This reminds me of my personal experience as a female drummer. Traditionally, musicians, especially in the genres surrounding rock and roll, are male, even though today there are definitely more female musicians than before. When I first joined School of Rock I noticed that people were in awe of seeing a female drummer. There were reactions of surprise when I played on the kit. Even my teacher is constantly telling me to this day that it’s awesome that I am a female drummer. People’s reaction and surprise to female musicians being awesome are shaped by social systems that tell us that girls aren’t usually into such “strong” and “aggressive” instruments like the drums. These traits I’ve mentioned are linked to masculinity. These individual ideas aren’t unique to just a couple people, they stem from a broader source. It makes me realize that I am actively breaking a norm, and also inspires me to support my fellow female musicians even more.

This idea mirrors my natural inclination to push for academic success, no matter what it takes. Turns out it is not only ambition or expectations from others, but it is also cultural. As a Taiwanese person who grew up in a very, very Taiwanese Buddhist household, of course academic success isn't just a bonus but something moral to do. Good grades isn't just about learning or getting into college, but also showing my discipline and worthiness of respect. When I got a B in Pre-calc second semester last year, and all of my other grades were A's, I wasn't just disappointed but I was also ashamed. It's because my culture connects academic performance to your value in society. Johnson talks about how culture lives inside of us, which is exactly how I feel.

This theory mirrors the way I perform as the captain of the lacrosse team. I have to be the tough and confident one, even when I don't really feel like it. The front that I believed people expected from the captain is strong, collected, and unbothered. I make sure to be emotionless and with a hard outer shell. But sometimes I do feel emotional, but still I keep performing because it's what my teammates need. According to Goffman, I am a cynical performer. I know that the act that I put on isn't always my true self. But like the saying "fake it 'till you make it", that persona becomes a part of me because I learned how to "equip" it at all times.

This resonates with me deeply because I am a mixed Taiwanese kid. Growing up, I wasn't always the best at math, and I'm still not. I had to fight to get an A and B last year in Pre-calculus. I was never the smart Asian kid. I was never a real Asian kid. I was always insecure about my mixed race-ism because I felt like I was never Asian enough to be even considered Taiwanese. This "smart Asian" stereotype makes it worse because I'm not the best at math and science. Gavigan's article helps me cope because it points out that a lot of people, including mixed kids, can feel this way.

This concept reminded me of me and my boyfriend's experience before we started officially dating. We hooked up a couple of times, and I thought it was just innocent teenage fun - exploring our bodies and feeling good.. and naughty. I wasn't emotionally invested quite yet. But later he told me that he thought us having sex for the first time meant that we were exclusive. We were both doing the same thing but with different ideas of it. My idea: casual sex is casual. His: emotional commitment and intimacy. Wade's article tells me about how we didn't just have a miscommunication but it was because of the broader hookup culture influencing us. The culture promotes simplicity, but sex is still deeply intimate and romantic at times.

This reminded me of one of the frustrations in my life - how statistics about the "male loneliness epidemic" and male mental health are used. They are real issues but the numbers are often used in manipulative ways. People will point out that "most suicides are by men" and that "they have nobody to talk to" or that "they are emotionally oppressed" to have an excuse to mistreat women. The stats are used as a weapon, not to support men, but to harm women instead. The data is played with without context, and people don't consider things like where the data came from, what was being measured, and factors like access to healthcare or social class. Complex issues are extremely oversimplified. It is very often that people claim that women are the blame for men's emotional struggles, an idea that ignores the actual source of the struggles and the harm it causes to women.

This reminded me of the frustrating dynamics of my Taiwanese family. My grandfather is always the head of the household, and is always angry, stressed, and emotionally abusive and unstable. Despite this, he is still treated like the top authority because that is his role. He will always be the most powerful person. My grandma, who is the kindest person you will ever meet, stays quiet and just takes it. Her role is to be both supportive and enduring for my grandpa, and this was established long ago and still remains. My mom and her sisters were raised like this too - expected to obey, get good grades, and put family first, even when they were mistreated. I also grew up that way. Johnson's idea mirrors this - we are always participating in the structure, which is why nobody really stood up to him when it was actively happening. The roles us girls played were already set, and even though we were hurt by them, stepping out of the role was too rebellious against the social structure.

This idea also relates to what I talked about in the previous reflection with my grandfather. Nobody was allowed to push back against his cruelty. But in recent years, my mom finally spoke up, arguing and confronting him about how he treated everyone. She even suggested antidepressants to him. This is not the usual "crime" but in our family it was very dramatic and disruptive. My mother broke a rule. The act of deviance forced everyone to reflect and it also brought a lot of hidden pain to the surface. I was shocked and nervous because nobody had ever really talked about each other's trauma like this before. My mother's defiance revealed moral boundaries we were living in, and even though she faced resistance, it planted the seed for the idea that things don't necessarily have to stay like that. The "crime" pushed our family toward change and understanding.

This almost exactly reflects my own complicated relationship with my gender when I was growing up. As a tween and even in my early teens, I was a full tomboy. Especially in my freshman and sophomore years, I wore baggy clothes, hated dresses, played sports and video games, avoided anything "girly", and even wore suits to school dances. People often mistook me for a man, and it was sometimes even freeing, because I didn't have to deal with the expectations that come with being a woman. But often, I felt like I didn't belong anywhere. I even once questioned my own gender. But as I matured more, I realized that being feminine doesn't necessarily mean being weak or boring. I realized that I could be a woman and still define what that means by myself. I can wear tank tops and short shorts, and be sensitive, and be strong all at once. What I went through wasn't just a phase or confusion, I was struggling with the rigid gender system. I wasn't trying to actually resist womanhood, but instead resisted the version I thought was real, the version that was limiting.

I got accepted to Concordia University Irvine, a private school, and was awarded several scholarships. I thought the stars were aligned but even after all the money I got, the tuition was still $30,000 a year. The cost of attending was too much. My parents are divorcing right now and money is a source of stress. There is no way I can go to Concordia. Now, I'm going to Saddleback College, a community college. It's financially stable and I'm trying to be happy about it, but it makes me feel like everything went to waste. The article helped me relate in that it's not only about money but it's also that the system is not built for people like me. I know community college is still a path where I want to go, but it's hard not to feel left out of what could have been a great academic success.