Political correctness is socially incorrect

Political correctness is crippling society.

In an attempt to avoid offensive language, schools around the country have sought to eliminate ‘loaded’ words from textbooks and standardized tests. Now, some words are certainly inappropriate because of racist or sexist connotations and should be banned.

But some schools are taking it too far.

According to an article on CNN’s belief blog dated March 28, some New York City schools want to ban words such as ‘dinosaur’ and ‘birthday’ because these words might offend certain groups.

The word ‘dinosaur,’ they argue, may make people think of evolution, which in turn could offend certain Christian groups.

The word ‘birthday’ may offend Jehovah’s Witnesses, who do not celebrate birthdays.

And some words, like ‘television,’ don’t make any sense at all.

While the goal seems to be to increase respect for certain groups’ beliefs, in the long run, it will only promote division and disunity.

 

The fact is, not everyone shares the same beliefs. That’s been the case since the dawn of mankind, and it will continue to be the case for centuries more. Shielding children from topics that might possibly conflict with their beliefs (or their parents’ beliefs, as the case often is) is as pointless as it is counterproductive.

Does anyone really believe that a person can go through life without ever having his or her beliefs challenged? Sheltering children from anything that might possibly in some remote way contradict their personal beliefs is doing them a disservice in the long-run.

Children need to learn to accept that their beliefs and opinions are not the only ones out there. I was in third grade when I realized not everyone shared my religious beliefs. And I was fine with it. It has made me a more understanding, tolerant person.

But these schools would ban the word ‘religion’ simply because differences exist. Do they really think ignoring the fact that people have different beliefs is a good way to help children face these differences later in life? Tolerance is a necessary skill to be a productive member of society. Pretending different opinions don’t exist teaches the opposite of tolerance. It teaches them that others’ beliefs aren’t worth mentioning.

Dinosaurs and birthdays are so unlikely to cause controversy, it just seems silly to try and ban them. And if anyone does throw a fit, it’s probably because they never learned to tolerate others’ beliefs in the first place – a problem banning these topic will only make worse.

And where does it stop? Do we ban the word ‘color’ because it’s racist? Do we ban the words ‘holocaust’ or ‘Nazi’ or ‘Hitler’ from history classes because they’re offensive to Jews? Why not ban ‘evolution’ and ‘fossil record’ and ‘big bang’ while we’re at it? In fact, why not ban science altogether? After all, a lot of people think science is evil because it contradicts their religious beliefs.

Diversity is a fact of life, as is the fact that some people will be offended by it. Ignoring it or pretending it doesn’t exist is like the four-year-old playing hide-and-seek who just stares at a tree because “if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.” Reality doesn’t work like that. Schools shouldn’t work like that, either.

Unicorn Genetics

“Been thinking about Silhy’s story.”

That’s the first thing my fiancée, Britny, says on a Facebook chat when I get home. “Silhy’s story” refers to a fantasy adventure novel she’s been working on for as long as I’ve known her. The inhabitants of this world all have strange abilities ranging from telekinesis and healing to invisibility and shape-shifting. Oh, and they’re unicorns. You know, those magical, happy, one-horned creatures every princess rides into the sunset at the end of yet another perfectly cheerful day of friendship and smiles. And I love it.

Before somebody demands that my ‘man card’ be revoked, let me explain: this unicorn world is not made of fuzzy sunbeams and rainbows. The characters face complicated problems. There’s war and death and outright betrayal. This is not the kind of world where a young princess can wander around safely. This is a real world with real problems, and I feel no shame admitting that it’s one of my favorite things to talk about.

I was introduced to the fantasy world of Perpetua when I was 15 years old when Britny told me about a simple, text-based online game she wanted to start. Being a 15-year-old boy, I thought it was kind of dumb, but I wanted to be a good friend, so I decided to give it a chance. I decided to create a stallion named Sergei  in the ‘neutral’ faction, and since I was the first one to do so, he became the faction’s king. Well, that’s pretty cool, I thought.

The game, though entirely text-based, was surprisingly complex. I was told that my unicorn had the power to heal injured unicorns and turn invisible. Each realm had a hierarchy of leadership positions, and there was a discussion board dedicated to combat, which I thought I’d try out. The breeding board seemed a little sketchy, but I could worry about that later. For now, I would just have to wait for more people to join and see where the game went from there.

 “Have I ever told you about how Silhy was able to turn into a dragon?”

Silhy is shorthand for Silharai, the daughter of the king and queen of the Light realm and the protagonist of Britny’s novel. I’m vaguely aware of this ability and that it has something to do with genetics. I also know that one of Silhy’s powers is invisibility.

 “Is it a genetic mutation related to the invisibility gene?” I ask.

She takes a moment to respond. “Sure.” We spend the next hour or so discussing the ancestry, selective pressures, and random genetic mutations that would create so many different powers. “I just tutored genetics last week,” Britny says offhandedly. “I am so a nerd.”

“One of the many reasons I love you, dear,” I reply. She sends me a kissing face emoticon in reply.

It didn’t take long for the trouble to start on Britny’s unicorn game. Another stallion named Azure decided to challenge Sergei for the throne. At the end of the battle, he transformed himself into a giant stone ball threw himself at Sergei at a deadly speed. We’d been battling for some time, and Sergei was weak. All I could do was dodge out of the way. We both fought well, and I knew the battle would be close.

The next day, Britny posted the results. Sergei had scored 27 points out of 30. Azure had scored 28 and took the throne. Sergei had fought well and was still in a position of power, but I felt defeated just the same. I found myself hoping I would get the chance to reclaim what I’d lost.

Britny only has an outline and partial rough drafts for her novel but, she’s already making plans for a sequel. It revolves around Silhy and two children of a Royal Light mare that goes rogue.

“It's the sister that's the problem,” Britny says. “The one I don't have a name for yet.”

“Stick,” I say just to tease her. Then I add, “This is why I don't name horses.”

Britny decides to try mixing the dragon mare’s parents’ names, Embriana and Ripitare. The first thing to come to mind is Retina, which is about as good as Stick. I suggest naming her Riboflavin, which doesn’t fly either. “I could call her Deoxy,” Britny says. “Like deoxyribonucleic acid.”

I can tell we’ve been talking about genetics for too long, but we play with it. “Well, ‘Dox’ makes me think ‘toxic.’”

She likes that line of thought. “Doxine?” she suggests. “Wait, that’s a wiener dog.”

After a few minutes, she has a name she likes. Toxine, the daughter of a rogue Royal Light and a powerful Dark king. Britny hasn’t told me many details, but it sounds like she’ll cause a lot of problems for Silhy. I can’t wait to find out what those problems will be.

The Darks declared war on the Lights, and I was worried. The fight board had new threads every day, and it was impossible to keep track of who was still alive and who had died. Sergei was no longer king, so I focused my attention on a subplot I had been developing between him and Apocalypse, and Dark stal I also controlled. Apocalypse had led a raid on the Neutral realm and killed Sergei’s queen. Sergei wanted revenge, and the war brought the two together for one last battle.

Britny was swamped from judging so many battles, so I decided to take this one into my own hands. That’s one of the things I didn’t like about the game. I felt like I couldn’t control the story the way I wanted. But this was my chance. This was my opportunity to let good win out and give the villain his just deserts.

Britny was happy to let me play out the battle the way I wanted. She knew I had too many characters and was probably happy to hear that I was willing to kill a few of them off. The duel was epic by my standards, and at the end, Sergei stood battered but triumphant over Apocalypse’s body.

It was a small victory in the overall scheme of things. The Darks were victorious, and the Light realm fell. Soon the Darks took control of the Light’s lands, and interest in the game petered off quickly after that. Within just a few days, the game was dead, and the world I cared so much about was gone. But at least Sergei had won his private war, and that was enough to keep me happy.

It’s after midnight Britny’s time, and we’re still talking about the plot of her novel. I’ve read a couple drafts of the beginning, but I’m still trying to figure out each character’s motivations. Why did Embriana turn evil? Why did Ripitare attack the record keeper? What happens after this battle? What happens to that character? The more I understand, the more I fall in love with the story and its characters.

Eventually, though, Britny needs to go. She’s flying out to D.C. to visit her family, and she needs to get to the airport. “Beware the wrath of Retina, also known as Stick!” I say just to make her laugh. She does. “Have a safe trip!”

“Goodnight, will do,” she says before signing off.

I go to sleep, wondering if any of my roommates will ask what I was doing up so late. I’m usually in bed by 11, and it’s almost 12:30. What would I tell them? “I was discussing unicorn genetics with Britny?” I smile as I picture the looks on their faces. Unicorns? Really?

As my mind shuts down for the night, I think about everything we’ve talked about. I could have taken the ‘manly’ route when I was 15, ignored the unicorn game, and missed out on all the fun we’ve just had. But I didn’t ignore it. And I did have fun, even if other guys think it’s dumb. Because unicorns aren’t just for little girls in princess gowns. They can be for people like me, too.

The Past in the Present

There was once a time when people made soap by hand. They would make lye from wood ash, mix it with water and animal fat, and boil it over an open fire. The process was hot and time-consuming, and pioneers would only do it in large batches once or twice a year. People used this process to make their own soap until it was largely replaced by commercial soap in the 20^th century, and the art of home-made soap gradually disappeared.  However, there are some who still practice the art of soap-making, preserving this piece of history in every bar they make. Patricia Fielding of Idaho Falls is one of those people.

In 1996, Fielding was looking for an easy way to supplement her income and support her seven children. One day she found herself in a ceramics shop. As she was leaving, she noticed a basket of rough-cut, hand-made bars of soap and decided to buy one for decoration. She wrapped it in raffia and put it in her bathroom, and there it sat for a couple years until, one day, she decided to use it.

“It felt different,” Fielding says. “I thought it was going to be wimpy, but it wasn’t.” She knew she wanted more, but that that bar of soap would run out eventually. She decided she would find out how to make soap by hand and enjoy that unique, old-time feeling again and again.

Rediscovering the art of soap-making was not an easy process, especially since there are so many ways to do it. The pioneers made a soft soap by boiling ash lye and refined animal fat over an open fire, but Fielding wanted a hard bar soap, which takes a little more time and effort. “I did some trial and error,” she recalls. “I made some goop, I made some stuff that was not pretty at all, and then I finally figured out how to do it.”

Whether it’s hard bar soap, soft pioneer soap, or liquid hand soap, the basic ingredients remain the same – oils and lye. Pioneers used refined animal fat called tallow, but any oil will do. The combination of oils determines the qualities of the soap. Each one will contribute its own characteristic, whether it makes more lather or whether it makes the bar harder or softer.

The other ingredient, lye, comes in many forms as well. Pioneers mixed wood ash with water. Wood ash contains potassium hydroxide, which modern soap-makers use today. Patricia prefers using sodium hydroxide for her bar soap, but both will make lye. Patricia says lye has a bad reputation because it’s a dangerous caustic. It can cause skin rashes and even first or second-degree burns if left in contact with skin for too long.

Fielding starts by mixing the lye and oil mixture in a stainless steel pot over constant heat, just as the pioneers did. “The kids hated it, because you’d have to stir for 45 minutes to an hour,” she says with a laugh. Sometimes she’d get her local Cub Scout troop to help out. “They can each stir for about five minutes, and by the time the whole pack got done stirring soap, it’d be done,” she says.

Once the soap begins to harden, it’s poured it into molds, and the soap itself does the rest. Mixing lye and oils begins a chemical reaction that generates its own heat, so as long as it’s insulated inside the mold, it will cook itself.

Once the soap hardens in the mold, it can be cut into bars and set on shelves to finish drying. After a few weeks, it’s ready to be used – or, as Fielding found, packaged and sold to stores across the country. It turns out she wasn’t the only one who thought hand-made soap was something special. She gave a few bars to her neighbors, and the response was overwhelmingly positive. “One neighbor said, ‘My husband really likes this stuff, I’d like to buy a whole bunch from you,’” she says.

She researched how much it would cost and where she could get supplies and decided to give it a try. In December of 1997, she borrowed $300, made several hundred bars of soap, and set up a booth at a local craft fair. Before the second day had ended, she’d sold every bar she’d made and went home with orders for more. She was able to pay off her debt and make a $350 profit. She used that money to buy more materials, and in January of 1998, she opened her own soap company, Rainy Creek Soap, which specializes in hand-made soap.

The interest in her soap extended well beyond Idaho Falls. “My very first ever customer was the Mangy Moose in Jackson, Wyoming,” Fielding says. “They just have a standing order of ‘x’ number of bars per every other week.” Most of her sales are to gift shops, where people from all over can find her hand-made soap and discover what she found at that ceramic shop in ‘96.

Fielding’s product line has expanded beyond hand-crafted bars of soap. She now makes lotions, lip balm, body butters, and bath salts, all of it by hand. She has since improved her methods to meet increasing demands for her products. In the early days, she made 24-bar batches with a small stainless steel pot, a few plastic-lined cardboard boxes, and a homemade soap cutter. Now she can make batches of 900 bars at a time using a large steel vat, specialized molds, and large soap cutters. She has improved her formula as well, reducing the average cook time to 20 minutes, which allows her to make more soap in less time. Still, the process is basically the same as it was a hundred years ago, and her soap sometimes sells faster than she can get it off the drying rack.

Most of all, though, she has renewed a connection with her pioneer ancestors of old. Though she may not compete with the large companies, her product has found its place in the hearts of those who recognize in her hand-made soap something special.