The Blue House with a Picket Fence

I am currently in a Multicultural Education class, and for that class I had the assignment of finding three items in my apartment that represented me ethnically, socially, and culturally. At first it was difficult, but I think these three items sum up my ethnic, social, and cultural background fairly well.

First of all, and perhaps best of all, is my apron.

This apron represents so many aspects of my current life and my upbringing. I love to cook very much. I gained that love from my mother (who gained it from her mother, who gained it from her mother, who gained it from her mother...), who was a stay at home mom my entire childhood. My dad has a nine to five job, and my mother always made sure there was a home cooked meal when he got home. We ate dinner as a family every night. In that way, the apron represents my white, conservative, middle class upbringing. It emphasizes the importance of gender roles in my background, and the value of good food to bring family together. Fittingly, I made the apron with my mother this summer. In a way I think it is symbolic of me preparing to fill a similar role.
Currently, cooking and baking are an important way for me to socialize. I frequently--several times a week at least--make food for my roommates and friends to show my love for them, and to create a social experiences.

The next item I chose to represent me is my calculator.

I didn't think of it at first, especially because I think this calculator is older than me, but this calculator also is symbolic of the culture I grew up in. My dad is a Civil Engineer, and has always taught me and my siblings the importance of a good education. He told us we could be whatever we wanted to be and to go for it educationally. Not going to college wasn't even an option in my home. It was expected for everyone to get higher education.  One of my dad's favorite phrases is that he is a proud "academic supporter." He and my mother always provided the support and encouragement I needed to succeed in school.
I am going to be a High School Physics Teacher, so I followed in his science and math footsteps. Fittingly, this calculator was my dad's. In giving it to me, he was also handing down the value of education and the sciences. I am so glad to have been raised in a culture where it is okay for women to get an education and where women can be interested and succeed in subjects that are traditionally male--like Physics.

The last item I chose is my paperback copy of the Book of Mormon.

It would be wrong of me to try to represent my background without including a reference to my religion as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It impacts every day of my life and how I view everything. I read the Book of Mormon every day. Currently I am using a paperback copy to highlight everything that I should do or be, either as the Lord specifically commands or as I see in the good examples of the people discussed.
However, the Book of Mormon represents so much more than just the time I spend studying it every day. It represents how my faith impacts my relationships, my goals, and my daily activities. There are many traditions that I don't even think about that shape my daily life. The way I dress, what I eat, where I am going to school currently, how I spend my time, all are impacted by this perspective. I grew up near Logan, Utah where the overwhelming majority of people were members of the same church as me. We shared a common vocabulary and expectations for our futures. Our shared background values families, education, and self sufficiency. Because of the teachings of the Book of Mormon and the church, those are the things that I and other members of the church focus on for our futures.

I chose to title this blog post The Blue House with a Picket Fence, because the phrase itself is symbolic of the ideas that I have attached to my three items. I really did grow up in a blue house with a picket fence. I grew up conservative, middle class, white, in the country, with incredible stability. I had never moved before I came to college. I was very much a part of the majority culture of my community in every way. It is amazing how easy it is to take my background for granted because no part of it was ever challenged or questioned while I was growing up. I didn't know there was any other way to live. I suppose many people must feel that way...

A Day In Court

Today I went to court.

I am in a multicultural education class here at BYU, and one of our assignments was to have an experience in the community that was different from our normal social experiences. One of the options was to attend a court session, and when my first choice option fell through, I decided that would be the best thing for me. Also, I was really curious about what goes on in court.

We showed up when the court house opened, but it turned out to be thirty minutes before the court session actually started. I was a little nervous because I didn't know all of the rules of where to go or how to act, but it turned out that they make it easy for people like me to know where to go. I waited in the hallway for a while to be let in, and watched the other people that were going to court that day. I was curious about their crimes and fate. There was a large variety of people from an old conservative looking couple, to young girls in tight dresses, to men with tattoos who smelled like smoke, to middle aged ladies in mormon-mom dresses. Then they let us in the court room.

At the front of the court room, off to the side in what looked to be what I would call the jury box, was a group of inmates in their jumpsuits. They had chains around their feet, hands, and waists. They clinked loudly when they moved or walked.

At first, it was really boring because a lot of attorneys were doing the technical part of the court procedure, delaying court days, getting the right paperwork, etc. They were representing people who looked cold and hard to me, galaxies away from my lifestyle. People went up when they were ready, including people from the benches near us, mixed in between the inmates. 

But then a man who looked to be in his late twenties stood up to take his turn from the back of the room. I had noticed him before in the hallway when we were waiting to be let in. He was wearing a badly fitting suit with a t-shirt underneath, and his hair was slicked back. He was thin with dark, curly hair, and looked very somber and reflective. He even looked nice. I noticed he gave his mom his wallet and car keys before they went in the court room and talked about someone picking up his car for him.

As he stood with his attorney, who was a small, older looking man, the judge mentioned that he was being charged with eight counts of sexual exploitation of a minor. It surprised me that this harmless looking man was here for such a horrific crime. It was clear that today was the day that they would sentence this man. His attorney began explaining his story. The attorney explained that this man had been involved in child pornography. But the story began a long time before that. 

This man’s father had never been a part of his life, so he was raised just by his mother. His struggle with pornography could be traced back clear to when he was a child and people near to him sexually abused him and exposed him to pornography through the years. He had struggled with other addictions including alcohol. His use of pornography was a real addiction that he would struggle with all of his life. When the police came to arrest him as part of a sting, he hadn't resisted or denied it. He accepted his fate. He had been very cooperative in the whole process.

The judge asked if the man had anything he wanted to say. In tears, he explained how he had never thought that what he was doing was right. It was an addiction, and he had needed help, but was ashamed and didn't know where to go, so he hid it and tried to run away from it. It always found its way back into his life. Since his arrest, he had been working to make things right. He began therapy, and was medicated for OCD, which had previously led to compulsive use of pornography. He was in college and had a fiance and a good job. His counselor had helped him recognize that there were victims of his addiction, even though it was easy to just view them as images. He helped him feel empathy for the children by connecting their feelings to how he felt as a child. As he explained how horrible he felt for the children, he wept.

His attorney and councilor plead for a minimum sentence because of the remorse this man had and the improvement he was showing. The prosecution agreed that he was doing well, but still emphasized the seriousness of the crime. The judge took time to give advice and most of all to emphasize that there is a victim to his crime, and that he was buying into a market that had a horrible cost. In the end he was given jail time, but only a few years, and no prison time. He will be on the sex offenders’ registry for the rest of his life. He can’t be alone with females younger than 18. He will be on parole for three years after he gets out of jail.

The attorney asked for a few days for him to say goodbye to his family. The judge said he had had long enough, and that he would be taken into custody now. He was allowed to say goodbye to his mother before he left. It was clear that they were very close. He came and hugged her right in front of me. As he cried and apologized to her for putting her through all of this, I started to cry. It really touched me. I felt sympathy for a user of child pornography, which is an emotion I thought I would never feel.

What an interesting experience. I stayed a little longer, but none of the other cases were that long or detailed. I left, feeling so sad for that man and what the next few years held for him. I feel myself cheering for him. It is amazing how much harder it is to dislike someone you don't know from close up. What an interesting, life-changing experience.

Halloween

I'm sorry that I haven't posted for a while. I guess there just wasn't anything I wanted to post about. My life has been great. The semester is really picking up for me, but I am happy busy, not stressed busy.
So Halloween was last week. What an interesting holiday.
About a month ago I was talking to my roommates, and as conversation has strange twists and turns, we came up with an amazing costume idea. With the help of the DI and misused makeup, here was the result at our ward party:

We were a boy band. The Synk, to be particular. I joked about being JT all night. It was legit.
Here is a closer view of my man face:

We decided that what really made us look masculine (not that I pulled it off that well) was our eyebrows which we thickened with eyeliner. Also in this picture you can kind of see my sideburns, which were pretty sweet. I tried to look scruffy with brown eye shadow smeared on my face. I pinned my long hair over the front to give me more manly hair. I still look like a total baby face. Oh, well.
What I had never realized was that it would be really hard to be a man. We tried to talk like guys, hug like guys, walk like guys, and especially dance like a boy band. I wasn't that great at it. I guess I'm pretty feminine. We had to try really hard to not smile, because that made our appearance of being manly fail even worse. But it was totally fun.
We had a couple of guys in our ward be totally weirded out. I guess we radiated mixed messages of masculinity and femininity and it was weird. We had a couple of guys tell us that they thought we won the scariest costume award for that reason. It was fun anyway. :) Walking around as a group and making entrances was really fun.
Best part? I found some awesome  man pants that I love. They fit and are soooo comfortable. I found my new camping/gardening pants. They aren't flattering, but the pockets are awesome!!
Willie also had a great Halloween so I am going to share it with your for him. :)
For his first party, this was his look:

Isn't that sweet? The mustache and the pants tucked in his socks just kill me. What a funny guy.
His second costume was Ron Weasley. I don't have a picture, but it was pretty great. He had a pet rat and a broken wand and everything.
But more impressive than his creative costumes is what a good guy he is. I have a story I want to share for him.
Halloween night Willie and I both didn't have plans. We discovered that a lot of people actually didn't have plans. It turns out that everyone thinks everyone else has something planned, so no one plans anything for that night. I ended up hanging out with Mindy and her boys, which was awesome.
But here is what Willie thought of.
He dressed up as Ron and got his friends together. They bought a large bag of candy and took his bedroom door off of its hinges (don't tell his management because he probably would get in trouble for that). Then they went through his ward and complex, knocking doors. First they would knock on the door, and then quickly they would cover the person's door up with Willie's door. When the person opened their door, they would be surprised, but given a minute and maybe some encouragement they would knock on Willie's door. Willie and co. would swing open the door like it was on hinges and hold out the bowl of candy. I like to call it reverse trick or treating--they took the treat to them.
Willie said they were surprised how many people were home and alone. They clearly made some people's day. Some people had nothing to do, so they joined the ranks and spread the joy. By the end of it, they had an empty bowl and happy faces all around.
I think a new tradition was born this Halloween.