I ultimately knew that the point of this test was to prove that a lot of people have no idea what they are going to want to do in their lives after they graduate college. Only one person out of the list of ten got a career that would predictably come from their major.  This is an important  fact that most of us need to realize.  It’s okay that we’re going to take classes and then change our major and have that class become useless.  It’s okay that we’re going to hate what we’ve gotten a degree in  and never actually use it.

I think that the purpose of forcing this realization onto us is to stop us from being stubborn.   when we get an interest in something different from the major that we entered Stony Brook with.  We need to not suppress that new interest but explore it and see if that is an alternative that we might be better suited for.  I just continue to think of my friend who struggled through two semesters of engineering courses before taking a psychology class and realizing his real interest.  He’s lucky that the engineering class that he had to retake was full, because that’s what forced him into the psychology class.  Otherwise he would still be miserable trying to do something that really thought he wanted to do simply because he entered his school with that engineering major.

On the most primitive and binary gender scale, there are men and women, and on this old school scale, the “superior” gender was male.  Since then, most of us have evolved away from this antiquated belief and have adopted a view where women are equal to men, but some people can’t seem to let go of this.  I see this at work and school, where I spend all of my waking hours and some of my dormant ones.  My male coworkers like to believe that they are superior to the females and my male peers and customers aren’t much different.

I hear it a lot, “Jules, you just have to accept that men are better than girls.”  There are quite a few things wrong with that statement.  Firstly, do not try to diminish me with a nickname.  Secondly, if you’re a man in this scenario, then I’m a woman, not a girl.  Do not try to put me below you with the different nouns that you use.  Lastly, I don’t have to accept things that aren’t the truth.  As long as there is no scientific proof that men are superior to women, I will continue to believe and know that the two genders are equal.  Below is a brief list of problems that I’ve had because I’m a female.

1. The terms of endearment that are accepted as polite.
   “Thank you sweetheart.”  Strange man who I just gave his change, no.  Please do not call me honey unless you’d like to call my male coworker the same thing.  I’m not saying this is a purposeful action done by one individual, but I am recognizing that society has made it acceptable to use words like “sweetheart” and “honey” as polite for women, but boys and men are addressed as “sir” and “young man.”  Why isn’t the common polite title for a young woman “ma’am” or “miss?”
2. The misconception that the man is the leader of a relationship.
   “I wear the pants in this relationship.”  This is an equal relationship, not one where you can assert your dominance over me.
3. The different perception of actions based on gender.
   “God, you’re so bossy.”  I’m not being bossy, I’m trying to get things done so that we can leave on time, or early even.  In the back of my mind, I always think, “But you know that if you’d asked me to do something, I would have done without asking any questions.”

Having established that I’m a female and I deal with the host of problems listed above, I’m not the most traditional looking female.  I don’t have hair that cascades down my shoulders and I don’t always wear skinny jeans and floral tops with wedges.  I have short hair, I wear men’s cargo pants, I love button down shirts and I’d wear sneakers over heels any day.  The way that I project myself often leads to questions like “Are you sure that you’re straight?” and statements like “I’m sorry I thought you were a dude because you decided to dress like one today.”  My sexual orientation isn’t your business unless you’re interested in me, but yes I’m straight.  I’m not dressed “like a dude,” I’m dressed comfortably.

It’s unfortunate that we, as a population have to deal with gender stereotypes and treatments, but to anyone who has experienced it, I believe it makes us a more aware community of people, which puts us at an advantage over our more narrowminded counterparts.

After dealing with the subtleties that go hand in hand with being a woman and not presenting myself in the most feminine way, I tend to treat people exactly the same regardless of how they look or what gender they are.  I want to be kind to and respectful of everyone.  I try my hardest to make everyone feel important and like we are all just people, not men or women, and most certainly that no one is above or below anyone simply because of a gender, a sexual orientation or a physical presentation of him/herself.

I work in fast food, and I have a completely different personality when I am there, an alter ego.  I am not typically the most pleasant person, meaning I can be considered abrasive from time to time.  I also have a very short temper.   This is not the most useful characteristic for dealing with the general population that’s always in a rush or their kids who want that one specific toy.  As a result, I’ve created a work personality of sorts where I am the most upbeat, positive version of myself that I can possibly be.

Some people are kind and pleasant in return but there are the customers who take my kindness as a signal to talk down to me.  Combined with the stereotypes about the lower intelligence of fast food employees, I get a lot of people who slow down their words as they say, “Thank you dear, you’re doing a good job.”  I get a lot of customers who call me honey and baby and sweetheart.

To the boys in their late teens and early twenties, I’m sorry, I’m not being nice because I think you’re cute and I want to flirt with you.  I’m being nice because I’m supposed to be.  To the older men who think that think I’m not that smart and that I’m just a little girl who you can talk down to, again, I’m just trying to make this experience as painless as possible.  If you hand me twelve cents, after I enter the money you first gave me, don’t worry, I’ll still be able to make change for you without you explaining it to me.  However, I only get a little angry when I see a customer who one day called me “honey” call my male coworker “sir” because I know, or at least I hope that the use of these diminutive terms is subconscious.

I accept these little diminutive nuances because I know it’s not the worst thing that could happen.  I have had a customer say to me, about my Hispanic coworker, “Can you just make sure that she knows what she’s making, I don’t know if she can read that I don’t want cheese on that.”  Knowing where this was going, I played dumb and answered, “Yeah, she knows what she’s doing, why?”  The woman was slightly embarrassed, but went on to say, “Well, she just didn’t look like she knew English, so I thought I would ask you to make sure.”

I g=have been on the receiving end of one of the most harmless microaggressions.  I haven’t been asked about my race, or about my sexuality, just my gender.  I haven’t been put down, just mildly disrespected, and maybe the person who said “baby” just thought they were being nice.  I know what something so mild feels like so I would hate to hurt anyone else with something more severe and I try to monitor what I say so as to prevent anyone from feeling how I do.

Group projects can either be amazing, or absolute torture.  Ideally a group project is a way to learn to work collaboratively to create a product that is a representation of everyone’s equally important contribution.  I remember this happening exactly one time in my high school career.  Most group projects consist of an attempt to divide and conquer.  This would start strong and look promising with outlines of great ideas and plans, but then the night before the project was due, I, and perhaps one other person, would stay up late into the night frantically typing away trying to make sure everything looked cohesive and even halfway decent.  One time, when I was able to choose my own group, my project was done three days early, and I am very certain that the only reason that project was done early is because I was able to pick my partners.

With this prior experience in mind, my ideal group would not be assigned forcibly.  I am typically a group leader, but I am not afraid to be a follower.  I don’t need to be in a specific role within a group, rather I need to be able to trust the other people in my group.  All too often, I have gotten a text saying “Hey, I won’t be in class today so can you …” and I have absolutely no desire to experience the gut wrenching feeling that you get when you realize you’re probably going to almost fail the assignment because of one person.  In a perfect world, I would be able to pick a group that doesn’t have anyone who would drop the ball, and a group of people able to communicate their ideas, and then be able to execute them.  My role needs to be the same as everyone else’s;  do my part and not let everyone down.

The summer before my senior year of high school one of my close friends (so close we had gone to prom together) confided in me that he was struggling with suicidal thoughts and depression.  He had been accepted to and enrolled in Purdue University.  He has dreams of being an aerospace engineer, and Purdue is one of the best colleges for that specific field of engineering.  Despite his affinity for the subject, he was not accepted into that program, but as a student with an undecided major.  This condition shook his confidence, and the closer and closer the start of his semester came, the more and more unstable he became.

I found myself staying up late at night to console and encourage him in spite of his doubts.  Then, I became afraid when he would tell me that he dreamed of dying and that he would stare at knives in his utensil drawer, just wondering.  I knew how miserable he was and the threat that he posed to himself, but I let him go without a second thought, hoping he’d get better.  I was just a 16 year old girl; what did I know and what authority did I have to impact his life?

To answer that question, I was a 16 year old girl and I knew everything that they crammed down your throat about what to do if a friend or even just someone you knew was considering harming themselves.  The authority had to come from me.  I had to suck it up and make the hardest decision of my life, to tell someone or to keep quiet and keep hoping,  But, I was only 16, so I did what 16 year olds do best; I put off making that decision.  I began talking to school psychologists and health teachers, seeking advice on what to do.  Was I overreacting, was he just homesick, or was he just being moody like any other 18 year old boy?  I desperately wanted for someone to tell me it would pass, but no one did.

The moment I had been hiding from was here.  Just to ensure that I really had to tell someone, I confronted him about everything that had happened in the three months since he had departed in August.  Things had only gotten worse, and I knew that I had to inform his parents.  So I sat awake and handwrote an eight page letter to his parents detailing why I was so concerned about their son.  I left it in their mailbox because I couldn’t stand to see their son’s face as I handed it to them because he would know exactly what that letter said.  I wanted to help him but I didn’t want to see the look on his face the moment I broke his trust.

I tell myself all the time that I made the right decision because he got help, but I know that he and I will never be real friends again.  Our conversations don’t go past small talk like “how’s class/ puppy/ significant other?” and “We should totally hang out.” I know why.  Obviously, he doesn’t trust me anymore.  The other reason, which we fought about all the time, is that I won’t say I regret what I did.  I will never regret this decision because I know it is the right thing.

It took me a long time to face my moment of truth, and I will never take it back, because I saved someone I truly care about from himself.