The identities we choose, the circumstances we can't

In the last few days, I registered for classes at Denver Seminary (!) and applied for my first government loan (gross). Saw my 7th grade English teacher at Panera last week, who is just "so proud" that I am a published author now (and maybe assumes some of the credit). Also ran into my 12th grade Service Learning teacher there, who looked at me like I'd grown a second head when I told her about my new name (which, depending on how long it's been since I've talked to certain people, it's really not that 'new' anymore).

Nonetheless, it follows me. While applying for my first loan, the name on my FAFSA still reads "Sarah E," which caused me to have a minor freakout that Denver Seminary will think I lied about my identity once they receive those records, or that I wasn't telling the "whole truth" and am thus unfit to be in a position of leadership...that probably sounds ridiculous, but that's really how my mind works. And when it comes to such a sensitive issue as this, a little frustration is not unheard of. This will be the first time I'm registered for a class under Sarahbeth. It's kind of a big deal.

Just today, I typed in the name of a customer for a to-go order by reading it off his credit card; he seemed personally offended by that, claiming "That's not the name I use!" And I honestly felt horrible. I of all people should know to ask someone first before going ahead and assuming their given name is actually their name, meaning the one they prefer to go by.

That's the great injustice with the whole naming process: we don't get to choose them, our parents do. Most of the time we just accept it; others, not so much. Few people, it seems, actually take legal action to do anything about it.

On a somewhat unrelated, yet still relevant note, I went to my first Take Back the Night event at Kent State last week, and it was awesome. I shouldn't say I loved it, because ideally, events like this shouldn't have to exist. But it was incredible. From burning the names of attackers (which seems a little vindictive, but it was actually quite liberating) to chanting things like "NO MORE DATE RAPE" while walking through campus, and listening to personal stories of survivors, it gave me more food for thought about creating new identities to overcome hardship.

The common denominator of the stories I heard, and even the one that I shared, was a deadly combination of shame, guilt, and self-hatred. Men and women alike described a loss of self-worth because they no longer felt "pure" for the person they eventually hope to be with...that, more than anything else, was the catalyst for my wanting a new identity. Not just the spiritual one I now have in Christ, but a legal one as well. It would be more "official" that way.

That is why, ridiculous and melodramatic as it sounds, it's like nails on a chalkboard for me to be referred to as Sarah (UNLESS you happen to be my mother, but even that is only when we're at home). While I've always disliked how common the name is, for me it represents my life before I learned the consequences of judging others; before I learned true self-respect; before I became a new creation after baptism. So it's not only annoying when people automatically assume it's okay to 'shorten' my name without asking, it's offensive.

I know the average response to that is probably going to be something like "Oh, lighten up, people don't mean any harm by it" or maybe even "Get over it!" I understand it's "unusual" to have a double first name, at least in this part of the US (I've been told I need to move to the deep south where names like Mary Lou and Bonnie Jean are the norm, and I'll fit right in), but it is one of my biggest pet peeves lately when people make assumptions about what they think a person should be called (I'm sorry, Panera customer! It will never happen again!).

I know a Matthew who despises being called Matt, and an Abigail who won't respond to Abby...so I'm not the only one who's a stickler for formalities. And someday I'd like to meet the woman who wrote this article and tell her that I know just how she feels!

Walking a mile in the wrong pair of shoes

So my letter to the editor of the Daily Kent Stater got published this week, which I'm pretty excited about. It was a weird moment of deja vu to see my name in the paper again, which I've tried to avoid reading since graduating, but when I heard about the "Walk a Mile in her Shoes" event to "increase awareness for sexual assault," I couldn't not say something about it. Trying to compress my response in 300 words or less was extremely difficult, and this is a subject I wish I'd written a full column on when I had the chance. But, you can only write about what you know at the present moment. I didn't have a passion for this subject at the time I was on the forum staff. Oh how things have changed.

What I really wanted to say, but didn't (not after the insane backlash to my column about fraternities dropping their pants for breast cancer awareness) was this...what is the point of all this, really? I already know it's for a good cause, and with the best of intentions behind it. But this, quite honestly, is one of the silliest ideas for "awareness" I've ever heard. And there are some very silly ones out there (remember the "update your status with the color bra you're wearing" epidemic? Or turning your Facebook profile picture pink?).

The event was intended to "help men better understand and appreciate women's experiences, helping improve gender relationships and decreasing the potential for violence." I'm sorry, but...how is this accomplished, exactly? How is forcing man feet into dainty high-heeled shoes supposed to help men understand what it's like for women to be at risk of sexual assault? And what about the fact that not all rapes occur on "Thirsty Thursdays" when the aforementioned high heels might be worn? What about date and acquaintance rapes? What about taking time to define what "counts" as rape, and what counts as consent? And what about female-on-male assaults?What about that, KSU?

If there's a connection to be made somewhere, I'm not following. Maybe there was a seminar before or after the event that I'm not aware of, but if the walk was all there was to it, I have to say that my alma mater missed a tremendous opportunity to educate its students. This event had so much potential, and fell so short. What a damn shame.

If I only had the space to do so (and if only I'd thought of it at the time I wrote the letter), I would have included this little zinger at the end: telling women not to get raped is like telling pedestrians "Don't get hit by a bus!" It's not the pedestrians who need extensive training. Rather, it's the drivers who need to learn the traffic laws and watch what the heck they're doing.

But instead, the brunt of mis-education falls mostly on women, who are told time and time again how to act in situations that are beyond their control. And that is not okay.

The curious way things fall into place

So it's about four more months until I make my glorious return to Colorado, my new happy place (I mean, if I can't afford grad school in Europe, Colorado is a pretty good alternative). I know I was biased toward Denver Seminary all along, after the summer I spent in Estes Park...But, I did the responsible thing and looked at other schools. In the end, it came down to a decision between Boston University and Denver Seminary...only BU never actually accepted me. I had thought I would have had a response by now, seeing how I applied six months ago...and it didn't even occur to me to consider that an answer to the "Where am I meant to go?" prayer I've been hounding God with until a good friend brought it up.

Still, I waited...and then this article popped up on my Facebook newsfeed, and my mind was made up. No more waiting around for a response from BU. If I'm going to be in debt, I'm going to be in debt for going to a school I've had my heart set on all along. Now I realize that the covering up of sexual assaults on college campuses is nothing new (Penn State, anyone?), but in light of my prayers lately, how am I supposed to interpret this as anything less than a sign that Denver is my school? Actually, it's not really a sign. More like a flashing billboard.

So it's settled then. I'm going to Denver!! Yeah yeah!

In other news, I think I've sold about 2 dozen-ish books now...a number of people have asked me about e-reader versions, and while anyone who knows me knows how I feel about the Kindle, Nook, etc, I may have to reconsider if it means that more people will read it...and ultimately, that is the point of being published, right?

I am actually experimenting with a fiction novel right now. When I first dreamed of becoming a writer I always assumed I'd write fiction, but I've found that any plot I come up with has been done before, and done well. What I'm working on now is less plot-driven and more focused on differing perspectives on a social issue I'm passionate about...which happens to involve two made-up characters. I'm about 20 pages in, and my new rule is that if I can make it to 50 pages without getting bored, I'll stick with it. So we'll see how that pans out. :)

Is this real life...?

I haven't been this happy in a long, long time...

Can you tell? ;)

I confess, I did sit in Starbucks just to read my own work. Not that I haven't read the manuscript, oh, 500 times already, but it's different to actually see the final product. And already, I am my own worst critic. I read it for the 501st time and thought, "That sentence is just too repetitive," "This whole paragraph doesn't make sense," and "Why did I put that in there?! That's way too much information!!" My life is literally an open book now. I don't regret any detail I wrote, raw and personal as many of them are...they all serve a purpose. Nothing is random or accidental.

I am also about 99.99% sure that I will be going to Denver Seminary this fall...more on that later. This is yet another decision that has not come easy to me, as much as I love both the school and the city. It's a huge commitment, and another big chapter of my life that I can't believe is approaching soon. And I may or may not be making another trip out to Estes Park this summer to see some of my LT friends. As of now, I've earned a little under $20 in book sales. Hey, that's 20 cups of tea at Scribbles Cafe :)

My 23rd year of life is off to an exciting start, and it's not even my half birthday yet. New book...new boyfriend...new school plans...Suffice it to say, I am a very blessed, happy camper. I never imagined that ANY of this was possible.