Latest news with #identity
BBC News
8 hours ago
- Entertainment
- BBC News
What in the World The young people fighting to save their culture from the climate
Climate change is one of the biggest issues of our time. Warmer weather and melting ice is forcing people and animals to migrate but it's also threatening traditions. Myths, dances and national dishes - we've all got distinctive, defining customs that we would never want to lose. So what are people across the world doing to keep hold of their identities? BBC journalist Abiona Boja explains how cultural heritage loss is affecting young people across the globe. We hear from Muntadhar Abdul Ali about the droughts in Iraq's marshes. And Maya Natuk tells us how rising temperatures in Greenland are affecting people's sense of identity there. They explain the actions they're taking to save their cultural traditions from extinction. Instagram: @bbcwhatintheworld Email: whatintheworld@ WhatsApp: +44 330 12 33 22 6 Presenter: Hannah Gelbart Producers: Abiona Boja, Benita Barden and Julia Ross-Roy Video Journalist: Baldeep Chahal Editor: Verity Wilde
Yahoo
16 hours ago
- General
- Yahoo
13 Reasons Men Leave Long Marriages In Mid-Life
Marriage isn't just a ceremony or a legally binding contract; it's a journey that two people embark on, often expecting to last a lifetime. Yet, for reasons as varied as the personalities involved, mid-life can be a turning point where some men choose to walk away. This isn't just a story of betrayal or liberation—it's a complex interplay of emotions, desires, and life stages. Here, we delve into the undercurrents that can set men adrift, exploring why they sometimes choose to leave long marriages in their mid-life. As men hit mid-life, the once-looming specter of mortality becomes more tangible, prompting a desire for reinvention and rediscovery. They start questioning the choices they've made, yearning for a blank slate to redefine who they are beyond the roles they've played—as a husband, a father, or a provider. Often, this craving for a personal renaissance becomes an irresistible force, pulling them away from the familiarity of a long marriage. It's not about leaving their partner behind, but rather finding a piece of themselves they feel they've lost. According to a study by the American Psychological Association, the concept of 'mid-life crisis' is real, with men often seeking to assert their identity anew. They might choose to pursue passions or dreams they had shelved for years, only to find their marriage has become an anchor rather than a sail. This isn't about rejecting their partner; it's about reclaiming a sense of individuality. The marriage itself can become a mirror reflecting missed opportunities and unfulfilled potential, spurring the decision to step away. The gradual ebb of emotional intimacy can transform a once-vibrant connection into a hollow shell. When communication dwindles to transactional exchanges about logistics, men often feel they're more roommates than partners. This emotional void can become unbearable, driving a wedge that compels them to seek connection elsewhere. They may find themselves longing for someone who sees them anew and offers the emotional depth missing at home. Men, often conditioned to suppress vulnerability, might struggle to articulate this deep-seated need for emotional intimacy. Conversations that once came naturally now feel forced, and the laughter that once filled the room becomes a rare guest. This emotional distance can fester into resentment, making the relationship feel more like a commitment of obligation rather than affection. The quest for a rekindled emotional connection can lead them away, seeking solace in new horizons. There's an intoxicating allure to the new and undiscovered, a siren call that can compel men to abandon the familiar shores of long-term marriage. As routines become predictably monotonous, the idea of novelty offers a seductive escape from the everyday grind. Exploring new relationships can feel like a return to the vitality and spontaneity of youth, sparking a sense of aliveness that routine fails to provide. It's not just about physical attraction, but the emotional rush of new beginnings. Dr. Helen Fisher, a biological anthropologist, emphasizes that the novelty is a powerful aphrodisiac that triggers dopamine release in the brain, akin to falling in love all over again. This isn't simply about being with someone new; it's about rejuvenating a part of themselves they feared lost to time. When novelty promises a rush of emotions and experiences, the steady rhythm of a long marriage can seem dull in comparison. The pursuit of this high can sometimes override the comforting stability of the known. Old wounds don't heal with time alone; they fester beneath the surface, and for some men, mid-life brings them into sharp focus. Childhood traumas or unresolved personal issues can creep up, manifesting as dissatisfaction with the marriage. It's not that these issues are born out of the relationship, but they find fertile ground in it, exacerbating existing strains. The marriage becomes an echo chamber, amplifying insecurities and fears they've carried throughout life. In seeking resolution, men might feel the need to start anew, away from the triggers embedded in their marital history. The partner becomes an unintentional reminder of these unresolved conflicts, often without either party realizing it. The decision to leave is not out of spite, but rather a misguided attempt to find healing and peace. Unfortunately, without addressing the root issues, they may carry these unresolved problems into new relationships, continuing the cycle. As careers plateau and retirement looms, men often face an existential question: What's next? The roles that once defined them no longer hold the same weight, leading to a crisis of purpose that seeps into their marriage. Without the distraction of career ambitions or the demands of young children, they're left to confront a void that's both terrifying and liberating. This search for purpose can put severe strain on the marriage, as the partner might not understand this internal upheaval. Research from the Harvard Study of Adult Development highlights that purpose in life significantly impacts overall happiness and well-being. For many men, their roles as breadwinners or achievers fade, and they grapple with finding new meaning. The marriage, once a collaborative journey, can feel stifling if one partner is seeking directions the other cannot comprehend. This quest for newfound purpose can drive them away in hopes of finding clarity and fulfillment elsewhere. Expectations can be silent killers of a marriage, especially when they're unmet. Over the years, men might accumulate a litany of unspoken hopes and dreams that reality never quite matched. They might find themselves holding onto memories of what marriage was supposed to be, rather than what it is. This gap between expectation and reality can create a sense of disillusionment, pushing them to seek what they couldn't find at home. These unmet expectations often stem from societal pressures and personal fantasies, which collide with the harsh truths of everyday life. When the fairy tale gives way to the mundane, the dissatisfaction can become overwhelming. Men might feel trapped in a cycle of disappointment, unable to reconcile the partner they imagined with the one they have. The yearning for an ideal marriage can turn into an impetus to leave, in search of a relationship that seems more in line with their dreams. After years of shared decisions and mutual compromises, the desire for personal independence can become a powerful motivator. Men might find themselves longing for the freedom to make choices without the weight of familial obligation. This isn't about selfishness; it's about reclaiming a sense of autonomy that's been diluted by decades of partnership. The allure of being answerable only to oneself can become irresistible. Sociologist Eric Klinenberg suggests in his work that the growing trend of living alone is partly driven by a desire for personal autonomy and self-exploration. For some, the prospect of carving out a space for themselves, free from the expectations of a partner, is deeply appealing. The marriage that once felt like a joint venture can become a cage, limiting their ability to explore personal growth. Seeking autonomy is often an attempt to rediscover their own desires and aspirations, unfettered by the ties of marriage. The emotional labor of maintaining a marriage can be exhausting, especially when it feels unreciprocated or unnoticed. Men might find themselves emotionally drained, having given all they can without feeling recharged. This burnout can lead to a desire to step away from the relationship, not because of a lack of love but due to sheer emotional fatigue. They might feel that leaving is the only way to recover their emotional well-being. In many cases, this burnout isn't recognized until it reaches a critical point where even small tasks feel monumental. The marriage that once provided emotional solace now feels like a burden they're too tired to carry. The decision to leave is often seen as self-preservation, a way to reclaim their emotional energy. It's a complicated dance of self-care and self-doubt, leaving them torn between staying and preserving their emotional health. Growth is an inherent part of life, but when partners grow in different directions, the chasm can become insurmountable. Men might find that their personal evolution no longer aligns with their partner's, leading to a sense of being out of sync. This isn't about one partner being right or wrong, but rather about a shift in compatibility over time. The realization that their paths have diverged can be a catalyst for leaving, seeking someone whose journey aligns more closely with their own. The growth that once brought them together now becomes the very thing that pulls them apart. Shared dreams can transition into individual aspirations, creating a divide that feels too wide to bridge. When efforts to reconnect fail, the prospect of starting fresh becomes appealing. The decision to part ways is often tinged with sadness, yet it's driven by the hope of finding a partnership that matches their current selves. Financial stress is a silent predator that can erode the foundation of even the strongest marriages. For men, the burden of financial responsibility can feel overwhelming, especially if they perceive themselves as failing in this role. Money issues can lead to feelings of inadequacy and shame, which spill over into the marital relationship. The pressure to provide combined with financial instability can make the idea of leaving seem like the lesser of two evils. Disagreements over finances can exacerbate existing tensions, turning money into a battleground rather than a shared resource. When financial struggles dominate the relationship, they can overshadow love and commitment. Men may choose to leave in hopes of finding financial stability on their own terms. This decision, painful as it is, often feels like a necessary step towards regaining control over their lives. A lack of sexual satisfaction can be a potent force driving men away from long marriages. As intimacy fades, they might find themselves yearning for a connection that reignites their passion. The absence of a fulfilling sexual relationship can lead to feelings of inadequacy and frustration, eroding the bond that once existed. Seeking physical and emotional intimacy outside the marriage can seem like the only way to reclaim a sense of vitality. This dissatisfaction isn't always about frequency; it's often about quality and mutual engagement. When sexual intimacy becomes a chore rather than a shared expression, the disconnect can become too much to bear. Men might seek the thrill and excitement they once felt, hoping to find a partner who shares their desires. The decision to leave is frequently an attempt to reclaim a part of their identity they feel has been lost. Routine can be comforting, but for some, it becomes a prison from which they long to escape. Men might find themselves craving adventure and spontaneity, which a long marriage can sometimes stifle. This isn't about rejecting stability but rather seeking a balance that allows for both security and excitement. The allure of adventure can be a powerful draw, pulling them away from the predictable patterns of married life. Mid-life can be a time of introspection, where the desire to experience life to the fullest becomes paramount. The realization that time is finite can spark a yearning for adventure that feels incompatible with the responsibilities of marriage. In leaving, they hope to explore new facets of life, embracing the unknown with open arms. This quest for adventure is often about more than just leaving the marriage; it's about embracing life's limitless possibilities. Friends, family, and societal expectations can exert profound influence on the decision to leave a long marriage. Men might find themselves swayed by the opinions and experiences of those around them, who offer perspectives that can either clarify or complicate their feelings. The pressure to conform to external expectations can sometimes overshadow personal desires. In this tug-of-war between internal and external influences, leaving might seem like the choice that aligns most with the life they wish to lead. External influences often serve as mirrors reflecting back the discontent they feel internally. Watching peers navigate different life paths can evoke envy or a sense of missing out on alternate possibilities. The decision to leave is frequently shaped by a desire to fit into a narrative that feels more authentic to them. This choice is often less about escaping the marriage and more about stepping into a life that resonates with their true self.
Khaleej Times
18 hours ago
- Politics
- Khaleej Times
'I just couldn't watch anymore': Former CNN anchor on the emotional cost of bearing witness
By the time Hala Gorani was ten, she had already delivered her first news report. But it wasn't on television or to an audience of millions. It was to her father, who was returning home after work, unaware that President Ronald Reagan had just survived an assassination attempt. Gorani, who had been glued to the special coverage on TV, relayed every detail she could remember. There were no phones then, no Internet. Just her childlike curiosity and the instinct to inform. 'I essentially reported it to him,' she recalls. 'And I was only ten.' That moment planted a seed. For Gorani, it was the start of a calling. One that would eventually span more than two decades at CNN, take her to the frontlines of conflict, and establish her as one of the most trusted faces in international news broadcasting. Today, Gorani is also a published author, with her recent memoir But You Don't Look Arab exploring identity, belonging, and the politics of perception through the lens of her own upbringing between Washington and Paris as a Syrian-American woman navigating the world. A childhood of contradictions Born to Syrian parents, Gorani grew up between Washington D.C. and Paris. Her childhood, like her identity, was a jigsaw of places, languages, and expectations. 'I have all these overlapping identities,' she says. 'And that made me, for a long time, feel out of place everywhere.' Her parents divorced early, splitting her upbringing across continents. Home was a fluid concept for Gorani, one not necessarily rooted in a postcode but in the rituals of constant movement and readjustment. 'My origin didn't match where I lived,' she adds. 'But now, more people than ever are in this situation. You're born in one country, raised in another, work in a third. So, where do you belong?' In cities like Dubai, where over 90 per cent of the population is non-Emirati, Gorani's sense of hybrid identity resonates deeply. 'You build your own definition of home,' she says. 'That's what I've learned to do.' Coming full circle Gorani's memoir isn't simply a personal reckoning but also a broader cultural reflection on what it means to live between identities, and how the label 'Arab' has been shaped, flattened, and misread by Western and even Middle Eastern societies alike. 'Even the title, 'But You Don't Look Arab', came from something I heard countless times,' she says. 'It speaks to the assumptions people make about how you're supposed to look, speak, or behave based on where you're from.' The book marks a new chapter in her career, but also reveals the same rigour that defined her journalism trajectory. She has previously covered the war in Iraq, the 2006 conflict in Lebanon, and the humanitarian crisis in Darfur, among others, always gravitating towards stories that humanise those on the margins. However, in 2022, after years of anchoring at CNN, a role widely viewed as the summit of broadcast journalism, Gorani chose to walk away from it all. 'You become a journalist because you want this sense of purpose, of telling stories, being where things happen,' she reflects. 'Anchoring a show, while prestigious, became more and more removed from that. I wanted to reconnect with why I started this journey.' Writing the memoir offered her that reconnection. It was a way of tracing the line through generations of her family — of women who moved, fled, or were uprooted, often without choice. 'I realised one generation after another, for one reason or another, migrated or felt displaced,' she adds. 'From the fall of the Ottoman Empire to Syria to France to the US, my great-great-grandmother was forced to move to a place she'd never seen before. I'm just one more stop on that long journey.' The cost of bearing witness With such deep-rooted displacement comes an instinct to bear witness and Gorani has done that, often at great personal cost. During the early days of the Syrian revolution, she watched harrowing videos daily: graphic footage of violence against demonstrators, scenes she now associates with post-traumatic stress. 'I became incapable of watching such videos anymore,' she admits. 'I'd take my earpiece out when anchoring if I knew the story was too hard. I just didn't want to hear children crying.' Recognising those emotional boundaries was, she says, an act of strength. 'You're not supposed to be desensitised to people getting killed. It's not a weakness to say 'I can't'. It's strength.' And even now, she draws her limits. 'I've never watched an ISIS execution video. I don't care who's in it. The thought is enough.' Gorani is also acutely aware of journalism's precarious future. 'The media industry is in flux. Legacy platforms are shrinking. Local papers are shutting. Social media has taken over but it doesn't pay journalists for their work,' she adds. 'I spent three and a half weeks fact-checking a story on Syria. That's what people don't see. Journalism takes time, and that's what makes it journalism.' Still, she understands why Gen-Z might hesitate to enter the field. 'You're competing not just with other networks now, but with TikTok, YouTube, everyone.' What keeps us from breaking? Her memoir contains a powerful line: 'As a journalist, I record the time, the place and the facts. As a human being, I want to know why some people don't break'. She pauses when asked where that resilience comes from. 'I don't know. I'm still observing,' she says. 'Some people are just born with more resilience. I've interviewed journalists in Gaza recently. Some are cracking, others are joking and smiling. Is it upbringing? Is it temperament? Maybe both.' And as for her? 'Oh, I break all the time,' she says, candidly. 'I'm emotionally porous. I cry often, just not on TV. I'd be worried if I didn't feel anything. That would mean something's wrong.' The introspection that shaped her memoir has also helped her make peace with belonging, she admits. Not by finding a single place to call home, but by returning to her purpose. 'For me, fieldwork is a higher calling. It takes me out of my own head,' she says. 'Some people find it through parenting, others through service. For me, it's this.' And in journeying back to the roots of her purpose, not a place, Gorani reminds us that belonging isn't always tied to geography. Sometimes, it's about doing the thing that anchors you, even when the ground beneath you keeps shifting.
New York Times
21 hours ago
- Politics
- New York Times
The Supreme Court Fails to See Transgender Teens
Imagine you are a transgender teenager. Don't ask me how you know that you are transgender: That question is no more appropriate or relevant than asking people how they know that they are gay or Jewish or Black. Maybe you've always known. Maybe a classmate or a stranger said something that alerted you to it. Maybe you know the way teenagers often know things: As the world came into focus, this thing about yourself became clear as could be. In any case, you know. Like many teenagers, you spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror. You regularly become obsessed with what you perceive as imperfections or, less often, advantages in your appearance. You adopt and abandon hairstyles, items of clothing and affectations. You will shed much of what you are experimenting with now, but some elements will stick. They will form the core of the person you are in the world. Speaking of the world: Moving through it is awkward, because you are a teenager. Being trans can make it more awkward still. Like when you are in a public place — including your school — and you need to use the bathroom. If you want to consider transitioning medically, you have to discuss the most intimate details of your life with doctors and involve your parents. I am asking you to imagine what it's like to be a transgender teenager because that is exactly what the majority of the Supreme Court justices refused to do when they ruled in United States v. Skrmetti on Wednesday, upholding a Tennessee law that bans gender-affirming care for minors. The plaintiffs in the case are three trans teenagers from Tennessee, their parents and a doctor, but there is scarcely a reference to them in the majority or concurring opinions. It's often the case that 'courts enact discrimination through abstraction,' Chase Strangio, a director of the American Civil Liberties Union's L.G.B.T.Q. and H.I.V. Rights Project, who argued the case before the Supreme Court, told me. In Plessy v. Ferguson, the 1896 case that upheld the legality of racial segregation; in Korematsu v. United States, which in 1944 affirmed the internment of Japanese Americans; in Bowers v. Hardwick, the 1986 case that upheld Georgia's sodomy laws; and in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, which three years ago took away the constitutional guarantee of abortion rights, the Supreme Court seemed blind to the existence of the people who would suffer most from the consequences of its decisions. In Skrmetti, the plaintiffs and the Biden administration said that the Tennessee law should be held to a higher level of scrutiny because it violated the equal protection clause of the 14th Amendment. If a state law creates conditions for treating people differently on the basis of sex, the state must prove that the law serves an important purpose that justifies such discrimination. If the differential treatment is based on race, the level of scrutiny is even higher. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Telegraph
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Is it really suitable to televise this heartbreaking moment?
A typically emotional journey of highs and hard-to-watch heartbreak kicked off a seventh series of Long Lost Family: Born Without Trace (ITV1), which set Davina McCall and Nicky Campbell on the identity trail of two more foundlings. One, Simon Prothero, was left in an outside toilet block in Neath. The other, Lisa Dyke, was found in a car park in another child's pram outside a health clinic. They came to the LLF team to find out what happened. Both of their paths to finding out who left them and why were copybook Long Lost Family, which is to say, extremely moving throughout. I clocked the LLF TTT (Long Lost Family Time to Tears) at 3 minutes and 41 seconds, and I was welling up not long afterwards. Even for this most lachrymose of series, this is a resplendent triumph. If that sounds soulless and cynical, remember that this is commercial television that, for its success, relies on fomenting, through DNA testing, hugely sensitive situations and then filming the outcome to transfer those emotions to the empathetic viewer. Of course, the aim is to help your Simons and your Lisas to find out 'who they are', in the common coinage. But that's not the only aim. Long Lost Family does tread very carefully, which is to its credit. Difficult news is broken to its subjects off-camera. The meetings with newfound family are filmed in good taste and with minimal American-style schmaltz. On the other hand, television is always manipulative. Is it fair, for example, in the case of Simon here, to find his birth mother and then have to tell him that she didn't want to be contacted? Might that not make Simon feel lost and unwanted a second time over? To these jaded eyes, it makes Long Lost Family slightly queezy viewing. The great DNA revolution, with home testing and the concomitant genealogy boom, has undoubtedly helped lots of people to find out who they are. But it comes with side effects, too. Lots of people have found things out that, on reflection, it might have been better not to have known, and that now can't be un-known. Whatever your position, it certainly shouldn't be television producers influencing these genuinely life-altering choices. What was particularly fascinating in this episode was Simon's admitting that it was watching old series of Long Lost Family: Born Without Trace that inspired him to apply to the programme and dig up his own history in the first place. There's a cultural genealogy to television, too, one in which over time the things we watch affect how we behave. It's probably too early to tell whether the repeated posing of the question, 'Who do you think you are?' and the ability to find out on camera in the presence of Davina McCall and Nicky Campbell, has been an unmitigated good. Simon would be worth asking, but we never got that far.
