Saturday, December 28, 2013

Different Words for Happiness

In today’s culture, there is a growing myth that suggests that extroverts are happier than introverts. A lot of research too seems to support this theory and tacitly, even introverts buy into this. But how true is this research?  

In her engaging book, The Introvert’s Way, Sophia Dembling cuts through all the smoke and mirrors. She talks about research done by psychologist Will Fleeson, PhD, of Wake Forest University, which found a strong correlation between acting extroverted and feeling happy. In several studies, Fleeson asked students to periodically record how extroverted they were behaving as well as how happy they felt at such times. Fleeson’s research ended up suggesting that behaving like extroverts would make introverts happier. 

Dembling talks about delving deep into this research and coming up with questions that she later posed to the researcher. “The first thing Fleeson explained to me is that he used a very specific definition of extroversion. None of Jung’s energy-in/energy-out stuff. Instead, he had people describe how they were feeling in words he says are most consistently used to describe extroversion: talkative, enthusiastic, assertive, bold, energetic. He also used a specific set of words to describe positive affect (science-speak for looking happy): excited, enthusiastic, proud, alert, interested, strong, inspired, determined, attentive, active.” 

In fact, most of the words used to describe both feelings as well as happy behaviour were extrovert-centric. Dembling goes on to say: “Where are introvert-centric terms such as peaceful, content, engaged, engrossed, focused, amused, composed, and calm?”   

Fleeson had based the design of his study on a three-legged stool description of happiness commonly used by researchers, but had ended up using only one leg of this stool – positive affect. According to Dembling, positive affect is basically “the kind of “happy” that other people can see: visible, external, noisy happy.” Fleeson didn’t include either life satisfaction (our own judgement of how our lives are working overall, instead of our happiness or unhappiness at a specific moment) – or the absence of negative affect (an absence of negative feelings like anxiety, fear and anger, which means we are at peace with life and feel calm) in his overall design. 

Isn’t feeling calm an “introverted” way of being happy? Dembling says: “But Fleeson didn’t use that leg in his research, and so one could argue that words describing introvert happiness are not even included in the way Fleeson measured happiness.” With an incomplete design and research that was biased towards what Dembing calls“extrovert-style happiness,” Fleeson had reached a conclusion that added to the narrative of extroverts as happy and introverts as “should-be-extroverts.” 

As human beings, we all exist on a continuum and introverts can “act” extroverted when the situation calls for it. But a lot of our unhappiness stems from the fact that we feel pressured to constantly behave like extroverts. And in societies that prize extroversion, like America, we are not the in-group. Being on the fringes obviously affects our happiness as well. 

But owning our true nature can point us to our true north. If being happy means that I feel content or connected or whole, I can channel my energy towards activities that bring me those feelings instead of worrying about what’s wrong with me when I don’t feel like attending a big party. Claiming our own words for happiness can help us connect to our own sources of happiness.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Coming out as an Introvert

“All this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle"
                              - Margaret Atwood 

“All the quiet people should be sent off to a corner,” someone said dismissively during a discussion of how a talkative group in an office were disturbing the not-so-talkative ones. But how should these poor, quiet souls cope with all the noise? That was an easy solution. Why, of course, that’s what headphones were for. 

I bristled inside but in true introvert fashion couldn’t come up with a quick-witted, think-on-my feet kind of response. I should have said: “Maybe the chatty ones should be put in a room, so the people who are actually working can work.”  That was the kind of snappy come-back I wanted to give. Only it sounded kind of rude to me. 

But that might have been okay, since what this person said was downright rude too. Only, it’s not considered out of place to say something like this. Today, it’s normal to speak down to or disparagingly about introverts. If you are quiet, it must be because you have nothing to say, because you have no opinions of your own. For some reason, it doesn’t mean that you could be a thoughtful, reflective person who considers every side of the argument. Somehow, it also doesn’t mean that you may not want to share half-baked thoughts. It’s easy for our quiet to get filled up by other people’s interpretations. 

This is true in many cases, but I have to confess that it’s also true that sometimes, I confuse my own introversion and my fears. When I am just plain scared of coming out and saying what I really think, I falsely attribute it to being reserved and introverted. Separating these two strands – when I am acting out of fear and what is a normal introverted reaction – has become extremely important in clarifying who I am.   

What’s also become hugely important is fully accepting my introversion, instead of struggling against it because it does not fit the extrovert ideal. I do intellectually understand that my way of being is as valid as any other. But the work now is to reframe what I’d been told were my weaknesses. For example: Depending on the situation, being able to spend time on your own can become a huge strength. When you are in the middle of a big transition, such as my move to a new country, being able to provide support to yourself in the absence of friends or family makes you much more adaptable. 

For most of the last year and a half (since my move to the U.S), I felt this compulsive need to find and fit in with people until I realized that what I am looking for is my own tribe, and that can take time to find. In the meantime, instead of constantly looking outside, I could turn inside for nourishment. Like many other introverts, I connect deeply with nature, music, and all that is bigger than us. Finding ways to integrate that in my life, like taking photography classes to nurture my connection with nature, has helped me connect to a source bigger than me. Whenever I am engaged and present, I am not lonely. 

But for this to happen (and I am still in the process), I had to let go of beliefs that said that my ways of functioning as an introvert were wrong. My beliefs also said that to be healthy and happy meant being similar or equal to an extrovert. It doesn’t. 

As introverts, we need to stop apologizing for our preferences and start reclaiming our nature. We also need to stop buying into the myth that everyone needs the same things to be happy. When we can do that, we can start growing into our true happiness. 

Friday, December 6, 2013

In Transition – Resistance

In his wonderful book, The War of Art – Steven Pressfield talks about resistance – that insidious force that inhibits our growth and keeps us stuck. 

Resistance is what kicks in when we are trying to make substantial changes – whether it is pursuing a calling in a creative field, launching our own business or making a huge commitment like getting married or having a child. 

When we are in its grip, resistance feels completely personal, as if we are the only person on earth terrified of making that giant leap. But resistance is universal and impersonal. Pressfield says: “It doesn’t know who you are and doesn’t care. Resistance is a force of nature.”  That’s something to remember when we are summoning up our courage to confront it. Everyone on earth faces resistance. 

What’s useful to us is that resistance unfailingly points the path that we are called to walk on. Pressfield gives us a rule of thumb: “The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel towards pursuing it.” “If it meant nothing to us, there’d be no Resistance.” If we are paralyzed and scared out of our wits, that’s our sign to start moving. But how do we judge that what we are experiencing is, in fact, resistance and not healthy fear? 

Pressfield gives us some clues. One of them is that resistance only obstructs in one direction – when we are moving from a lower to a higher level and never the other way around. “So if you’re in Calcutta and working with the Mother Teresa Foundation and you’re thinking of bolting to launch a career in telemarketing...relax. Resistance will give you a free pass.” And if we are close to completing something, close to the finish line, and then sabotage ourselves, that’s resistance too. In fact, that’s when resistance is most powerful – when we are close to defeating it.

For many of us, resistance shows up in the form of procrastination. We keep on delaying the next action, telling ourselves that we’ll do it tomorrow. What we don’t tell ourselves is that today is as good a day as any to start and that the conditions are never going to be perfect. We are in the middle of our messy, imperfect lives and we will always be in the middle of our messy, imperfect lives. We might not be perfectly prepared, but it is also true that no amount of preparation gives us the ability to foresee and control the future. The only way to combat Resistance is to feel our fear, stay with our fear, and move ahead in spite of our fear. If and when we can do that, we can escape the tragedy of what Pressfield calls “The Unlived Life,” a life where we knew who we could be, but we didn't quite get to becoming all of that.   

Friday, November 29, 2013

Who owns my body?

As Indian women (or is it women in general?), we’ve been taught that taking care of others’ feelings is our job. This includes listening to unwanted advice, shape-shifting our own behaviour to fit other people’s beliefs, and complying with norms so we don’t offend. But who are we truly responsible for? Only ourselves? Ourselves and a little bit of others? Ourselves and others equally? Others, at the cost of our self? 

As I get tangled up in these questions, I get a little bit of relief when I read Henry Cloud and John Townsend’s “Boundaries.” In this book, the authors talk about what personal boundaries are. Just as a fence around a physical property demarcates its boundaries and tells us who the property belongs to, our being also needs boundaries. “Boundaries define us. They define what is me and what is not me. A boundary shows me where I end and someone else begins, leading me to a sense of ownership.” The authors say that when we know what exactly we own and are responsible for, we are free to make choices about our “property.” And if we don’t know our boundaries, then we don’t fully own our lives. The only options available are what others let us have. 

As I read on, I have a heretical thought. Do I own my body? Do I own the right to do with it what I want? To have or not have children? The answer seems obvious, and yet not so obvious. I think my body is my own, but my womb seems to be a collective entity. From strangers to far-flung aunties, everyone has an opinion, a stake in it. And is my brain mine? Can I think these thoughts that many others are not thinking? 

I think some more, with the brain that I hopefully own, and read on. I come to a place where the authors say: “We are responsible to others and for ourselves.” What this seems to mean is that we are responsible for helping others when they are in need, but we are not responsible for the normal burdens that each of us has to carry. And then later on, they go on to describe all the things that do fall within our boundaries and that we are really responsible for. These include our feelings, our thoughts, our beliefs, our choices and our values. Which, in turn, means that other people’s feelings, thoughts, beliefs, choices and values are theirs and distinct from our own. 

So, if I am contained within, and my body is my own, and my thoughts are my own, and my choices are my own, then I also have the freedom to direct my life in the way I think is best for me. Isn’t responsibility really our ability to respond, which means we can choose. What I really need to take responsibility for is changing the belief that causes me to internalize the external pressure to have a baby. I need to truly believe in my right to maintain the integrity of all that I own – my thoughts, my values, my actions. This is my internal struggle. 

But there is an external, societal aspect as well. We are judged at all the major intersections of our lives – whether we get married or not, whether we have kids or not, even whether we have a second kid or not. Somewhere behind all this, is the nebulous position of a culture that operates from the belief that women – their bodies and their being – are property, owned first by their families, and then by the larger society.

When we question norms, and assert our right to think for ourselves, we risk being looked upon as deviant. But without taking that risk, we can’t move beyond being considered “belongings,” defined only in terms of our roles instead of the thinking, feeling people that we are in ourselves. And who have the right to say - It is my body and what I do with it is none of your business. 

Friday, November 22, 2013

Feeling deeply, Thinking clearly

Have you ever thought about people who fall on either side of two extremes – the over-thinkers and over-feelers of the world? And drawn the conclusion that the reason the over-thinkers cannot feel is because they think too much. And the over-feelers cannot think because they feel too much. But is this always true? Are feeling and thoughts as antagonistic to each other as we’ve been taught to believe? 

In his wonderful book, Honoring the Self, Nathaniel Branden delves deep into our psyches to answer these questions. What he emerges with are insights that give us a new understanding of how our thoughts and feelings interact with each other. Branden starts by saying: “Feelings are often the first form in which we become aware that something is wrong with our life. We need thought in order to know what to do, but feelings often alert us to the existence of a problem.” If our response to these uncomfortable feelings is to suppress or ignore them, then we effectively cut ourselves off from awareness. This disowning of our feelings muddies our thinking. Since we are unable to integrate the knowledge that our feelings contain, our only option is to keep on living in a pre-programmed, automatic way. Branden says: “In the area of our personal life, if we cannot feel deeply, it is very difficult to think clearly. This is contrary to the notion that thinking and feeling are opposed functions and that each entails the denial of the other.”

Naming and owning our feelings, instead of banishing them to our unconscious, is an act of courage and honesty. To describe our feelings correctly, to say “I am angry or sad or hopeless at this moment” is not self-pity. What is self-pity is when we make a statement like: “I am in a hopeless situation.” In the first case, we own the truth about what we feel. In the second, we are making, what Branden says is, “a statement of alleged fact.” Most of us have never been taught to make this important distinction. While self-pity is destructive, owning our feelings means that we accept our painful experiences. When we can acknowledge them, we also have the option of working to confront and resolve them. Branden says: “We cannot liberate ourselves from that which we have never experienced; we cannot leave a place that we have never been.” 

So, how do we access blocked feelings? While this is a unique process for each of us, if our wounds are deep and ancient, it often requires professional help. The first part of this process, however, is simple and profound. Branden says: “Opening the breathing is generally the first step to opening the feelings.” Deepening and being aware of our breath creates a stillness in which we stop running away from our emotions. In this space, our emotions can actually register in our conscious experience. This is one of the reasons why meditation is such a powerful practice – it can help release buried feelings. But Branden gives us advance warning - in the beginning, because of its emphasis on breathing and being still, a meditative practice can cause emotional outbursts that we can perceive as highly threatening. The sludge is being brought to the surface. It is often only at later stages that meditation leads to calm. This means that a meditation teacher who can guide us through this process is invaluable – we need a guide who can help us navigate the hills and valleys of our emotional experience.     

Once we’ve made our way through, we come to a place of greater freedom. We’ve courageously owned parts of ourselves that we’d abandoned. We’ve mourned losses that were buried deep in our psyches. We’ve confronted uncomfortable feelings like anger and released them in healthy ways. It is only through releasing feelings stuck deep in the body, can we ever hope to transcend them. As feelings are experiences and released, the shadows that they cast on the mind are also cleared. We no longer deny parts of ourselves. We can acknowledge the truth of our experience. And when we can do that, we can see our experience more objectively. Basically, we think more clearly. Then, finally, we are in a place where we are free to choose our actions – where we can act in conscious, autonomous ways instead of the mechanical, conditioned ways we’ve been taught.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Giving Birth

"Nobody objects to a woman being a good writer or sculptor or geneticist if at the same time she manages to be a good wife, good mother, good-looking, good-tempered, well-groomed, and unaggressive." 

This quote by Leslie M. McIntyre appears as a sidebar in the pages of Julia Cameron's wonderful "The Artiste's Way." In the book, Cameron shares several insights on how blocked artistes - writers, painters, dreamers - can access and recover their creative selves. 

She talks about our tendency to be self destructive and what that really means. "The question "Are you self destructive?" is asked so frequently that we seldom hear it accurately. What it means is Are you destructive of your self? And what that really asks us is Are you destructive of your true nature?" Are you?        

Am I? At this point, these questions resonate with me deeply. They bring to the fore issues I have been struggling with - the fact that I want to grow as a writer and a creative person while feeling that my biological clock is ticking. I know what having a baby here in the U.S. means - it means hard work and the fact that that will be my main job for at least a few years. Could I still bring forth my creative babies while tending to a human baby? Would the stories inside me remain still-born and never come to term? These questions create ripples of discomfort inside me. 

And then there is the other dimension - of other people's expectations. "When are you planning to have a baby?" Haven't many of us heard this? Sometimes, when I hear such questions, I wonder why they don't ask me - "What are your plans for giving birth to yourself?" Like countless women, I am inching closer to that moment when I need to make a decision about having children. Growing up, that was always a part of my dream. It still is, but there is also the growing sense that without fully being and becoming who I am, it'll be very hard to be a great mother.

Motherhood is not, of course, the idealized state we see in Hindi movies or see glorified in Indian culture. The real truth isn't mentioned very often. That each of us has a being that needs expression as well as relationship to find fulfillment. And which curdles inside when it doesn't find an outlet. One of my earliest memories of a strong woman is the mother of a friend of mine. She was intelligent, resourceful and ambitious (isn't that a bad, almost dirty word for a woman to be associated with). I remember her pacing up and down the corridor of her swanky NepeanSea Road home in what was then called Bombay, straining to breathe inside the confines of a traditional homemaker's role. Her children didn't always make her happy.    

I am afraid that if I am not ready for them, my children won't make me happy either. And yet, I have so much love to give. As I wallow in these doubts, I come back again to the beginning and ask myself: Am I self-destructive?

Monday, November 11, 2013

Thoughts on washing dishes

Moving to a different country and culture puts us in a context and space completely different from all that we've known. This shift in perspective gives us a new way of seeing - we can see how our self has been shaped by cultural beliefs. We become aware of the fact that these beliefs are, in fact, not who we are in essence. But if we are not them, then who are we? 



This is the point where we have the chance to delve deep.

One of the basic lifestyle differences between India and the States is the fact that household work needs to be done on your own. Unlike India, there is no help, or, more factually, very expensive help available. For the first time in my life, I have been washing dishes - washing big pots and pans by hand so they are ready for the next use, loading and unloading the dishwasher and sometimes, washing dishes by hand. How does that stack up as opposed to having a maid do all the work?

On the positive side, it removes the nagging guilt that I used to feel at the thought of hired help doing my work, for a very insignificant salary. Still, that was what I was used to, so that guilt usually lay dormant when I was in Delhi. Also, in India, the cultural message attached to so-called menial work was that it was "less than." As an H4 wife in the States, there were times in the beginning when I had to struggle to disconnect with that message. In my head, I believed that all work has value. In my emotional reactions, that didn't seem to be true.  

What also happened was that playing the role of a housewife showed me how invisible women's work really is. And I felt this, in spite of the fact that I have a lovely, progressive man as a husband. In my head, I was carrying an image, a projection of how being nurturing - cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry - should be part of my DNA as a woman. That it should feel natural, something I took to like fish to water. Only it didn't. I felt like I was the support staff and I didn't like it. My husband didn't ask me to do all this. It was me operating from a script. When I realized this difference between who I thought I was and who I really am, I felt angry about all the crazy things my culture had taught me to believe. And I felt a strange kinship with all the women who have gone before me - working inside the home,discounting that work as "not real work." 

And when I looked at some of the Indian families around me, I was disturbed by how some people adapt to life here in the States only to the extent that it takes them to succeed. So, while there is a lot of outer change, there is no real internal change. Even if the woman works, she still does all the household work. In fact, she seems to do a lot worse than she would in India, where there is help available. And it's not just Indians. It's pretty much everyone - Asians, Latinos, Americans. Gender roles are still very much in place in today's America.       

So, where does this leave me? Pulling back my attention to myself, I find that I am a little bit easier in the space I occupy. I don't hold myself to as high a standard of household perfection as I did in the first year and a half of my married life. As a friend told me recently, a clean house is the sign of a wasted life. I believe wholeheartedly in the essence of that message. Especially here in America, where labor is expensive, it is extremely important to internalize this belief. Household work needs to get done in a way that facilitates our lives. It shouldn't be the cross we carry as women - where our homes are barometers of who we are as people, where specks of dust carry shame-ridden messages. 

As someone in transition, I still like to have a clean, orderly home. It makes me feel in control of my environment and, in turn, a little more in control of my life. But I am working to put household chores in their proper place, disengaging from the psychic space they occupy, and the roles that women are supposed to play. I may choose to perform those functions, but I refuse to perform a role.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Anger - A Call to Action

What's the best use of my time? What do you bring to the table? Is this person saying "we" when they really mean "me"? As a recovering nice girl and people pleaser, these are questions that I have started asking recently. These questions have uncovered a lot of anger. Anger that threatens to consume and spill out, but also anger that prods me into saying No to what I don't want and helps me align with my values.   

As it sometimes happens when we most need it, I've just come across some writing that helps me understand this process better. In her book, Walking in This World, Julia Cameron says: "When we are angry at being overlooked, it is not arrogance and grandiosity. It is a signal that we have changed sizes and must now act larger." She goes on: "When we cannot sleep, when we are "eaten alive" by an inequity or slight, the monster that is eating us is our anger over our own displaced power. We are very powerful. That personal power is what we are feeling as a "towering rage," and that artificially externalized wall of rage can make us feel small and puny until we figure out that it is a power within ourselves and not the sheer wall of the "odds" stacked against us. The odds are against us until we are "for" ourselves."

And later: "Anger signals us that we are being called to step forward and speak out. We hate this and so we fantasize retreating instead. Rage at a bully or at a bullying situation is actually a wonderful sign. Once we own it, it is our rage at allowing ourselves and others to be bullied. If it is our own, we can use it. Yes, this rage feels murderous and distorting, but it is actually a needed corrective. If our rage is that large, so are we."

Our anger feels threatening because of the power it contains - exploding with it can cause damage, repressing or denying it mutates it into depression.The challenge becomes to channel our anger into actions that create change in our lives, so that it speaks up for who we are and who we want to become.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Is there a right prayer?

               Jai Ganesha, Jai Ganesha, Jai Ganesha Deva
                     Maata Jaaki Parvati, Pita Mahadeva

Day before yesterday was my second Diwali here in California. Diwali, for those of you who don't know, is a festival that celebrates the triumph of good over evil and which is as significant to Hindus as Christmas is to Christians. In the evening pooja (prayer), my husband and I sang the Ganesha aarti. The prayer had been floating in my consciousness for days before. Well, not the prayer exactly, which praises Lord Ganesha, but rather a specific line in it that has been getting under my skin. While talking about the various miracles that Lord Ganesha can bring about, it says "Baanjhan Ko Putra Det," which means that Ganesha can bestow the gift of a son to a barren woman. When I was a child, this line seemed to confuse my very being. Everyone sang it like it was normal.

This time, when I was singing the aarti, I tried to convince myself that it said "putra" or son instead of "putri" or daughter just because it rhymed better. Maybe it was speaking just of a woman who desired and wanted to have a child - surely, that's a natural desire? Was I being too rigid? Didn't I want to stay in touch with my culture by singing the aartis the right way? Didn't the aarti also bring back that sense of home, that feeling of connectedness and even devotion?   
 
Stuck in the middle of these questions and doubts, I sang the line but with a certain feeling of hopelessness. I got hooked into a space where I felt that nothing I did was the correct solution, that I was caught between remaining connected with my culture or remaining connected with my truth. The little girl I was would not have gotten confused. She felt her feelings keenly and when she was negated, the feelings bled right into her. She knew it was unfair and wrong, even if she couldn't understand why God thought that only a son was a gift or a woman was valuable only if she had children.

But I do. I understand. When I allow myself to get out from that little space where I've cornered myself. Does staying connected with my culture mean that I start believing things that I actually stand against ? I don't think a true God would ever create a sterile, barren human being. I don't think a true God creates women for the sole purpose of having children - although that could be part of their bigger dream. I don't think sons are gifts, and daughters are not. And I think God thinks the same way I do. And our prayers reflect only who we are as a society. They don't reflect the true nature of God. Only a patriarchal system discriminates, not God.  When I truly think of my doubts and questions about staying connected to India here in the U.S, I know that I don't want to follow dogma. I want to pray with my whole heart, something I've not done for years. But that prayer has to be mine. And not couched in thinking that my very being protests against.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Show Yourself

In the Milpitas library, I meet Jennifer every Thursday and Friday and we go through our English lessons. I have been teaching her for more than a year now as part of the library's volunteer tutor program. This time, we've picked up a book on inter-cultural communication and the chapter talks about the importance of self-disclosure when you talk to a person of a different culture.That strikes me as important. Here, in the Bay area, cultures collide and sometimes interact in wonderful ways. Talking directly about what you think and revealing who you are becomes important because people can have preconceived notions based on your ethnic identity. 

I get to practice this when I meet someone at a photography class I am taking. I tell her that I have had an arranged marriage. I ask her what she thinks an arranged marriage means. I clarify that my arranged marriage in not the same as a "forced" arranged marriage. That I could have said Yes or No to marrying my now husband. That it was just like a date at first, only arranged by my family. This self-revelation causes her to answer likewise. She tells me about an Indian friend who grew up here in the U.S, who had a "real" arranged marriage with a man who is ten years older than her. She tells me about her friend's husband - how he is very controlling - as well as the fact that her friend works and maintains a separate bank account and tries to live her life as well as she can. She also talks about her own Mexican heritage and the way men treat women in their culture. At the end of the conversation, I feel positive about the fact that I helped her see who I am, even if just a little bit. Talking with her also shows me our similarities, and that makes me feel less alone. 

Loneliness is something that creeps in assiduously every now and then. I've had an attack of it recently because I've missed a cousin's wedding that happened in India and have been imagining all the future events I will potentially miss. In transition, I am finding that it's important to focus on the right things - connections you can make in the here and now, things that you can do to stay connected with family back at home, and also forming a deeper connection with yourself. Without these anchors, it's easy to feel disconnected and lose your footing.          

Friday, November 1, 2013

If you don't get paid for it, is it not work ?

In her insightful book, "When Work Doesn't Work Anymore - Women, Work and Identity," Elizabeth Perle McKenna talks about how we, as women, don't assign the same value to "free" time as we do to "waged" time - hours traded for money. "Wendy felt bad about asking her husband to take her son for a few hours on Saturday mornings after she'd been home all week so she could go to exercise class. "He works all week. I feel guilty about doing something for myself." I ask her if she hired a baby-sitter, would that person be working? "Yes," she replied. "Then aren't you working too?" I wondered. "I never thought of it that way," she replied. "It doesn't feel like work because I'm not getting paid."

Isn't that how most of us think ? Even when our partners might be liberal men who want an equal relationship, like in my case, we are held back by this baggage of cultural conditioning that devalues what's traditionally been women's work. When I hear stories about Indian men here in America who won't pick up their own baby because they think taking care of kids is the woman's job, it makes me realize how you can move across the world without shifting anything internally. 

It makes me really angry but since I can't do anything about them, I think of all that I or we can do, as women, to live our values in our own lives. On a basic level, it means not attaching the word "just" before the word "housewife" or "homemaker." It means owning everything we do at home and realizing that we are bringing something valuable to the table. It also means not taking on the burden of conforming to a societal role - it's not your job alone to keep the house clean. And it definitely isn't your job to pick up after family members. By valuing our own work at home and by expecting others to do their share, we can equalize the imbalance in how work outside and inside the house is seen and valued.The personal really is political.        

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Understanding Hope

Haven’t you always thought of hope as a feeling, a glorious response that rises from deep within? As something that you either have or don’t in a given situation. I had thought so too, and turns out it is another thing about which I was wrong. Research has shown that, shockingly, hope is not an emotion at all. Instead, it’s a cognitive process, a way of thinking.    

C.R. Snyder, a former researcher at the University of Kansas, Lawrence, tells us that hope is a thought process that is made up of a trilogy of:
  • Goals
  • Pathways
  • Agency

What this means is that we are hopeful when we can set realistic goals, figure out how to achieve them, all the while believing in our own capabilities. So, hope is, in fact, a learned skill. According to Snyder, as children, we learn hopeful thinking to the extent that we have relationships characterized by boundaries, consistency, and support. When these elements are missing, we have no way of learning or practicing hopeful thinking. We may carry within us a learned helplessness that clouds our lives. Only with understanding the true nature of hope can we begin to see ourselves as agents, rather than victims.

Once we do accept that hope is a practice, another bit of research becomes relevant. In her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown emphasizes that the cultural belief that everything should be fun, fast, and easy is inconsistent with hopeful thinking. What this really does is set us up for hopelessness. She says that: “When we experience something that is difficult and requires significant time and effort, we are quick to think, This is supposed to be easy; it’s not worth the effort, or This should be easier: it’s only hard and slow because I’m not good at it. Hopeful self-talk sounds more like, This is tough, but I can do it.” 

While Brown cautions us against the cultural notion of fast and easy, she also talks about the fact that not everything is supposed to be difficult. You may find that the process of reaching a certain goal is, in fact, fun and easy. This does not mean that such a goal has less value. What it does mean is that in order to be hopeful, we need to be aware that different goals require different processes. When a goal is tough, we need to stay flexible and develop alternatives. If we can develop our ability to tolerate disappointments as well as our faith in ourselves, we can start living more hopeful lives.

Friday, October 25, 2013

What is Indian culture?

New situations, in general, stretch us beyond our comfort zones. The experience of the new can either help us grow and expand. Or it can cause us to cling to the safety of our old world-views. That’s the big risk and challenge inherent in moving to a different country. It’s been a little more than a year since I shifted from India to the U.S. It’s been interesting to see how the new challenges the old, and how it is assimilated (or not) as Indians live their lives here.

Recently, I had a chance to observe an immigrant Indian father and his son in conversation. The son has more or less grown up in the U.S. (having moved here when he was in middle school) and is in his mid-twenties. While the group talked about the differences between India and the States, the son and the father got into an argument about whether the Indian tradition of touching elders’ feet to show respect made any sense. 

According to the father, even if the person whose feet he touched was a villager, that person would have a wealth of experience that his son might not have. The son answered by saying that he himself had an extensive experience of city life. Did that make him deserving of respect because of his “different” experience? And anyways, what his dad was talking about was knowledge, not wisdom. He did a quick search on his smart phone and read out the dictionary definition of wisdom which also included the fact that it was a commonly- held misconception that age grants wisdom. By this point, his father, eager to make his own point, looked obviously incensed. Other people intervened, and the father moved away.

Talking to the rest of us, the son said that he hadn’t liked touching people’s feet when he was in India and he didn’t like doing it here. Moving on from there, he brought up the topic of how no one he knew in India could tell him why Hindus don’t eat beef (he ate beef as did his father). At this point, I interjected that it was probably because Krishna – one of our Gods – was a cowherd and by association, the cow is considered holy. The son said, see, no one there could ever explain that.

Later on, while coming back home, I thought about this conversation. It could have easily been a conversation between a father and son in India except that the cultural differences raised questions that might not have been raised there. It was true that in all my years in India, no one had ever told me either why beef was not eaten by Hindus. It was just the norm. Most people had never even thought about it, even those who religiously went to the temple. It was only when I came to the U.S, when I saw people around me eating beef that I thought and came up with the Krishna explanation.

It is interesting how much we accept without a second thought. Sometimes, it’s because we are part of something bigger; sometimes, because we are not encouraged to think at all. But moving to a different country and a different culture challenges our assumptions. It can be a call to truly understand the essence of our native cultures and integrate it with new beliefs. If we don’t eat beef and choose to touch elders’ feet to show respect, shouldn’t we at least know why we are doing it? Shouldn’t we also have the choice to not touch those said feet if we feel no real respect? And isn’t practice without understanding the meaning pointless? Isn’t it just blind obedience, an unthinking, unconscious going along?  

Group Dynamics for Introverts and Highly Sensitive People (HSPs) – 1

As an introvert, I like interacting with people one on one, am not very good at making small talk and tend to be on the quieter side when I am in a new group of people. Since I am also an HSP, I tend to get over-stimulated easily – so if I’m already stimulated beyond my comfort level, and then have to interact with new people, I tend to get even quieter than usual.

But this, as I realized while reading Elaine Aron’s The Highly Sensitive Person, is not a good idea at all. Have you ever thought of how people in a new group react when you are quiet? Aron says that HSPs often fail to grasp that the silent person gains more and more influence over time. This is because the group may be waiting for us to speak up, to come out and declare our own opinion and position. It may also be concerned about giving us a chance to speak. And most importantly, it could be unconsciously worried about our quietness. Aron says that the group wants to know, “Are you in the group or out? Are you sitting there judging them? Are you unhappy and about to leave?”

One of the ways in which this tension plays out is that as a defense tactic, the group might reject us before we can (possibly) reject them. So, when in a new group setting, it is important for introverts and HSPs to join in with an appropriate degree of enthusiasm. And if we can’t, it’s important to reassure the group members that we are not, in any way, rejecting them or thinking of leaving the group. We may want to communicate that we feel part of the group just by listening. Or we can emphasize any positive feelings that we have about the group or any group members. We could also tell them that we’ll speak up when we feel ready or request them to ask us again later. What’s important is that we communicate our interest in being a part of the group. 

Understanding these dynamics can also help introverts and HSPs prepare beforehand when we know we have to interact with a new group. We can make sure that we are well rested. We can think in advance about possible topics of conversation. In a nutshell, we can get ready to present our best selves to the group. In the end, the awareness of how groups operate and acting on this awareness can help us manage our lives and interactions as introverted and HSP people better.

Intuition - Does it help or hinder your decisions?

Do you think of yourself as intuitive? Do you wonder why your intuition does not serve you better? Shouldn’t it make your life easier? Shouldn’t it help you figure out the path you are supposed to walk on? In her widely acclaimed book The Highly Sensitive Person, Elaine Aron talks about intuition in a way that answers all these questions. Generally, being highly intuitive is thought to be a gift, a trait that can help us make better choices. 

Aron flips this commonly-held notion on its head. She says that highly intuitive people are, in fact, likely to falter when trying to uncover and discover their vocation. Why is this so? One of the main reasons is that being highly intuitive also means that we are hyper-aware of our inner voices speaking of countless possibilities. 

Deciding which of these voices to follow is very difficult. Aron says that our inner dialogue goes something like this: “Yes, it would be desirable just to serve others, thinking little of my material gain. But that rules out a lifestyle with time to pursue the finer things in life. And both exclude the actualizing of my artistic gifts. And I have always admired the quiet life, centred in family. Or should I be centred in the spiritual? But that is so up in the air when I admire a life close to the earth.” So, on and on these voices go, echoing the far reaches of our soul, speaking for all the people we might possibly become. 

Aron says: “If you’re flooded with such voices, you will probably have trouble with decisions of all sorts; very intuitive people usually do.” So, how can we resolve this tension, these threads pulling apart and never letting us weave our lives into a whole?  

Elaine Aron advocates pulling in the opposite direction by deliberately engaging our rational side. She asks us to pare down our never-ending list of options to two or three after evaluating the pros and cons of each choice. This approach makes us whole - it helps us bring into fruition some of the possibilities that are dormant within us. It also forces us into maturing and accepting that in one life, we can be anything we choose to be, but not everything.

It must be true

In a New York Times article, British author and journalist Rose George tells stories of small-town Indian girls and their experience of their first periods. She describes their horror: “Khushi knew it was cancer. Ankita thought she was injured. None of the girls knew why they were suddenly bleeding, why their stomachs were “paining,” as Indian English has it. They cried and were terrified and then they asked their mothers. And their mothers said, you are normal. You are menstruating. You are a woman now.”

“But that is not all. The girls, whose names I’ve changed here for the sake of their privacy, were also told: when you menstruate, don’t cook food because you will pollute it. Don’t touch idols because you will defile them. Don’t handle pickles because they will go rotten with your touch.”
Rose George continues, “Pickles, I asked Ankita? Yes, madam, she told me, in her schoolyard in rural Uttar Pradesh. My mother says it is so. Her mother believed it, and her mother before her. It must be true.”
It must be true. If we believe what we told, it is then natural to go along with it even if it discounts our very essence. It is only when someone comes along that questions norms that we thought were set in stone, does any kind of change happen.
In her book, Revolution from Within, Gloria Steinem talks about how one group of women was challenged to think of their own bodies, and in turn, their own selves, differently. The catalyst in this case was Ela Bhatt, the social activist and lawyer who is known throughout the world as the founder of SEWA (Self Employed Women’s Association) with its headquarters in Ahmedabad, India. The story is from the formative days of the organization. Steinem talks about how once the work of forming SEWA was done, Ela Bhatt suggested that the founding group celebrate by going for a holiday together.
This founding group was made of “self-employed women”  who came from a  group that was the poorest of the poor – In India, “self-employed women” is a blanket term for women who do piece-work jobs, sell vegetables in the bazaars, carry construction materials on their heads at construction sites, collect paper from garbage dumps and so on. These were the women who didn’t believe they had any rights, whose work wasn’t valued, who wrestled everyday with problems like having to bribe the local police to sell their wares on the street. 

These women had never thought that they could take a holiday away from their families. Once Ela Bhatt had managed to convince them and make other arrangements for their families in their absence, they all set off in a rickety bus to visit religious places nearby. Everything went well until they came to a temple that could only be reached by crossing a river. In Hinduism, menstruating women are not allowed in temples. Obviously, there were women in the group who had their periods. These women were convinced that if they crossed the river, the boat would capsize and they would be punished for defying traditions. As they couldn’t swim, they would all drown.
Steinem says: “By appealing to every emotion from curiosity to defiance, Ela finally convinced them to get in the boat and consign themselves to the wide river and fate.” What happened when they crossed the river was that, well, nothing happened. After the women had placed their offerings in the temple, they returned back, and again – nothing happened.
For the first time in their lives, these women had flouted the rules that denigrated them, and they had come out unscathed. This was a defining point in the history of SEWA, which went on to become one of the most powerful women’s trade unions in India, and one of the largest in the world. With that experience, the women had understood that “If women’s bodies were not so “unclean” and inferior after all, perhaps their work was not so inferior either.”