COLUMN: Learning not to pigeon-hole

From Sarah Giulian's, "From Under My Rock," Fall '96 From Sarah Giulian's, "From Under My Rock," Fall '96 Greeks, Whartonites, Southerners, manicured-gold-watched-primped-"ladies," Eurotrash, Kathy Change, feminists, Long Islanders, Jersey girls, fat people, waifs, punks, Nursing students, football players, drop-outs, cops, poets, waitresses, Engineers, saggy-pants-shuffling-hip-hop-boys, suits, Penn Band members, old people, gays, the homeless, people walking little dogs, people walking big dogs, people on meal plan, smokers, druggies, drinkers. But when it comes to practice, most of us just can't help ourselves. It's natural to apply our percerptions of and experiences with people to everyone we meet. Sometimes we're even right. Sometimes it helps to pigeon-hole people. Sometimes it's impossible not to. And it's tough to admit we do this. For my first three years here, I held a vendetta against everyone in the Greek system based on limited information. My first song, "Frat Boy," slaughtered its slimy little players. The lyrics may be funny, but they sure as hell aren't fair. But I'm not saying anything new. So this is where my two cents come from. It's not judging people that's the problem. It's looking down on those who we judge. I never used to think much about this, but then I spent six months studying in London. For the last two months, when I was running low on cash, I played my guitar in the streets for money. I was a busker. Every time I busked, strange and new people approached me, sat with me, sang with me, went for drinks with me or just stared at me. Everyday my social life took a 180-degree turn. I spent evenings with Spanish actors, British skater boys, Indian artists, fellow buskers, bartenders, mental institute patients, photographers and Welsh tourists -- to name a few. I didn't have any other agenda but to have an experience, and busking offered me a rich one. I discovered that when I wasn't humoring people, when I wasn't thinking about who I would rather be with, when I wasn't busy looking for confirmation of my pre-conceived notions, they often had a lot to say. The characters who entered my life during those months taught me much about the importance of individuality and difference. All of them had stories to tell and opinions to share. They were the open-minded people who didn't judge me because I was playing music in the streets. They taught me how they do it. What does this have to do with you? Let's take one of my favorite examples: Wharton kids. I used to think most of these students were poor, unfortunate fools who hadn't seen the light. They probably think the same of me. I figure that only about 10 percent of Whartonites actually have a passion for what they study. The rest of them want to be rich. To this idea, I thumb my nose. I'm concentrating in poetry writing. I will probably never make any money, but know I made the right choice -- for me. Still, even if my statistics on Wharton kids and their attitudes about what they study are accurate -- which is a worst-case scenario -- who am I to say they're wrong? Who am I to say no money and dedication to a far-fetched dream are better than a nice salary in a boring job? Who am I to be sure that I've seen the light and others are wasting their lives? No one. I don't want to be involved in the Greek system, but what right do I have to think other people shouldn't? Just because I don't see it as my sort of scene doesn't mean it's not a perfect fit for others. And so, since returning from London, I have made a concerted effort to respect everyone's choices as exactly that. The crazy thing is, it's a great, liberating feeling to eliminate judgments and unprovoked hostility from your emotional store. You'll feel whole looking at everyone with absolute respect and consideration. I wonder why some girls walk around with such bitchy looks on their faces all the time, looks that scream they're better than the rest of us. If you see these power cats, don't believe their looks. If you spend 10 hours a day in the library, go to Smoke's four times a week, major in Finance, smoke a pack a day, live for the Internet or get a manicure and wax once a month, more power to you. It's what you've chosen. Please, extend me the same courtesy.