SAYONARA, UW SCHOOL OF SOCIAL WORK

Here's my final personal statement I'm submitting with a culminating binder portfolio. Yes, I'm actually submitting this.

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            When I began the BASW program at the University of Washington I was generally an optimistic, idealistic and naïve person. Now? Well, at least I’m still idealistic. Sort of. Being in the undergraduate program has been like opening up the stomach cavity of humanity and being forced to see and smell the pulsating entrails normally covered by flesh and skin. I’ve come to understand at a very deep level the mechanisms of oppression, the context of history with social problems and the seemingly insurmountable odds we find ourselves up against as social change “agents.” While the world may seem bleak at times, I’ve learned that because of my existence as a social worker, it is now and always will be marginally less so. Slow clap.

            As a result of being in this program, I’ve had to adapt and survive through self-care. In the morning I would learn about how black people were lynched and used as sex slaves. Then, I’d go to coffee with my classmates and try not to cut myself.

            The School of Social Work encourages students to think critically and independently. Well, in this school, I sure have learned how to do just that. While the school may imply that social workers are responsible for the fate of all oppressed populations everywhere, and that if we don’t do something, then no one will, I know in my heart that this is simply not true. I refuse to live in agony and misery, wallowing in privileged guilt and an unhealthily metastasized savior-complex. While I am aware of the plight of vulnerable populations, I as one individual, can only do so much. I will do what I can to address poverty, violence and suffering in the world, but once I’ve put in my eight hours for the day, I will surrender myself to a coping mechanism entitled fatalism.

            When I leave this place, the School of Social Work, I will forever have on my goggles of “awareness.” Trust me, even when I try to enjoy something as mindless and popularly entertaining as The Hunger Games, for example, I will end up writing a five-page analysis of its major themes with respect to power and oppression[1]. I will carry with me ecological-systems theory, empowerment theory, the ethnic identity development model, cultural responsiveness (the dialogic model, of course) and the strengths perspective. These theories have affected the way I interact with people, whether in my professional or personal life; I have internalized them that much.

            In terms of “staying current” with social welfare, I’ll always feed my insatiable compulsion to “be in touch” with the reality of the underclass, whether it be through the NPR public health blog (Shots), The Seattle Times, National Geographic, literary fiction or memoirs of people who have survived horrific circumstances (e.g. Strength in What Remains, Desert Flower, Persepolis). It is my duty as a professional social worker to stay informed, and informed I will stay!

            My strengths as a social worker are my ability to articulate forms of oppression, my critical thinking, my self-reflection and my ability to establish rapport with clients through genuine warmth and caring. Areas for growth would be maintaining professional boundaries with clients, political advocacy and research-informed practice.

            It has certainly been an interesting ride, this BASW experience. I’ve had my hopes crushed into a finely ground powder, then snorted through someone’s nose. I’ve learned to be much more realistic, to reject martyrdom and to enjoy life for what it offers. As a social worker, I may not be able to fundamentally change the structure of society to uplift the downtrodden and usher them into an age of triumph, true brotherhood and utopian parity. However, I’ll do my small part, quietly, without heraldry or accolades, humming a pop ballad from the 1990s.

“Two roads diverged in a wood and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

-Robert Frost

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[1] Attached.

Full Circle

This morning the sun shone brightly, the sky was blue, the landscape palette richly autumnal, the air cool, pristine and soul-cleansing. Walking the Burke-Gilman trail, I thought about how I walked this very same trail, in these very same brown leather shoes three years ago. Although it's the same route, same Physics building, familiar grey armchair with a view of Lake Union, I can't help but feel giddy. I'm such a different person from when I first set foot here. Using my imagination, I remember what it was like, to be both afraid and in wonder of the University of Washington, to be studying my little tushy off, exploring the far-flung, rarely frequented libraries (chemistry, engineering, east asia, law, art) with gusto. Same laptop, same backpack, even.. but I'm not who I was! I mean, duh! But this revelation is really giving me joy today.

Beautiful view from the 6th-floor physics/astronomy "reading room." A quintessential mix of austere nature and urban chaos.

Everything is coming together. I'm studying a subject that fascinates me, I have a wonderful, delightfully small social network and finally feel comfortable in the overpopulated, giant, architecturally stunning University. I feel confident and proud of myself. Sitting here, I remember and feel deeply all of the trials I've endured to be able have this current happiness. For now, everything feels right with the world and Possibility is at my feet, within reach--altogether mysterious and intoxicating.

The providence of God never fails us.
Let us give him thanks and praise!

Yay!

Okay, so HUGE relief: I am no longer going to be interning in Lake City for the year. The commute was monstrous (~1hr 20min one way!) and was seriously stressing me out. Now I am in the waiting game hoping that another agency closer to home will be willing to have me!

It's been interesting living with my grandparents and (thankfully) so far there have been no medical emergencies. It's quite startling, though, to realize how difficult everyday things are for them (washing dishes, picking things up from off of the ground, taking the trash out, cooking, etc.). My grandpa joked about how I could do an observational study on them, charting the body's slow decomposition through aging. I think it's a wonder that they stay upbeat about their lives when nearly everything they do is a struggle.

I've really been enjoying talking with my grandpa about his perspective on life. We've been going to a Bible study on Tuesdays on the Sermon on the Mount, which have been pretty thought-provoking. My grandpa seems to have gathered a lot of insight especially from the crazy difficult times in his life, which makes me wonder about whether suffering is a prerequisite to wisdom & compassion. Anyhow, it sure is great to have him around just to bounce ideas and also lol.

Grandma is great, too, and hugs me before I go to school in the morning. She always makes sure that I have something sweet to pack in my lunch (lately it's been these caramel pecan chocolate clusters!) and am well-fed at all hours of the day. I try and do physical therapy exercises with her as we watch Jeopardy! and Modern Family together--her for her legs and arm range of motion and me for my injured shoulder. Today she's out partying with her buds at the casino so she'll be out until 10pm at the earliest. Haha!

Bottom line: I think that this year is going to be okay. It's not going to kill me. I might just enjoy myself--and learn some things along the way.

Adjusting

The start of the school year has hit me like a train. In a word, college is intense. Already I'm juggling multiple transitions: from living with my parents to living with my grandma and grandpa, from living in the U District to commuting to school & to practicum  from Rainier Beach (this is really upsetting me) and from luxurious sabbatical summer days to academia (textbooks, assignments, etc.). The question I ask myself is, "How am I possibly going to make it?"

Today it was very therapeutic to sing on the worship team for church service. I was able to unload all of the anxiety, frustration, anger and fear I was feeling--just puke it all out for God to see.

This year will definitely be an adjustment and I'm really fighting all of the changes. Being adaptable and flexible is not my strongest suit. Anyhow, we'll see how this week goes. Praying for things to be less overwhelming. I'm thankful for my family & friends who have been so supportive. I need the encouragement!

It's going to be all right!!

Last Day of School!

So today I finished up for the school year! I must admit, I feel a bit strange. The hilarious thing is, people can tell. They say, "Wow, you seem really happy." It's a huge relief and I feel so free! I can't wait to take a break from all the dramatic seriousness that is the savior-complex of the school of social work. Lighten up, peeps!

Since everything is wrapping up, I'm getting all reflective... I love to reminisce and be sentimental. Today Hillary & I were walking home from getting smoothies and thinking about all the breakfasts we've made together with Faith. I met with Kristen today and we agreed that it seemed just yesterday that we were getting lunch together at the HUB. The years are flying by.

I <3 Hillary!

As brutal as this year may have been (with dreary weather and faith crisis and burnout), there are definitely things to be thankful for. What I cherish most about this year is all of the friendships! It was definitely tough to leave high school and lose my posse..but it's so cool now to be building networks at UW. I'm thankful for all the wonderful memories with Hillary & Faith--grocery shopping, cooking, playing volleyball, watching movies, quoting them and just talking about life! I once asked them, "Is this what it's like to have a sister?" I have truly learned the value of living with other Christians and sharing in fellowship together. It's been a blast!

Brittany and I are buds..

My peers at the school of social work have just been super awesome, too. It's amazing to be around such passionate, caring, like-minded people. I'm thankful for Tania, who I bonded with on the really discouraging lobby day for immigrant rights/services. I'm thankful for Kayla (who, sadly, is leaving the program!) and Kanchan--I'll never forget going to coffee with the two of them and finally realizing I wasn't alone in my distress because of the class content. And of course, Brittany has been such a wonderful new friend to me, I can't even express it with words! She is a ray of sunshine in my life. When I prayed for ONE friend in freshman year, I was super happy to find Hillary. Brittany, too? I am just tooooooo blessed. From spur-of-the-moment ice skating to earring beading to watching the "Double Rainbow Song" and Mi Pecado, I've just had so much fun hanging out with her!

And also, though I can't quite yet articulate it in words yet, I feel as if God has done a lot for me this year to establish me in my faith and prepare me for the future, whatever it may hold. I just have a sense of peace and a sort of inner equanimity about all the "tough things" in the world--like ya, it's going to be all right. Anyway..

I find myself thinking about the things I am going to miss about my life here at UW, living in the Cliff House. Move out day is a little over a week away! I'll definitely miss Ten Thousand Villages (I am SO going there tomorrow!). And the millions of bus routes here. I'll miss hosting kick-@$$ parties with Hillz & Faith. There are so many little things! But until I actually move out, I'm going to soak up every little moment and every little blessing!--like walking home from U Village today as the sun was setting and enjoying the smell of summer, vibrant colors of grass & trees and the happy energy of students exulting in the end of the school year.

The Burn-Out Keeps Burnin' On..

Basically, this was me today:

I slept in until 11:30am today, and yet three hours later I was drooping and tempted to nap.

Lately, I've just been pretty tired and not very motivated. The smallest tasks exhaust me, from going to Thurgood Marshall to reading a journal article for class to spending time with friends to cooking--even spending time in prayer and reading the Bible. It just makes me tired! Like always, I try so hard to keep up but eventually fall behind.

People keep asking me what summer plans are, and to be honest, I think all that I could handle after this ravaging school year is big fat nothing. I feel bad about not having the drive and the energy to pursue a paying job (it would have been the first of my life), but I am seeing that the burn-out within goes very deep.

It's to the point that I actually dread future service (next school year as an intern at ACRS) because it depletes me so much currently. My energy and inspiration tank is running quite low. So this summer I'm moving home with Mom & Dad and will try to observe some semblance of a sabbatical. I feel a bit of a failure for being so weak as to have to come to this point, but I honestly really need some rest.

The LORD works righteousness
   and justice for all the oppressed. (Psalm 103:6)

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
   He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart (Isaiah 40:11)

I have to trust that even as I withdraw from "the scene" for awhile, God is at work.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

It's time for me to bow out for a bit. I'm praying for the strength to make it through the rest of this quarter! Panic attack free, plz. :)

We Silence the Privileged

This reflection essay I write in response to my time spent in inter-group dialogue (2.5 hr. long weekly sessions with 9 other students of differing "social identity groups" i.e., race, socio-economic status, religion, etc. for the purpose of "mutual understanding," reconciliation and coalition building for a stronger, united human community). Hoping that it might encourage you, whether you consider yourself privileged, oppressed or bits of both.

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We Silence the Privileged

            When my white colleagues kept apologizing for not having “powerful” stories to tell, I sat confused. They minimized their experiences of exclusion, alienation and identity confusion as less relevant, real and gritty. Their self-deprecation caused by the personal guilt of privilege through race made me wonder.

            The School of Social Work encourages its students to be “champions of the oppressed” and to “bring marginalized voices to the fore.” Yet, simultaneously, is it disempowering, denying and guilt-tripping the oppressors? The school teaches that the poor must not be stigmatized or demonized, but aren’t we committing this act of judgment upon the proverbial “white male”?

            As I have continued to sit in my bewilderment I must challenge my assumptions: Do I actually value the utterly tragic stories of the poor and oppressed more than their rich and privileged counterparts?

            Sometimes I thank my lucky stars that I am majoring in social work because I know that the rest of my life will be devoted to knowing “real people”—and by “real people” I mean people who have “gone through a lot”: i.e., the traumatized, suffering oppressed. In my compassion for the poor I realize that I have developed a bias against the powerful, the “oppressors.” I think of them as less than human because I assume that life has been handed to them on a silver platter. I even have that resentment towards the privileged parts of myself: my comfortably middle class suburban life of stability. I consider this part of myself to be illegitimate; I seek to disown it. It is nothing to be proud of; it is rather a source of shame. We downplay our privileged identities because there is no sense of struggle in them. In our privilege we enjoy what we did not earn.

            And I sense that many others hold this bias against their privilege as well. I see it in my white colleagues; the bias is directed against themselves. Yet as they shared their personal stories of pain—of being rejected on the basis of religion, moral values and nonconformity—I can see that their pain is legitimate. Undeniably they have enjoyed much power and convenience on the basis of their race, and yet their complexity shines forth in their experience of simultaneous oppression along other lines. Perhaps they have been shielded from a lot of pain because of their race, but their race has not excluded them from all pain. I cannot pretend that they are not “real people” as they share their loneliness and insecurity. We all carry brokenness within us—even if it may be hidden or suppressed by a façade of privilege.

            Surely, it is a “straw man” to compare suffering and oppressions among individuals. It is also unfair to evaluate people according to the amount of hardships they have endured throughout their lifetime. I must challenge my tendency to discount the life experiences of those who have not “had it rough”—according to my arbitrary standards of who is deserving or non-deserving of “speaking their truth.” I must challenge myself to re-humanize the oppressor. I must remember that the river of pain touches the shores of all lives. I must allow the estuary of these streams to commingle and swirl into one sea. For only in the uniting of our personal pain can we rise together.   

Being Critical

Boy, oh boy! If there's one thing that teachers have emphasized to death in classes this year it is CRITICAL THINKING. Blah, blah, blah "deconstruction of traditional paradigms," "consciousness/awareness," "assumptions are dangerous," "implicit bias"---------BARF!

But basically what they're ultimately promoting is a form of cynicism toward the world SO GREAT that it robs the enjoyment of even the smallest of things! It makes it so every interaction is interpreted through this "critical lens" of analysis--of others AND self.

Like watching a movie. Gosh.. This grumpy inner voice chimes in, "Oh, wow, there is no representation of people of color in this movie at all," or "Did you see how that character was thought less of because of her emotions?" or "That comment there was completely hetero-sexist and homophobic." It's like NOTHING is good enough... unless it were a movie about a female, disabled, poor queer woman of color. I mean, even then it wouldn't be good enough. Hahaha!!!!!! Ha.

So like, I'm not saying people should be ignorant of the narratives in everyday life, in media, etc. But holy hell, don't let it become a prison for you like I did!!!!!!!!!

I'm just sayin'.

For once tonight I just SHUT OFF the critical little voice in my head and watched a movie--my go to of the quarter: I Hate Luv Storys. Who gives an f--- if it only represents India's elite class and showcases the extent to which Indian culture has been eroded by the mofo-ing West! Goddamnit, I am going to ENJOY this movie for what it is! Goofy, sentimental and completely unrealistic. IT'S GREAT!
 
It can be so easy to get trapped in the mentality that things could be "so much better" (in terms of achieving the impossible utopian post-racial world and all that crap)--but by gum, sometimes we just need to recognize the GOOD already here. Enjoy what we have now...like the first blossomed bud of a cherry tree!

Politics: Is It Even Worth It?

One of my main classes this quarter is "Social Welfare Policy." Basically, the course content reviews any and all U.S. policies that affect vulnerable populations. That is to say, pretty much everything. My professor's approach is to look at major issues (poverty, homelessness, immigration, etc.) from the conservative and liberal perspectives.

I can't tell you how many awkward situations have come up in the classroom already. We've got some very dedicated Marxists on the one hand, stark Republicans on the other. Sometimes it gets downright hostile. It's like everyone is trying to impose their opinion on everyone else. I mean, really, it's dumb.

I don't understand politics. I mean, yes, obviously it would be important to advocate for those who don't have privilege and power--the populations I intend to serve for the rest of my life. But I can only take so much of this stupid game of Republicans and Democrats. It's like, can we PLEASE stop talking so philosophically and actually DO something???

The School of Social Work is telling us that as social workers it's our "professional responsibility" to be politically involved. To tell you the truth, I've only gone to two political rallies in my life. They were fun; not sure if they mattered at all. I guess I'm saying that I don't plan on becoming some crazy activist.

I've given up on politics.