The writer of the piece, Jenn Forgie, talks passionately about children and how they cannot be contained, as much as we (adults) try to contain them - they are meant to take space, move their bodies. It is a beautiful, wonderful piece of writing - powerful.
I was shot to the heart when I read this...no one tried to contain me. I thought I was supposed to contain myself...I always felt like my personality, my voice, my passion were too big. My sister, whom I idolized as a child, was not interested in taking up or making space. She seemed to want to be small and I wanted her to pay attention to me. She was happy to read a book, to make pom-pom pets (all the rage back then). I tried to be that (I've got the scars to show it- they helped me learn how to tell my left from my right), I tried to be small.
My exuberance came out in jokes, stories, song, color, art, writing. In the car, on our long road trips to visit far-away relatives, the look in the rear view mirror told me that singing was not going to be tolerated...so I didn't sing...until I got a record player. But then, the songs I liked "carried", so I wasn't supposed to sing to those either...
When I colored things, I liked to use many colors, bright colors. "She likes everything psychedelic and multicolored." I thought that meant it was wrong.
I was born with my own little editor/interpreter/superego that told me to be better, smarter, faster, quieter, calmer. I tried to be small, I tried to dim my little light, but it sometimes shone out of the holes in the covering I chose. I don't think other people knew that I was interpreting their reactions the way I was. I don't remember meanness - just things people say and then how I felt about them.
I am learning how to be myself. It sure takes a long time. And it takes someone speaking a truth that you haven't ever thought of in that particular way.
Read it.
No comments:
Post a Comment