Every so often I come to an awareness that I am a straddler. An in-between. I straddle different cultures, social groups, disciplines, religions. It is an advantage, being able to relate to a variety of people. It's also very lonely because there are so few of us who can relate to each other.
This week I found myself without an interview appointment, and peeled off my corporate job-seeking skin. I stepped out and began thirsting for meaningful conversation, something that would nourish the soul. I have had some good conversations, swam in poetry, prose and music. But my soul still feels very dry and shriveled, and I'm hoping, trusting that it will be full again soon.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
On Beauty
It was in the air, or so it seemed to Kiki, this hatred of women and their bodies--it seeped in with every draught in the house; people brought it home on their shoes, they breathed it in off their newspapers. There was no way to control it.
--Zadie Smith, On Beauty
Where does it come from, this endless criticism we have of ourselves? Who told us to make it a habit of scrutinising our contours, checking it off against an imaginary ideal and tallying the scores to determine if we "passed"? Pass what?
I like the way my body is, I've never been ashamed of it, and I don't want to start now.
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