The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, November 10, 1999, Page 5, Image 5

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    A tall order
Short people must unite against discrimination, oppression
Before I was bom, the world was against
me. A little despondent, you say? Probably. But
everyone else is crying discrimination, so I have
something to add to the bunch.
• I am a proud 4 feet, 11V* inches. Before I
was bom, a song was created in protest against
me.
“Short people got no reason... to live.”
Have you ever heard it? Yeah. Luckily, so
have I.
I say luckily because thanks to that song, I
have a little better understanding of the world
around me.
I comprehend. When I was a mere 4 years
of age, a social worker was called in to examine
my brothers’ and my yearly medical check-up.
Thastate was actually considering the
option of investigating my parents because of a
malnutrition accusation.
Apparently, my siblings and I were too little.
The state of Minnesota was actually going
to go ahead with the charges until they saw my
parents standing tall at a towering 5-foot-2 and
5-foot-6.
Luckily, my brothers grew into “normal”
sizes. I, however, quit growing in height in fifth
grade.
I know the definitions.
Minute: of little importance or significance;
petty; trifling.
Short: not long or not long enough.
I know the slang: Smurf, chipmunk, pebble,
bead, acom (that’s even Shakespearean),
midget, dwarf, etc.
I can understand, but not empathize, with
the oppressing situation.
I have explanations for how I am treated.
Repeatedly, I am assailed with inquiries.
“How do you drive?”
With one foot on the clutch, and one on the
gas, imbecile.
“How can you walk and keep your balance
with feet that small?”
Well, how can you talk with a brain that
small?
“Do you have a hard time finding clothes
that fit?”
No. In fact, children’s sizes are cheaper.
Do you see what I’m talking about? It’s as
though the world thinks short people are a lost
cause.
Pets needing extra-loving care and attention.
Children to be condescended to.
Peons worthy only of patient attention. -
Well, I have news for you. We don’t need
your pity.
We are cuter than most pets.
We often find ourselves condescending to
your condescension.
And you would not believe the patience
necessary to listen to babble about how you’ve
hurt our feelings when accidentally referring to
our inability to see in a crowd.
Guess what? You’re not equipping us with a
stunning revelation. We’re well aware of our
height
In fact I’m reminded of people’s inability to
embrace the “different” on an almost daily
basis.
This past weekend, a friend and I decided to
dine out at the fine institution of Carlos
O’Kelley’s. I approached the reception area and
stated our agenda. “We’d like to eat.”
I was greeted with an odd look, so I tried
again. “Hi. Two for non-smoking. Jessi is the
name.” The woman in charge, at this point, sim
ply stared at me.
Stared pointedly down at me.
So rather than haggle with the woman
over the rights of the microscopic to eat a full
meal, my significantly taller friend stepped in
to take over.
Needless to say, we were still told it
would be half an hour. There’s discrimination
for you.
Not enough to warrant a complaint, you
say? Well, let me add to the agenda of die
“vertically challenged,” as the ever-preten
tious mobs insist on calling usC-~k 4 ... -
We want freedom! We want equality! We
want to buy a ticket to a PG-13 movie with
out being carded!
I have an odd sense of interpersonal *
space, instilled in me from the time I was
considered, and thus treated, as paranormal.
The “average” person’s interpersonal dis
tance ranges from 18 inches to 4 feet. After 4
feet, that distance becomes your public territo
ry
That’s 4 feet horizontally, my friend. Very
funny.
Anyway, my sense of space is slightly larg
er. I have a somewhat greater need for an
expanded personal bubble.
If you had people reaching over you on a
constant basis, you’d understand.
If your hair was pet at least once a week,
your shoulder used as an arm rest by strangers.
If you were given a stunned reaction every
time you passed someone taller than you on the
sidewalk, you’d sympathize.
Mayoe.
OK. Let me convince you.
I am a person. A human
being.
There’s no use anthropo
morphizing me, ’cause I’m
human.
I’m a goddess,
already.
So
there!
That’s it!
The
oppres
sion of
my
peo
ple
has
been
drawn
out too long!
A state ofbalance must be created to sustain
this contributing minority population of society.
No longer will we allow “The Man” to put
us down! )
We are not going to stand it any longer! We
demand that you respect us. We demand that
you treat us the same as everyone else.
Beware. On that day when we take over the
world, you will regret it
Because you’ll hit your head on every door
way imaginable. Our glass ceiling will physi
cally exist.
Delan Lonowski/DN
Jessica Eckstein is a junior communication studies major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist:
Doit
_ Travel abroad using five easy steps
“Just do it.”
I give a lot of advice to a lot of people, espe
cially about traveling and living overseas. The
more I talk about it, tell my stories and explain
how to travel, the more I find myself using
Nike’s simplistic slogan. - _
“Just do it.”
I don’t like it I think it’s rude and too short
But it realty is the best advice I can give any
body. Let me explain.
Monday night I was talking to my new
friend Amy about traveling over a crisp, cold
one at Crane River. Amy is a bright girl, with a
nose for adventure. She’s been patient, but now
she is eager to get out of the country and get a
taste for the diversity she’s already scented.
Amy comes from a small town in Nebraska.
She graduates soon and doesn’t know what to
do with herself after graduation. She’s been
working hard for her degree, but now she’s
aware that it’s time for a major change in her
life. With a career and responsible adulthood
looming near, now is the best time for her to
f
satiate these desires.
‘^Listen,” I said to Amy, “traveling and
studying abroad sounds like a bigger monster
than it really is. You’re afraid of it or have been
putting it off because you don’t know how easy
it is or where to start. Well, I’ve got a five-step
plan to get you anywhere in the world doing
anything you want to do.”
1. Pick a place you are interested in going
to. I recommend that you do not go to Europe.
Europe sucks. It’s boring. It’s, relatively speak
ing, die same as the U.S. The people are rude,
it’s too expensive, and the weather stinks.
Africa, Asia and South America are easier
and cheaper to travel in and often much safer.
2. Do your homework on the place. This
includes researching all programs that go there.
There are study-abroads, work-abroads, volun
teer-abroads and infinite options for the individ
ual program. It’s also mandatory to read about
the history of the people before you go. They’ll
appreciate your knowledge of their country, and
you’ll appreciate their culture that much more.
3. Apply to die program. You’d get in. Apply
for a passport. You’ll get it Apply for a visa if
needed. You’ll get it, too. Don’t lose these
things.
4. Take some time off before you go to make
some money. Before I did my jaunt around the
world, I worked two jobs, 70 hours a week, for
four months. I made 10 grand and brought half
of it with me. This will greatly extend the
options you have once there.
5. Buy a ticket and get on the plane. Find a
cheap ticket on the Web. Try to buy it at least
two months in advance. Pack only the essen
tials, as the things you’d really need are either
cheaper to buy where you are going or not
needed, as you will soon find out.
Don’t make any excuses. Just do it. It’s kind
of like riding a bike; only common sense will
prevent you from losing your balance. After you
do it once, you’ll realize how easy it really is.
Soon enough you’ll find yourself gravitating
toward maps pointing out “where you’ve been.”
Whether you are going to the Mongolian
Steppe to study paleontology or to South Africa
to study the post-apartheid reconciliation
process, this is how you do it.
While this method applies to those who
want to do something productive overseas,
there’s also plenty of options for the adventure
seeking/soul-searching nomads out there.
(Warning: a great deal of the following text
is taken from Fielding’s “The World’s Most
Dangerous Places.”)
Enter the modem touristicus domesticus.
They travel in predictably jabbering gaggles,
following well-worn trails. Monolingual, they
pay little attention to their environment since
they are terrified of being left behind or having
the bus leave without them.
They are usually wearing outlandish color
ful plumage. Gray walking shoes sprout cream
of mushroom legs marbled with blue veins *
topped offby what could be a spare tire or a
bulging overstaffed money belt.
They arrive in shirty buses with big sun
roofs, descending like locusts, as they strip sou
venir stands clean and cluster in tight groups
under the watchful eye of an overly pleasant
multilingual guide holding an umbrella.
* These types of tourists are not bad people,
but they are the main source of sustenance for
touts, louts and thugs. Some of them do funny
things. They sneak away from those bus tour
hotels and migrate to seedy places to watch
local women take their clothes off. They drink
too much. They make friends too easily. They
stay out too late. They stagger home at four in
the morning singing German drinking songs.
There is a sub-species of the touristicus
domesticus that I would recommend you study
and eventually evolve into when you start your
bon voyage. It is the fabled touristicus back
packensius.
Unlike th e much-derided domestic version,
this species is much more adapted to its sur
roundings. The key indicators are hiking boots,
hairy legs with knobby knees, T-shirts with
politically correct slogans and the omnipresent
shoestring guides to conquering the world. They
like to think they are independent, even thought
they bunch up at the same youth hostels each
night.
The backpackensius sub-species is infa
mous for initiating Western penetration into
every local habitat it encounters. I’ve found sig- ^
. nificant numbers of backpackensius apparently
in their breeding season and in their chemical
supplement season, everywhere from the
beaches of Goa, India, to obscure villages in
Africa, to remote islands in the South China
Sea.
Wherever you go, die different species of
touristicus will warmly welcome you into their
herd. I recommend you spend as little time as
possible with them before you venture out into
the indigenous surroundings.
Still don’t understand? I can’t explain any
more. It’s time to just do it.
David Baker is a senior African studies, sociology and anthropology major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist