I came across an article on Facebook entitled, "5 Things Jesus Says to the Gay Community." Here are the 5 points listed, without all the fluff after each point:
1. I love you.
2. I understand rejection.
3. I also was tempted.
4. I want more for you.
5. I will be here for you.
Apparently this is what Jesus says to the gay community. The first problem with this article is that the author claims to know what Jesus is saying. How dare you claim that you know the mind of Jesus. Or did he tell you this himself? Which Jesus did you talk to? Was it pro-America, Republican, pro-gun-rights, white Jesus (which happens to be exactly what you are)?
Now let's talk about each of the points.
"I love you." Of course that is the first one. But we all know that this love is not unconditional. There is always a "but" afterward. "I love you, but..." When conservatives discuss homosexuality, "I love you" is always first because it is intended to soften the blow of what they are about to say next.
"I understand rejection." Absolutely. Yet what this author fails to realize is that a whole lot of rejection that the gay community has faced has come from the church itself, in the name of Jesus. The church is supposed to be the representative of Jesus on earth; yet this point is giving mixed messages to the gay community. Jesus understands rejection and how much it sucks; so he wouldn't perpetuate rejection of the already marginalized (consider the types of people that he spent time with). But the current representing agent of Jesus does perpetuate rejection of the marginalized. There is a disconnection. So which version of Jesus does the church follow? Well, all I'll say is that actions speak louder than words.
"I also was tempted." Sure. The article highlights under this point that Jesus never married, so he certainly faced a great deal of temptation around sexuality. Solid. However, what if "Jesus" had 5 things to say to single people? Would this be one of the points? Or is this point only included because the author's view is such that homosexuality is a sin (and being single isn't)? The church forces people born gay to fight the impossible battle of never giving into their sexual desires but also never marrying.
"I want more for you." "The reason He clearly [*cough cough*] defined marriage and sex in the Bible is because He wants what is best for you." So let me get this straight (ha)--it is a good thing for a gay person to deny their sexual desires and to get married to someone of the opposite sex that they feel no desire for? It is a good idea for them to completely repress who they truly are in their marriage? Also, let's talk for a moment about what Jesus actually said about homosexuality while he was here on earth. This website contains every passage in the Bible in which Jesus talks about homosexuality: http://whatjesussaidaboutgays.com/
"I will be here for you." The gist of this point is, "no matter how long you flounder around in your wicked lifestyle, Jesus will still wait for you to come to him." Honestly, there's not much new to say on this point without opening the debate of "is homosexuality really a sin?"
This article does not have a specific author; it cites a church as the author. Guess where this church is based? South Carolina.
Also, I bet the person who actually wrote this article has never met a gay person in their life. Or if they have, they didn't listen to the person's story for long enough before they started telling the gay person to repent and seek Jesus. And they very clearly haven't met a gay Christian before.
The Jesus that I know probably would not say these five things. My guess would be that Jesus wouldn't even comment on a gay person's sexual orientation. He'd probably spend time with them and get to know them because, you know, they're people. And he wants to show--not just say--that he loves them.
But I'm not going to be so arrogant as to assume I know what Jesus would and would not do. Chances are, he'd probably do something that I wouldn't expect.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Here's a personal story about anxiety.
Last fall, I took IEOR 151, Service Operations Design and Analysis. The class had one midterm, smack in the middle of the semester. About a week or two before the exam, the professor posted the previous year's midterm to help us study. The previous midterm was very straightforward and very similar to the homework for the class. I was put at ease about the exam. As long as I wrote the appropriate notes on my cheat sheet, I would be good to go.
That's what I thought.
I walked into class on the day of the midterm. The professor passed out the exams. 4 questions, one hour--shouldn't be too bad. But one hour is not a lot of time. I started to feel the pressure--a relatively light amount, but it was there. I flipped through the exam.
Question 1 was on the composite Gaussian process and the minimax hypothesis test. Ok, so I just plug these values into the formula and find an optimal gamma, and then answer some follow up questions. I got started working on it. Then part of the way through...
Hmmm...this is a bit harder than I thought it would be. I'll skip it and come back to it.
Question 2 was on the newsvendor model. Part a was simple; just solving the optimal order quantity for a given demand distribution function. Part b...oh shit. The non-parametric newsvendor model. The one thing that I didn't write on my cheat sheet. Let's skip that and come back to it.
Question 3 was on the optimal kidney exchange matching market problem. Ok, simple, I can do this. Done.
Question 4 was on the principal-agent model. That's fine, I can do that too. After a little bit of work, done. Now back to Questions 1 and 2.
I look up. We have 25 minutes left. Shit, I'd better get moving. I feel my body get a little bit more tense. I sit there and stare at question 1 some more. I still have not found an optimal gamma. The computations of the Normal distribution's CDF are really throwing me off, and I start doubting what I have written already. I stare some more. I read the other two parts to the question. I flip to question 2 to see if it suddenly makes sense to me. My anxiety is climbing.
"20 minutes left," the professor announces.
Suddenly I cannot focus. I am seeing words on the paper in front of me, but I am not comprehending. My heart is pounding. My leg twitches fast. The only thought cycling through my brain is, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit." I feel the anxiety starting to take over me, and I am shutting down. I sit paralyzed for at least 15 seconds, and then I stare some more.
We now have 15 minutes left. I have not written anything new down in the last 5 minutes; I have had no new thoughts. The "oh shit oh shit oh shit" gets even faster in my mind, disabling me from coming up with solutions.
When I can, I frantically try some solution methods for the unsolved portions. I doubt every single stroke of my own pen. The cyclic "oh shit" really slows down my thought process.
10 minutes left. I am without hope now. I am now trying to accept the fact that I will not finish this exam, and that everyone else is probably doing fine. They probably all wrote the non-parametric newsvendor method down on their paper.
The final 10 minutes pass, and I have scribbled out and written down a few more things. My exam is not finished. I get up, dizzy and light-headed, hand in my exam, and walk out. No one is talking about the exam. In my experience, that usually means that people found it to be straightforward and there is nothing to discuss.
Yes, I survived an anxiety attack. But I don't see myself as a survivor. I see myself as weak for being overtaken by my anxiety. I see myself as stupid for not knowing how to solve a really hard exam, and for not writing something down on my cheat sheet. I am supposed to meet my friend at the gym, but all I want to do is lay down. I am exhausted beyond belief.
We cancel the gym. I go home and sleep for an hour.
My brother's wedding is that weekend. The midterm has put me in such a low state that my family notices that I am not myself.
It turns out that other students also thought the exam was a shit show. I learned that 5 days too late.
Only at Berkeley can you score 27/48 and still have it be a B+. Yes, I earned a B+. But at what cost to my mental health?
That's what I thought.
I walked into class on the day of the midterm. The professor passed out the exams. 4 questions, one hour--shouldn't be too bad. But one hour is not a lot of time. I started to feel the pressure--a relatively light amount, but it was there. I flipped through the exam.
Question 1 was on the composite Gaussian process and the minimax hypothesis test. Ok, so I just plug these values into the formula and find an optimal gamma, and then answer some follow up questions. I got started working on it. Then part of the way through...
Hmmm...this is a bit harder than I thought it would be. I'll skip it and come back to it.
Question 2 was on the newsvendor model. Part a was simple; just solving the optimal order quantity for a given demand distribution function. Part b...oh shit. The non-parametric newsvendor model. The one thing that I didn't write on my cheat sheet. Let's skip that and come back to it.
Question 3 was on the optimal kidney exchange matching market problem. Ok, simple, I can do this. Done.
Question 4 was on the principal-agent model. That's fine, I can do that too. After a little bit of work, done. Now back to Questions 1 and 2.
I look up. We have 25 minutes left. Shit, I'd better get moving. I feel my body get a little bit more tense. I sit there and stare at question 1 some more. I still have not found an optimal gamma. The computations of the Normal distribution's CDF are really throwing me off, and I start doubting what I have written already. I stare some more. I read the other two parts to the question. I flip to question 2 to see if it suddenly makes sense to me. My anxiety is climbing.
"20 minutes left," the professor announces.
Suddenly I cannot focus. I am seeing words on the paper in front of me, but I am not comprehending. My heart is pounding. My leg twitches fast. The only thought cycling through my brain is, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit." I feel the anxiety starting to take over me, and I am shutting down. I sit paralyzed for at least 15 seconds, and then I stare some more.
We now have 15 minutes left. I have not written anything new down in the last 5 minutes; I have had no new thoughts. The "oh shit oh shit oh shit" gets even faster in my mind, disabling me from coming up with solutions.
When I can, I frantically try some solution methods for the unsolved portions. I doubt every single stroke of my own pen. The cyclic "oh shit" really slows down my thought process.
10 minutes left. I am without hope now. I am now trying to accept the fact that I will not finish this exam, and that everyone else is probably doing fine. They probably all wrote the non-parametric newsvendor method down on their paper.
The final 10 minutes pass, and I have scribbled out and written down a few more things. My exam is not finished. I get up, dizzy and light-headed, hand in my exam, and walk out. No one is talking about the exam. In my experience, that usually means that people found it to be straightforward and there is nothing to discuss.
Yes, I survived an anxiety attack. But I don't see myself as a survivor. I see myself as weak for being overtaken by my anxiety. I see myself as stupid for not knowing how to solve a really hard exam, and for not writing something down on my cheat sheet. I am supposed to meet my friend at the gym, but all I want to do is lay down. I am exhausted beyond belief.
We cancel the gym. I go home and sleep for an hour.
My brother's wedding is that weekend. The midterm has put me in such a low state that my family notices that I am not myself.
It turns out that other students also thought the exam was a shit show. I learned that 5 days too late.
Only at Berkeley can you score 27/48 and still have it be a B+. Yes, I earned a B+. But at what cost to my mental health?
Walking on Eggshells
The world needs progressive people. But often, progressive people get offended far too easily.
Consider an interaction with a feminist. Or consider an interaction with someone who is homosexual. Or consider an interaction with a transgender person. I have witnessed that if you wish to engage in conversation with these people, you need to choose your words carefully. You might write "woman" in an online post, and someone will find that offensive because they identify as a "womxn." You might call someone "gay," and they get offended because they identify as "queer," or "same-gender loving." You might mistakenly use "he" instead of "she," "it," "they," or "zhe." (And of course, it is impossible to know beforehand that "woman," "gay," or "he" would be incorrect.)
Much of the subsequent conversation is diverted from the topic in question, whatever it may be, and instead becomes an angry lecture about how a word is offensive, and how the other person needs to "check their privilege." There is zero tolerance for using a word by mistake or out of ignorance. Essentially, progressives make anyone who talks to them walk on eggshells.
One of my coworkers has a disability where she was born without a left hand. Despite this, she powerlifts competitively, and she in fact recently broke the state record in female squats for her age group and weight class. She frequently posts about her experiences on this road to success, including all the discrimination and prejudices that she has faced at the gym because of her visible disability. While these posts are eye-opening, I never know how to appropriately follow up with her if I have questions. I want to know more about her and her experiences with her disability; however, I am discouraged from even starting that conversation because of posts such as this:
"I do one-handed deadlifts and I plan to compete with one-handed deadlifts and I am among many others who are non-conforming in this able-bodied patriarchal society, so I hate that I have to explain my technique and approach to folks who are innocently curious but it gets tiring ya'll. And I'm patient. But please educate yourselves so I don't have to."
Messages such as this discourage me from asking her anything personal related to her powerlifting or to her disability.
Important conversations get lost in the constant policing of language. Important conversations do not happen out of fear of language policing. And as a result, nobody learns anything. Nobody learns how to properly use the vocabulary or how to listen to one another.
Yes, it is important to inform others on the appropriate, respectful vocabulary. But this education needs to be done with patience and grace. It is not fair to hold others to expectations that they didn't know were in place.
So let people say the wrong words. Let them break those eggshells. Then afterward, if absolutely necessary, graciously explain to them why one finds a particular word offensive, and what better words should be used instead in the future.
Consider an interaction with a feminist. Or consider an interaction with someone who is homosexual. Or consider an interaction with a transgender person. I have witnessed that if you wish to engage in conversation with these people, you need to choose your words carefully. You might write "woman" in an online post, and someone will find that offensive because they identify as a "womxn." You might call someone "gay," and they get offended because they identify as "queer," or "same-gender loving." You might mistakenly use "he" instead of "she," "it," "they," or "zhe." (And of course, it is impossible to know beforehand that "woman," "gay," or "he" would be incorrect.)
Much of the subsequent conversation is diverted from the topic in question, whatever it may be, and instead becomes an angry lecture about how a word is offensive, and how the other person needs to "check their privilege." There is zero tolerance for using a word by mistake or out of ignorance. Essentially, progressives make anyone who talks to them walk on eggshells.
One of my coworkers has a disability where she was born without a left hand. Despite this, she powerlifts competitively, and she in fact recently broke the state record in female squats for her age group and weight class. She frequently posts about her experiences on this road to success, including all the discrimination and prejudices that she has faced at the gym because of her visible disability. While these posts are eye-opening, I never know how to appropriately follow up with her if I have questions. I want to know more about her and her experiences with her disability; however, I am discouraged from even starting that conversation because of posts such as this:
"I do one-handed deadlifts and I plan to compete with one-handed deadlifts and I am among many others who are non-conforming in this able-bodied patriarchal society, so I hate that I have to explain my technique and approach to folks who are innocently curious but it gets tiring ya'll. And I'm patient. But please educate yourselves so I don't have to."
Messages such as this discourage me from asking her anything personal related to her powerlifting or to her disability.
Important conversations get lost in the constant policing of language. Important conversations do not happen out of fear of language policing. And as a result, nobody learns anything. Nobody learns how to properly use the vocabulary or how to listen to one another.
Yes, it is important to inform others on the appropriate, respectful vocabulary. But this education needs to be done with patience and grace. It is not fair to hold others to expectations that they didn't know were in place.
So let people say the wrong words. Let them break those eggshells. Then afterward, if absolutely necessary, graciously explain to them why one finds a particular word offensive, and what better words should be used instead in the future.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Grad School Anxiety
Grad school will open up many more opportunities for you, they say. Grad school will allow you an opportunity to go much deeper into what you learned in undergrad, they say. Grad classes will be easier than undergrad classes, they say. But what they don't tell you about is the anxiety that comes with grad school.
Now, before I get on my soap box, let me first qualify this by saying that I am only speaking about the experience of a Master's program. Fortunately, I do not have to worry about the beast that is prelims/quals--I don't think I would make it through a PhD program. But a Master's degree generally involves the same core coursework as for a PhD, so my thoughts and experiences on this issue are not totally invalid.
I have never before in my life felt such long-term anxiety about school. Sure, in undergrad, I had short, periodic bursts of anxiety surrounding midterms, projects, finals, or really hard problem sets. But never before have I experienced just a constant anxiety around school that does not let up when you leave the lecture hall, or when you finish the problem set, or when you are trying to enjoy your weekend. At all hours of the day (and I seriously mean all), I find myself worrying about "oh shit, what if professor asks about this on the midterm?" "what is the next problem set going to look like?" "what the hell am I going to write about for my Master's thesis?" I have been counting down the weeks until the period of instruction ends. No, I don't mean until finals are over--I mean the weeks remaining until no new material will be introduced. Finals happen afterward. That is the point where I will stop being bombarded will material that I am supposed to be able to reproduce in a problem set or on an exam. It is sad that I do that, because I love learning--and yet I anticipate the day that I will not have to learn more.
The reason for this is that I am living in a box of fear and anxiety. I am not afraid for the future of my life, or for my future career; I am afraid for just the next lecture. And I want to escape this box, but I can't.
This constant anxiety drains the life out of me. I have not felt fully alive in months; I feel subdued.
Through some of my undergrad classes, I had to learn the lesson that a good grade does not necessarily correspond to learning. Similarly, a sub-par grade does not necessarily correspond to not learning; and truly learning is what is more important. But for some reason, I can no longer make that distinction. When I spend 8 hours on a problem set that I can't make any sense of, and then I receive a score of 3/10, I doubt my self-worth and think that I am too dumb to be in grad school. Conversely, when I score 40/40 on a problem set, I think that I am a genius. I vacillate often between these two opinions of myself because I have re-tied my self-worth to grades.
I sometimes think that I have gotten into my program by mistake. That my application was not enough of an indicator for how I will be able to perform in grad school. I doubt the validity of my good grades in undergraduate classes.
I compare myself to my peers. Many of my classmates are taking the department's prelim exams in about a month. Just thinking about the idea of them overwhelms me, even though I don't have to take them. Perhaps I get overwhelmed because prelims are a reminder of how fucking hard academia is, and the power that it can exert over your life.
I don't think it's normal to walk out of every lecture for every class feeling dizzy and light-headed.
This is EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. DAY. for me.
I don't want to feel like this. It is eroding away at my life. It is killing me.
Now, before I get on my soap box, let me first qualify this by saying that I am only speaking about the experience of a Master's program. Fortunately, I do not have to worry about the beast that is prelims/quals--I don't think I would make it through a PhD program. But a Master's degree generally involves the same core coursework as for a PhD, so my thoughts and experiences on this issue are not totally invalid.
I have never before in my life felt such long-term anxiety about school. Sure, in undergrad, I had short, periodic bursts of anxiety surrounding midterms, projects, finals, or really hard problem sets. But never before have I experienced just a constant anxiety around school that does not let up when you leave the lecture hall, or when you finish the problem set, or when you are trying to enjoy your weekend. At all hours of the day (and I seriously mean all), I find myself worrying about "oh shit, what if professor asks about this on the midterm?" "what is the next problem set going to look like?" "what the hell am I going to write about for my Master's thesis?" I have been counting down the weeks until the period of instruction ends. No, I don't mean until finals are over--I mean the weeks remaining until no new material will be introduced. Finals happen afterward. That is the point where I will stop being bombarded will material that I am supposed to be able to reproduce in a problem set or on an exam. It is sad that I do that, because I love learning--and yet I anticipate the day that I will not have to learn more.
The reason for this is that I am living in a box of fear and anxiety. I am not afraid for the future of my life, or for my future career; I am afraid for just the next lecture. And I want to escape this box, but I can't.
This constant anxiety drains the life out of me. I have not felt fully alive in months; I feel subdued.
Through some of my undergrad classes, I had to learn the lesson that a good grade does not necessarily correspond to learning. Similarly, a sub-par grade does not necessarily correspond to not learning; and truly learning is what is more important. But for some reason, I can no longer make that distinction. When I spend 8 hours on a problem set that I can't make any sense of, and then I receive a score of 3/10, I doubt my self-worth and think that I am too dumb to be in grad school. Conversely, when I score 40/40 on a problem set, I think that I am a genius. I vacillate often between these two opinions of myself because I have re-tied my self-worth to grades.
I sometimes think that I have gotten into my program by mistake. That my application was not enough of an indicator for how I will be able to perform in grad school. I doubt the validity of my good grades in undergraduate classes.
I compare myself to my peers. Many of my classmates are taking the department's prelim exams in about a month. Just thinking about the idea of them overwhelms me, even though I don't have to take them. Perhaps I get overwhelmed because prelims are a reminder of how fucking hard academia is, and the power that it can exert over your life.
I don't think it's normal to walk out of every lecture for every class feeling dizzy and light-headed.
This is EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. DAY. for me.
I don't want to feel like this. It is eroding away at my life. It is killing me.
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