Love the Skin You're In
I think the title of this entry comes from AdSpeak, that constant, endless series of promises and orders that we receive all day long in the United States of America. Actually being happy with yourself as you are is, of course, a lifelong process of learning what you can and cannot do, can and cannot change, can and cannot stand, do and do not need. But in DisneyWalMartMacAmerica, there's no need to spend time developing character. Nope, you can go and buy a bottle of it at your local Megalomart.
Caveat Emptor. What seems an easy fix turns out to be a grave turn down an endless road, one filled with need, one marked by lack. There's never enough, should you take this path, never enough money, never enough looks, never enough popularity, never. Not only does the materialism that we're taught to crave kill our souls, it can also--and does--kill our bodies. For example, those "firming creams" supposed to make me love the skin I'm in also contain parabens, a carcinogen that collects in tissues and, well, let's just say I'd rather not find out what happens after that.
A young man blew away a whole bunch of fantastic people recently. One of them, a chemical engineering major, had recently started a sorority to help other women like her who worked in a traditionally male field and so had to bear the whips and scorns of men. Her voice was needed, a cry of sanity in the wilderness, reminding us that there aren't only two kinds of people in the world, male and female, but actually there's billions of kinds, human and human. And human and human and human.
Would that this young man had known that. Would that he had known he did not have to be a macho man, a popular guy, a rich kid. What a tragedy, that to the distorted mind our distorted American way of life becomes an excuse to kill.
What to do?
That's simple. Change. Change yourself. Change your values. Change your goals. Change your actions.
Stop telling racist jokes. Quit buying things you don't need. Pick up that stray dog and hang up fliers 'til you find her owner. Refuse to believe that "real" men hate and "real" women sacrifice. Dare to care.
Dare to care.
What if the roommates of that young man in Virginia refused to "accept" that their roommate sat alone and stared at the wall for hours? What if they couldn't write it off as his inability to speak English, this kid who had been in the United States for nearly his entire life? What if, what if. It's not their fault, of course, but it is our responsibility, every one of us who calls this country home, to ask how we can do better, to ask how we can socialize our children to dare to care about themselves and others, not to be afraid of being too concerned with another man's pain.
Yesterday I was driving to the grocery and I passed my local high school which had been shut down because a kid and some guns had gone missing. The administrators did not want him to kill his fellow students. So this place usually bustling with young people was instead populated only by a few news vans and lots of police cars. An unusually gray day added a somber note to the bizarre scene. At that moment, John Lennon's "Imagine" came over the radio. And I began to cry.
Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one.
Later than night I had the privilege of sitting with a number of young women--and one man--all undergraduates at USC. The occasion was the end of the year banquet for the Women's Student Assembly, and many tears were shed as these amazing human beings spoke of what it had meant to them, means to them, to belong to a community of like-minded feminists, all dreaming of a world without hatred, a world driven by kindness and equality and compassion and empowerment of those conventionally ostracized.
Sara, next year's WSA President, pointed out that this world wasn't a dream, that it was a reality already, demonstrated by the existence of the group, the actions that they take, the changes in their own character and therefore in the world. I loved this point, that while we have so much to do, we are doing it. We are doing it.
I know that's why I love the skin I am in, not because I put toxic chemicals on it in the hopes that some man will want me, but because I drive to Los Angeles on a cold rainy night to be of service to young people seeking adult role models who are not caught up in trying to be rich or beautiful or powerful; who don't feel the need to attack other people in order to make themselves feel better; who don't believe they deserve any more than their small share on this planet; who absolutely refuse to accept racist, sexist, classist, homophobic hatred in the name of "family values'; who imagine a world much like the one I enjoyed at that banquet last night, good food, good talk, real intimacy, caring and passion and dreams and visions for a world filled with light and love and wisdom.
Imagine.
I hope some day you'll join us.