Our five senses have been challenged from the start of evolution — utilized simply for survival and nothing more. Aristotle claimed that knowledge came from the senses, but he had a very different view of how senses worked. Aristotle believed that every physical object has a form or essence, and also a substance. For example, a structured model of a rock and a real rock share similarities in regards to their form, although their substances are separate and opposite. Aristotle claims that by observing enough of the world, the real essence of things begin to reveal themselves. Thus, tangible physical science ends up becoming a matter of everyday observation followed by rigorous thinking.
In terms of my intellectual autobiography, it seems that many core memories and experiences that have shaped my evolving perspectives seemingly align with several philosophical principles of Aristotle — allowing everyday observation of our five basic senses to create a platform for reflection and deeper understanding of the self. My eyes have led me to the path I choose to take in life, amplifying unheard voices. My taste has enabled me to embrace my culture as a Korean-American and to step up against blatant ignorance. My weak smell has shown me what I can do as an individual with privilege that hides me from marginalization, discrimination, and difficulty that occurs outside of my own scope. My sense of touch has guided me to cherish connections, that can only be grown with love and care. And finally, my hearing has allowed me to listen to other perspectives every day, cultivating my passion. The world is small yet eternally large, and finding my spot in our ever-changing world is one I can only accomplish with these five senses who have taught me how to live my life today.
VISION — Running back from recess, I felt heavy pockets slowing my pace. Inside hid a variety of playground artifacts, but what I cherished most laid in the deepest depths of my knee-length shorts: rollie pollies. I had never taken much notice of these bugs until I had carefully observed one eagerly running for its life, only to get crushed by my absentminded classmate.
In my overpriced, almost offensively green, plaid uniform, I stood there in shock, absorbing how I had watched genocide unfold near my feet. Meanwhile, a few rollie pollies had found refuge behind my shoes. I was then overcome with the first form of many future existential crises: “Why is it that I can see what they cannot?” Nothing about me being born as a taller, larger animal that happened to have a wider range of vision than these bugs seemed fair — if anything, they seemed to endure lives more worthy of bearing the title “human” than mine. They, instead, in the blind hope of finding a better home, had no choice but to hide and wait.
At that moment, I humbly anointed myself their personal bug-bearer, dedicated to taking them anywhere their limited eyes could not. I stuck my hand out in invitation, and the rollie pollies seemingly agreed, rolling up into their balls to embark on (what I believed was) the long-anticipated adventure of their lives. But in my assumption that bugs would abandon their homes for an eye-opening life, I saw a glimpse of my first mistake: I was not attempting to understand the needs of others. Instead, I wanted to be a hero. One that would be proud of their gracious deeds alone, rather than the positive effect of such actions.
Vision allowed me to reveal a side of myself that I wasn’t ready to face at the time. I willfully ignored what briefly crossed my mind that day and instead continued to pursue advocacy — for the people, of course! Throughout my primary school years, these endeavors were exceptionally high-sighted yet short-lived (i.e. religious attendance taking). In my transition to high school, I furthered my vague attempts at making my mark on the world by extending into more tangible, “impactful” positions in school, like becoming the president of International Baccalaureates (IB). But alongside the responsibility overload, I knew I was always missing a crucial piece throughout my journey of intellectual growth. Were the Instagram advertisements for compelling scholarship essays finally resonating with my conviction to make a difference through the ghosts of traumatized rollie pollies?
The rollie pollies that greeted me every morning at my doorstep reminded me of what it meant to be a hero — to help others achieve the goals they have been looking forward to, possibly even living for. To step all over such dreams simply to boast of my own success was quite literally the opposite of what a hero would do. I was stuck in a narrow-minded field of view that could only envision my own success. Vision controlled the way I knew how to grow until this point, and a drastic change was necessary in order for my intellectual journey to avoid becoming a villain's origin story. I replaced my familiarity of close-mindedness with a desire to amplify voices that had been unheard — a path that yielded more than just self-affirmations and external validation.
Vision was the first sense to take a punch at my brain in a healthy, formative way. It let me witness the fruits of helping others for the sole reason of, well, helping others. It helped me see that my voice is not a universal one — each and every individual has their own experiences and consequently, has different needs. After acknowledging this simple truth, many of my senses began to realize that there was quite a journey ahead in fixing up the intellectual development of the person they were stuck to.
TASTE — You may have heard the story before, the young Asian child getting wildly embarrassed by the food their mom packed them for lunch. It's a classic ethnic tale that, unfortunately, roots in eurocentrism that has been taught and encouraged for generations and has yet to be resolved. Under the global hegemony of what we call the “American Dream”, East Asian societies, in particular, have altered the standard of excellence into anything shaped by the West. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, eurocentrism has often been associated with economic developmentalism, which was followed by extreme success and wealth. In Korea specifically, evolving academia has revolved around the wonders of such seonjinguk (developed countries) and how we, as Korean people, can meet the levels of such superior national success.
Beyond economics, Korea has continued to demonstrate the historical nature of developmentalism and seonjinguk discourse for Korea’s developmental era, tracing back to older principles that were integral to significant time periods such as gaehwa (enlightenment). Major topics throughout munmyeong (civilization) discourse, especially from a sociological historical perspective, also reveal how eurocentrism has had a stronghold on the culture of a nation across the globe of its origin. (Kim, Jongtae. “Eurocentrism and Development in Korea.” Routledge & CRC Press, Taylor & Francis Grou) Thus, many people like myself have been conditioned to believe that in some ways, we are simply inferior. Ultimately, I felt pressured into believing my mother’s food, all of which was made with love and care just for me, was considered disgusting. It left a bitter taste even eating it outside of the comfort of my own home, and I was too ashamed to even accept the cuisine of my culture.
What kind of intellectual journey could there be in embracing your culture’s cuisine? I asked myself this question quite often when I was younger. However, there is an aftertaste that many have never tasted, consider it underground if you will. A taste that only those who have cried over their native food smelling rancid, native language sounding comedic, and native clothes looking strange can truly savor. Once I began embracing a culture I once hated, I completely dedicated myself to learning a language, followed by the proud aftertaste of speaking with your relatives who could never understand you. Rather than being complacent about Asian hate, I began to stand up for my own culture. The potent aftertaste after arguing with a man who told me to go back to China was one of which I never wanted to taste again, but empowered me to taste more of what it meant to love my culture, my heritage.
Even today, there are times when I can taste the love of my culture, put into the food that has always been delicious and underappreciated. Gratitude for the culture that raised you cannot be described through words alone, but I am certain that the drastic development of my intellectual growth evidently means something has changed my preferences in taste beyond cheese pizza and hamburgers.
SMELL — I’ve always had problems regarding my sense of smell. This has impacted my intellectual journey because frankly, missing one part of what many consider normal can alter your views on many everyday experiences.
Chronic bronchitis makes even a common cold feel like death. Strangely enough, this weak sense of mine has subtly helped me understand that I cannot experience things as many others do. I am fortunate enough to miss out on small things, like a delicious smelling barbecue, or maybe the aroma of someone’s favorite cologne. What I do not have to miss out on, however, are the privileges I have been born with — I have never experienced inevitable life circumstances like poverty, which has debilitated millions in pursuing their personal life ambitions.
It’s unfortunate but true that throughout my intellectual journey, it has become easy to become blinded by my privilege to see past what we may consider normal — an education, a roof over our heads, and food itself. I can only know so much from volunteering and spending time in under-resourced areas for a few hours a week, if at all. Is it possible for me to experience these things to be able to fully comprehend?
The answer is no. Some experiences that we all would love to share, such as extreme wealth and privilege, is not unlimited in supply nor selection. In the same way, unfortunate circumstances that many were born into, such as extreme racism and poverty, simply cannot be shared by everyone. Extreme poverty, defined as living on less than $1.90 a day, is likely to affect between 9.1% and 9.4% of the world’s population in 2020, according to the biennial Poverty and Shared Prosperity Report.
Smell has taught me that I, alongside many, will always lack the experience that many will always be forced to face. Rather, creating the willingness to learn despite these limitations is what helps redefine how those who have the privilege and those who are marginalized can be united. As mentioned in the Pedagogy of the Oppressed, “Knowledge emerges only through invention and re-invention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other.” (Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of The Oppressed. New York : Seabury Press, 1968.)
TOUCH — On every second Tuesday, people get rolls of masking tape and stick tape on people they love, and share the tape with others who continue to stick love tape on their loved ones. People go back at the end of the day covered with tiny pieces of masking tape. Some go back wrapped up in masking tape. People may choose to write little messages on their love tape. This is Johns Hopkins CTY Love Tape, a tradition that has taught me that touch goes beyond a physical connection.
What does being covered in tape, head to toe, mean to someone who never understood the value of physical intimacy among loved ones? I was never fond of my friends’ hugs, kisses, or anything of the sort. I knew they meant well, but to me, they were inherently overwhelming. I don’t know who they’ve interacted with, and I would gladly not participate in accidentally receiving another stranger's kiss on my cheek through the spread of saliva. But at a random college camp, there is more love than care. And after asking a random individual why this tradition was so significant to students who felt like taping each other was the last thing they could do before they die, I was introduced to a very new concept.
It was called the Six Degrees of Separation; the idea that all people on average are six, or fewer, social connections away from each other. That no matter who you interacted with that day, somehow, you could find your way to people like Beyonce, or Barack Obama, with several social connections. Connections that seemed so normal were, in nature, so extremely vast. Almost to the point where touching someone with tape was a way to tell them that there was more than just one person who loved them, but whoever else had that tape on them as well. “Just know that the world loves you,” the individual concluded.
A foreign concept like this directly challenged why I was always so opposed to touch. Is denying the loving touch of another refusing to create a bridge to connect one to another, perhaps the sixth degree of separation? My intellectual journey had never been questioned by something so little like a simple handshake, yet there I was, standing in a field of students taping one another, covered in expressions of love that could not be denied. Moments like these in which I could cherish in the palm of my hand were why I realized I needed touch — to be more appreciative of these core moments.
HEARING — As mentioned in my WP2, cherishing people and the moments they create embodied finding parts of life in which there is nothing else to interpret other than a thought and its impact. My sense of hearing has been the literal documentation of my intellectual journey in realizing that acquiring all knowledge is a constant battle that was and always will be impossible to achieve. Knowing that there will always be more to listen to, and consequently, more to cherish, will help shape my personal theory that our lives as absorbent bundles of perspectives will make the greatest changes in this world by simply listening to the voices of others.
In a famous passage, philosopher David Hume states that “when I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I can never catch myself at any time without a perception, and can never observe anything but the perception. When my perceptions are removed for any time, as by sound sleep; so long am I insensible of myself, and may truly be said not to exist.” (Hume 1739–40/1978: 252).
An understanding of Hume’s views allows us to better understand that the self is nothing more than just a clump of perception — one that will always evolve and can grow beyond intellectual limitations. The short poem I have included below was written while listening to each and every voice memo has that personified my perspectives and ultimately catalyzed my self-growth. Although it signifies the end of the WP3, it also resembles the start of a new chapter in my intellectual autobiography. My intellectual identity is intertwined with the perspectives, those of which my senses have intricately molded for me.
A small dot used to state an ending,
Or a stroke used to keep it going.
The beauty of punctuation is difficult to see.
The matchless display of words that roll,
Can embody the mind, heart, and soul.
Language can be more than a twelve-point font,
Because Times New Roman may not be what we want.
The beauty of handwriting is exciting to see.
The words we say and the words we write,
Come straight from the source, black-and-white.
These words can show more than we may think
They represent a voice made out of ink.
The beauty of character is pleasant to see.
But how could character be shown through this?
With merely one language, it’d be easy to miss.
1 out of 7139 languages we use throughout our days,
To convey meanings from words, using different kinds of ways
The beauty of vastness is amazing to see.
But that number, 7139, is nothing compared
To the limitless number of voices we’ve declared.
From the endless amounts of books and memos,
To the little comments on your notes, who knows?
The beauty of boundlessness is incredible to see.
The most powerful force known to humanity,
But mostly used for mild profanity.
The ability to help, heal, and hurt,
All goes down to mumble at the dirt
The beauty of power is fascinating to see
But how will you use that power?
Will it simply be thrown away at happy hour?
Because the way you use your voice,
Ultimately reverts back to one choice,
The beauty of decisiveness is remarkable to see.
Live a life of ellipses and whispers
And you too will realize that your voice withers…
The beauty of language resembles me.
— S.W.
Works Cited
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Stanford University, plato.stanford.edu/entries/self-knowledge/supplement.html.
“Six Degrees of Separation.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 21 Apr. 2021, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_degrees_of_separation.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of The Oppressed. New York : Seabury Press, 1968.
“Love Tape.” RealCTY, www.realcty.org/wiki/Love_Tape.
Kim, Jongtae. “Eurocentrism and Development in Korea.” Routledge & CRC Press, Taylor & Francis Group, www.routledge.com/Eurocentrism-and-Development-in-Korea/Kim/p/book/9780367359942.
Woo, Sarah. “WP2: Voices and Their Memos.” Medium, Medium, 14 May 2021, woosarah.medium.com/wp2-voices-and-their-memos-85f71b5275e5.
Coates, Ta-Nehisi. “Hobbes, Aristotle, and the Senses.” The Atlantic, Atlantic Media Company, 19 Feb. 2013, www.theatlantic.com/personal/archive/2013/02/hobbes-aristotle-and-the-senses/273259/.
“COVID-19 to Add as Many as 150 Million Extreme Poor by 2021.” World Bank, www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2020/10/07/covid-19-to-add-as-many-as-150-million-extreme-poor-by-2021#:~:text=Extreme%20poverty%2C%20defined%20as%20living,rate%20of%209.2%25%20in%202017.
