YOU'RE SOOOOOO STEREOTYPICAL!!
2/21/06
MEN WITH LIMPS have crushes on me. Girls with sloppy ponytails like to give oral sex. Teachers who dye their hair blond have bad breath.
These, my friends, are just plain realities. At least in my [somewhat warped] perception. I know these statements sound absurd. They are. They're completely absurd. But I'm only trying to be completely honest here. On some level, they are as true as anything can be true in my mind. They are carefully formulated stereotypes, completely engendered by myself, unintentionally, between the ages of zero and thirty. And they're continuing to develop even as I write this.
I'm not happy about this. I've realized that as I get older, it is harder and harder to see the world through fresh eyes. Everything first goes through a lot of layers of muck, old rotten and moldy brain matter, sketchy personal history and life's equivalent of sewage.
I assume that most people's brains work this way. We have a completely blank canvas when we're born and we build a catalogue of images and associations as we go along. We're like innocent baby geese imprinting on certain details and snippets of information all the time, and I'm sure on some level it's kind of a survival mechanism. This thing is safe. This thing means danger. This thing means get a pre-nup and quick. And so when we meet someone new, we see things in them that trigger other responses. This person wears a ponytail, this person doesn't tie their shoes, this person doesn't zip their jacket, this person obviously shops at Barney's New York. And all those traits hold different meanings to all of us. Which is all fine and good, except that most of our free associations have no actual factual validity.
Just as an example of how problematic these personalized stereotypes can be, in my current life, I have a friend. I'll call her Jane. Jane is cool, unique, smart and unconventional. I like her. I admire her. She's a great deal of fun. But unfortunately for her, she bears a striking resemblance to a college roommate I once had named Ariel. Similar mannerisms, similar hairstyles. But aside from that, the two have little in common. Ariel had a passion for Teriyaki chicken, speeding in her car like a friggin' maniac, yelling loud and rude things out the car window as she drove past, and really had a thing for Jagermeister. There was usually a bottle of it on top of our refrigerator. Ariel also liked Ellen Degeneres, tattoos, clove cigarettes, and was marginally an acquaintance to Drew Barrymore.
But it doesn't stop there. Ariel, it just so happens, herself reminded me of a friend I had growing up named Evelyn. Evelyn had a mole on her face in the exact same spot as Ariel. They also both liked the song “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Bingo. My brain places them into the same box. But Evelyn really wasn't so much like Ariel. Like nada. Evelyn always had period-stained underwear because she hated wearing maxi-pads because she said they made her feel like she had a tail. She liked eating raw sugar cookie dough. And she had a stepfather with a nasty temper who liked to use the word “faggot” all the time.
So anyway, here I am, in my current life, hanging out with Jane, when boom, my brain goes to the bloody undies and the Teriyaki chicken and Ellen Degeneres and the “faggot” spewing stepfather. And I know that at least two out of four of those things have absolutely nothing to do with Jane. Maybe even three out of four. And because of a haircut, a mole, and a song by Tracey Chapman, she's doomed to the bloody undie association forever even though I am consciously telling my brain to forget it. It just won't.
Here are some more that I'm trying to overcome.
Girls named Sandra who wear sloppy ponytails like to give oral sex to football players in the bathroom at the prom. Overweight women with red hair and who drink a lot of diet soda tend to have broken beds because their second husbands like rough sex. People who smell like lavender soap have big houses. People with bubbly handwriting do not think deep thoughts. Ballet dancers don't like cinnamon. Girls with long hair and rich fathers think yeast infections are a legitimate excuse not to go to 8am French class.
The bad news for you is that if you happen to meet me at a party, you're not going to know what will trigger some sort of absurd association. And for that matter, neither will I. What biases are you going to have against me once you discover that I'm 5'4” and my favorite food is Nicoise olives straight out of the jar? For all I know, you once knew a thirty-year-old 5'4” dark haired writer and filmmaker that liked Nicoise olives and also tortured puppies. Hey, it's completely possible.
But just so you know, I have never tortured a puppy. I love puppies. I have one. So just get that through your head right now.
2/22/2006
recent research shows that even our visual perception goes through parts of our brain associated with memory. So we see what we have seen in the past! You can build new associations to replace the old ones. Perhaps you can ask to see Jane's underwear...
2/22/2006
Hey, thanks for the comment . . . oddly enough, I had a couple paragraphs about this in the original draft and they went snip snip because I didn't think I was all that articulate. But I was tawking about how when you "see" someone you know, you actually first see your memory of them . . . you're not actually "looking" at them. That's why, I think, we notice right away when someone gets a haircut. Our brain realizes that what our eyes see doesn't match the memory of that person and then searches to find what's different. Also a funny example of this, my father looked at me when I was like ten and exclaimed "you don't have blond curly hair anymore!" I hadn't had blond curly hair in like five years at that point.
Would love to hear more insight on this. What research are you referring to?
-Jacuzzi
2/22/2006
OH, and PS, I'm not going to ask to see Jane's underwear, FYI.
Jacuzzi
2/22/2006
I notice that the google ads listed to the right of your column match up with words listed in your column. Like, I now know where to buy Tracy Chapman cd's so I too can listen to Fast Car and get sucked into your string of stereotypes. I also know where to buy hair products and ponytails so you can think, well, you know. Funny thing though, you didn't mention that your sloppy pony tail friend was a cheerleader, but google came up with "Cheerleader hairpieces" based on the mention of ponytails, football players, and unmentionable acts . . . now that's a stereotype!
ts
2/22/2006
ts,
Well go on and click away on those ads . . . you know you want to. (I get paid each time you do.) I wonder, is it common for cheerleaders to wear hairpieces? Think of the fun one could have with a fishing pole at a football game!
Jacuzzi
2/22/2006
I just clicked on the "Cheerleader hairpieces" ad to see where it would take me . . . it's a wig store that makes cute add on hair pieces for little girls! My God! What are parents doing to their daughters hair these days that makes them have to buy a toupee? Is there a hair loss epidemic among our youth? Are all the expectations of beauty coming out in their tresses, literally?
ts
