Touch and My Most Beautiful Secret
There's something very harrowing about growing into womanhood. I think that something could be best defined by this word:
Objectification.
"Why, Shareeta," you might say, "I'm so terribly sorry that you had to be objectified by those other people."
Here's the dirty secret: it's by everyone. Yes, even you there.
Something happens when you become a young woman. When your body and your mind and your hormones move about you in whirl of almost woman. A gripping fear comes over everyone in your world. They want you to cover up. They want you to be modest. They won't hug you or touch you or hold you like they did. And then it continues into adulthood. No one should touch you like that - no, you must find a man. And then touch will be romantic. So somewhere in between being a girl and being a woman you learn that the reason that people touch you is just... sexual. And that's different than it was before. And upsetting. If you're deeply touch oriented, like me, it can be devastating. Especially if unwanted sexual touch is inflicted on you. Then reinforced by the sudden apprehension of every other person in your life.
I remember watching the gears turn in his head. A father figure of sorts, and yet there was this unbidden fear there. As if my blossoming womanhood was in some way changing that. Is my body - my being - is it offensive? It's offensive? It's overtly sexual? He won't touch me, not really. A nervous embrace perhaps, where there's a calculated distance between us. He's keenly aware - shoulders, arm contact. I can't lean in to his face, to put my forehead against his cheeks. I can't dive into the embrace I want.
How often does this situation occur? Oh, every day, usually. Depending on if it's one of the days I decide I can be around people or not. So if it is, every one of those days.
Let me (kind of) divert for a second...
I'm going on the record to say I object to modesty. Not in the way Heavenly Father intended, but in the way that its taught. Women are taught that the purpose and object of modesty is 1) for the sake of others and 2) about the clothing we wear, almost completely absent of every other aspect of modesty.
So, the choices I make are for me and for Heavenly Father. I Always Remember the Divine. I get a lot of commentary on the clothing I wear - and I honestly don't care. I put very little thought into the effect my clothing has on other people. I put a huge amount of effort into choosing something that really sends a message about myself that day - my clothing is often the most accurate form of self-expression, because my psyche is prone to hiding behind walls of false extroversion. I don't really care what you think about that. I'm on my own journey, with my own circumstances, for my own reasons and I wear the clothes that I want. There is nothing in the world that relieves anyone of the onus of respecting other human beings and remaining non-judgemental. If this is an ongoing problem for you (disrespect or judgement [one and the same, but I digress]) then I suggest you experiment with my mental habit of purposely finding one person you'd easily judge and exercising empathy to the best of your ability for them.
Modesty has very little to do with appearance, I think its rather bizarre that we focus on that so much. Modesty is less about how you look and more about how you are. Modesty means knowing when to speak and when not to speak. Modesty means reserving judgement. Modesty means knowing we are worthy of love and belonging. Modesty means not fighting for attention, pride, ego or recognition. And if those principles are not a lesson for everyone on the planet, regardless of gender, I don't know what is.
Blah blah blah, bathing suits. Can we get beyond it? That is such a shallow understanding of modesty. It's not worthless, but if that's all you're focusing on you're missing the point.
Over and out. But was it really a diversion? This is another way we send a message to women that their bodies are inherently sexual objects to be acted upon, not worthy of platonic loving touch as they had when they were young.
It seriously makes me want to vomit. I hate this topic. But I talk about it because it needs to be talked about.
It's really difficult. I'm not less sweet, or less kind, or less cuddly than I was. I don't think touching is inappropriate (and trust me, I know about bad touch). I'm sick and tired of feeling like initiating touch is an explicitly sexual thing. If you want to pull out your pitchforks and tell me that men just can't take it and they're just wired differently and I just don't understand... I mean... you're entitled to your opinion, I guess. But that's incredibly sad that you define yourself that way - unable to make informed and rational decisions when faced with an actual human being (or bodied? ha). And I just suppose you should also know that maybe I understand more than you think. I, like all humans everywhere, lie on a spectrum between asexuality and, for lack of a better word, nymphomania. I want to be able to not be defined as one of two polar opposites - slut and innocent. Breaking news: I understand what it is to have sexual desire and temptation because... I have sexual desire and temptation. Because I'm human.
I'm not asking you to never see me as sexual. I'm just asking you to not only see me as sexual. Or asexual. Because it's dehumanizing on either side. It takes away a fundamental and terrific aspect of my humanity.
Maybe I want to be held in embrace of a man who's been a father figure to me. Or a friend who's shown me kindness. Or perhaps I'd like for you to feel confident reaching out to put your arm around me when my face reflects the shell shock of an emotional impact. Perhaps I'd like for someone to happily thread their arm around my waist, to put a hand on the soft, warm spots of my belly and to laugh with love and acceptance of who I am. Maybe there's someone who's shoulder I could literally cry on, or perhaps I'd like the feel of scruff on my collarbone, just for the sake of the sensation. Maybe it would mean something, maybe it wouldn't, but wouldn't it be an adventure to try? Just the sweet innocence of touch, something so absent from my life as a so-called beautiful woman.
I don't like being termed that way, as if it's all that I am. I would like to be known as a radiantly happy woman. And a strong one. If that's what I am, isn't beauty implied?
So, it's time for my juicy secret. Do you know which of my physical features is my favorite? I bet you'll never guess. It's a feature I love for so many reasons, but the largest of those being that it is uniquely mine. No one else in my family shares this trait (at least not close family) and I think it's expressive of who I am.
Stumped?
The freckles on my nose :)
Back on topic...
Don't be afraid to touch. It takes some risk, yes, and perhaps more for my next request. Don't be afraid to feel.
Love and Admiration (and nose freckles!),
Shareeta
Objectification.
"Why, Shareeta," you might say, "I'm so terribly sorry that you had to be objectified by those other people."
Here's the dirty secret: it's by everyone. Yes, even you there.
Something happens when you become a young woman. When your body and your mind and your hormones move about you in whirl of almost woman. A gripping fear comes over everyone in your world. They want you to cover up. They want you to be modest. They won't hug you or touch you or hold you like they did. And then it continues into adulthood. No one should touch you like that - no, you must find a man. And then touch will be romantic. So somewhere in between being a girl and being a woman you learn that the reason that people touch you is just... sexual. And that's different than it was before. And upsetting. If you're deeply touch oriented, like me, it can be devastating. Especially if unwanted sexual touch is inflicted on you. Then reinforced by the sudden apprehension of every other person in your life.
I remember watching the gears turn in his head. A father figure of sorts, and yet there was this unbidden fear there. As if my blossoming womanhood was in some way changing that. Is my body - my being - is it offensive? It's offensive? It's overtly sexual? He won't touch me, not really. A nervous embrace perhaps, where there's a calculated distance between us. He's keenly aware - shoulders, arm contact. I can't lean in to his face, to put my forehead against his cheeks. I can't dive into the embrace I want.
How often does this situation occur? Oh, every day, usually. Depending on if it's one of the days I decide I can be around people or not. So if it is, every one of those days.
Let me (kind of) divert for a second...
I'm going on the record to say I object to modesty. Not in the way Heavenly Father intended, but in the way that its taught. Women are taught that the purpose and object of modesty is 1) for the sake of others and 2) about the clothing we wear, almost completely absent of every other aspect of modesty.
So, the choices I make are for me and for Heavenly Father. I Always Remember the Divine. I get a lot of commentary on the clothing I wear - and I honestly don't care. I put very little thought into the effect my clothing has on other people. I put a huge amount of effort into choosing something that really sends a message about myself that day - my clothing is often the most accurate form of self-expression, because my psyche is prone to hiding behind walls of false extroversion. I don't really care what you think about that. I'm on my own journey, with my own circumstances, for my own reasons and I wear the clothes that I want. There is nothing in the world that relieves anyone of the onus of respecting other human beings and remaining non-judgemental. If this is an ongoing problem for you (disrespect or judgement [one and the same, but I digress]) then I suggest you experiment with my mental habit of purposely finding one person you'd easily judge and exercising empathy to the best of your ability for them.
Modesty has very little to do with appearance, I think its rather bizarre that we focus on that so much. Modesty is less about how you look and more about how you are. Modesty means knowing when to speak and when not to speak. Modesty means reserving judgement. Modesty means knowing we are worthy of love and belonging. Modesty means not fighting for attention, pride, ego or recognition. And if those principles are not a lesson for everyone on the planet, regardless of gender, I don't know what is.
Blah blah blah, bathing suits. Can we get beyond it? That is such a shallow understanding of modesty. It's not worthless, but if that's all you're focusing on you're missing the point.
Over and out. But was it really a diversion? This is another way we send a message to women that their bodies are inherently sexual objects to be acted upon, not worthy of platonic loving touch as they had when they were young.
It seriously makes me want to vomit. I hate this topic. But I talk about it because it needs to be talked about.
It's really difficult. I'm not less sweet, or less kind, or less cuddly than I was. I don't think touching is inappropriate (and trust me, I know about bad touch). I'm sick and tired of feeling like initiating touch is an explicitly sexual thing. If you want to pull out your pitchforks and tell me that men just can't take it and they're just wired differently and I just don't understand... I mean... you're entitled to your opinion, I guess. But that's incredibly sad that you define yourself that way - unable to make informed and rational decisions when faced with an actual human being (or bodied? ha). And I just suppose you should also know that maybe I understand more than you think. I, like all humans everywhere, lie on a spectrum between asexuality and, for lack of a better word, nymphomania. I want to be able to not be defined as one of two polar opposites - slut and innocent. Breaking news: I understand what it is to have sexual desire and temptation because... I have sexual desire and temptation. Because I'm human.
I'm not asking you to never see me as sexual. I'm just asking you to not only see me as sexual. Or asexual. Because it's dehumanizing on either side. It takes away a fundamental and terrific aspect of my humanity.
Maybe I want to be held in embrace of a man who's been a father figure to me. Or a friend who's shown me kindness. Or perhaps I'd like for you to feel confident reaching out to put your arm around me when my face reflects the shell shock of an emotional impact. Perhaps I'd like for someone to happily thread their arm around my waist, to put a hand on the soft, warm spots of my belly and to laugh with love and acceptance of who I am. Maybe there's someone who's shoulder I could literally cry on, or perhaps I'd like the feel of scruff on my collarbone, just for the sake of the sensation. Maybe it would mean something, maybe it wouldn't, but wouldn't it be an adventure to try? Just the sweet innocence of touch, something so absent from my life as a so-called beautiful woman.
I don't like being termed that way, as if it's all that I am. I would like to be known as a radiantly happy woman. And a strong one. If that's what I am, isn't beauty implied?
So, it's time for my juicy secret. Do you know which of my physical features is my favorite? I bet you'll never guess. It's a feature I love for so many reasons, but the largest of those being that it is uniquely mine. No one else in my family shares this trait (at least not close family) and I think it's expressive of who I am.
Stumped?
The freckles on my nose :)
 |
| Can you see them? |
Back on topic...
Don't be afraid to touch. It takes some risk, yes, and perhaps more for my next request. Don't be afraid to feel.
Love and Admiration (and nose freckles!),
Shareeta
Comments
Post a Comment