Tears

The other day in my Gender studies class we were discussing the Feminine mystique and its ideas on the stereotypes of gender roles, specifically the different types of characteristics that are considered “masculine” or “feminine.” Our discussion traversed to the topic of a prominent stereotype that women are naturally more emotional and weak or unstable than men, and therefore are prone to crying more frequently. Someone brought up several instances during which their friends mentioned to them they felt  “uncomfortable to see a guy cry” and it struck me that I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. Of course there were numerous times I felt strong emotions of sadness or remorse but apparently never enough to result in tears.

This made me think, why exactly do we cry? I know it is a reaction to strong emotion or sensation but we also cry when we are extremely happy or sometimes when we feel no emotion at all. After a bit of research I found that there are three main types of tears. Basal tears: naturally occurring bodily functions that cleanse the cornea and keep it moist, reflex tears: caused by an irritation of the eye by a foreign substance in a defense/cleaning response, and “psychic tears” (crying or weeping tears) due to a strong emotional stress, pleasure, suffering, pain, or another strong emotion.

The thought of not being able to remember the last time I cried really stuck with me and had me questioning myself and state of being. Am I somehow less emotional than everyone else because I couldn’t remember when I had cried last (and was this emotional drought applicable for all my emotions)? Is it just that the most recent instance was insignificant and that is why I can’t recall when or why it happened? I began to seek answers from my friends and family and to my surprise I got a very mixed response. Some could recall the day they had last cried whether it had been very recent or just memorable for them. Others could remember when but not why, and a decent amount like me, could not even remember that last time it had happened.

I no longer believe I am alone in this tear free drought (if it even is a drought or I am making it out to be more than it really is) and actually, through the writing of this piece, have remember a time I laughed so hard my eyes began to water just this past summer. I don’t know if this “counts” or not, but I’m glad thinking about the topic ended with some sort of self-realization. So now I’ll end by asking you, the reader, can you remember the last time you cried and if you can, is this memory in detail or vague and somewhat empty?

"Isandro" (an expansion of an in-class prompt)

Initially, I was going to be called “Octavio” or “Augosto” (thankfully my parents decided against it). I’m sure I would’ve embraced either of those names just as easily but I’m actually glad my parents chose “Isandro” for a number of reasons (that I’ll get to later).

A little bit of background: “Isandro” literally means “The freer of the people” or “Man’s liberator.” While this may not apply to me directly, my parents chose this, as it was representative of my ancestors having fought for liberation and freedom of all kinds. Although it’s a Spanish name, “Isandro” comes from the name “Lysander,” most famously a Spartan admiral who lived in 400 BC. Seeing as though my siblings are named Joaquin and Mayahuel, my parents definitely wanted something unique for each of us and that’s what I really appreciate about my name.

Whenever we go to a tourist location or some new place that has a gift shop, more times than not they have that revolving showcase with key chains with alphabetized names like Sam, Max, Sarah, or John (nothing against those names just examples I’ve seen every time). I’m always interested to see what names are there but of course I never find mine. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even met someone with my name before, let alone have my name on a coke bottle or something, but that’s just what makes it interesting. I think there’s a connection (however small it may be) when I meet someone and they don’t know how to pronounce my name at first, but as I get to know them they figure it out. Believe me, I don’t even consider my name to be hard to pronounce yet I get things like “ee – sand- ro,” “ i-sand-ro,” “Isidro,” “Isaundro,” and one time “izander.” I laugh when I think of people mispronouncing my name incorrectly and I don’t mind because I like the fact that it’s so unique. When the teacher pauses on a name during roll call, I like the fact that it might be mine, because that’s one small thing that sets me apart from every one else and makes me, me.

One thing I’ve always wondered is what it would be like to have someone call your name and respond only to realize they were talking to someone else. My friends always laugh when I say “Hey Daniel” and both Daniels turn (not to pick on any Daniel) but to me its just somewhat of a mystery what it would be like. When you take a step back and think about it though, your name really is unique to you. Even if your name is shared by someone else, there’s only person in the world that has your name with all your qualities and interests and ideas and that’s you.