A Story of Speech, Seuss & Self-Esteem

My education in psychology is limited to Psych 201, which was literally the first class I ever took in college. Fall 2002, 9AM. That was almost 10 years ago. Oddly enough, I often find myself offering advice to friends when solicited [and sometimes unsolicited]. Recently, this has shifted into my professional life where I was faced with a student with an overwhelmingly low state of self-esteem and therefore is terrified of speaking in front of her classmates. Let's pause; I need to preface the nature of the class and how I approach this cruel mistress we call fear.

The apprehension in a public speaking class is palpable. Usually a good 80% of the class is completely petrified of the thought of standing in front of 30 of their peers, let alone having to share their ideas with them. So they look to me as a source of comfort and instead, before they make that long journey to the front of the class, this evil teacher greets them to the classroom with these words written on the board:

What is your biggest fear?

I'm sure a large number of them want to reply, "This class, you asshole," but I ask them to set aside the distress that the current class is causing them and to reach outside of that. The board ends up looking something like this:

Spiders

Rejection

Snakes

Failure

Heights

Disappointing Loved Ones

Clowns

Death

Escalators [true story]

I quickly assure them they will not die, this I am only 70% sure of, no clowns will be making cameos on speech day, our classroom will stay at the same altitude and I will pull the fire alarm if any spiders dare to invade our room. What I can't promise them are the two things they are most concerned about: Rejection and Failure.

So back to my student. We'll call her Lacy. Lacy told me very early in the term that she had incredibly low self-esteem. We've had a semi-ongoing conversation about it, but given the absence of a psychology degree and the limitation of only having 10 weeks to work-out much greater issues, I'm at a loss. Yesterday, she was in tears about her speech next week. Even with her best friend sitting right there assuring Lacy of her worth, she continued to shake her head and counter every positive statement with a negative.

"I don't like the things I say. I'm not funny. I'm not good at anything. I hate my voice, it's too deep."

I had to laugh at this last one. "Lacy, do you hear my voice? You know who else has a deep voice? My friend Oprah." 

I told Lacy that we all have our fears, yet she sees her fear as my strength. My fears are plenty. Some of them are rational and others I'm reminded I'm crazy for harboring, but they are real nonetheless. Lacy is afraid of being vulnerable and being exposed. I suffer from a similar affliction and this space allows me to work on that.

Negativity is only effective if you allow it to be; this is something I'm still learning. Unfavorable experiences give birth to the confines of a comfort zone and death to positive thought, when we really should be following those foolish aspirations we had as children before "can't," "never," and "won't" became regulars in our vocabulary bar. The only think we can speak in absolute certainty of is death. We will all die [probably not in front of your Public Speaking class], but our story has the promise to live on.

I have an obsession with stories. Both the telling and consuming, and the language that is used to share them. My friend Dr. Seuss and I were similar in that way. Today our calendars mark what would have been his 108th birthday. See how his stories are still being told? That's exquisite.

I spent the first two hours of today confined to my infatuation. I read for awhile. I wrote for awhile. Then I found myself here, writing more. I think Dr. Seuss would appreciate this type of morning. I wish I had more like it.

"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.

Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.

A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!

Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose? How much can you win?"

-'Oh, the Places You'll Go!' -Dr. Seuss

Thanks for the fearlessness in your stories, Seuss.

Census need a Censor?

Let's look at the facts.

I'm 25; born in 1984 so I'll be 26 in June.

I'm African-American.

I'm Female.

I have an advanced degree. Or 2.

When I caught the stinky wind that the 2010...let me say that again...2010 census still had the word 'Negro' on it, I was a bit taken aback. We just turned our clocks the other day for daylight savings, but did I miss the memo to swap out my calendar for a 1960's one as well?

For a young, Black woman, I take this word as an offensive term, which was used from slavery to the 1960's in order to give superiority to another race. Language is so powerful. The way we phrase things, the jargon we use, carries with it so much strength. And correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Peter Parker's uncle tell us that 'with great power comes great responsibility?' Sorry, I digress...I just love 'Spiderman.'

I believe it is the responsibility of the government to use phrases and words that reflect its current time and the progression that our country has made. I understand that there are people still alive that grew up in the tumultuous time that this word was used, but they were also alive when we gained equal rights. With equality comes respect, and I don't think this word exemplifies that in the slightest; its origination was for the entirely opposite purpose. I wonder if people that identify with the term would feel differently if someone of another race referred to them as such or if it's more of an in group term only to be used with others that they consider like them? Let's take it to another level. If a news anchor referred to our president as a 'Negro' instead of 'African-American' or 'Black' would this be considered offensive?

So call me naive if you want since I am a young African-American that was so lucky to not be apart of this struggle of Civil Rights, so therefore I might not completely understand the use of the word except for what I read about and my first-hand accounts with older African-Americans (like both of my living Grandmothers that grew up in the South at this time). However, I highly doubt that an African-American would refuse to select a box on the census that just had "Black" and "African-American" next to it as these are the terms we use now.

Times...they are changin.

Our language should reflect this.