So I'm on page 66 of Elliot Rodger's manifesto and I can't stop reading.
For those that don't know, here: May 23, 2014 Isla Vista
And for those who have heard, don't worry I'm not a guerrilla feminist or angry gun activist or qualified therapist. This is a completely different take on the whole issue.
Around the time that the shootings were happening, my boyfriend and I were reading the updates in horror, refreshing and searching for more news coverage until the whole thing had officially come to an end. I was frantically trying to reach my sister, who lives in Isla Vista and is just about to graduate from UCSB. Eddie and I both used to live there as well and are 2012 alumni of the same university. We remember that place as a source of many bests: of the best memories, best communities, and best lessons ever learned, both academically and non-academically. Suffice to say the shootings blew our minds and sent a rain cloud of tragedy to hover over our heads for the entire weekend, despite Memorial day and Eddie's own birthday. It's still here, and we're still talking and watching and reading about it.
IV has a huge rep for being party central. Is it true? Take if from a local: yes. BUT, if you're going to take my word for it, you may as well take the entire enchilada.
UCSB is an absolutely fantastic school largely because of its environment and atmosphere. There is a huge sense of openness, awareness, and community there. We Gauchos have so much pride we tend to overwhelm any and all events, just because we freaking love each other and our school so much. When you bike, skate, or walk to class, everyone around you has their chin up, face bathed in sunlight, and hair flowing in the wind; there's just something contagiously inspiring in the air. Even the community around UCSB--the buses, the businesses, the police--are all incredibly friendly and helpful. I mean, just think about it. Public transportation for crying out loud! All the bus drivers unanimously awesome and kind people. Even the hobos are sweet, I kid you not.
But for every light there is a shadow, right?
The shadow is not the partying. Believe you me, if you're open to and ready for the experience, a bonafide party in IV is a whole other animal, and an unforgettable one at that. You don't even have to get hammered or super duper high; just climb up on a roof or become one with the dancing crowd to set free, to feel that amazing energy. It's really that simple. Energy. Gauchos have tons of positive vibes and are not afraid to share. And it's honestly one of the best feelings ever, to be part of something so alive and uplifting.
To me, I think the shadow is when people outside of this throbbing community feel outcast because they just can't seem to go with the flow, just somehow feel they don't belong. I've literally never, EVER met anyone at UCSB who just hated the crap out of their college experience there. I have met people in other universities who said they transferred because they couldn't fit in or didn't like the environment, but no complaints to my knowledge within the motherland. This is probably because you have to be a pretty extreme version of a hermit to find life there unappealing. Hell, I'm a definite shut-in who went out literally everyday at that school. It was awesome and the only regrets I have are not taking even more advantage of it.
Here's what I think the problem is...I think most human beings, where ever we come from, what ever backgrounds we are shaped by, just want to be accepted. Just want to feel not alone and to find our own slices of happiness. Most of us when given the chance will embrace the opportunity to dance, to sing, to laugh with a total stranger. If we feel safe and welcomed, we can go at least a little bit out of our comfort zones. Inherently, I believe most people just want to love, to be loved, and to have a bit of fun. No harm in it and we all benefit from it.
But there are those of us who are afraid. So, so afraid that the fear we harbor paralyzes us, constricts our throats when people speak to us and keep us rooted to our chairs when others jump up to dance to the music.
I fully and freely volunteer myself as Exhibit A.
As I read more and more of Rodger's manifesto, I can't help but admit that I too felt many of the same things he did. My family liked to travel a lot but this often interfered with school schedules or summer pool parties my peers threw. I missed out on so many sleepovers, beach bashes, bonfires, so on so forth and was predictably resentful of it. And not long after I hit puberty I also discovered the powerful attraction of online gaming and became heavily addicted. I played games for exactly the same reasons Rodgers did. I had a lot of strife in my home life, I didn't really fit in with the kids at school, I had no interest in being some insipid little popularity-obsessed puppet, and all the boys I liked never liked me back. Fuck, I probably had it even worse than Elliot. I had braces, had never shopped a day in my life for trendy clothes, was into all the things "geeks" were into, loomed over most of the boys, and barely slept so I was constantly in a sleep deprived, barely functional haze. I was not a pretty picture, inside or out of my head.
The difference, of course, is I didn't go on a shooting rampage. Oh, that doesn't mean I didn't think the absolute worst of my peers at times. It wasn't even that I cared about having a boyfriend. Truly, I didn't, because 99% of the boys around me were either too short or too obnoxious or too rude or a combination of all three. It was mostly because of the girls. The most popular, ambitious, and over-achieving ones were way too clever for their own good, on top of being pretty shallow and underhanded. Mostly, I just felt like my peers were superficial, pretentious idiots. And the majority of them didn't make for every good friends either; most of them would ditch you in a heartbeat.
Of course, in retrospect, I don't still think they were all that bad. I had friends and everyone seemed to like me alright. But that was what went through my head almost like some kind of daily mantra each and every time I watched the popular kids bask in all the attention. It made me a little nauseous, and more than a little jealous.
The similarities pretty much end there. Because instead of feeling rejected my whole life, even while playing games, I discovered, to my utter shock, that I was a bit of a commodity online. Yep, you all know what I'm talking about. But that is a whole other can of worms for another ridiculously long post to prod and poke at. And what's more, I had two things Elliot Rodgers didn't.
First, I had faith in myself. However faint it was at the lowest points of my short life, however often I forgot about it. Not just pure narcissism or a sense of entitlement. I really did believe I was meant for something better than this initial pubescent mess, at least for my own happiness's sake. I may have been just about the ugliest duckling on the face of this planet, but I loved to draw, I was good at music, and there was so much in life I felt I still needed to do.
The second, and I think more directly influential, was that my life was far more stable. My parents, despite all their violent shouting matches and threats to leave forever, are still together (thank all the powers that be, I would be devastated if they weren't). We only moved once and that was with the approval of the entire family. We stuck by each other no matter how hairy things got and (almost) always apologized for the bad things we said or did. I had plenty of relatives who could turn even the foulest of my frowns upside down, and my grandmas loved me to bits.
I also didn't have Aspergers, but I was OCD and really as functionally schizo as a kid could be in that situation. I devoted a large part of my attention to how many times I tapped my foot in class, literally thought people were watching me all the time through uncovered windows, was often frightened because I saw screaming faces in trees, and all that looney goodness. Lots of people argue the difference between mental disabilities and mental disorders, but I'm so tired who cares right now let's just move on.
What I'm saying is, all the stuff Elliot Rodgers went through as an adolescent are incredibly common, and increasingly so these days. Just look at how many people have recently offed themselves due to unbearable bullying. And boy, did people seem to bully the crap out of smaller and weaker Rodgers.
His story may have a horrific, twisted ending that most of us don't share, but it does have a beginning many of us can relate to. And honestly, isn't that pretty fucked up? Shouldn't we be past these awful situations reminiscent of horrid pseudo high school 80's movies? Why do our youths continue to suffer in these ways, and we continue to repress our awfully similar memories? What will it take for people to stop simply trying to control kids, to beat them into the shapes deemed acceptable or ideal, and instead try to help them become the best versions of themselves?
I don't know, maybe it's just me. It's a topic that really hits home because I remember adolescence as being so, so incredibly difficult. And I feel honestly like it shouldn't have been, or didn't need to be.
Just last week I subbed an art class for a friend at this after school academy. It sits not 5 feet from a giant church, has fat plaques of all the saints and Jesus bleeding on the cross, and is painted almost entirely white. Phew, talk about oppressive. I had prepped myself beforehand to expect the absolute worst because my friend seems to despise the children she teaches. She told me they were unruly, unfocused, obnoxious, and liked to sing. A lot. So I was completely prepared for a pack of wild animals who might eat me alive if I didn't hold my ground.
To my relief, they were just what I had assumed they would be before my friend had gifted me with all her ominous warnings. They were the sweetest, funniest, cutest lot of Asian munchkins ever. My favorite was this crazy little girl named Amber, who had the typical bowl cut, a missing tooth, and constant dimples in her cheeks. She was hilarious and I encouraged her antics as subtly as I could without prompting anyone to rat me out for being some crazy, liberal, left wing hippy art teacher who had no respect for conventions of proper, conservative society.
Oo, guilty as charged.
Not so coincidentally, my friend's least favorite student is also Amber. And it makes me really sad. It makes me sad that Amber faces so much disapproval every corner she turns just because she is bursting at the seams with life, and that my friend can't learn to love the kid for her goofy charm. Also not so coincidentally, this same friend has never danced. I repeat, she has never danced! Ever! Not even at weddings!
How? How can you be in your mid twenties and never even attempted to bust a move or two? Why are you spiteful towards children who like to sing? Why do you feel physically disgusted when pasta noodles and rice grains touch? Why do some of us make it past that harrowing threshold between fear and freedom, while others wallow below it for probably eternity?
I want so badly to remedy this. I almost want to become a teacher just so I can do something, anything, right here right now. But I have my dream of being an artist and I'm torn. For now, I think I'll go back to that academy and wear a pair of steel balls. I'm thinking of asking the lady in charge, who seems to like me, if I can possibly teach my own little class. I want to call it something unheard of in these parts, like "The Me Class," in which my students and I will try every day to be braver, stronger, better versions of our truest selves. What is even the point of drilling them in math and english and a million other things when they will only grow up to realize they are lost and alone?
Oh, how I hate to even think about such seemingly inevitable futures! I want to help create change, I want to do it so bad. The academy owner still hasn't replied to me but I hope against hope she will.
Somebody needs to do something dammit! |