Repurposing
For my repurposing piece, I chose to repurpose a psychology research paper on how gender roles and egalitarianism are portrayed in Disney films. In my first repurposing draft, I focused on Mulan, one of my favorite movies growing up. In thinking about Mulan in this new way, I realized that the movie isn't on the progressive pedestal I once put it on.
In my final draft, I expand my paper to go beyond Disney. I delve into my thoughts on the recent presidential election and flesh out how it affected me, my psyche and my identities. In the context of the election, I discuss how I felt/feel on campus. I also thought about how I got from a Mulan-watching child to a more conscious and socially aware college student. I look back at a particular memory where I do not live up to the standards I now hold myself to. I have come to see this moment as a transition, an instance that led me to where I am today.
This was one of the more unique and reflective writing processes I have ever had. I really grappled with my identity and if that identity has room in today's society.
I grew up in two bubbles. The first is a bubble that shielded me from acts of oppression like racism, sexism, homophobia. My body. The second is a bubble that guarded me from social issues, minorities, and national problems. My physical environment limited my consciousness for others outside of my communities.
I grew up on the North Shore of Chicago, predominantly white, upper-middle class suburbs. These bubbles thinned as I left home and came to Ann Arbor, perhaps a bubble in its own way. The bubbles did not burst. I became more exposed to diverse people and the issues tied to them, but, for the most part, my two bubbles remained intact. I could not escape my body nor was I truly aware of its implications. While, compared to my hometown, Ann Arbor’s physical environment and population are far more diverse than my insulated community, my inner social circles lingered on.
These bubbles became perfectly clear to me when Donald Trump was elected to be the 45th president of the United States of America. Pop.
I remember the night vividly. It was a night filled with arguments, projections, and hesitations, but it was the following day, November 8th, that brought my true emotions to the surface. On that day it felt like my physical characteristics were the center of my being; it was as if they were on display for everyone to judge. My whiteness overcame me, coloring my face, tainting my hands. My masculinity dominated the sidewalk, dwarfing it before my every step. My hetero-sexuality lay at the center of my thoughts, creeping outside of my head. My socioeconomic status reeked on my clothing like the scent of fresh cigarette smoke.
Scared and troubled faces walked by me; I tried to extend a hand but could not lift it. Even if I mustered up the courage to help, why would they accept? I tried to reciprocate their fears and worries but it was not my place. I lacked the background and the understanding. Why? Because of these damn bubbles. Sure, on that day, they popped—but the eruption resides within me.
That evening, I attended a rally on the diag. There were a few others there who, like me, were the vast minority; we stood out and did not belong. In that space, I—the majority—was suddenly the minority. I—the normal—was the abnormal. I applauded at inspirational statements, but my clapping seemed softer than others. I nodded my head at jarring personal stories, but I had no business agreeing with what I could not relate to. “If the only thing you do tonight is attend this rally, then leave. Just leave.” What was I doing there?
Which affected me more? Was it the thought of Trump as President or the identity crisis that it ignited inside me?
Now, as I sit deep into 2017, I am not angry that Trump was elected president. I do not blame America for reaching this point; rather, I focus my energy elsewhere. I question what led to this shift in society, how are minority groups—women, those identifying as LGBTQ+, Hispanics, Muslims, those that are disabled—affected, and why did this moment trigger an identity conflict that penetrated the core of my upbringing? In exploring these questions about national and personal identity, some may flip through the history books. Others might try to analyze the progression of political climate. I propose a different approach: Disney.