"Vagina" is Not a Four-letter Word

You would be forgiven for assuming that our elected politicians are mature adults who can handle using words that designate genitalia. You would especially be forgiven for assuming that given that many of these politicians are very eager to legislate what can and cannot be done with genitalia.

However, you’d be wrong.

This is old news now for anyone who follows these things, but in case you don’t, here’s a recap. On June 14, the Michigan House of Representatives was debating a new bill that would severely limit a woman’s ability to get an abortion by placing new restrictions on abortion providers. The bill passed the House and will go to the Senate most likely in September. (They were also debating a separate bill, which did not pass, that would’ve restricted all abortions after 20 weeks, with no exception for rape or incest).

In response to this, Representative Lisa Brown (three guesses which party) gave a speech in opposition and said, “I’m flattered that you’re all so interested in my vagina, but ‘no’ means ‘no.'” You can see her speech in its entirety here.

The shock! The horror! Brown was quickly forbidden from speaking on the House floor by Republican leadership of the House. A spokesman for Republican Speaker of the House Jase Bolger said, “House Republicans often go beyond simply allowing debate by welcoming open and passionate discussion of the issues before this chamber…The only way we can continue doing so, however, is to ensure that the proper level of maturity and civility are maintained on the House floor.”

To that end, Republican Representative Mike Callton said that Brown’s remark “was so offensive, I don’t even want to say it in front of women. I would not say that in mixed company.”

What Bolger, Callton, and the rest of these concern trolls apparently do not realize is that language is malleable and entirely based on context. In general, words might be inappropriate to say for three different reasons:

  1. They are derogatory and hurtful slurs (i.e. the n-word, fag, retard)
  2. They have been designated as “profane” by our society (i.e. fuck, piss, shit, cunt)
  3. They refer to things or functions that are generally considered inappropriate for polite conversation (i.e. penis, vagina, feces)
These three categories of Bad Words operate in different ways. The first category is inappropriate to say basically always, unless, in some cases, you belong to the group targeted by the slur, or you are using the word in a conversation about the word (but even that is controversial).

The second category are words that are usually used to make a statement. They are much more frequently okay to use than the words in the first category. That’s why when people curse, they use these words. That’s why many writers, such as myself, use them for effect. They’re generally okay to say around your friends, but many people avoid using them in front of people they don’t know well.

The third category comprises words for things that we usually avoid discussing in polite company without a good reason. You wouldn’t exclaim, “That looks like a penis!” in front of your grandma, and you wouldn’t say, “My vagina feels funny” in front of your boss (I mean…unless you have a very open-minded boss/grandma). It’s not the words themselves that are “bad,” it’s the fact that you usually shouldn’t talk about the things those words refer to if you want to be polite.

But all of this falls apart when the context demands discussion of such topics. If you’re at a doctor’s appointment and the doctor needs to tell you something about your penis or vagina, it would be laughable for him or her to avoid using those words. If you’re negotiating sex with a partner, you shouldn’t have to worry that he or she will be offended if you use those words. And if you’re attempting to legislate what women can and cannot do with their private parts, you’re going to have to face the fact that those parts have names.

The most ironic thing here, though, is Callton’s remark about the word “vagina”: “I don’t even want to say it in front of women.” First of all, that’s patriarchal as hell; women can handle naughty words just as well as men can. Second, it’s not just a naughty word; it’s a word for a thing that (most) women experience on a constant basis.

Some conservatives have apparently made a slightly more legitimate criticism of Brown in that she connects restricting abortion with rape (via her “no means no” allusion). I say “slightly more legitimate” only because, having once been a pro-lifer, I understand how they would take offense.

After all, pro-life politicians do not wake up in the morning thinking, “Yo, I’m gonna take away some rights from women and tell them what to do with their own vaginas today.” They think, “Abortion is murder and I have a duty to stop it just like I would stop the murder of a child or adult.” To them, drawing any parallels whatsoever between restricting abortion and committing sexual assault would naturally seem preposterous. It is only those of us who couch the debate in the language of personal liberty who see the similarities.

That’s why this whole incident really highlighted for me the divisions between liberals and conservatives on the matter of reproductive rights. It’s not even just that they can’t agree on whether or not abortion should be legal; it’s that they can’t agree on what abortion is, and on the terms with which the debate should be framed. Liberals say abortion is a woman’s right over her own body; conservatives say it’s the murder of an unborn human being. How can we ever reach a consensus if we define our terms differently?

I don’t know how to solve this problem–and if I did I would probably be the savior of American politics–but at least this story has a partially-happy ending. Brown and several of her colleagues performed the play The Vagina Monologues with its playwright Eve Ensler on the steps of the statehouse last Monday night as a tribute to our right to speak the names of our own body parts. About 2,500 spectators came to watch.

But as for the bill that the House passed, that’ll go on to marinade in the state Senate, which currently has 26 Republicans and 12 Democrats. I’m not getting my hopes up.

"Vagina" is Not a Four-letter Word
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Sunday Link Roundup

Soooo I haven’t done one of these for a while because I’ve been lazy. Just kidding, it’s because I’ve been busy interning for a mental health advocacy organization and suntanning and reading Anna Karenina. So there may be a lot of links here. And now that I’ve recovered from Pride weekend, here it is. Enjoy!

1. This week the European Union released a snazzy video full of pink and high heels and men staring lustfully at women, for the purpose of…encouraging women to pursue scientific careers. After the Internet exploded, the video was taken down, but here’s a great blog post over at Teen Skepchick that explains why this was so gross and inappropriate.

2. At In Our Words, a beautiful post on what depression has taught one writer. “Depression has taught me quality over quantity.  I am a very busy, sometimes self involved, flighty person.  The handful of people I consider good friends know these things about me.  What’s really crazy is that they also love me in spite of them.”

3. On the challenges of disclosing mental illness.

4. On loving your parents even though they can’t accept you for who they are. “I know this isn’t social justice orthodoxy. Social justice orthodoxy is, as Andrew Ti from Yo Is This Racist, would say, “Yo, you tell them they’re fucking racists and then you don’t talk to them. You really need someone that fucking awful in your life?” But the thing is…I kind of do.”

5. Margarita Tartakovsky, one of my favorite mental health writers, explains how not dieting is a sort of freedom.

6. How academic grades become a measure of self-worth, and all the problems inherent in that. As someone who has literally bawled on many occasions because of a random letter that was written on something I produced, I loved this.

7. More on talking about mental health. “I inevitably start to feel like I’m throwing a woe-is-me, isn’t-life-awful, tell-me-about-how-damaged-you-are-so-we-can-cry-together Pity Party. It’s embarrassing….But you know what? I think it’s time for us to have a Pity Party. We need to air our dirty mental health laundry and get a real dialogue going. Because truly, when I started actually acknowledging my depression, letting others in on how much I was struggling, and looking for a reason and a cure, a whole world of compassion opened itself to me.”

8. You don’t need to be in a relationship in order to live romantically. “I enjoy long walks on the beach as much as anyone else; I just like to do them alone.”

9. A friend of mine wrote about how we alternatively demonize and glorify technology. It sounded a lot like a post I’d written once, except better. 🙂

10. You don’t have to be thankful for your mental illness. You don’t have to see “the good” in it. Sometimes there isn’t any.

11. People are more likely to compromise with groups they disagree with if they believe those groups are capable of changing their views. Not a huge surprise, but it’s nice to see research confirm these things.

12. Some really helpful advice on how to flirt with people without making them uncomfortable, as per the recent atheist con controversy.

13. On crying in public, and the sense of shame and embarrassment many of us feel when we cry.

14. What it’s like in a mental hospital, from someone who’s been there. Read it and lay the stereotypes to rest.

15. On the myth of the “good old days.” “But my question is this: if morals have been declining in this day and age, when was it ever higher? Can we really name a time when there was less injustice, criminality, and corruption?” Nope!

16. And my favorite post ever: on self-disclosure and genuineness as a mental health professional who is also a writer. “They told me to lie to you, but I knew you could handle the truth.

Finally, the Crap Post of the Week Award goes to this article from Psychology Today, which attempts to justify cheating on your spouse because good things can apparently come of it. Such as…you’ll talk about the state of your marriage! You’ll spice up your sex life! You’ll get your needs met if your spouse is disabled and physically cannot meet them! Yes, that’s in there. And worse yet, the author calls this a “healthy affair.”

Also, a bit of news–my short-form blog, on which I write and post stuff about basically the same subjects I cover here, has recently received its 500th follower! That must mean it’s good, so go check it out.

Have a good week!

Sunday Link Roundup

Why I Abandoned Conservatism

To most people who don’t know it already, here’s something that will probably come as a surprise: until about two years ago, I was a far-right conservative.

No, really, I was. Here are some things that I believed when I was a conservative. I believed that there is no real racism or sexism anymore. A Black man is president and women can work outside the home, so none of that. I thought same-sex couples should not be able to get married because that’s not what marriage means. And they definitely shouldn’t be able to adopt children because then the children would also become gay and we can’t have that.

I thought that the government has no right to tell people how to live, except when it does. It has no right to take our taxes and use them to help poor people, because poor people just don’t try hard enough. I thought that lowering taxes makes people spend more, always. I thought that affirmative action is exactly the same thing as racism, because after all, you’re doing things based on people’s skin color.

I believed that the United States has the responsibility to spread democracy throughout the world, by use of force if necessary. Needless to say, I applauded both of our recent wars. I thought that global warming was either a lie or at least an exaggeration, and even if it wasn’t, the government has no right to dictate what we do with the environment, anyway.

I pitied the women who went out carelessly and got themselves raped. I thought the justice system generally does its job, so if rapists weren’t getting convicted, that probably means they didn’t really do it. I thought false rape accusations were a much bigger problem, in fact.

I adored Clarence Thomas, George Bush, Antonin Scalia, Ann Coulter, and, of course, Ronald Reagan. I reserved a particular hatred for Al Gore and Barack Obama.

I believed that abortion was murder, and that it should be illegal in almost all cases.

I figure I’m supposed to be terribly ashamed and contrite about all of this, but truthfully, I’m not. I was a teenager, first of all, and second, I don’t know what I could’ve done to find any other narrative. There are a number of reasons why I was a conservative, and they were chiefly these:

  • because my family was
  • because I grew up in suburban Ohio
  • because our K-12 education teaches us that the American government is Good, that laws are Just, that the justice system Works, and so on
  • because children tend to believe that their values and morals should be everyone’s values and morals
  • because I didn’t have access to the sort of critical analysis that encourages examination of one’s politics–until I got to college

So there you have it. Once I got to college, I took some sociology classes and quickly became a moderate. Then I took more classes, read more, made more friends, read much more, got involved in sexual health activism, got involved in other types of activism, started to see how everything in our society interacts with each other, read some more, and developed the ideology that I have now.

That ideology is something I call progressivism because I favor change in a positive direction. I don’t think that things are fine as they are. I don’t think we should just calm down and stop whining. I don’t think humanity has reached its potential and I don’t think it’ll reach it for a very, very long time. I think our intellect and our compassion are two human qualities that do not get used nearly enough.

People always ask me how I made such a 180-degree shift in politics. I don’t really know how it happened, perhaps because it happened while I was in the midst of a major depression, which means I don’t remember anything too well. But everyone asks that–my friends, my readers, my professors. My therapist asked me today.

I think the way I changed is that I started looking beneath the surface more. Why are there so many Black men in prison? Is it because Black men are naturally predisposed to crime? Apparently not. For instance, in California in 2011, African Americans were 12 times more likely than non-African Americans to be imprisoned on drug-related felony charges, but studies show that African Americans are no more likely to use and sell drugs than anyone else (in fact, they may be less likely to). What’s going on?

That’s just one small example. I learned dozens upon dozens of such examples over the past few years, about everything. About women, people of color, the environment, food policy, agriculture, mental health, disability, LGBT folks, the poor, drug policy, city planning, wars, guns, education, sexual assault, business, discrimination laws, religion, the media, language, abortion, sex ed, obesity, scientific research, healthcare, elections, the Supreme Court, college, advertising, fashion, feminism, queer theory, money.

My head is overflowing with this information and yet I learn more and more of it every day. Whereas I used to think that each person is an individual who makes choices that are absolutely his or her own, I now know that we are acted upon by countless societal forces at every moment. I still do believe that people should strive for independence, but that can’t happen without gaining a deep understanding of these forces.

Do I have a solution for all of this? No. And frankly, I’m kind of tired of people demanding me to provide them with solutions. If I thought I could save the world, I’d be a politician. And I’d be wrong.

But sooner or later, we as a society will stumble upon solutions, slowly but surely.

Everything is connected. Everything is politics. Everything affects you, even in some little way, somehow.

That’s why I am no longer a conservative.

That’s why this is not “just a phase,” “youthful idealism,” or “naivete.”

My exact views on specific issues will change throughout my life, but what won’t is my awareness of the fact that none of us live inside a bubble, no matter how much we may wish that we did.

The graphing calculator I used in high school had a big ol’ John McCain 2008 sticker on it. I rocked that damn sticker. Now I have stickers from Planned Parenthood, the Human Rights Campaign, and Occupy Chicago. It’s kind of both fun and sad to look back at who I used to be. But I’m not ashamed. We all did stupid things in high school, and honestly, I could’ve done worse than plaster McCain stickers on things and rant about how evil feminism is.

Why I Abandoned Conservatism

"There are no hot girls at Northwestern."

The other day at a certain user-submitted news website, a new Northwestern student was asking for advice about “the party scene” at our school. He also inquires about the attractiveness of the “females” at our school (I think he means “women”), and several dudebros inform him not to get his hopes up. One writes, “No offense to the girls, but Northwestern is just not an attractive campus overall; guys and girls complain about it all the time.”

Lest you think this is just Reddit stupidity, it’s not. The alleged unattractiveness of Northwestern students is something that I’ve heard referenced many times. There’s even a related term: “Northwestern Goggles.” Urban Dictionary says that “Northwestern Goggles” is “when a female student from Northwestern University is considered “hot” only because most of her fellow students are ugly.” Dictionary db has a lengthy explanation of it too, except it references men rather than women. (Northwestern Goggles is, apparently, an equal-opportunity phenomenon.)

A student review of Northwestern at Vault.com states, “And if you’re looking for attractive male students, look elsewhere. Students develop “Northwestern Goggles” where people who, outside of NU, wouldn’t be considered dating material quickly become eligible and desirable bachelors or bachelorettes.” Campus media references the term, too. A few years back one of Daily’s sex columnists pondered this issue. And, of course, there’s a GIF.

I don’t believe the Myth of the Ugly NU Student. First of all, it just doesn’t jive with my experience at Northwestern and that of the friends that I’ve talked to. I know that’s circumstantial, but I think it’s still worthwhile to point out that some of us disagree. Some of us think that there are plenty of people at NU who look like they could be models. I can think of a number of qualities that are lacking on this campus–for instance, compassion–but attractiveness is not one of them.

Second, I’m somewhat disinclined to even consider the validity of this myth until someone designs a reliable, scientific measure of human attractiveness, applies it to representative populations of a number of universities, and shows me that Northwestern’s Attractiveness Quotient is lower than average.

And “I visited my friend at a state school once and the girls/guys there were so much hotter” does not count. That’s circumstantial evidence, and it’s also confirmation bias: we’ve all heard the Myth of the Ugly NU Student since we got here, so as soon as we get off campus we’re probably eager to try to find attractive specimens to validate our expectations.

Third, I’m not exactly sure what people hope to accomplish by constantly restating the Myth of the Ugly NU Student. While I’m not a huge believer in karma, I’m still pretty sure that it doesn’t exactly do wonders for your love life if you go around moaning about how ugly everyone at Northwestern is. And since most people do realize that beauty is subjective, “There are no hot girls/guys here” is really more a statement of “Look how Cool and Picky I am” than of any actual lack of beautiful people at Northwestern. Congratulations, you’re really Cool and Picky.

Ultimately, whether or not you find attractive members of your preferred gender(s) at Northwestern is entirely up to you. I think it’s pretty judgmental and shallow to dismiss our school with terms like “Northwestern Goggles.” If anything on this campus is ugly, it’s that.

"There are no hot girls at Northwestern."

Like My Blog? Think It Needs More You In It?

(In that case, it sounds like you might want to contribute a guest post!)

Part of my mission with Brute Reason is to encourage conversation about things that are often left unsaid, and that doesn’t mean I have to be the only one talking. I’ve already had two fantastic guest posts this week, and I want to open that opportunity up to everyone who lurks on reads this blog.

The rules are pretty simple:

  • It must be thoughtful and intelligent. Well-written is a plus, but if you’re not a strong writer and still have something to say, I can help you develop your post.
  • It can be about basically anything. This blog has an emphasis on psychology, culture, politics, and social justice, but anything goes.
  • Pseudonyms are okay. It’d be cool if you can use your real name, but if not, I understand.
  • Crossposting at other blogs is obviously also okay.
  • Try to keep it under 1,500 words. If it’s longer than that, we could consider splitting it up into two or more posts. Or I might just ignore this rule.
  • Nonfiction only, please. Unless it carries a strong message that pertains to politics, social issues, etc., in which case I might ignore this rule too.
  • No racism, sexism, or any other of those bad -isms. I realize this is completely a judgment call on my part, but hey, it’s my blog.
  • You don’t have to agree with me. In fact, my first guest post directly contradicted one of my own opinions! I’ll publish guest posts that I disagree with, as long as they handle the disagreement respectfully and intelligently. The only exception is in the previous bullet point.

Although any subject is fair game, here are a few that I’m especially interested in because I lack the experience and/or knowledge to write about them myself:

  • Race and LGBT issues
  • Mental illness other than depression
  • Science, especially the latest research/controversies in climate change, nutrition, and other politically relevant issues like that
  • Food policy
  • Non-Western perspectives
  • Economics and business ethics

Sound like something you want to do? Email me your piece or idea at miriam[at]brutereason.net.

I hope to hear from some of you soon!

*update* For heaven’s sake, I will not publish any guest posts from content farms. Please stop trying. Here’s a hint: if your blog name is something like Best Online Colleges 4 U, I’m not interested.

Also! I forgot to mention this before. Please send along a brief bio with your guest post.

Like My Blog? Think It Needs More You In It?

[Guest Post] An open letter to the woman who said I wasn’t skinny enough to have an eating disorder

Another guest post, this time by my friend Kate.

You are the mother of my greatest friend. Your house was my refuge in high school. I wanted to surprise you and share my happiness with you when I got into my dream college. By my senior year, I spent almost every day after school at your house. You offered to cover for me, to be a hiding place when I simply could not deal with my family…and you became someone I trusted. You knew me in the worst throes of my starvation. I was skinny then. I was too skinny, and faint and malnourished and mentally ill. You didn’t know it then, but your son guessed, and for that, he has my eternal gratitude. Without him, I do not know that I would have survived to this point. That is not hyperbole.

You saw me this summer, back home for the worst summer I’ve had. I have gone off therapy for these three months, because you see, my parents don’t use modern medicine, and I cannot trust them to care for me. I am dependent on the kindness of my university to have treatment in the first place. This summer, all I have are friends, and my own will to do anything to keep from slipping back into a hell of calorie counting and obsessive thoughts and the nightmare of reflective surfaces. I used to hate myself, you know. It still creeps up on me and strangles and pulls at loose skin, until all I can do is hold off from screaming and curl up in bed.

You don’t know this. I would have told you, had you asked. I speak about my cesspit of destructive behavior, because you can’t tell when you look at me. That is true of most eating disorders, and someone has to talk about it. I will be that person.

You can’t tell that some days I realize all I’ve had is a cup of coffee in twenty-four hours, and I am blisteringly happy. You can’t tell because I force myself to hold a normal weight. I have for four years, and on especially good days, that is a source of pride.

That number on the scale isn’t the weight I want, but it is healthy. It is perfectly in the range for my height, a muscular build that runs and leaps and cartwheels, but it isn’t skinny. It isn’t skinny, and that is all you see. I am not starving, and so I cannot possibly suffer. I should get over it.

I’d like to, but if the past six years are any lesson, I won’t. I will always depend on alarms to remind me when to eat. I will plan my workouts ahead of time, because when I don’t, I become obsessive, and exercise until I cannot see straight. I will never eat with abandon. Meals will be planned for. Eating out will be stressful. I will have an uneasy truce with food.

And there will be people like you. I hate saying that because, until yesterday, when I said that I meant people who would care, and make me laugh, and be one of the solid ones. There will be people like you, who think I’m making a fuss, playing victim. You were one of the good ones, once, so I’d like to set the record straight.

I am recovering from an eating disorder. For two years, I averaged less than 800 calories per day. I danced intensively, as much as four hours a day. I lost too much weight. I was starving and bony. I did permanent harm to my body.

I have bradycardia. That means my heart beats too slowly; it doesn’t speed up enough when I exercise. If I push too far? I’ll faint. I do not trust myself to exercise outside of a gym. I cannot know when my vision will narrow, but in a building, I at least know that if I stay unconscious, someone will be there. I want you to consider that my safety net is the kindness of strangers to notice if I do not wake up.

The rate for attempted suicide in those with eating disorders is as high as three times that of the general population. Everyone quotes statistics, but I want you to take a hard look at that one. If you combine the neurotypical people out there with those who have PTSD, with those who have major depression, with everyone else who has considered their life not worth living, they attempt suicide at one third the rate of those with eating disorders. You know what makes me hurt so badly I want nothing more than to make it stop any way I can? When people I trust decide some number on a scale measures the weight of my claims, when they reinforce the horrible things I believe about myself. I just never thought one of them would be you.

I want you to know something important about your son. Your son cared for me without knowing any of those facts or statistics or numbers. He just thought I was worth time. He thought I was too skinny, that I was maybe hurting myself, and so he did what he could. He held me and took me to dinner and made sure I ate. He never demanded justification—he waited until I told him I had an eating disorder—the first person I ever confessed to. He smiled, and said he knew, and then we went back to life as normal. We talk every day, because we take care of each other.

I want you to understand something, more than anything else in this letter. You
said I didn’t really have an eating disorder. But that wasn’t the worst thing. You also told my greatest friend, your son, that he should back away from me. You said he shouldn’t ‘have’ to take care of me. You wanted him to back off, because I was being whiny. I cannot forgive that.

I can forgive your careless misunderstanding of my eating disorder. You won’t be the last. You hurt me badly, but it’s ignorance like the words you spoke that keep me speaking up. I cannot forgive your wish to destroy my support.

You spoke selfishly. It is the selfless spirit of your son, and his love that quite literally, saved my life. I’m sorry you can’t see that. I’m sorry I don’t want to see any more of you.

Relevant citations: here and here.

Kate Donovan is a junior studying psychology and human development at Northwestern University. She is the president of Northwestern’s Secular Student Alliance and a writer at Teen Skepchick and the Friendly Atheist blog.

[Guest Post] An open letter to the woman who said I wasn’t skinny enough to have an eating disorder

Depression is Not Sadness

[Content note: depression, suicide]

Yesterday I came across the story of Junior Seau, an NFL linebacker who committed suicide on May 2. He shot himself in the chest and was found in his home by his girlfriend. Although little is known of Seau’s mental health leading up to his death, he had apparently suffered from insomnia for the last seven years of his life.

Sportswriter Chris McCosky wrote a beautiful column in the Detroit News about Seau’s death and continuing ignorance about depression and suicide. In the column, McCosky shares his own experiences with depression and suicidal thoughts and laments how difficult it is to explain them to people. He notes, as I’ve noted before, that one common reaction that non-depressed people have is to wonder what the hell we have to be so sad about. He writes, “It’s almost impossible to talk about it to regular people (bosses, spouses, friends). They can’t fathom how somebody in good physical health, with a good job, with kids who love them, who seems relatively normal on the outside, can be terminally unhappy.”

The unbearable frequency at which McCosky and I and probably everyone else who tries to talk about depression get this response could be a testament to the fact the most visible symptom of depression is usually sadness. So that’s the one people latch on to: “What do you have to be so sad about?” “Cheer up!” “You have to decide to be happy!”

Because of the sheer obviousness of our sadness, we’re often forced to try to use it to describe depression. We say that we’re just extremely sad, or unhealthily sad, or a different kind of sad. It’s sadness that never goes away like sadness is supposed to. It’s sadness that’s out of proportion to the troubles that we face in our lives. It’s sadness that we can’t stop thinking about. For those of us with bipolar or cyclothymic disorder, it’s sadness that comes and goes much too quickly.

And it is. But the truth is that sadness actually has very little to do with depression, except that it is one of its many possible symptoms.

Based on the diagnostic criteria for depression, you don’t even need to be chronically sad to be considered “depressed.” Anhedonia, which means losing the ability to feel pleasure from things that you used to enjoy, could be present instead. Under the formal DSM-IV definition, you must have at least five of nine possible symptoms to have major depression–and one of the five must be either depressed mood or anhedonia–and only one of those symptoms involves sadness. (If you so some very basic math, you will notice that this means that two people, both of whom officially have major depression, might only have one symptom in common. Weird, huh?)

So, even if your particular depression does include sadness, it’ll only be one of many other symptoms. The others might be much more painful and salient for you than the sadness is. Some people can’t sleep, others gain weight, some think constantly about death, others can’t concentrate or remember anything. Many lose interest in sex, or food, or both. Almost everyone, it seems, experiences a crushing fatigue in which your limbs feel like stone and no amount of sleep ever helps. Then there are headaches, stomachaches, and so on.

So, depression doesn’t necessarily mean sadness to us. (And, a gentle reminder to non-depressed folks: being sad doesn’t mean you’re “depressed,” either.)

Depression is not sadness; it’s an illness that often, though not always, involves sadness. No amount of happy things will make a depressed person spontaneously recover, and, usually, no amount of sad things will make a well-adjusted person with good mental health suddenly develop depression. (Grief, of course, is another matter.) And sadness, on its own, does not cause suicide.

We need to start talking about mood disorders as disorders, not as emotional states. McCosky writes:

Junior Seau wasn’t sad when he pointed that gun to his chest. He wasn’t being a coward. He wasn’t being selfish. He was sick. I wasn’t sad when I thought about swerving into on-coming traffic on Pontiac Trail some 20 years ago. I was sick.

What he’s saying is that people don’t kill themselves because they’re sad. They kill themselves because they have an illness that, among other things, makes them feel sad. It also makes them feel like their life is worthless, like they’re a burden to others, like death would be easier, and all the other beliefs that lead people down the path to suicide.

There is a tendency, I think, to assume that people are depressed because they are sad. A better way to look at it is that people are sad because they are depressed. That’s why, even if we could “turn that frown upside down!” and “just look on the sunny side!” for your benefit, it would do absolutely no good. The depression would still be there, but in a different form.

Junior Seau did not leave a suicide note, so nobody will ever know what he was thinking when he died. I would guess, though, that he was thinking about much more than just being sad.

Depression is Not Sadness

Guest Post: Doing Greek Right

Hello and apologies for the unintentional blogging hiatus. A good friend has sent me this guest post about her experience with Northwestern’s Greek system. My own opinions on the Greek system are probably familiar to everyone who reads this, but I enjoy discovering other perspectives and sharing them, too. Enjoy!

During my stint at Northwestern a million and a half years ago, the most popular cliché, along with “Wait, is this Swift or Annie May Swift?” and “Good lord, do those Theater kids on the ground floor of Norris ever stop talking?” was “I NEVER thought I’d join a sorority/fraternity.” In fact, statistically speaking, about one out of every three Northwestern students you met probably said, or at least felt, this sentiment at some point. They never thought they’d be one of “those” Greeks who carried around cute little tote bags, or had a house mom with a 1950s housewife name like PeggyAnn or Sue, or hung up a paddle (that came engraved with the warning “FOR DECORATIVE PURPOSES ONLY”) on the wall.

I am a cliché. To be fair, I’m an extreme version of the cliché- I’m a feminist and my hair looks like a yield sign and I once literally flew to Boston to be as far away from Dillo Day as possible, three characteristics that are the antithesis of the Greek stereotype. But I am a typical Northwestern student who came into school with a very negative picture of what Greek life could be. Nobody wants to be associated with alcohol poisoning or rape culture or Lifetime original movies–or at least, nobody that I’d ever want to be friends with. When Northwestern students join a sorority or fraternity, they join with the understanding that there are negative stigmas attached to it that didn’t just appear out of nowhere (see: here, here and here). I am also a typical Northwestern student who discovered the dichotomy within the Greek system: Greek life done wrong and Greek life done right.

First, we must travel back to 1896, when four collegiate women at State Female Normal School named Lenora, Julia, Sara and Mary banded together to form a ladies club. Three of these students ended up transferring, probably to schools whose names would make a snappier bumper sticker, but somehow, this friendship ended up growing into the monstrosity that is Kappa Delta. This nonprofit organization still operates under the object that my turn-of-the-century sisters created:

The object of Kappa Delta Sorority is the formation and perpetuation of good fellowship, friendship and sisterly love among its members; the encouragement of literature and education; the promotion of social interest; and the furtherance of charitable and benevolent purposes.

Nothing controversial there, right? We all like a good friendship, and although I haven’t really heard the term “fellowship” outside of Middle Earth, nothing wrong with that, either. In fact, browse through the websites of any Greek organization, and you’ll find the same sort of benevolent mission statement. Pi Kappa Alpha is devoted to “developing men of integrity, intellect, and high moral character and to fostering a truly lifelong fraternal experience.” Kappa Alpha Theta lists its values as scholarship, service, leadership, personal excellence and friendship/sisterhood. While some Greek organizations add their own unique twist–Phi Mu Alpha, for example, promotes “the advancement of music in America”–all Greek organizations were generally organized around the same principles of friendship, philanthropy and academics. What could possibly be wrong about an organization that promotes excellence in these ideals?

Fast forward to 2012. Every month, a new atrocity pops up on Jezebel related to Greek life. A hazing-related death of a “pledge”. Men chanting “No means yes! Yes means anal!” Even at my beloved alma mater, filled with students whose ACT scores are higher than speed limits, two fraternities were kicked off campus in recent memory for hazing charges. I like to think of good old Lenora, Julia, Sara and Mary, along with the rest of the founding fraternity/sorority members, descending from Heaven soon and yelling “What the hell are you doing under the guise of our organization?!”

Greek organizations’ visions and mission statements tend to be pretty vague. This ambiguity is necessary for the perpetuation and universality of these systems- for instance, “personal excellence” looks much different in 1920s Alabama than it does in 2012 New York- but often results is various interpretations of a group’s core values. This is why some sororities feel completely justified in achieving its philanthropic mission through raising a few hundred dollars a year for AIDS research, while other mandate hours of community service per member. This is why some chapters are seen as conservative and backwards thinking, while others are seen as hippie communes. Academics interpret the Constitution in different ways, and Kappa Deltas interpret Kappa Delta’s mission statement in different ways.

The problem, of course, arises when Greek organizations grossly, GROSSLY misinterpret the original intent of a fraternity or a sorority. When “fraternal integrity” somehow becomes “smuggle in seven kegs and make the pledges drink them all.” When “social success” is twisted to become “exclude members of a certain race or sexuality.” When Greek organizations stop existing to develop a member’s character and potential and start existing to fulfill the “Animal House” stereotype. Where is this line drawn? It’s not easy, and it changes over time. For instance, behavior that was once tolerated and even revered by Greeks at Northwestern, like paddling new members, is now considered outright hazing. Old Kappa Delta yearbooks feature photos of sisters in white, full-length ballgowns at formals, a creepy purity tradition that thankfully died long before I joined. Of course, there is behavior that has never, and will never, be indicative of a group’s purpose. Consider the case of George Desdunes, who was tied up by his “brothers,” forced to take shot after shot of vodka, and later died from alcohol poisoning. Tragic, disgusting, and certainly not what the founding fathers of Sigma Alpha Epsilon had in mind when they promised to “promote the highest standards of friendship, scholarship, and service for our members”

Sigma Alpha Epsilon at Cornell has nothing to do with me and my Greek experience. Nothing. The countless examples of Greek-related atrocities are examples of chapters who have gone off in the deep end. Chapters who have strayed so far from their national organization’s original vision that they probably should have been shut down decades ago. Quite simply, chapters who have “done” Greek life wrong.

Here’s the magical thing- Greek life, when “done” right, is simply marvelous. When I say “right,” I mean adhering closely to a fraternity or sorority’s original purposes that timelessly echo through a rapidly changing world. Sticking closely to those pillars of integrity, scholarship and friendship that my four homegirls at State Female Normal School had in mind, and making them play out in modern society.

I wear my letters with the understanding that my chapter has done Greek life the right way. Welcoming new members with coffee dates and Facebook friend requests, not with kegs and blood rituals. Bonding through organized trips to “Les Miserables” and watching the classic Lifetime movie “Dying to Belong,” not through actually pulling a Hilary Swank circa-1985 and climbing up a fifteen story building to impress older sisters. Creating a sisterhood where, sure, sisters can go out and drink together, but it’s friendship first and drinking second.

All around me at Northwestern, I saw friends and campus leaders wearing letters for the exact same reason- they were proud of their organization expressing those time-honored principles of friendship and benevolence in very modern ways. Sigma Chi brothers, recognizing the perpetuation of rape culture in certain fraternities, spearheaded the “Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault” (MARS) student group. Alpha Epsilon Pi raised thousands of dollars for cancer research through selling kosher hot dogs around campus (full disclosure: I love kosher hot dogs). Students from every single Greek organization on campus rose to leadership positions on campus in every single niche possible, from biomedical engineering research to Associated Student Government to aerial arts.  When Greek life is done “right,” people aren’t excluded from joining fraternities or sororities because they’re not “cool” enough- they’re excluded because they demonstrate an interest in leading the chapter down a very bad path.

I see Greek organizations much like I see Christians, albeit as a Jewish outsider. At the heart of Christianity exists genuinely honorable values of love, devotion and forgiveness. One doesn’t have to be Christian to adhere to these values, just like someone doesn’t have to go Greek to honor friendship, scholarship and philanthropy; it’s just another method of developing them.  Of course, the popularity and accessibility of this religion has allowed millions of people to twist Jesus’ name for their own selfish purposes, whether it’s blind proselytizing, denouncing gay marriage or killing their children. Do these grotesque perversions of Christian morals make the essence of Christianity a terrible idea? No. Do Christians who live by the principles of loving their neighbor and all those wonderful Biblical lessons align themselves with the Westboro Baptist Church in the slightest? Absolutely not. Should we end Christianity because of some of its more questionable followers? No, sir.

I started this manifesto with a cliché, and now I’m going to finish with one. We must not throw out the baby with the bathwater. The original purpose of Greek organizations was most certainly not to engage in the atrocities we see today among certain chapters. The national organizations must find the Greek chapters who are “doing Greek right,” immediately shut down the Greek chapters who are most certainly “doing Greek wrong,” and find strong, capable leaders who act in a way that would make their founders proud.

Author’s note: Nicole Collins is a 2011 Northwestern alum who enjoys drinking chai tea, stroking James Franco’s face in tabloids, and reading Miriam’s blog. She teaches 7th and 8th grade science on Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota, and was once told by a student that she looks like a troll. Contact her at [email protected], especially if you’re a cute male Jew who supports comprehensive sex education and Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathons.

Guest Post: Doing Greek Right

Sunday Link Roundup

1. On corrective rape on the radio. This is a response to a radio DJ who told a man concerned that his daughter might be a lesbian to get one of his friends to “screw her straight.” C. Kendrick writes, “Dieter’s vile statement also points to the mythical notion that all a lesbian needs is a man – in this case, one of her father’s friends – to get her ‘on the track to normalcy.’ But not only did he take that myth further by underscoring it with sexual violence, he used it as a simultaneous attack on her queer identity and on her youth – the latter indicating a position which often lacks a voice due to both legal status and parental control.”

2. Why trying to force depressed friends and family members to go enjoy the “lovely weather” can be a bad idea, and other advice. This immediately reminded me of something I wrote about a year ago and still think about all the time.

3. On flirting without being skeezy. This post is specifically about the atheist community and their conferences, but it has a lot of good advice in it.

4. On Rorschach Tests and their continued use by some psychologists. My friend Kate wrote this, so you know it’s good. 🙂

5. On the recent anti-Internet protest by tens of thousands of Orthodox Jews.

6. You should date someone who cares.

7. I can’t stop rereading this hilarious post about online dating gone awry.

8. On the need to speak out for what you believe. This is my friend Derrick Clifton’s last column for the Daily Northwestern.”When voices fueling injustices around us continue modulating as they do, bystanding creates a silence that not only deafens, but destroys. Sitting idly by and remaining quiet while the bullies of the world continue having their way isn’t an endorsement of positive change, rather more of the same.”

9. This letter from a “Mens’ Rights” activist will make you laugh and cry. “Rebecca, I am going to radical alter our society in the next year. I am going to start the greatest hard rock 1986 GNR-esqe band the world has ever seen. There is an army, millions strong, of angry people, and especially young males seething at the lack of justice and outlet for their rage.” Much more where that came from.

10. On why Russians supposedly don’t get depressed. Interesting research; however, even if Russians are less likely to get depressed in the first place than other cultures, the barriers to recovery that they face are much higher because of the extreme stigma that mental illness carries in Russian culture.In my experience, Russians, especially men, rarely talk about their feelings in the open and trusting way that recovery from depression requires. (In fact, when I tried to tell my parents what I was going through, I found that I often lacked the words.) Therapy and medication are considered something for the weak-willed. My guess is that Russians suffer from depression as much as anyone else; they just talk about it less.

11. On ASG, the student government at Northwestern, and how useless it ultimately is. My friend Mauricio wrote this for the Protest, one of our campus publications.

12. On who’s really holding us down as women. “I’m not denying that patriarchally minded men…do a lot to keep the traditional gender structures in place. There is, however, the exact same number of women who benefit greatly from those patriarchal structures….I insist that I have not met a single man who has condemned me and vilified me nearly as much for my professional and financial success and sexual freedom as my female friends, relatives, colleagues, and acquaintances.” This is a worthwhile conversation to have, and we’re not really having it.

Sunday Link Roundup

Anonymity and Mental Illness

The stigma of mental illness has many negative consequences, such as decreased access to employment and housing, barriers to seeking treatment, and many broken friendships and relationships.

What it also does, unfortunately, is make it much harder for people who’ve suffered from mental illness to speak about it publicly, using their real names.

I’ve been thinking about this because North by Northwestern, our campus magazine, ran a feature in its spring issue about mental illness at Northwestern. Overall, the piece was great and discussed how our academic system may be contributing to unhealthy levels of stress. The author of the piece interviewed two students who spoke about their experiences with depression and anxiety.

But both of the students’ names were changed for the article, and it bothered me.

For the record, I would never begrudge an individual for choosing to speak about his or her mental illness under a pseudonym. We all have different priorities, and not everyone has decided to spend their life advocating for those with mental illnesses (as, for instance, I have). Even those who do may decide that using a pseudonym is in their best interest–for instance, this blogger whom I greatly respect.

The magazine, however, could have chosen to find sources who would be willing to let their real names be printed. I know it could’ve, because those people exist on our campus. I’m one of them. Many of my friends are, too.

This is important for several reasons, some short-term and some long-term.

The short-term reason is that seeing fellow students speak publicly about their experiences with mental illness can make a huge difference in the life of someone who’s just starting to acknowledge and deal with their own illness. It lets them know they’re not alone and gives them hope for the future.

It can also give them a specific person to reach out to. After I started writing about depression, friends, acquaintances, and even strangers started writing to me, sharing their stories, and asking for advice. I heard from friends that I knew were struggling and friends who seemed to have everything together. I heard from a guy who’d told me once that he’d had depression briefly but pulled himself out of it on his own. I felt humbled to know the truth.

A friend of mine who spoke in a panel about her eating disorder once told me that she had the same experience. She was quoted in an article about the panel, and afterwards people reached out to her about it.

There’s a bigger picture, though, as well. Every time someone “goes public” about a mental illness, they chip away at the culture of secrecy that surrounds it. And the more of us do it, the harder it’ll be to deny us jobs, cut off friendships with us, continue believing that we’re weak and lazy, and be ashamed of us.

I’m glad those two students spoke to NBN, and I know it was hard for them to do even knowing that their names would not be in print. But NBN had a chance to do something really important, and they missed that chance.

As I was writing this post, I found out that there’s someone pretty powerful who recently took that chance. During his speech for people who have lost family members in the military, Vice President Biden talked about the deaths of his wife and daughter in 1972. Then, he said, “I probably shouldn’t say this with the press here, but it’s more important–you’re more important.” Then he went on:

For the first time in my life, I understood how someone could consciously decide to commit suicide. Not because they were deranged, not because they were nuts, but because they had been to the top of the mountain and they just knew in their heart they’d never get there again.

Biden’s not the only one, of course. Plenty of well-known people have spoken about mental illness, such as Rachel Maddow, William Styron, and Demi Lovato.

In his seminal book on depression, The Noonday Demon (which I have coincidentally just finished reading), Andrew Solomon intentionally avoids using pseudonyms whenever possible. On the first page of the book, he writes,

I asked my subjects to allow me to use their actual names, because real names lend authority to real stories. In a book one of the aims of which is to remove the burden of stigma from mental illness, it is important not to play to that stigma by hiding the identities of depressed people.

I believe that when writing about mental illness, one must be cautious of the status quo. With regards to mental illness, as with regards to just about everything else, the status quo can be a dangerous thing. You cannot think and write about the tragedy of mental illness without also acknowledging the tragedy of stigma, which pushes so many of us to stay silent for too long. In my case, it was eight years. For others, it’s a lifetime.

Accepting the use of pseudonyms in one’s work just because that’s what’s always been done, or because finding interview subjects who are willing to use their real names might be difficult, does an injustice to everyone who suffers from the continuing presence of stigma.

Anonymity and Mental Illness