The status of statuses: Coping and solidarity found in Facebook community

The 'Artists' Are present: Invasion of the NARPs: exercising our privilege to use the gym

There’s a lot of talk about the gym at Bowdoin. About making ourselves go, how much we lifted, how bros don’t let bros skip leg day. How we can eat this slice of Tollhouse pie because we worked out for half an hour this morning. There’s a lot of worry about the gym. Will the guy next to me on the stationary bike judge me for going more slowly than he is? Will people stare at my butt if I wear these leggings? Am I allowed to go to the bottom level or is it reserved for big dudes with Gatorade water bottles?
We ritualize the gym—or more precisely, how we interact with the space. To whatever extent we are aware of them, our decisions about the gym are calculated. We choose when we go, who—if anyone—we go with, what we wear and what we do there. We feel on display in the gym. We compare ourselves to our peers in the gym. Sometimes the gym can serve as a magnifying glass to point out those physical attributes we most dislike about ourselves. It takes our fears about appearing unglamorous and incompetent and thrusts them into public view, in a tight space. It’s a stressful kind of intimacy.
We went to the gym at 4 p.m. on a Tuesday. Neither of us had been all year. Which is not to say that we are fully stationary beings: Carly plays on the women’s ultimate frisbee team and Tessa enjoys long strolls (NARP). We at least hoped to avoid the gym before the ground froze over, but alas, duty calls.
This idea has been a long time in the making. Carly suggested the gym plan day one of this semester, and Tessa was physically repulsed. In the minutes leading up to our gym excursion, she frantically texted Carly:
“Literally what do I wear?”
“I’m gonna wear tennis shoes and leggings and a t-shirt.”
“Relax dude.”
“Solidarity.”
“Yay.”
“See you shortly.”
In retrospect, it’s striking that Tessa felt the need to ask for advice. Shouldn’t everyone feel like they can go to the gym on their own terms, without anxiety about feeling out of place?We started off easy, on the main level. Carly showed Tessa how to use a foam roller. Needless to say, her quads loved it. Amidst our stretch-n-gossip session, we ran into the issue of interacting with people we know in the gym setting. Everyone is in his or her zone, or is trying to be—there are a lot of earbuds and intentional perspiration. Navigating social boundaries feels different.
We ventured downstairs. What we expected to be a roiling, subterranean grunt-fest was in fact a gleaming facility filled with dazzling amenities. The kettle bells had names like “Elegance” and “Pride.” There was a helpful infographic detailing where we could appropriately spit, or not spit (spoiler alert: the recycling bin is not a proper spit receptacle). Rather than the expected, intimidating pump-up music, we were met by some welcoming 80’s female rock tunes.
We should acknowledge here that the lower level was pretty empty. We felt free to putz around, making multiple laps of the space. We picked up some things, we poked at others. We did not have an exercise agenda, and we did not push our physical limits. What was important to us was entering this space that felt foreign and stigmatized.
On the whole, we enjoyed our little jaunt in the gym. Tessa confirmed that she could do at least one single pushup. Carly tested the waters of a career in personal training. Honestly, though, it was anticlimactic. Coming in with our peers’ stories of weird gym experiences, we expected a cringeworthy afternoon. A lot of factors contributed to our having a good time: the gym was quiet, we were there together and we had no specific goals in mind. If any of these factors had been different, we probably would not have had as much fun.

The 'Artists' Are present: In defense of slacking: coping with end-of-semester stress

Well, readers. It’s exceptionally gloomy outside, and finals are fast approaching. Stress is in the air: we’re trying to tie up our academic and social loose ends and the days are short and passing quickly. This is our second try writing this week’s column, because no amount of snacks could get us through the first time. Here goes.
Writing about stress while we’re stressed is hard, but this is the most important time to talk about it. One of the reasons we’ve found it difficult is that everyone has different triggers for stress, and everyone deals with them differently. In our brainstorming session, we realized how greatly our approaches to coping with stress diverge. We’re both productive people who generally enjoy schoolwork, but that’s where the similarities end. Carly is a compulsive list maker; when her daily schedule does not go according to plan, there’s hell to pay. Tessa spends copious amounts of time in the Union, letting the spirit move her from assignment to assignment. Carly copes with stress by building time into her day to exercise. Tessa has leisurely mornings lying in her bed listening to the classic 2004 album “Confessions” by Usher. In fact, the thought of switching routines for a day provokes an onslaught of anxiety from each of us.
In the weeks between Thanksgiving and Winter Break, it can seem difficult to make time for ourselves. Everyone has a giant mountain in front of them, and it’s easy to slip into believing that yours is the tallest. We alternate between hunkering down and complaining about hunkering down. We forgo sleep; we work through meals; we try to convince ourselves that we’re something other than human.
It’s hard to avoid realizing how crazy this sounds as we write it down. So, why do we do these things? We think it has something to do with craving external validation. Grades signify something: that we did a good job, that we worked hard, that we’re smart. Even if we feel like we wrote a good paper or slayed an exam, it’s still affirming to know that our professor thought so too.
This attitude feels problematic. We would like to be able to validate ourselves without any outside input. But this is difficult: we haven’t just chosen to attend an academic institution, we’ve chosen to delve deeply into it and care about it. We’re having a hard time articulating our critique of the academic system, because we’re so entrenched in it.
We do know one thing for sure. It’s crucial to take care of ourselves, especially at this time of year. We need to sleep, we need to eat, we need to treat ourselves like human beings. And we think there’s something radical to self-care, too. Saying to yourself: I’m going to put down Moby-Dick for 45 minutes to go on a run. I’m going to take a break from writing this paper to read about the most recent mass shooting. Studying can wait for me to watch an episode of “The Great British Bake Off.” There is power in stepping away from our obligations and doing something that makes us feel good, alone, with no witnesses.
We think this is a way of sticking it to the man. We’re going to live with ourselves forever, so we should treat ourselves with respect. It’s wonderful to care about learning, to feel invested in doing well, but we’ve chosen to come to Bowdoin for a holistic experience. We owe it to ourselves to take that on. We should embrace slacking as an important part of the picture. It’s OK to take a pause from our schoolwork, even (especially) during finals.
Remember the words of the indefatigable Audre Lorde: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation and that is an act of political warfare.”Best of luck to all. We’ve got this.

The 'Artists' Are present

The status of statuses: Coping and solidarity found in Facebook community

This piece represents the opinion of the authors:

November 20, 2015

Maybe we can all agree about one thing: this past week—this past month—has been distressing. The two of us are hovering on opposite ends of the distraught spectrum. Tessa, with a menacing case of mono, has been relegated to her bed with a carton of strawberry ice cream, devoid of the energy to watch one episode of “The Office” without falling asleep. Carly, on the other hand, has been walking around campus accompanied by a newly escalated internal monologue—let’s just say, caps lock has been turned on. Tessa is debilitated by the state of her body. Carly is debilitated by the state of her environment. It’s a hard time.

While our physical spaces haven’t overlapped recently, our digital ones have. Facebook is the location where everything converges. It’s our news source; it’s our soap box; it’s our place to seek support and find it. When shit hits the fan, it’s the thing we can control. And there’s something deeply comforting, but also deeply daunting about this: How will our peers judge us for what we post? What are the implications of a Facebook status? Is caring about this silly?

Disclaimer: Three very difficult and very different events happened this past week. We took to Facebook to process each of them. We are not trying to draw comparisons here, but rather walk through the way in which the space of Facebook informed our thoughts.

When student protests against campus racism began at the University of Missouri last week, variations on one particular status went viral. The two of us posted the same one:

“To the students of color at Mizzou, we, student allies at Bowdoin College, stand with you in solidarity. To those who would threaten their sense of safety, we are watching.#ConcernedStudent1950#InSolidarityWithMizzou”

Each of us felt a reservation before posting this status. We wondered: What good does a Facebook status do? Am I being selfish about posting this? In taking a stance on an issue that doesn’t directly affect me, am I implicitly mining that issue for social capital?
We want to acknowledge that we exercise an enormous amount of privilege in carrying on with this mental dialogue. We both ended up posting the status, after coming to the realization that it’s an obvious decision. It’s the easiest way to show solidarity, support and, most simply, care. There is power to a Facebook status. If I can tap my thumb six times on my phone screen to make someone else feel safe, it’s worth it.

And in true Facebook form, when the next thing hits, the older one gets pushed to the background. Immediately following the flurry around Mizzou came the news of terrorist attacks in Paris. Facebook served as a reassuring tool in telling us that our friends abroad were safe. It also gave us the opportunity to add a filter of the French flag to our profile pictures. This sparked debate. Is this focus on the tragedy in Paris negating other recent tragedies that happened in the largely non-white world, such as the violence in Beirut, Kenya and elsewhere? Yes, our media is Westernized—this is a structural problem. But it’s coarse to police the way that people grieve after a tragedy. If incorporating the French flag into your profile picture helps you to process this egregious act in any way, go for it. We both cried to our parents on the phone, and chose not to change our profile pictures.

In light of the recent sexual assault on our campus, Facebook has been utilized as a support space. This week, a student created the group Bowdoin Safe Walk, and after just one day, the group had more than 1,500 members. It’s inspiring to see students organizing and finding ways to help each other. These phone numbers don’t feel like they’re just there in case we need to walk somewhere—people in our community are explicitly voicing their desire to act as emotional resources for each other. As women, the two of us find this personally touching, but we also hate that we need this right now. Bowdoin has, for the past year and a half, provided us with a space where we feel valued and safe. These horrendous events force us to confront the stark reality of going through life as a woman.

Posting the Mizzou status is a form of activism. It helps to bolster a movement by broadcasting it to different corners of the world; it is power in numbers. Solidarity for Paris is not about activism. It is a reaction to tragedy. By no means does this discount its gravity, and we all ought to give each other space to grieve however we need to. The Bowdoin Safe Walk Facebook group is reactionary, but it’s about preventative action. It’s our community saying: we’re not going to let this happen again.

We can’t let all of this stay locked behind our computer screens. Facebook is powerful, but it’s only an approximation of real life. Racism, terrorism and assault are things that pull us apart. The way to break that pattern is by supporting each other, in real life. Talk to your peers, your parents, your professors; go to rallies; walk a friend home. Whether or not you’re someone who engages with Facebook, we all ought to remember: in tough times like these, we must show up for each other.

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