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After a particularly involved (and amusing) discussion with a few friends on whether mustaches are acceptable or not, I figured I’d devote a post to the subject.
There was a particularly amusing moment I had at Cornell, where a few students had set up a sort of “mustache rally” in an effort to bring the mustache back into style. They were chanting pro-mustache slogans and brandishing razors and scissors at people who walked by, offering to give them a shave. Indeed it seems like mustaches are making a comeback…for better or worse.
There are roughly three groups of men: those who look at facial hair as a sign of rugged masculinity and actively grow and shape it into various creations, those who go for the razor at the first sign of stubble, and those who grow facial hair because they’d rather not go through the effort of shaving. Those from older generations, and those from outside the Western nations tend to value facial hair as undoubtedly a sign of masculinity. There probably is some evolutionary significance as far as men having facial hair is concerned. It is a marker of maturity, and perhaps for that reason, it hasn’t been phased out by either evolution or by societal whims.
I have one relative inquire of another relative who prefers to be clean-shaven, whether or not he is a man (to which I replied yes, he’s bald, he has more than enough testosterone). South Indian men seem to believe that mustaches define manliness, as evidenced by 90% of the actors having mustaches. Which brings me to my next point…what makes a man a man?
Masculinity can be defined by a few factors. The most definitive factor is chromosomal identity, that is, possessing XY sex chromosomes that give rise to male primary and secondary sex characteristics. Most boys look forward to the day that they start growing facial hair and shaving, because to them, it is a sign of growing up. Yet does the mustache make the man?
Obviously not.
Masculinity is defined by social constructs and personal outlook. It is equal parts machisimo and chivalry, with a pinch of sensitivity for good measure. It is sports and action, but also just being a father, brother, boyfriend, or husband. A little facial hair does not do any of that.
Clearly my stance on the mustache debate (yay or nay) is undoubtedly nay, to the dismay of 90% of my male, Malayalee relatives. Perhaps it’s due to being raised in the United States, where we are bombarded with ads for the next multi-blade razor that leaves a man’s face “silky smooth.” I just don’t think mustaches alone look good on a man’s face, with rare exception. It’s like carrying a chinchilla around on your upper lip all day.
Facial hair in general doesn’t suit all men. All men are different, all have different facial types. Some have rounder, cherubic faces. Others are chiseled, with strong jawlines. Others still, fall somewhere along the spectrum. So what works, and what doesn’t?
Naturally it’s a question of personal tastes and aesthetics.
Three things that don’t work right from the get-go:
1. Large, shaggy beards (makes you look about 10-15 years older)
2. Muttonchops, and other strange mustache creations. (just looks weird)
3. Soul patches (makes me think that you missed a spot while shaving)
What can work:
1. Scruff: This works best for two types of people:
a. Those who have that chiseled appearance. It helps accentuate the cheekbones and jawline.
b. Those who aren’t quite chiseled, but have some signs of a chin and cheekbones: It helps to further define those areas.
2. Goatees: This works best for people who don’t have a discernible chin, and need to define where their jawline is. Goatees on people with longer, thinner faces adds a certain devilishness to their appearance, which may or may not be a good thing.
3. Small mustaches a la Johnny Depp in Pirates: This only works if you have Depp’s facial structure (prominent cheekbones, hollow cheeks, strong jaw). Otherwise, it’ll just look make you look sketchy.
Ultimately men will grow their facial hair as they see fit, in accordance with their own definition of what it means to be a man, and more importantly, a good-looking man. There are obviously those for whom it just works, and for others, it can be an absolute disaster. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it cannot be generalized to the population as a whole. That’s the great thing about being human, we can find beauty in a variety of manifestations.
I don’t profess to be any more sad than anyone else about the death of Senator Kennedy. Yet on Wednesday morning, when I first read the news about his death, it hurt me deeply. Kennedy and I had no tangible connection otherwise. He was the liberal lion of the senate, the last of the storied Kennedy brothers, the last prince of Camelot. I am a first generation American, daughter of Indian immigrant parents, only starting to find my way in life. I think it is because it was his last few months of life, and his moment of death, that forged a connection between me and the senator.
Ted Kennedy, as all of you probably know, was diagnosed with brain cancer in May of 2008. Specifically, he was diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme (GBM)–which in the WHO system of cancer grading is stage IV–the most aggressive type of glioma. This summer, I started work in the city, on clinical trials devoted to GBM and other high-grade gliomas. As I started work, and found myself learning more about gliomas, Kennedy’s struggle came into greater focus. The treatments he went through, and the challenges he faced, became more real to me. He was not that different from the multitudes of patients I have come across through my work, his struggle was not any easier. This made his resilience and determination to see his goals through all the more admirable, and inspiring.
I am sitting here now, streaming the funeral coverage from the New York Times website, crying and laughing with everyone else who may be watching the services and the heartfelt eulogies. I am also sitting here, with my work before me, trying to understand how our research may shed new light on gliomas. Though this research is not my brainchild, it is still something about which I feel very strongly. I think I felt more pain about Kennedy’s death because brain cancer research has not reached a point where we could give more, quality years of life to those who suffer with brain cancer. I can only wish that we’ll get there in the near future.
In the meantime, I’m going to try to channel Kennedy as I push onward, with my colleagues, towards that distant goal.
I happened to be on Youtube a while back, and saw that there was a section devoted to commencement speeches, where Randy Pausch’s video was featured. I can’t believe it has been almost a year since he passed. I can’t believe that he passed.
I watched his last lecture soon after I had graduated from college. My brother had insisted that I see it, and he is usually not one for sweeping oratory. Randy Pausch did not look like he was dying, though all those present, and all those watching knew that he was. Not once did he pity himself, or bemoan his situation, even as his death grew steadily within him. His speech was peppered with grace, humor, and a perspective that one would not expect from cancer patients, let alone people who have ever been so much as slighted by fate.
He spoke eloquently of achieving his own childhood dreams, and helping others to achieve theirs. It’s one of those topics that, context notwithstanding, is beautiful and inspirational. Yet it takes on a whole new level of poignancy when one takes into account Pausch’s backstory, the “elephant in the room” as he referred to it (terminal pancreatic cancer). On a slight sidenote, and perhaps this is a gross generalization, but in the few weeks that I have worked in clinical cancer research, I have found such inspiration in the patients I have been lucky enough to hear about or perhaps even talk to. Their perspective, in many cases, is so pure and so positive. Perhaps it’s the specter of death that causes us to review our views on life, and find something positive to keep us (and those we love) going.
I remember coming into the hospital one day, having walked a few blocks in the pouring rain. I ended up being locked out of my office, and decided to wait in the waiting room. There was one other woman there, who was a patient. She smiled at me and asked me how I was doing. I responded, “Fine…but I wish the weather was better!”
“No no,” she said, “I love this weather.”
“Why?”
“Well,” she started, “it’s almost as if the city is being cleansed fully.” She smiled. “There is a smell in the city, that no amount of cleaning we do can take away. Yet when the rain comes down and washes the streets, it smells so fresh and clean afterward. That’s why I love it.”
I can’t look at storms with the same, negative view again.
Randy Pausch inspired me similarly. As many of you know, whether because you know me, or because you have read my posts, I really want to become a doctor. What you probably also know is that it has been a ridiculously uphill battle. In his speech, he spoke of brick walls. Brick walls, he said, were there to test how badly you really wanted something. Your propensity for breaking down the brick wall was correlated to the strength of your dream. I have made some progress with my own brick wall, but there is still more work to be done. I’ll see how it plays out.
There are a few other things that stuck that I have been able to relate to my own life. For one thing, he strongly advises his audience to never lose that child-like wonder. It’s absolutely true. If you do, you just get caught up in the tide, and in the humdrum passing of the days, where everything is just shades of gray. I think, oftentimes, it is the curse of adulthood, once we step outside of our colleges into the real world. Life threatens to be the same old story, everyday. It’s important, though, to find excitement in even the smallest, most seemingly mundane things. Even on my commute, I find myself staring out the window, trying to pick up on this and that that flies by as we head to Penn (or head home), or just let my mind run a little wild, contemplating this and that. Everything has the potential to be amazing, it’s just a question of how we approach it. If I find myself getting swept away, I just have to remember Randy Pausch, and how he was able to see everything in a new, awe-inspiring way
Helping others and doing the right thing seem to be things that we should be adhering to, but it’s surprising how many people drop the ball. Karma is something I strongly believe in, though that’s not the only reason one should do the right thing. It’s a question of the act itself, not the rewards it may potentially bring.
Ultimately the one thing that really touched me from his last lecture is the premise of putting others before yourself. He demonstrated that visibly by leading the entire audience in singing happy birthday to his wife. Yet even in day to day things, we can put the needs of others above our own. Humans are social beings, to deny our connection to other people, and to subvert that connection for our own gain does go against what it means to be human. Sure, we do have to look out for ourselves on occasion (otherwise we ultimately perish, literally or figuratively) but in serving others, we become better people.
Part of me wants to think Randy Pausch was, in a sense, enlightened all along. He seemed to conduct his life with a strong awareness of what he expected of life, and what life expected of him. Part of me thinks that his fight with cancer hastened the enlightenment process. Perhaps it was a little of both. He was certainly an extraordinary man, who led an extraordinary life, yet maintained a sense of humility that most people in his position fail to have.
It’s unfortunate that those who are truly an inspiration to humanity inevitably end up being taken away from us too soon. It is fortunate, however, that we have the means to immortalize those people and the wisdom that they preach. Indeed, the video of the last lecture has 10 million or so views. I’ve personally watched it twice, and I cried both times. It wasn’t really so much the inevitability of his death, but the manner in which he handled it that so moved me. He smiled, joked, laughed, and reminisced, even treating his impending death light-heartedly. Cancer wasn’t an end, it was a beginning.
It is partly because of Randy Pausch that I still dare to dream, even if the dream seems walled off by brick walls. Like he said, brick walls are there to test the strength of our resolve, and our devotion to the dream. Nothing is ever impossible, as he demonstrates by admitting that he was not accepted to Carnegie Mellon for graduate school. However, he was persistent, and eventually ended up going. As the 1st anniversary of his death approaches, I hope that new people, as well as people who have already seen the video, become inspired by the wisdom he so willingly gave.
Here is the video, for those who haven’t seen it, and those who want to see it again: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo
I first heard about Project Remix last year–or at least the collection of nascent ideas that would eventually become Remix–from one of the creators, who is also a good friend of mine. I was immediately sold on the idea, which was to create a site that provided resources and information to Desi (South-Asian) youth. A site created by the Indian youth for the Indian youth.
The official site launched recently, though it had already started generating buzz among our peers when it had made its first foray into the collective consciousness. Currently there are sections for cuts, cultural media, and articles. The cuts feature mixes used by various student groups and collegiate dance teams (bhangra, raas, Indian fusion, etc.) from across the country. Cultural media highlights video performances from various collegiate groups. The articles on Project Remix have been broken down into smaller categories and initiatives, devoted to everything from the arts to sports (currently I’m contributing to Team Innovate’s Neurobio series so be sure to check that out!). Examples of articles currently up on the website include my neurobio piece (an overview of neuroscience), a two-part series on biofuels, a review of Slumdog Millionaire, and a piece recounting a trip to Chennai to volunteer.
Project Remix is seeking new, fresh voices that can contribute to the site in any capacity. If you are a writer or blogger who is interested in appearing on the website, you can email projectremixny at gmail dot com. For any other questions, you can also send an email to the aforementioned address. The website is http://www.projectremix.org.
In addition, you can follow Project Remix on Twitter @ProjectRemix for updates.
I think my usual course of action would be to outline why we should all be worried or cautious. But I’m not going to do that.
Why?
I think as far as government competence in dealing with crisis situations is concerned, my confidence is at an all-time low. Yet, being me, I tend to give each administration a chance, just in case I’m wrong, and just in case they are actually competent. So far, we haven’t jumped to any ridiculous conclusions, nor have we neglected the issue entirely. I think we’re in a good place…so far.
One of my professors in my infectious diseases class did touch on the swine flu today, for our benefit, since the majority of us (like most others) are being bombarded with mostly useless news stories on the subject. This professor is an authority in the field of virology, so I’ve taken the liberty of summarizing a few points she brought up here, and added a few relevant points of my own where appropriate:
1. It’s the flu. It’s H1N1, not H5N1 (i.e. avian). It’s not terribly dissimilar from the influenza viruses we have all had at some point, though just different enough that our immune system may be a little befuddled at first.
2. When flu symptoms become apparent, more than likely, most of the virus is already gone from the body. Why? Our immune systems are pokey slow, and so when the immune response is in full swing, the virus has exited stage left.
3. Why is this hitting more young people? More than likely, it’s because young people tend to go to tropical places for spring break! Whether or not this is a true pandemic and is selectively infecting younger, healthier people is left to be seen.
4. Masks are only so helpful. Consider this: when you sneeze, you sneeze out several hundreds of droplets. If someone sneezes on you and you have a mask on, great, you should be ok. The problem arises when there are viral particles in the air that are not suspended in large, blobs of mucus. Viruses are very very small, small enough that they can be well-suspended in air, and slip through the fabric of the mask.
5. Your best bet? Wash your hands, and perhaps limit conventional social greetings (shaking hands, kissing on the cheek, etc.). If you want to buy an alcohol-based gel, that’s cool too. Just don’t go crazy with it (the Duane Reade at Penn Station had no Purell when I went to buy one…there was only one spray alcohol hand cleanser left, which was fine by me).
6. If you feel sick, don’t assume it’s swine flu. Most of the cases in the U.S. have been mild thus far, so do what you normally do for a flu. Rest, drink plenty of fluids, hold off on the Tamiflu unless things are getting very bad. Tamiflu is effective against this strain, but you want to make sure that this is the strain you’re dealing with. The usual flu strains are starting to develop resistance to Tamiflu, and we really don’t want to have a pesky swine flu+Tamiflu-resistant seasonal flu. Surprisingly, you can get over the flu without meds (shocking!!). The problem arises when you start developing more ominous symptoms (especially respiratory) or bacterial coinfections. Then a doctor’s visit is an absolute must.
Keep in mind, once again, I’m not a doctor…so take what I say with a grain of salt. I just felt this needed to be posted, especially after I noticed that everyone around me is freaking out unnecessarily. Yes, we should be on guard, but no, we shouldn’t give in to the panic. Seeing the constant stream of news stories relating to the swine flu, it’s easy to get caught up in it. Just try to keep things in perspective, that’s all that can be asked at this time.
The CDC’s website is a good one to keep on hand:
For Long Islanders, I have been using Newsday as my source to track the outbreaks in Queens and (apparently now) Nassau County (for your information, it is a student from Great Neck who was somehow associated with St. Francis Prep). Please use carefully, it’s easy to get caught up in the panic, but this is just to have an idea how the cases are appearing and how they are faring:
To doctors, epidemiologists, and other healthcare professionals, please feel free to provide your own input or correct what I have above.
This is partially in response to a piece recently published by Salon.com, covering an interview with Alva Noe, a philosopher from UC Berkeley.
I am a Hindu. Hindus believe in the existence of souls. I am studying biology. Biology does not consider the soul to be a possible entity. I am a neuroscience-enthusiast. Neuroscience does not believe the soul is the seat of consciousness.
While Alva Noe argues against a reductionist approach to understanding consciousness, unfortunately that is the very real reality of consciousness. The brain is the seat of consciousness. Why argue that it isn’t? It’s not as though the brain is somehow incapable of being responsible for the functions and emotions that make us wholly human.
I will agree with one aspect: that a lot of experience is very much dependent on the context into which we are placed. Yet that does not diminish the role of the brain, but rather, it reveals just how involved the brain is in crafting consciousness. It has to determine, based on the inputs it receives, how to perceive and react to the stimuli present. This is where his driver versus engine analogy falls apart. It is not a process that happens apart from the brain, it is the brain itself. When someone is brain dead, it’s not as is if consciousness continues to exist apart from the brain. Consciousness dies when the brain dies.
Why is religion something that has to be so separate from neuroscience? It’s as if one cannot coexist with the other, that somehow, neuroscience would undo the wonder that makes religion and religious experience what it is or vice versa. Neuroscience gives a more concrete basis for religious experience, and religion can help us reflect on the sheer wonder that is the brain. Why can’t the soul have a neurological basis? I’m not arguing for the total negation of the existence of the soul, I’m arguing for integrating it into our cerebral selves.
Likewise for love, desires, dreams, whatever emotions and states of mind there are that seem much too complicated to be contained in a network of neurons. These all have strong neurological bases, most have in dopaminergic pathways that give rise to feelings of pleasure and instilling the need to repeat actions that make us feel good (seek out someone we’re crushing on, eating something we like, pursuing a career which interests us). Yet we hate to think of it in these terms, we like to keep a little bit of that veil of mystery intact. It’s understandable, but it’s silly to argue that they are undoubtedly separate from the brain, whether partly or totally.
For better or worse, we are animals. We are a network of organs. We have been blessed with a highly developed forebrain, but that does not make our added ability to perceive ourselves, the world, or anything beyond…anything beyond our membrane-bound brain. What we should perhaps be more in awe of is that, despite the fact that we operate within the confines of our cranium, we can understand and strive for things that seem to exist far beyond us. That is the real wonder of the human psyche.
For those of you who know me know that I am, simply put, neuro-obsessed. Here’s where I try to justify that.
Think about the human body and how incredibly complex it is. Think of all the chemicals that course through your bloodstream to regulate this organ or that, that allow you to grow and mature. Think of the electrical and structural precision that is needed to keep your heartbeat normal. Think of the myriad events that go on to maintain normal digestion even when you are unaware that it is going on.
Now think of the brain and think of the fact that it regulates all of it. A three-pound (give or take a few ounces), gelatinous and convoluted mass of neural tissue sitting comfortably in your cranium regulates all of it. I think that’s pretty cool, right?
Consider this a kind of (grossly simplified) neuroscience primer from someone who has neither an M.D. nor Ph.D (so take it for what it’s worth).
Oh PETA, oh PETA, with your naked protests and fake blood and…sea kittens. You mean well, but you come across as so…strange. There are better ways to draw attention to the plight of animals, and to encourage vegetarianism.
Most of your protests seem to be something more along the lines of trench warfare, getting down and dirty in crafting your next move. You tend to go for the shock value, trying to get at people’s guts rather than their hearts, with some success. I can’t deny, many a vegetarian has been created after visiting your website or watching your protests. Nothing wrong with creating vegetarians, most became vegetarian after learning about the violent nature of the meat and poultry industry, and depriving the industry of that insatiable demand for meat (and I suppose fur and other animal-derived products) is the best way to reduce these practices. Yet you haven’t shied away from using violent (throwing fake blood at people wearing furs) and underhanded methods in expressing your discontent with the industry as a whole, which seems to defeat the purpose of PETA. People are, after all, animals too.
I think what set me off is this article from Newsday, about a PETA protest at an elementary school in Hempstead, a town on Long Island. It’s one thing to target adults, who are at a point in their lives where they have the ability to grapple with the (often horrifying) details of animal mistreatment. It’s another thing to target young children, who are still vulnerable and cannot necessarily handle all those realities. What a way to target them too! Protesters dressed up as circus animals and handed out coloring books entitled “Circuses are not fun for animals.” Seriously PETA? Do you know what the ramifications are of that? These kids are young, they can’t logically say “oh I won’t go to the circus because they mistreat animals” and not run through the other, dizzying possibilities that exist, real or imagined. Let kids have their childhood, leave it to the adults to initiate change…since they are in a better position to do that than the kids are. I’m surprised PETA hasn’t gone around to school cafeterias dressed up as farm animals with propaganda to inform kids that their hamburgers and hot dogs didn’t come from a quaint, little farm.
There are better ways to inform our children that what they think they know about animals in their day to day lives may not be what it seems. Why scare them, especially at such a young age? That is incredibly irresponsible. Please, if you’re not going to tone down the nature of your protests, at least keep them away from children. Leave it to their parents and teachers to choose whether to tell them or not, and how to tell them.
(Still doing recession-related guest posts through 3/9/09, just throwing this in there to add a little variety).
Most of you reading this blog know me, and know what I look like. For those of you who don’t, let me describe myself as best as I can:
I have light tan skin, dark brown eyes, a long nose (though not sharp), a small mouth, and layered black hair (that doesn’t know whether it wants to be straight or wavy) up to the middle of my back. I’m 5′1″ (for all intents and purposes), with a small frame, small hands, short legs, and small feet. Would you really be able to fairly compare me to a 5′10″, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pouty-lipped, long-limbed girl?
Yet people make these comparisons all the time. Beauty can’t be standardized to the same standard that has taken hold everywhere (tall, thin, light-eyed, long lashes, long-limbed, perfect skin, perfect skin tone, etc.). Among Indians, I see many people around my age wearing lighter-colored contact lenses, because they think they look better, for whatever reason. I had that phase myself for a while during high school, where I wanted lighter eyes (though I never bought contacts). Really though, what’s so wrong with having dark brown eyes?
Beauty is a definition that is fluid. It changes among different ethnic groups, and through different time periods. What may have beautiful for my ancestors (think old-time Nair people) perhaps isn’t the same for me. I don’t like when guys have mustaches, yet most men in Kerala over the age of 35 seem to have a mustache because of some vague standard of “manliness.” Thick, long, straight hair was the ideal for Malayalee women (and still is to some degree) and I get the speech about how I need to grow my hair longer, especially for my hypothetical wedding. My hair is layered and (sometimes) wavy (though usually unruly), two things that don’t seem to go well with some people in my family. Larger people have traditionally been viewed as beautiful across all cultures, and even today is a standard still held by many from my grandparents’ generation, if not more recent generations as well. “Eat more,” they insist, “you are too thin!” Weight was reflective of the amount of food you had access to, which equated to wealth. Yet today many cultures have been shifting towards a thin idea, whether it’s because of the health benefits of being thinner, or the media that glorifies stick thin models (less so nowadays than perhaps a decade ago).
In the past, certain features were “beautiful” because they conveyed some aspect of “fitness” (that is, a person’s ability to survive despite averse conditions). Each region had its own set of challenges, where possessing certain attributes lent a person certain benefits in that environment. However, the fact that many of these obstacles have been controlled in modern society, beauty has changed to reflect that. It seems that since all societies are moving towards the same standard of living, so too are all societies moving towards the same standard of beauty.
Yet beauty should remain something unique and personal, a standard we only set for ourselves. Beauty is not something that should be standardized across all people, for in doing that, we lose some degree of diversity that makes us special, and add so much unnecessary pressure for people to conform. It’s about being healthy, being hygenic, and looking presentable. Anything beyond that is really optional, whatever it is that makes you look and feel good, as only you can define it.
Plus beauty isn’t just about looks, it’s about personality, and other factors that cannot be changed so easily. Beauty is a whole package. No matter how tall you are, how thin you are, how much makeup you slather on, how clear your skin is, if you lack in those other areas, well those are much harder to remedy. Beauty, it turns out, is actually more than skin-deep. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
