Day 54: Intelligence, Emotion, and Value.

I've been watching this show...

You know what, skip it.  If you want to know about the show that inspired this post, you can check it out over on Why Aren't They Kissing.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot recently about the value we place on intelligence versus emotion, and the more I think about it the crankier I get.  Follow me, if you will, down the rabbit hole.

Here in the rabbit hole, we only make cranky faces.

Intelligence, by definition, is the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.  In essence, when we say someone has a high IQ, all we're saying is that they learn well, and can use what they learn.  And that's certainly a valuable trait to have, not only to the individual, but also to society at large.  Our most intelligent members are far more likely to make advances in any number of fields, because they have the ability to learn everything up to the current cutting edge, and they apply what they've learned in new ways.  Being smart is great, and I don't mean to devalue it.

Unfortunately, there are huge issues with the way we view intelligence and knowledge in our society.  It's so massive and overarching, it's hard to really even know where to start, so bear with me.

First, let's talk about the ways that we measure intelligence.  All of our IQ tests are very biased.  They mean crap.  I say this as someone who does well on IQ tests, so I'm not speaking out of bitterness or anything.  They measure very little beyond your ability to understand patterns, which means if you're good at patterns you do great on the test, and if patterns aren't your thing then you're hosed. 

 See these kids?  Both of them are smart.  But only one does well on tests.  And it isn't the one the teachers are always praising as being "so smart".  Chew on that, for a bit.

Intelligence shouldn't just be about patterns.  Remember, we're talking about the ability to learn and apply what you've learned.  Theoretically, this should include everything, right?  Or, at the very least, everything you do with your brain.  Anything that isn't strictly a physical skill.  Amazing athletes, therefore, would not be qualified as particularly intelligent (although they might also be intelligent, I'm just saying that their athletic prowess alone would not indicate that they were) but rocket scientists would be, and so would world-class musicians.

Anyone who just tripped up over classifying world-class musicians as intelligent has found my first issue with our view of that concept.

 Hard music is hard.





If you haven't been living under a rock, you're probably aware of the acronym STEM.  It's the term we use for the hard sciences, which also happen to be the subjects that are highly valued by society.  Science, technology, engineering, and mathematics have become the holy grail of education and, by extension, intelligence in our culture. 

Quick, make a list of all the professions you automatically assume indicate intelligence.  Now, did historians make that list?  What about poets?  Screenwriters?  Painters?  Tailors?  Chefs?  Did you write down any profession that isn't classified under STEM? 

Most of us don't.  Most of us list things like scientists, doctors, and software engineers.  Lawyer makes the list fairly frequently, and isn't a STEM career, but that's basically it.  And it's not because other careers don't require the acquisition and application of knowledge.  They do.  But we don't value the types of knowledge that are being acquired and applied there, so we don't consider them as being "smart." 

What I do.  Also not STEM.

Technology is great.  I love technology, and modern medicine, and our growing understanding of the universe in which we live.  But those aren't the only things in the world, and it really grinds my gears the way we casually dismiss the value of all other types of knowledge.

Which leads me neatly to my second point: how intelligence and emotion have somehow become opposites in our collective consciousness. 

"Emotion" refers to the series of complex internal states that we pass through.  These states are evoked by external stimuli, and are manifested by changes in multiple systems within the body.  They're only minimally understood even among the medical disciplines devoted to studying them, but they impact every aspect of our daily lives.  It's remarkable that, as a species, we have learned to process and react to emotions so well, given how wide and varied a spectrum they are and how little we understand their basis.  Some of us, of course, don't process emotions as well, and some of us are particularly skilled and process not only our own emotions but those around us exceedingly well.  And yet, for reasons that baffle me, this is not viewed as a type of intelligence.  Emotional facility is viewed as some kind of esoteric magic, instead of a clear acquisition and application of a particular type of knowledge.

And this--all this--makes flames shoot up the side of my face.

See, it all comes back to power dynamics, and it's multi-layered.  We can start with the obvious, that for generations we've chosen to pretend that logic and emotion are mutually exclusive, and that they have a tendency to split along gender lines.  The dynamic there has been discussed exhaustively over many different platforms, and I'm not going to rehash it here, but it basically boils down to us devaluing the type of knowledge in which women are traditionally expected to display a facility.

It also relates to class, though.  Service professions, even those that are specialized and highly skilled, are devalued, while "leisure" professions--those that have their roots (in European culture) among the nobility who had enough disposable income that they could spend their days pondering the mysteries of the universe--are magnified.  Those leisure professions have evolved into our modern day STEM subjects, and are still mostly occupied by our upper classes.  It's not that poor children never grow up to be doctors and engineers, but it's far less likely.

Here, have some statistics that are vaguely relevant.

So, we have this heavy bias towards a certain subset of knowledge.  We treat it as the only kind that truly "counts", thus our tendency to disregard other kinds of knowledge as a marker of intelligence.  And it's creating a terrible, destructive schism in our educational system and in our economy.

See, not everyone can be an engineer, or a researcher, or a programmer.  And that's fine.  Lots of us don't want to be those things.  Some of us want to be farmers, and some of us want to be mechanics, and some of us want to be clerks for the city.  And that's great!  Those professions are highly desirable!  We need them for society to function.  And yet, we don't value them.  Not only do we not pay them well, we also don't respect them.  They're jobs that don't garner instant approbation.  We mentally rank them low on the totem pole, and we don't encourage the skills they need in school.  Our children grow up thinking that there's something vaguely shameful about being successful in a service career, so they don't consider it when they're planning what they want to be when they grow up.  And that's a damn shame, because there's nothing wrong with going into service.  It doesn't mean you're stupid, and it doesn't mean you're valueless. 

My brothers are all wicked smaht, but only one is in a STEM field.

This really bothers me.  I know that, as human beings, we have this alarming trend toward hierarchical classification, but I'm tired of our blind devotion to hard science.  I'm tired of the limited subset of knowledge that we consider worthy.  And I'm tired of watching people devalue emotion as though it somehow detracts from understanding, instead of being a thing worthy of understanding in and of itself.

What does this have to do with acceptance?

Well, remember those kids up there?  Those giant goof-balls with their tiny bodies and enormous brains?  Well, I'm coming to realize that those awesome kids may not actually do very well in school.  It's not because they aren't smart--they are--but they're not typical.  Charlotte fits in better than Elliot, but even she is a bit outside the box, and Elliot is so far outside the boundaries of "normal" that I've spent most of the past school year trying to figure out how to help construct a patchwork that fits him out of the current educational system.  My darling munchkins don't fit the mold, so our criteria for judging them shows them as being lacking.

But I don't think they're lacking at all.  I think the mold is lacking, not just for them, but for other kids, too.  The kids who want to be artists, and the kids who want to build cars.  The kids who like growing things in the dirt ,and the kids who like working with fabric, or food.  All those kids are going to spend their school years struggling to fit into that STEM mold, that judges their intelligence and their worth by a narrow, narrow segment of the wealth of human knowledge.  And I hope each of those kids has someone in their lives who accepts that the problem is with the mold, not them.

I know mine will.

Day 53: Getting Painted

My friend Zan painted me!  

So, the other day I was beebopping around like this:

 HELLO FUZZY PICTURE!

And Zan decided she liked my hair with that dress, and asked if I would sit for her.  This was taken inside, so the reason for her desire is perhaps less obvious, but you can see the colors in the painting.  Here is the finished result:

Such colors.  Many wows.  

Anyway, Zan said I could share it with you.  Isn't it great?  Bee tee dubs, she takes commissions.  Just saying.  I could hook you up.

Day 52: A Demand For More Selfies

One of my friends recently told me that, while he appreciated my thoughts on things, he was really disappointed that this blog didn't contain more selfies.  My first instinct, as it so often is, was to "correct" things--to post more selfies and make sure that my friend was pleased, because this is what I do.  I constantly alter course in an attempt to make others happier, and I honestly can't decide if it's a lovely thing about me or if it's a terrible habit.

I mean, let's be clear.  I think if we all gave a little more thought to the happiness of others, the world would be a better place.  The idea that we can't change just a tiny bit--nothing much, nothing that impacts us--but just taking a step to the right to let someone by in the hall, or asking someone how they're doing when they look sad, or leaving off the olives on the pizza because we know they hate olives--the idea that we can't make the slightest change to our own preferences in order to make someone else happy is one that makes flames shoot up the side of my face.  It really isn't that hard to show consideration for other people, and I don't see why we can't ALL do this.

On the other hand, it's true that there's a whole cultural expectation of women that we will bend over backwards to please the people around us.  That we won't just leave off the olives, but that we'll also add on extra cheese because it's what someone else wants, even when we don't really like extra cheese.  That we won't just ask someone how they're doing, but we'll also bake cookies when we don't have time, or offer hugs that make us uncomfortable.  That we won't just step out of the way if someone is coming by with a load, but that we'll step out of the way even when we're the ones carrying the load.  And that expectation also makes my face spontaneously combust.

Follow me here for a minute, because this isn't going to sound related, but it is...

The other night I was explaining to this same friend why his suggestions to a mutual third friend weren't particularly helpful.  She was talking about struggling with an issue of emotional labor, and he kept suggesting that she just not do it.  I brought up to him that, for many women that I know, we don't actually want to give up our standards of behavior.  I by no means intend to speak for all women, but many of us actually believe that it is right and proper to do emotional labor on behalf of others.  We don't want to stop, what we want is to start teaching everyone to adhere to the same standards.  To have both parties putting in effort, instead of neither.

Of course, the problem is, if half of society (and the more powerful half at that) decides there's no need to do more work in order to equalize an imbalance, then you have only two choices. One, keep doing what you think is right, and know that it will end up with the imbalance perpetuating.  Or two, stop doing what you think is right, because it's the only way to put everyone back on even footing.

Clearly those are extremes.  And most of us who are trying to walk the emotional labor tightrope end up choosing option one on some occasions and option two on other occasions.  But, for me at least, I find it frustrating that I so rarely see the option of both parties putting in effort even considered. 

So, back to the topic at hand, which is making tiny and insignificant changes in order to make other people happy.  This is, of course, just another form of emotional labor.  And it's one that I think we should ALL be willing to engage in, but, for reasons that aren't quite clear to me, we aren't.  I don't know if it's because half of us have been taught that the world should change to meet our expectations, or if it's because the other half is finally fed up with doing all the changing, or if it's just because we're all a bunch of selfish wankers.  Maybe it's all those things.  Maybe it's none of them and I'm missing the point entirely.  At any rate, whatever the cause, I find myself in what seems like a constant argument in my head.  Option one, or option two?  Option one, or option two?

I don't like either of them.

So, for this one instance, I think I'm going to insist on option three. 

Dear friend who wants more pictures of me on here,
You take 'em, I'll post 'em.
Love,
Me

Your move, brah.

Day 51: Accepting Mistakes

A quick note before I begin.  I hope the levity of the photo selections doesn't take away from the gravity of what I'm saying.  I promise, I'm 100% serious about the post.  I just also like making jokes.

There are times in our lives when we all make terrible choices.

 Hey, remember that time we all got trashed, and then let Benjamin use the sharp knives to open the cheese?

These can stem from anything.  Sometimes we're reckless, and don't think things through.  Some of us are suffering from trauma that pushes us in unhealthy directions.  Some of us just have deeply buried insecurities that sway our choices.  In the end, the reason we made a bad choice is only relevant so that we can avoid doing it in the future.  For the present, we still have to deal with the choice we made, regardless of why we made it.

 Oh, spray tan.  Why didn't I think twice?

I have a hard time with that.  It's hard for me to look at my life choices and be confronted with my mistakes, and accept that whatever conundrum I'm in at the moment is the direct result of my own actions.  It's much more fun to blame other people for their actions.  But I've found, at least for me, it's always easier to come to terms with life when I realize that--intentional or not--I was in control of the ride.  It's hard, but it's better in the long run.

I sincerely regret how much of this pie I ate.

So I'm trying to accept my mistakes.  Not repent them, or agonize over them (although I've repented a lot of them, and agonized over more than one) but simply accept them.  Accept that there were times in my life that I wasn't as brave as I should have been.  Times when I wasn't as compassionate or caring as I could have been.  Times when I wasn't as wise as I someday hope to be. 

I try to accept that I am a flawed individual, and that my flaws sometimes lead me to mistakes.  That--regardless of how I feel about the mistake--I would not be living the life I have now without each step of the journey, including the faulty ones.

 Worth every mistake along the way.

I say "try" because, of course, it's easier to say it than to do it.  There are times that I fail spectacularly, lying awake at night wishing desperately that I could go back in time and stop myself from being a complete dumbass.

Oh, well.  We'll just add that to the list of mistakes.

Day 50: What I Can't Accept.

The kids, headed to school.

Today I got a notification from Chaz's school. Apparently tomorrow they will be practicing the ALICE drill.  ALICE, in case you don't know, is the brand new and improved enhanced lockdown drill.  It stands for Alert, Lockdown, Inform, Counter, and Evacuate, and it's to be used in case there is an "active shooter" situation in their school.  The children practice alerting others to the presence of a dangerous assailant, going into lockdown, spreading information about the shooters whereabouts, fighting back if a shooter should enter their personal space, and evacuating when it's safe.

Charlotte brought it up tonight while we were teeth brushing.  She told me, rather sweetly, that kindergartners don't practice the "C."

I thought I was going to vomit.  My six-year-old daughter is talking blithely about how she wasn't trained to attack a shooter that comes in the school trying to effect a mass shooting.

The first graders are, though.

There's even a children's book they've been reading in class.  I'm Not Scared, I'm Prepared.

Well.  I tell you what.  I'm fucking scared.  I know school shootings are a reality in our country.  I know that they happen on a frighteningly regular basis.  And I know that if someone takes a gun into one of these schools, ALICE might keep the body count down, but the truth is that someone's child is going to end up dead.

Probably a lot of someone's.

And I don't accept that the best we can do about this is teach our children to throw their pencils at a gunman.  I don't accept that we're leaving our children and educators to block bullets with their bodies so that some of their classmates or students can get away.  I don't accept that the best safety we can offer is that the kindergartners don't get trained to fight, but the first graders do, because seven is old enough.

I do not accept it.

There is nothing in the world so important to me as the safety of my children.  I would melt every gun in the world into scrap metal if it would end all school shootings.  I would draw a thick black line through the second amendment on the Bill of Rights.  I would take the NRA up on it's offer regarding their cold, dead fingers if that was the only way.

Some of you don't agree with me.  Guess what?  I don't give a shit.  Our children--all our children, not just the privileged ones, but all of them--deserve to live in a world without ALICE drills.  This nonsense has gone on long enough.