Travel with me to the 1980's...a time of big hair, abundant neon, and words like "rad" "neato" and "tubular". Picture little girl me: 7 years old, with long, shiny blond hair (that adult me wishes I still posessed) and an innocent child mind. Ok, got the setting in your head? Here's the story:
In second grade, or was it third? I forget. I will go with third. Okay. In third grade, we had a pen pal program. (Yes, that's when snail mail was the only option for long distance written communication.)We were each assigned pen pals from schools far away. I had two pen pals, because I liked to write so much. Their names were Jenny and Olivia.
I decided that Olivia, because she had an elegant & beautiful name, was my favorite pen pal. She would get the best-ever letters. And Jenny...well, I'd write her nice things, I suppose, but Olivia would receive my best adjectives. And that's how things went.
Until I received their school photos.
Olivia's picture did not reveal a princess-looking girl, as her name made her sound, but a homely little girl. How shocking!
And Jenny, whose common name was posessed by half the girls in my school, looked princess-y. So immediately, without even consciously making the decision, Jenny became my favorite pen pal.
This was the first time in my life that I became aware of lookism. (Although I did not know the name of it then.) I was a raging, 7 year old looksist.
Fast forward time to the present. I now know what the term "lookism" means, and I see it all around me. On Fox News channel, where the female journalists must look like pageant contenstants, and the male journalists may look like trolls. In movies, where there are VERY few roles written for women over 40. In politics, where women candidates are scruntized for their looks and the male candidates' looks are rarely mentioned. It's everywhere.
But the place where looksism resides that bothers me the most.....is within my own heart.
Research reveals that mothers of attractive infants respond to their babies' cries quicker than do mothers of unattractive infants. So even in the tenderest, most devoted of relationships, looksism resides.
How I wish it were not so! I want to pluck lookism from my heart. I want to pluck it from humanity's heart. But it seems hard-wired into us. Is there an antedote to this infirmity?
I believe there is. It is LOVE. Love is the ultimate beautifier!
Love is what makes us look at a family member whose body is wasting from cancer, and see beauty. Love is what makes us view a freshly born, sticky with body fluid baby and see beauty. Love is what makes a couple married 60 years look into each other's wrinkled faces and see beauty. LOVE.
I cannot, wish as I might, cure the world of looksism. I cannot even cure the lookism in my own heart. But I believe that it can be crowded out---- with love.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
a humble suggestion for the world
When I was 25, single, and prospect-less, I was asked by someone (who did not know me well) "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" to which I replied something false, light-hearted and socially-expected.
What it seemed to me the asker was saying was "Why are you such a weirdo and when are you going to stop being a weirdo?'
Perhaps the asker meant nothing of the kind. Perhaps the asker's intent was simply to make pleasant conversation. But I did not enjoy this question.
I have noticed that I am not the only single person to get asked this question. (And please note that my single status changed 8 years ago.)
I have noticed that married people often get asked "So when are you having kids?" And then those with a child get asked this one that currently makes me cringe: "So when are you having another?"
I choose to believe that most people, when asking these questions, are simply trying to make conversation, and are not trying to be invasive or hurtful. But that belief helps me only to tolerate the questions, not enjoy them.
Here is my proposal: unless you know a person on a deep level, please do not ask these questions! To demonstrate why, imagine these scenarios with me:
"So why don't you have a boyfriend?" asked to the woman who has been continuously cheated on and treated horribly, and can't find a decent guy.
"So when are you going to have a kid?" asked to the woman who has tried to for years and can't conceive, or maybe just had a miscarriage.
"So when are you going to have another kid?" asked to a woman who knows from her first experience that bearing a child is medically dangerous.
Twice this week, I was asked by people who did not know me well when I would be having a second child. These were seemingly very nice people, and I believe their intentions were good. But these questions cause me pain. I do not want to be asked them. I do not want to be placed in the socially awkward position of answering them, or of making up a trite, cheerful, insincere answer.
So I wish, I wish, that conversationalists would avoid these questions! There are plenty of others to ask that will be far less likely to cause pain. I offer these suggestions:
What do you like to do for fun?
Who is inspirational to you and why?
Tell me about your loved ones.
Now hear me well: I say all of this humbly, with the acknowlegment that I have probably inflicted pain on someone unintentionally by asking a chitchat question. I am human. We all are. I am simply offering a suggestion of what I wish others would do, so that less people would be hurt.
And hear me well one final time: I welcome personal questions from those who know me well, love me, have a history with me, and have been supportive of me. You may ask. You have earned that right. Because I know that you will respond to my honest answer with love and concern. I know that if I cry in front of you, it's okay.
But if I just met you, or you know only surface things about me, dont ask these questions. There are plenty of other fun questions to ask that will help you get to know me, and then maybe someday we will be friends close enough to ask the deeper questions.
Rant over.
What it seemed to me the asker was saying was "Why are you such a weirdo and when are you going to stop being a weirdo?'
Perhaps the asker meant nothing of the kind. Perhaps the asker's intent was simply to make pleasant conversation. But I did not enjoy this question.
I have noticed that I am not the only single person to get asked this question. (And please note that my single status changed 8 years ago.)
I have noticed that married people often get asked "So when are you having kids?" And then those with a child get asked this one that currently makes me cringe: "So when are you having another?"
I choose to believe that most people, when asking these questions, are simply trying to make conversation, and are not trying to be invasive or hurtful. But that belief helps me only to tolerate the questions, not enjoy them.
Here is my proposal: unless you know a person on a deep level, please do not ask these questions! To demonstrate why, imagine these scenarios with me:
"So why don't you have a boyfriend?" asked to the woman who has been continuously cheated on and treated horribly, and can't find a decent guy.
"So when are you going to have a kid?" asked to the woman who has tried to for years and can't conceive, or maybe just had a miscarriage.
"So when are you going to have another kid?" asked to a woman who knows from her first experience that bearing a child is medically dangerous.
Twice this week, I was asked by people who did not know me well when I would be having a second child. These were seemingly very nice people, and I believe their intentions were good. But these questions cause me pain. I do not want to be asked them. I do not want to be placed in the socially awkward position of answering them, or of making up a trite, cheerful, insincere answer.
So I wish, I wish, that conversationalists would avoid these questions! There are plenty of others to ask that will be far less likely to cause pain. I offer these suggestions:
What do you like to do for fun?
Who is inspirational to you and why?
Tell me about your loved ones.
Now hear me well: I say all of this humbly, with the acknowlegment that I have probably inflicted pain on someone unintentionally by asking a chitchat question. I am human. We all are. I am simply offering a suggestion of what I wish others would do, so that less people would be hurt.
And hear me well one final time: I welcome personal questions from those who know me well, love me, have a history with me, and have been supportive of me. You may ask. You have earned that right. Because I know that you will respond to my honest answer with love and concern. I know that if I cry in front of you, it's okay.
But if I just met you, or you know only surface things about me, dont ask these questions. There are plenty of other fun questions to ask that will help you get to know me, and then maybe someday we will be friends close enough to ask the deeper questions.
Rant over.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Detours
When I was five, my life's goal was to become a florist. When I was 12, I announced to one of my best friends that I was going to marry a certain young man named Steve. When I was 15, I realized I knew everything and told my sister this news. When I was 16, I decided to get a guitar and become super skilled at playing it. When I was 18, I decided to become a counselor. When I was 22, I decided to become an actress. When I was 24, I announced to my family that I had the spiritual call of life long singleness. When I was 28, I decided to be a counselor. Again. When I was 30, my womb started crying out, and I decided I needed 2 babies, a boy and a girl, spaced exactly 2 years apart.
Those were my decisions.
Here are the outcomes:
I never, ever worked in the floral industry. The friend I told about my future marriage to Steve was the one who actually married Steve. I officially do not know everything, or even close. (Although I do know the chorus to "Gold Digger" by Kanye West, and yes, I can rap it for you.) I got a guitar and ended up selling it without ever skillfully playing it. I became a counselor. I became an actress. I started dating Scott several months after the big singleness announcement. I had just one baby, and she is now 3 and sibling-less.
Detours.
The point is this: I make plans. Which is fine. But God, the great and good in-charge One, can override my plans. And sometimes His ideas are better, ya know?
He's a gentleman, I believe. He gives me free will to make choices, and I try to make
decent ones. But ultimately, just like that road crew on rt. 23 in Leola that extended my work commute today, He can decide if my chosen path needs a detour.
His detours are often quite scenic.
Those were my decisions.
Here are the outcomes:
I never, ever worked in the floral industry. The friend I told about my future marriage to Steve was the one who actually married Steve. I officially do not know everything, or even close. (Although I do know the chorus to "Gold Digger" by Kanye West, and yes, I can rap it for you.) I got a guitar and ended up selling it without ever skillfully playing it. I became a counselor. I became an actress. I started dating Scott several months after the big singleness announcement. I had just one baby, and she is now 3 and sibling-less.
Detours.
The point is this: I make plans. Which is fine. But God, the great and good in-charge One, can override my plans. And sometimes His ideas are better, ya know?
He's a gentleman, I believe. He gives me free will to make choices, and I try to make
decent ones. But ultimately, just like that road crew on rt. 23 in Leola that extended my work commute today, He can decide if my chosen path needs a detour.
His detours are often quite scenic.
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