As promised here is Chapter 10 of my memoir. If you still need to catch up (you have a lot of reading to do) then click here and scroll to the bottom.
Chapter 10
This column was one of my favorites. Not because it was funny (it wasn’t) and not because of the reaction it garnered (it didn’t garner much of anything), but because I was very pleased with my war analogy. This whole notion of writing about something by using the terms of something entirely different is a popular literary technique1, but something I had never done before. Looking back, my first hack at it was poorly crafted and could use a lot of work, but I still think that the idea was great.
Now I’m not sure if my column filled with war imagery had anything to do with it, but in the wake of the “controversy” that I had started a new female group was formed on campus. I wish I was joking, but they decided to call themselves “The Vagina Warriors”. How this group was deemed appropriate by the powers that be at Fairfield University is still beyond me. Case in point, if a bunch of guys wanted to form a group to discuss male empowerment and decided to call themselves “The Penis Brigade” or something of that ilk it would have been shut down almost immediately. Now what these cunt cadets actually did I’m not sure, but I do know that they had a president and vice president of the group which I’m sure looked great on their resumes.
The mixed reaction to my provocative language continued in the week that followed “The Dan Stanczyk issue of The Mirror.” While walking to class one day a former politics professor of mine said, “Hey Dan. I love what you’re doing. Keep it up,” as he walked on by. This came as a bit of a surprise because I wasn’t entirely sure that this professor knew my name. In most of my classes I was outspoken enough to build a rapport with the professor, but that was not the case in this instance. I took his Introduction to Political Theory class in the fall of my junior year and it was held at 9:30 on Tuesdays and Friday in the Dolan School of Business which was approximately 938 miles from my townhouse. I generally stumbled in, sat in the back, and tried to avoid falling asleep. There were plenty of people in this class that regularly answered the professor’s questions, so I didn’t feel compelled to do so. I often caved when a professor asked a question and no one raised their hand. That apathetic silence, or genuine uncertainty, got to me.
For some reason this man remembered me well enough to go out of his way to encourage my efforts as a writer. I assume he was just excited that there was finally some sort of buzz among the student body. Back in the ‘70’s American colleges and universities were filled with kids that had strong opinions about the War in Vietnam. Those strong opinions fostered spirited political debates on campuses all across the country. In the mid to late 00’s students didn’t care about anything. Political discourse was largely absent among co-eds. Issues simply didn’t affect them anymore. This trend must have been disheartening for politics professors who lived through the ‘70s. Because of this shift toward political apathy I imagine that my former professor was just thrilled to see that people actually cared about an issue on campus, as trivial as it may have been. Finally students were engaged and talking about something more important than the party they were going to later that night.
Another politics professor got in on the act that week by referring to me simply as “He Said” when he took attendance (yes, he took attendance. The only professor I had at Fairfield that did). I didn’t think too much of this response from my past and present politics professors, but as soon as a female religious studies professor that I had my freshmen year started saying hello to me as we crossed paths I knew that the faculty had officially taken notice. Two is a coincidence. Three is a trend. I generally didn’t care for this woman or her class and I still don’t understand how she had me as a student, went two and a half years without saying a word to me, and then decided that it was cool to start saying hi like we had kept in touch since I took her shitty class, but I still exchanged pleasantries with her when she initiated.
The positive feedback kept pouring in as The Mirror ran this letter to the editor, which in my opinion put the “controversy” in the proper context, the following week.
Stanczyk not all bad?
I am writing in response to the "He Said" column (insert complaint about insulting women and degradation here). I wear Uggs religiously, I attended an all-girls high school, and I am a female student-athlete. I enjoy wearing huge sunglasses at night, and I love pink hats. In fact, I could definitely beat Dan in a sprint. The problem is, he would not know that because I have never challenged him. And, Stanczyk-bashers, neither have you.
Ladies, I am all for girl power. In fact, I am an advocate of women's rights. I feel, however, that the type of response the "He Said" column has generated directly relates to the stereotypes Stanczyk has perpetuated weekly. Facebook groups entitled "He Said Shit" essentially mean nothing without follow-through. We, the gorgeous women we are, love to talk and all of your talk with lack of action shows the extent to which we have tried to affect change. If you want an apology from him, demand one. I am sure he would love to talk to you; in fact, I believe he said in this week's Mirror that he would be "more than happy" to speak with the offended parties.
"He Said" is not journalism. It is, however, a thought-provoking, public outlet for guy with a strong writer's voice. He has the right to make a statement. Editorials should encourage discussion or recognition of stereotypes. Did anyone ever stop and think that maybe that is Stanczyk's purpose?
Props to Mirror Editor in Chief Steph L. I think it is pretty cool that a female editor can handle Stanczyk's brutal opinions with the grace she portrayed in her recent column. It would be a shame to see freedom of speech silenced at the college level. I think that "He Said" has a great comedic sense. Some comments are offensive, sure, yet almost too ridiculous to be taken as truth. I think that is his point. The column provides entertainment, and that should be the extent of it. My friends and I continue to read The Mirror every week. In fact, I hear of more people reading The Mirror now. People actually care about a hot topic on campus - wait, what?
Most people, including me, usually get pissed off when another person points out what they do not like to see in themselves. Wear your Uggs proudly and give Stanczyk a "swift kick in the shins" in person. I'm sure he would laugh. He might even start to think a little differently. Think about it.
Sincerely,
Kristen M '09
Now in the interest of full disclosure, Kristen was one of the most interesting people I met in my four years at Fairfield. That said, she proudly wrote this article of her own volition. Kristen and I met in the fall of my sophomore year. She was a freshman living in Regis Hall, where my friend and future housemate Greg was an RA. The two of them hit it off in the first month of the school year and soon began hooking up. In late October Greg invited her and her friend, along with Tim, Max, and I to his parents’ house in nearby Trumbull, CT for dinner. A day or two before the dinner Greg told me that Kristen was perfect for me2, which was ironic because he was hooking up with her, but it only took a few conversations with her to find out that he was right.
Kristen was an athletic 5’4 with thoughtful, glossy-brown eyes, dark hair that went just past her shoulder, and an adorable smile. She was from the outskirts of Philadelphia and played field hockey at Fairfield. I was immediately drawn to her because she was engaging, cute, sarcastic, and had a realistic sense of the world. Not long after meeting at Greg’s parents’ house we began talking to each other on a regular basis. Mostly just via AOL Instant Messenger. For whatever reason our personalities just meshed. Eventually Greg, the hound dog that he was, moved on to another girl and hurt Kristen’s feelings in the process, but the end of their “relationship” was not the end to ours. We continued talking throughout the year and although I had developed strong feelings for her I never put my cards on the table or made a move because I wasn’t sure if she’d reciprocate and I was petrified of rejection.
We remained friends during my junior year, but didn’t really see each other much. That was until I stumbled back to my townhouse one night in October to find Kristen sitting on our couch with my housemate Pete. Pete, who lived in Room A with Glancy, was 6’3 with light olive skin, brown eyes, and in a way resembled a llama. He was 100% Greek and had an almost permanent 5 o’clock shadow.
Pete and Kristen met at a party that night and hooked up. I wasn’t happy about it, but Pete had no idea that I had feelings for her. Dylan and Matty K did, so they let me have it pretty good as Pete continued to send late night texts to meet up with her in the coming weeks. I obviously wasn’t thrilled that Pete continued to hook up with Kristen, but there was nothing I could do. I wasn’t going to be so petty as to cock block my housemate just because I had feelings for a girl that I had never even made out with. Eventually their brief romance fizzled and all was back to normal.
The next semester Kristen and I ended up in the same News Writing class taught by Fran. With the Kristen in my grade abroad in Australia, my attention was squarely on this younger Kristen (there must be something about the name), regardless of what had happened with her and Pete. As the semester continued we starting talking more and more (mainly about how much we loved Fran) and eventually Kristen’s roommate (the same girl that came to Greg’s parents’ house a year and a half earlier) told me in a very middle school way that Kristen was interested in me romantically. Sooner or later the two of us began “dating.” I took her out a few times, we hung out on weekends, etc. One night she came to my townhouse real late after partying with kids in her grade in the dorms and after a little playful chatter we soon made our way up to my bedroom. On the way up Kristen delivered the immortal line, “Why do I feel like I’ve walked up these stairs before?”
After a month or so of this “relationship” things came to a screeching halt. One weekend I was away visiting a few of my friends at a school in western New York when Kristen called and gave me some mumbo jumbo about how she couldn’t do this anymore, she wasn’t ready for a commitment, my friends were assholes, etc. She was hammered and I could hardly hear what she was saying, but apparently she meant it because when I got back to stag country that was that. Naturally I was crushed. I didn’t know what I did or what she wanted, but I had to deal with it.
Despite seeing each other in News Writing class twice a week we did not speak for a solid month and a half afterwards. During that stretch there were multiple times where I wanted to talk to her, but I told myself that I couldn’t based solely on principle. Eventually she cracked (I’m competitive even when it comes to things like who can be more stubborn) and IMed me one day about something inconsequential and we started talking like old times.
At the end of the semester we each had to meet with Fran to discuss the work that we had completed throughout our 5 month stretch as wannabe writers. In my meeting Fran mentioned how she was surprised that Kristen and not me had taken an internship with The Stamford Advocate’s Sports Department (the same internship that I would go on to have in the fall of my senior year). Fran had the editor and one of the writers come speak to our class and then gave us their contact information. Upon mention of Kristen, I asked Fran if she even knew that Kristen and I were friends. We hardly, if ever, spoke to each other in class and went a solid month and a half without even acknowledging each other’s existence.
“Friends?” she said, “I just hope I get an invitation to the wedding.”
“Really?” I responded in my best effort to remain coy, even though I was floored at her comment. Both because I didn’t expect her to say that and because I was thrilled that she thought about the two of us that way.
“I’m a reporter, Dan. I notice things.”
Fran was wrong, but Kristen and I remained friends throughout the summer and into the fall of my senior year. I rarely saw her though because she wasn’t 21 and therefore couldn’t get in to The Seagrape (the bar near the point that all of the seniors frequented). Also, I knew that our romantic history was just that, so there was no way that I was going to head back to campus for a night. Besides, I was all sorts of hung up on the Kristen in my grade and there was Jackie and Alyssa.
So when Kristen told me (via AIM, of course) that she was writing a letter to the editor about this so-called “controversy I demanded that she send it to me first. She obliged and after reading through her letter I was initially disappointed. I figured that one of my friends would have my back and rail against my haters. I had such a me against the world attitude at the time that it would have taken a lot for me to approve. It took me a while to realize it, but Kristen’s letter was actually the perfect defense. Simply put, she got it. She understood both sides of the equation (me and the staunch feminists) and was able to accurately put things in perspective.
Sure my purpose was not to raise awareness about the lack of gender equality in our society, but by making my male classmates laugh by way of female stereotypes the issue was brought to the forefront. Rather than use this opportunity to engage in a lively debate about one of the pitfalls of our college culture the majority of females took the opposite approach. They attacked what they saw as the new face of this injustice (me) with the kind of vitriol that only enhanced the very negative stereotypes that they were trying to disprove. Now I was by no means innocent, but lashing out against me was not the right calling card for social change.
In the mean time the calendar had given Jackie and I another obvious topic.
The Mirror on November 14th, 2007
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is all about restoring the American notion of patriarchy for a day. Sure women have made plenty of advances in society and there is still plenty of room for social mobility, but Thanksgiving puts that drive on hold like the Notre Dame offense this year. The women go back to their rightful office of the kitchen and prepare a feast while men lounge around and watch America’s number one sport: Football.
Thanksgiving, appropriately named, is a time to give thanks and this is what we should all be thankful for this year.
Football- Nothing beats tossin’ the old pigskin around with your family and friends. Things get heated once those turkey bowl games get underway and Uncle Bill starts cheating. Uncle Bill its not 1984 anymore3. You’re more washed up than Pauly Shore. Who said winning isn’t everything? If you aren’t first, you’re last4.
Football on TV- Once the meal and family time are over, grab a piece of pumpkin pie and get ready for the real fun to begin. The Lions are actually a good team this year and Favre and the Packers are back. Now while you thought you devoured everything in sight, just wait for the Cowboys to feast on the Jets. And please tell me John Madden isn’t announcing this year. He needs to get hit by his own bus. Boom.
The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving- aka the biggest drinking night of the year. St. Patrick’s day is pretty sloppy but on November 21st, the Irish learn who really knows how to party; Americans…because we are in America.
The Back to the Future marathon on TBS- The Delorean is great, but hopefully the tryptophan will kick in as soon as II ends and III begins. That Wild West might be worse than the Will Smith movie.
Stags Basketball- The season is finally here. The Stags might feel like mashed potatoes after their non conference schedule is over, but once the MAAC season starts it will be all gravy.
Also let’s be thankful that for at least another year we will have a male president. Now relax femi-nazis. It’s not women I dislike, its Hilary. So what if I’m bitter that she’s a senator from New York and she’s not even from there. On the other hand, if she does win, Bill would be back in the White House getting his saxophone played by interns. And this time it wouldn’t be an obstruction of justice.
1 See “The Crucible” by Arthur Miller↩
2 The only other time a friend told me that was during my sophomore year when Robby told me that the Kristen in my grade was perfect for me. Pretty crazy that my friends knew me that well.↩
3 I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but this was a clear reference to Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite (2004)↩
4 A line made famous in the 2007 comedy Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which just so happened to be on our DirecTV package seemingly every day of the school year. I watched it upwards of 11 times and it got funnier every time.↩
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Hi, Dan!
oh hi DAN!!!!
Post a Comment