Krannert Trip

     The piece in the Krannert exhibit that I found especially interesting was the bench by Shannon Finnegan titled "Do you want us here or not?". In the beginning of our tour, our class had the option of grabbing a foldable chair if we needed it. I did not get the chair, as to avoid attention being the only person in our group to grab one. Initially, I did not struggle standing still, drawing doodles on the sheet provided, but as the tour throughout the exhibit continued, I found my ability to stand still to be even harder. Since I was little, I have always had difficulty with staying still and focusing, especially when standing. While I enjoyed the exhibit, it was difficult to fully enjoy it during the tour because I find it difficult for myself to pay attention to the things going around me when my mind (and sometimes body) seems to be going 100x faster. 

    In many ways, I resonated with the statement painted on the bench in blue, “This exhibition has asked me to stand for too long. Sit if you agree.” Museums have always been a place where I have enjoyed being. I love learning about new things and the ability to move at my own pace. But slow it down and make me and my mind stand still, I struggle to appreciate and conceptualize what is in front of me. In the same way, the artist of this piece, (I believe) lives with cerebral palsy, according to the CDC, a “group of disorders that affect a person’s ability to move and maintain balance and posture” and is unable to fully enjoy the exhibit because of their needs. 

    Sitting on this bench felt like an act of defiance. Something that I had been told for many years not to do. Something that I have conditioned myself to avoid despite my need. So, I did not sit on the bench. Instead, I quickly shuffled over to the next room with the plush circle seat, hoping that no one would see me rushing to match the pace of my mind. To me, this hits the title of this piece on its head, “Do you want us here or not?”. Although I was put in a space in which there was an intention to support people in their needs, I still felt like I was being a burden because of the stigma surrounding being someone who is not a part of the “normal” group. Near the end of our time in the exhibit, though, I glided over to the bench and sat down. It felt good to commit this supposed “act of defiance”. 

    It is disappointing to have a need for some to be seen as disrespectful and unappreciative to others. A person should be able to go to any place and not feel the need to have to make space for themselves to be comfortable. It should be designed with them in mind, the same way that it is designed for neurotypical and able-bodied people. Space should exist without a bench having to ask for it.

https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/cp/facts.html

Sewn in Memory

 

•    I enjoyed visiting the Sewn in Memory exhibit at Spurlock last week. It was interesting to look at panels made in memory of those who died of AIDS. It surprised me, though, that there were panels made by individuals who did not know those who died of AIDS and that there were panels made for people that the museum has no additional information about. Something that was striking to me was seeing a panel (Mike’s) that was made by another person who had a panel (Stephen). This was especially difficult knowing that someone made a panel for their friend that died of AIDS then they died of that same illness. 

  This exhibit put things in perspective about the AIDS epidemic and its connection to our community in Champaign-Urbana. For a while, growing up, I only thought of AIDS existing in popular, urban cities, such as Chicago and New York City. I never really put it in perspective that any person, including those in more rural areas, could contract it. I think that this exhibit is beneficial at educating not only the youth, but adults living in Champaign-Urbana about those affected by AIDS in our community. It not only honors the individual's legacy, but it also provides a resource for those living with HIV/AIDS in our community. 

  A similarity that I noticed between the AIDS epidemic and the COVID-19 pandemic was that when both viruses were discovered, there was very little information about how to treat them. There was also very minimal testing initially to figure out who had the viruses. In addition to this, there was a very large stigma around those who contracted the illness in the beginning of the epidemic and pandemic. The stigma around these viruses surrounded those in minority groups such as LGBTQ+ people and Asian people. Despite this, the coverage of these viruses and their legacies largely surround those in the majority and in privilege.

Gender Cartoon

   For my gender cartoon, I drew the time that I first came out?? with my proper pronouns. As everyone in the class probably knows by now, I worked at a summer camp this summer, called Camp Tannadoonah. I attended Camp T for nine years as a camper, beginning when I was seven years old. I worked in the kitchen two summers ago when I was 16, and I spent this past summer working as the camp photographer. I have had struggles with my own gender dysphoria for a long time, so I have had a relative idea for a while that my pronouns are not limited to just she/her. In the months leading up to camp, I was debating whether I use they/them pronouns or she/her pronouns. I was torn between the two because 1) I had always used she/her pronouns and didn't hate being called them 2) I liked the idea of they/them pronouns but I had never used they/them pronouns before, so how would I know if they were right for me? I ultimately decided that I felt the most comfortable with using she/they pronouns when referring to myself. However, I wasn't ready for everyone, or anyone, to know that. So, when I came to camp for two weeks of staff training, I introduced myself to the the staff using she/her pronouns. 

    Camp T has always been a very accepting place. This summer was the first one, though, where counselors would include their pronouns when introducing themselves to the rest of the camp on the first night of the week, each week. For the first 4 staff introductions, I ran through the same routine: name, job, what cabin I lived in, fun icebreaker question, and pronouns, which were she/her every time. Every time, though, as I waited for other staff members to go, I would ask myself if now was the time to say my real pronouns. Outing myself to a group of random kids wasn't that big of a deal to me. If you say you like to be called they, chances are most of them will call you that. I was more worried about outing myself to my coworkers. Among them, my brother and some of my childhood best friends. I was worried that I wasn't going to be accepted by them, although they always respected and accepted any person's pronouns that they came across. 

    Ultimately, I decided that it didn't matter to me at the end of the day what someone else's opinion of me was. If my friends and brother had a problem with a word, then why would I want them to be a part of my life? Well, much to my surprise, no one said anything to me about my pronouns. Me wanting to use she/they pronouns didn't change how my friends and brother viewed me. I was the same person that I've always been, just going by a few extra words. I continued announcing my pronouns as she/they for the next three weeks, each time, my voice becoming more strong and assured. I still hesitate when I tell people my pronouns. It's still a very scary thing to me. What gets me through it though, is remembering how accepted I was when I was at camp. Regardless of what people in Champaign or other parts of the world think of me, I know that at Camp T, I will always have a group of people that I can trust and feel completely comfortable with. 

Mia

A person in my life that I view as a feminist icon is my cousin, Mia. Mia is four years older than me, so 21 years old, and has always been someone that I have looked up to in many different ways. I only have two cousins that I know, and she is the only girl, so I see her in a lot of ways as an older sister figure. Despite being so young, I think that Mia possesses a lot of talents that many people don’t gain until later in life. She graduated Magna Cum Laude from DePaul University, in three years, with her Bachelor’s in Peace, Justice, and Conflict Studies and is now working part time as a legal assistant at an immigration law firm. Her work ethic is astonishing to me not because over the course of the past three years, she has been able to be so involved in her schoolwork and politics, while also having the time to come to family events, FaceTime me, and live a “typical” college life. In our FaceTime calls, Mia has really provided a lot of useful resources, information, and positive topics of discussion. I grew up in private schooling, so Mia was the first person that was open about her political beliefs in my family and didn’t shy away from conversations that I viewed as “uncomfortable”. 

I remember hearing when I was in middle school that she got the opportunity to go to marches and rallies and thinking that it was the coolest thing ever. She would show me the signs and pictures she had from them when I was in town. I remember another time when I was in middle school and she visited me and my brother. We were driving down Neil Street and there were some people with “Abortion is Murder” signs. Mia stuck her head out of the window and yelled “My body, my choice!”. Of course I was pro-choice, but that still seemed to be such a taboo thing to talk about to me. Honestly, even now it is difficult for me to express my political opinions, even when I know that they are rooted in equality and peace because of the indoctrination of such cruel beliefs that occurred all of my life. 

I saw a woman at the grocery market the other day with a shirt that said, “KEEP ABORTION LEGAL”. Despite wanting to tell her that I liked her shirt, I didn’t, still worried about what someone would think of me if they overheard that. Mia wouldn’t have done that, though. She wouldn’t be concerned about the opinions of others and would have just said that she liked the shirt. In many ways, this woman in the grocery store was a Mia, unapologetically expressing her beliefs. I’ve met many Mias in my life and will definitely meet many more. I hope that in the future I can become a Mia.