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     The Cadre 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     ‘he Island Yankee 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     By Suzanne Williams 
     
    
   
   
    
     It has taken me over a 
     
     month to sort out the reasons 
     
     why I travelled six hundred 
     
     miles, across the US/Cana- 
     
     dian border and the North- 
     
     umberland Strait, to attend 
     
     school here at UPEI. 
     
    

    
     Having come froma sub- 
     
     urb in New Hampshire about 
     
     the size of Charlottetown 
     
     where fads and popularity 
     
     were all that mattered, I was 
     
     struck by the notion that I had 
     
     to get away. This was not the 
     
     typical I-need-to-get-away- 
     
     because-my-family-is-driving- 
     
     me-crazy, but it was because 
     
     I was slowly being killed by 
     
     others’ ideas. 
     
    

    
     In the first semester at 
     
     my previous college, I was 
     
     scared away by many things, 
     
     including analleged rape inmy 
     
     own dormitory. The president 
     
     and his staffcouldn’t care less 
     
     about the students, some stu- 
     
     dents couldn’t be ruder, and it 
     
     was necessary for students to 
     
     live on campus. 
     
    

    
     I finally got sick of the 
     
     - rules and the rudeness and the 
     
     general carelessness toward 
     
     one another’s feelings, so I up 
     
     and left and found things not so 
     
     different here. 
     
    

    
     Which, in a roundabout 
     
     way, starts my story. 
     
    

    
     I attended a high school 
     
     of about 1400, where there 
     
     were couples locking lips in 
     
     every hallway. I have noticed 
     
     that one fact remained clear in 
     
     every instance: all of these 
     
     couples contained a short girl 
     
     with a skinny body. 
     
    
   
   
    
     What is this saying? Do 
     
     tall girls or girls with “not-so- 
     
     perfect” figures matter? Why 
     
     did these couples have to flaunt 
     
     the fact that they have rela- 
     
     tionships in other people’s 
     
     faces? Why were these boys 
     
     piling up, tongue-tied, for a 
     
     cheerleader when there were 
     
     girls who never had a boy- 
     
     friend, girls who wanted one 
     
     but never had a boy ask her 
     
     out? Having been the outcast 
     
     for years, | have done much 
     
     pondering over this. It comes 
     
     down to one primary thing: the 
     
     media. 
     
    

    
     On television, is there 
     
     ever a pimply girl advertising 
     
     any product, let alone a face 
     
     cream? Have overweight 
     
     women ever been depicted as 
     
     anything but flighty and 
     
     moody? Does the uglier 
     
     woman ever get the man? 
     
    

    
     Of course not! Why try 
     
     to make everybody happy? 
     
     It’s impossible! 
     
    

    
     It’sno wonder why many 
     
     sitcoms are cancelled after the 
     
     first season. 
     
    

    
     Beautiful women, skinny 
     
     women. Nobody wants a fat, 
     
     unattractive pimple-faced 
     
     woman. 
     
    

    
     These many stereotypes, 
     
     cranked through the TV 
     
     waves, are slowly helping to 
     
     increase eating disorders, sui- 
     
     cides, and divorces. 
     
    

    
     To the “moody”, “ugly”, 
     
     “fat” person, most of her hope 
     
     by now has been shattered by 
     
     numerous men who refused 
     
     even a slow-dance for five 
     
     minutes toa simple song. Life 
     
    
   
   
    
     seems not worth living for a 
     
     girl of nineteen who has never 
     
     been on a date considers her- 
     
     self an ugly old maid. She will 
     
     crawl into herself and will 
     
     away the only existence she 
     
     has ever known. She will day- 
     
     dream about the perfect world, 
     
     where people are practically 
     
     robots because all is happy. 
     
     She will lose all her dreams, do 
     
     poorly in school, exist merely 
     
     on the fact that she hasn’t 
     
     killed herself yet, though she 
     
     may have tried numerous times 
     
     before. Does this sound crazy? 
     
     Unfortunately, it is true, for I 
     
     am that girl. 
     
    

    
     What has happened to 
     
     the saying we have heard all of 
     
     our lives: “Don’t worry; you’ ll 
     
     soon be noticed by what’s on 
     
     the inside”? All that is on the 
     
     inside by now is self pity and 
     
     unshed tears. The people 
     
     speaking have survived and 
     
     been noticed for who they 
     
     were, but what about those of 
     
     today, who have been treated 
     
     harshly all their lives because 
     
     of what is on the outside? 
     
     People seem to be so disgusted 
     
     by what is on the outside that 
     
     to see what’s inside wouldn’t 
     
     be worth the time of day. 
     
    

    
     Some people have dated 
     
     since before they were teen- 
     
     agers, which makes me won- 
     
     der: did they ever havea child- 
     
     hood? Sadly enough, with the 
     
     help of a little electrical box 
     
     with simple dialogue and pic- 
     
     tures, many of us have not. 
     
    
   
   
    
     October 28, 1997