that I didn’t necessarily want them to know but that I couldn’t hide.
I couldn’t name any players on the Seattle Mariners except for Ken Griffey Jr., but I could name every member of ‘N Sync. I loved reading; singing music, Broadway musicals, and the idea of playing football in the mud appalled me. They were right, I was a sissy, but I refused to feel bad about this fact. I told myself that I was better than them for being who I was and this thought process continues to unfairly put a shadow over the way I view many of my high school peers.
Not everyone in high school made me feel bad for being a sissy. There was the various female friends who accepted and loved me for my interests and insights (that’s another thing that made me a sissy, I had many female friends who weren’t girlfriends.).
As much as I wish that I didn’t contribute to the gay jokes, I did, and I’m appalled at some of the comments I made in high school. In some ways I’m still paying penance for the people that I aimed to hurt so that I could look cool and not be the focus of attention. I wish I was brave enough as a high school student to take the punishment and not redirect it at others. I am strong enough now to take the comments and that’s something I’m proud of as much as I’m ashamed for my past transgressions.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Parenthood: Week 9 – The Conversation
It wasn’t that it was the first time that Ollie talked to me, it was the fact that Ollie initiated the conversation that brought tears to my eyes.
Along with smiling, Ollie has started “talking” to us. When we smile and say hello to Ollie, he will often smile and respond with as soft but deliberate “ahh.” He is so proud of himself when he can make this sound in response to us. This conversation can go back and forth almost ten times before Ollie gets tired or disinterested.
Certain moments with your child don’t affect you in the way you expect. The first time I saw Ollie didn’t fill me with emotions, but the first time I saw Diana holding Ollie it was overwhelmed me with feeling of love. The first time I heard Ollie’s voice didn’t really do much for me, but that night last week when he started a conversation with me is a moment I’ll never forget.
Parents have different things that they value and hope that their kid develops. One of things that is important to Diana and I is that Ollie has a voice. We want Ollie to feel empowered by his words and use them as a way to express himself. I believe that children are best when they are seen and heard and that cultivating a love of articulate and respectful discourse is one of the most important things that parents can help nurture.
While it has been amazing to have conversations with Ollie, it’s been one-sided in the sense that I am the one initiate the conversation. I’m trying to get to know Ollie and I want to interact with him. This is important for him to know and feel but it only goes one direction.
A couple nights ago I was settling Ollie down to go to sleep. I was standing in my office in the dark cradling him in my arms gently walking around the room. I was conscious to not talk to him or give him eye contact so that he didn’t see this time as “play time.”
A couple times I glanced down and saw his eyes open staring off to space, which told me that there was more walking to be done, so I continued around the room.
Then I heard him talk.
It was an excited “ahh,” from Ollie. When I looked down I saw him smiling up at me as he continued to talk to me. The whole not give too much stimulus thing left me as I smiled and engaged in a nighttime conversation with my son.
All of these milestones are exciting but it's how they build relationships that is truly touching. By reaching out to me, I felt that Ollie want to get to know me. This may not be the case, but it's how it feels from my perspective as a parent. To feel that connection is real and genuine because beyond the biology and instincts, there's something more between us.
Just when I think I couldn't love my son anymore. . .
Along with smiling, Ollie has started “talking” to us. When we smile and say hello to Ollie, he will often smile and respond with as soft but deliberate “ahh.” He is so proud of himself when he can make this sound in response to us. This conversation can go back and forth almost ten times before Ollie gets tired or disinterested.
Certain moments with your child don’t affect you in the way you expect. The first time I saw Ollie didn’t fill me with emotions, but the first time I saw Diana holding Ollie it was overwhelmed me with feeling of love. The first time I heard Ollie’s voice didn’t really do much for me, but that night last week when he started a conversation with me is a moment I’ll never forget.
Parents have different things that they value and hope that their kid develops. One of things that is important to Diana and I is that Ollie has a voice. We want Ollie to feel empowered by his words and use them as a way to express himself. I believe that children are best when they are seen and heard and that cultivating a love of articulate and respectful discourse is one of the most important things that parents can help nurture.
While it has been amazing to have conversations with Ollie, it’s been one-sided in the sense that I am the one initiate the conversation. I’m trying to get to know Ollie and I want to interact with him. This is important for him to know and feel but it only goes one direction.
A couple nights ago I was settling Ollie down to go to sleep. I was standing in my office in the dark cradling him in my arms gently walking around the room. I was conscious to not talk to him or give him eye contact so that he didn’t see this time as “play time.”
A couple times I glanced down and saw his eyes open staring off to space, which told me that there was more walking to be done, so I continued around the room.
Then I heard him talk.
It was an excited “ahh,” from Ollie. When I looked down I saw him smiling up at me as he continued to talk to me. The whole not give too much stimulus thing left me as I smiled and engaged in a nighttime conversation with my son.
All of these milestones are exciting but it's how they build relationships that is truly touching. By reaching out to me, I felt that Ollie want to get to know me. This may not be the case, but it's how it feels from my perspective as a parent. To feel that connection is real and genuine because beyond the biology and instincts, there's something more between us.
Just when I think I couldn't love my son anymore. . .
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
Trayvon’s “American Skin (41 Shots)” by Bruce Springsteen
When Bruce Springsteen first performed “American Skin” he was widely criticized for performing a song about the shooting death of Amadou Diallo. On February 9th, 1999,Four police officers shot at him 41 times, (19 that actually hit Amadou) as he reached into his pocket to take out his wallet. The police offices were acquitted of any crimes as discussions of racial profiling and police brutality spread across America partially due to Springsteen bringing attention to this event.
Days after George Zimmerman was acquitted of in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, Springsteen performed “American Skin,” dedicating it to Trayvon, “We’ll send this letter back home for justice for Trayvon Martin.”
While the deaths of Diallo and Martin are different in many ways "American Skin" remind us of the underlying reality for both of these men that as Springsteen sings “You can get killed for living in your American skin.”
As President Obama so eloquently reflected, there is a tension between the statistics about black males and our racist reactions.
More than ever we need to work to understand the context of what our different skins mean and how they define for each of us what it means to be American. Events in our culture stick to us differently. For me the Japanese internment camps during World War II are probably more forward in my thoughts about America than for other people, which has to do with the fact that I’m Asian.
Obama’s explanation of the context of people’s reactions is critical for us to consider because as much as we have one unified American experience, what sticks with us, what shapes our perspective has to do with how we form our identity as much as how society views us.
On one side we have outrage and disappointment that a country that seems so progressive has failed to bring justice. On the other side are arguments that Trayvon was a “punk,” that the justice system followed it’s own terms (which somehow makes this verdict okay), and that Zimmerman’s reactions were somehow justified.
We shamefully can’t even bring up gun control with this case. No police officer would have used their gun the way that Zimmerman did on Trayvon because of their training. This gross misuse of a gun puts into question the validity of having a hand gun as a self-defense tool, the training that must be required before owning a gun and the people in our society refuses to stand up against the gun companies and to each other to do what is right.
Summer weekends bring death to the streets of Chicago, mostly on the Southwest side of the city. It makes the local news but doesn’t make national headlines. I’m sure if one person was shot that looked like my wife, it would. “American Skin” will continue to echo as we struggle to deal with issues of racism in our society.
There is this idea that we can't slide back to the racism of the past, that racial harmony is a trajectory that America will inevitably reach. This assumption is dangerous. Ignorance, scapegoating, racism and inequality are not things of the past. We must not only celebrate the progress our country has made but also acknowledge that this progress came from very hard work that we need to continue.
Obama is right. The younger generations are much better at being open and accepting than the older generations. So it on us to not pass on the worst of ourselves and to let the younger generations challenge our assumptions and our views of the world. We can do better, we must do better so that the American skin that each of us wear is not a curse but a blessing.
Days after George Zimmerman was acquitted of in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, Springsteen performed “American Skin,” dedicating it to Trayvon, “We’ll send this letter back home for justice for Trayvon Martin.”
While the deaths of Diallo and Martin are different in many ways "American Skin" remind us of the underlying reality for both of these men that as Springsteen sings “You can get killed for living in your American skin.”
As President Obama so eloquently reflected, there is a tension between the statistics about black males and our racist reactions.
More than ever we need to work to understand the context of what our different skins mean and how they define for each of us what it means to be American. Events in our culture stick to us differently. For me the Japanese internment camps during World War II are probably more forward in my thoughts about America than for other people, which has to do with the fact that I’m Asian.
Obama’s explanation of the context of people’s reactions is critical for us to consider because as much as we have one unified American experience, what sticks with us, what shapes our perspective has to do with how we form our identity as much as how society views us.
On one side we have outrage and disappointment that a country that seems so progressive has failed to bring justice. On the other side are arguments that Trayvon was a “punk,” that the justice system followed it’s own terms (which somehow makes this verdict okay), and that Zimmerman’s reactions were somehow justified.
We shamefully can’t even bring up gun control with this case. No police officer would have used their gun the way that Zimmerman did on Trayvon because of their training. This gross misuse of a gun puts into question the validity of having a hand gun as a self-defense tool, the training that must be required before owning a gun and the people in our society refuses to stand up against the gun companies and to each other to do what is right.
Summer weekends bring death to the streets of Chicago, mostly on the Southwest side of the city. It makes the local news but doesn’t make national headlines. I’m sure if one person was shot that looked like my wife, it would. “American Skin” will continue to echo as we struggle to deal with issues of racism in our society.
There is this idea that we can't slide back to the racism of the past, that racial harmony is a trajectory that America will inevitably reach. This assumption is dangerous. Ignorance, scapegoating, racism and inequality are not things of the past. We must not only celebrate the progress our country has made but also acknowledge that this progress came from very hard work that we need to continue.
Obama is right. The younger generations are much better at being open and accepting than the older generations. So it on us to not pass on the worst of ourselves and to let the younger generations challenge our assumptions and our views of the world. We can do better, we must do better so that the American skin that each of us wear is not a curse but a blessing.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Parenthood: Week 8 – Make Me Smile
Remember in past post when I talked about the fact that Ollie doesn’t even smile at us? This changed this last week.
If you catch Ollie in a good mood, hit the right pitch with your voice, give him direct eye contact, he will give you the cutest smile you have ever seen.
Many people have been trying to get Ollie to smile far before he could actually make a smile . It’s interesting to watch people try to get a reaction out of him when he has no idea what they want. I find the furrowed brow and confused look almost as cute as his smiles so while other people didn’t get what they wanted out of Ollie, I was still entertained.
Smiling is such an important part of humanity, even more so as Americans. One common observation by foreigners is that American smile at everyone even they aren’t happy. It’s a social thing to smile, it’s a connection that you are making to another person and with a baby it’s one of the first signs of social interaction.
I mentioned some steps on how to get Ollie to smile but they are worth going deeper into as I have observed many people do some weird and ineffective ways to get babies to smile.
If you catch Ollie in a good mood, hit the right pitch with your voice, give him direct eye contact, he will give you the cutest smile you have ever seen.
Many people have been trying to get Ollie to smile far before he could actually make a smile . It’s interesting to watch people try to get a reaction out of him when he has no idea what they want. I find the furrowed brow and confused look almost as cute as his smiles so while other people didn’t get what they wanted out of Ollie, I was still entertained.
Smiling is such an important part of humanity, even more so as Americans. One common observation by foreigners is that American smile at everyone even they aren’t happy. It’s a social thing to smile, it’s a connection that you are making to another person and with a baby it’s one of the first signs of social interaction.
I mentioned some steps on how to get Ollie to smile but they are worth going deeper into as I have observed many people do some weird and ineffective ways to get babies to smile.
- Speak in a high pitch: I mean REALLY high. To be technical we are talking about the A above middle C (guys for us that’s the A above the staff is falsetto). A good thing to say is “ah-goo.” This is one of the first sounds babies can make, so they are more likely to respond when they hear something they can imitate. If you are shy about making high-pitched baby talk, get over it. Any embarrassment you may feel is worth it when the baby smiles at you.
- Eye-contact: Babies don’t have great vision so get close in a babies face, like four of five inches away. Make solid eye contact and smile yourself as you may squeaky sounds to him or her. Smiling and talking takes a lot of coordination and one of the ways babies figure this out is through observing other faces around them. Babies love eye contact, so making good eye contact engages the baby and makes them more excited.
- Be happy: If you are excited to see the baby, great. Now show your excitement through big smiles and happy voices. Don’t fake it, be genuine and with enough positive vibes, that the baby can sense at this young age, he or she will crack a smile.
- Give the baby space: I don’t know if it overwhelms a baby to have four or five people come up and try to get the baby to smile at the same time. Sometimes this seems more aggressive than friendly. If the baby is already being barraged with people trying to get him or her to smile, back off. Come back when the baby is relaxed in a quiet space.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Summer Camp: The Hamster With Cancer
I barely knew this girl, but she talked to me about some of her most personal feelings.
As the musical director of the musical theater summer camp, my job was to turn the kid’s lyrics into songs and then to teach them the songs for their performance. I spent two weeks working with them. At first for an hour, four times a week and then longer during for the week of the show.
I didn’t really have time to hang out with the kids and the time I worked with the kids was really directed and focused. This was a 4th grade-6th grade workshop and I did this as part of the summer camp work I talked about in this previous post.
I’ve had a lot of kids open up to me about things in their persona lives. Sometimes they do this because they feel that they know you, so they trust you. Other times they don’t feel like they have anyone else to turn to so they talk to you because you are available.
What happed with Mary, a 4th grader, was something different. While we worked on the songs, she worked hard but didn’t really stand out. Mary didn’t laugh at my jokes like the other students and didn’t really hang around me during breaks.
On the day before the performance during a break she came up to me and handed me a picture of a hamster. It was worn on the sides from being in her pocket. She began to tell me about her hamster.
Her hamster had breast cancer and was dying. Through tears she told me about this hamster’s life, the baby hamsters that were a result of this hamster being in the same cage as another hamster and the medicine they were giving to try to make this hamster with cancer more comfortable before the inevitable.
Even though this 4th grader was crying she was very articulate as she explained the fact that her hamster was going to die and the reality of the situation. I didn’t really have a lot to say to her besides asking some follow-up questions.
When it was announced that break time was over, she wiped off her face, sniffed her nose and skipped off to join the rest of the campers.
I’m not sure why Mary felt like sharing with me what was going on with her hamster. Maybe I seemed approachable or maybe it had to do with the fact that she knew that after this week she would probably never see again. I could theorize something about childhood social development, but that those would just be speculations.
More likely than not it was just one of those things that happens at summer camp.
As the musical director of the musical theater summer camp, my job was to turn the kid’s lyrics into songs and then to teach them the songs for their performance. I spent two weeks working with them. At first for an hour, four times a week and then longer during for the week of the show.
I didn’t really have time to hang out with the kids and the time I worked with the kids was really directed and focused. This was a 4th grade-6th grade workshop and I did this as part of the summer camp work I talked about in this previous post.
I’ve had a lot of kids open up to me about things in their persona lives. Sometimes they do this because they feel that they know you, so they trust you. Other times they don’t feel like they have anyone else to turn to so they talk to you because you are available.
What happed with Mary, a 4th grader, was something different. While we worked on the songs, she worked hard but didn’t really stand out. Mary didn’t laugh at my jokes like the other students and didn’t really hang around me during breaks.
On the day before the performance during a break she came up to me and handed me a picture of a hamster. It was worn on the sides from being in her pocket. She began to tell me about her hamster.
Her hamster had breast cancer and was dying. Through tears she told me about this hamster’s life, the baby hamsters that were a result of this hamster being in the same cage as another hamster and the medicine they were giving to try to make this hamster with cancer more comfortable before the inevitable.
Even though this 4th grader was crying she was very articulate as she explained the fact that her hamster was going to die and the reality of the situation. I didn’t really have a lot to say to her besides asking some follow-up questions.
When it was announced that break time was over, she wiped off her face, sniffed her nose and skipped off to join the rest of the campers.
I’m not sure why Mary felt like sharing with me what was going on with her hamster. Maybe I seemed approachable or maybe it had to do with the fact that she knew that after this week she would probably never see again. I could theorize something about childhood social development, but that those would just be speculations.
More likely than not it was just one of those things that happens at summer camp.
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