Last year when I applied for a column, I knew exactly why I wanted to write for The Chronicle. After flipping to the back of the newspaper everyday to read the opinion pieces, I had noticed a continuing disparity between the male and female columnists' articles. It seemed that there were separate topic categories dictating the subject matter of female and male writers.
Indeed, male columnists portrayed themselves as student experts in their columns by explaining the intricacies of foreign policy, Washington politics and Duke's administration. Female columnists, however, were restricted to a different set of topics and approached their subject matter in an entirely different matter. Pontificating on dating, social hierarchies and Duke's atmosphere and environment, women writers dedicated their columns to social insight. When female columnists did comment on traditionally 'male' subject matter--NAFTA, the economy, war and terrorism--their analyses, in general, relied on emotional arguments framed by personal experiences.
Don't get me wrong. I believe an integral segment of campus discussion includes the issues predominantly discussed by female columnists. Someone should, in fact, highlight social trends and recount the unrecognized struggles of the poor. What bothered me, however, was the strict adherence of who commented on hookups and who evaluated the presidential candidates. I never found a male columnist who explained dating or the rules to relationships at Duke.
I thought, if I wrote a column, I would avoid all of the traditionally feminine topics. Off limits were discussing relationships, eating disorders, feminism and describing emotionally charged experiences. I would write with the mind, not the heart. My arguments would hopefully be analytical--completely based on what I perceived as logical. Personal experiences would be limited, and first-person references would be stringently avoided. Even though I realized I was not necessarily the best person to set such an example, I wanted to demonstrate that a woman could write like a man. It would be my contribution.
And then, last Friday something changed. I flipped to the back of The Chronicle like always and found the anonymous "Effortless Perfection?" guest commentary. After reading the stinging words of the writer, my arms suddenly felt heavy and sadness spread over me. Something had shattered. Someone had finally accurately expressed the vague and ineffable pressures on women at Duke. And what scared me the most was that two years ago, I would not have identified with the experiences of the writer. I would have cast her off as an extreme case. But now, I understood her. I saw her in so many girls on campus, and I saw her in me. I was shocked.
I finally had to admit that I had been adversely affected by the environment at Duke. I always recognized the enormous pressures on Duke women to be perfect, but I never thought it was necessary for me to identify how those pressures had affected my own actions. The pressures were manifest in the eating disorder cases that I saw walking on campus. They were manifest in the polo shirts and two-toned totes. They were not in me. After all, I was writing the analytical column to combat self-imposed restrictions wasn't I?
I had changed. I asserted that I was helping to alter prevalent writing trends, when I myself doubted my competency, relative to the other male columnists, on addressing analysis-intensive topics. Too many times I had sat back in my male-dominated political science discussion to let the guys take the lead. I suddenly realized the truth in a friend's suggestion that I indeed would have flourished at a women's college. I began to wonder, why wasn't I flourishing at Duke? Wasn't I here to flourish?
As disgusted as I was with myself for allowing social pressures at Duke to affect my actions, identifying how I had failed to be true to myself planted seeds of change. Filled with resolve, I felt a sense of urgency to address the unhappy changes that I had, until then, ignored.
Too often, Duke women tend to deny how social pressures have affected their actions. Last year, for example, a small scandal developed on the floor of my dorm when three girls began picking food out of the trash to eat in the middle of the night. It was an incongruous image--three attractive and wealthy Duke girls sifting through the hallway trashcan after denying themselves proper food all-day long.
Disgusted by the frequent sight of the girls surrounding the trash can all semester, a few girls posted a sign in response that read, "Please refrain from eating out of the trash." The next day, as if to declare that they picked through the trash to prevent waste, the three blondes posted a picture of an emaciated African child and a definitive statistic on the terrible problem of starvation.
If female students cannot even realize that eating out of the trash is abnormal behavior, all efforts by the University to improve the condition of Duke women will fail to affect change. Indeed, students need to identify "effortless perfection" not just as an adverse pressure, but as a pressure that has already adversely affected them in tangible ways. Until then, we will not flourish, and students who would benefit from the new Women's Initiative will simply disregard those measures as remedies for others--and not for themselves.
Tammy Tieu is a Trinity sophomore. Her column appears every third Wednesday.
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