Monday, November 19, 2012

The Beauty Ripple

Society has raised many people to believe that we should define beauty and intelligence based on a secular ideal . That to be considered attractive you must be so thin you no longer menstruate .They often tell us that we need to be this ideal to be happy and successful  . But we don't . 

The following is just my own interpretation of how I think this should be challenged on a large scale . All my life , media has idolized those women who have proportions that defy natural limitations . The large breasts , tiny waist , the long silky hair and legs that " go on for miles" .  Basically a hairy ant . Oh I correct myself , hair is deemed something taboo if not on your head . Therefore all my ideas of what beautiful was , never really matched what mattered : me and the people around me . There was never a popular idea that appealed to a short , talkative Indian girl , what could I (and many others like me ) find that was similar to us in pop culture ? 

In history , for ages at a time , society idolized different ( also impossible ) body shaped . The overly sized sculptures of women with almost obese bodies , that symbolized fertility , often occurred in many ancient societies around the world .  The Venus of Willendorf ( found in Austria ) is one such figure with large breasts and a large abdomen , an ideal of beauty at the time .  The Venus de Milo is almost the opposite . It is a Greek sculpture that represented the idea of perfect proportion where all sculptures had similar characteristics and believed in perfection .  Both were considered beautiful . 

Nowadays , it is the look of synthetic beauty that strives to tell the younger generation that they simply are not good enough . That we need to eat less , be taller , emaciated and only then , will we be beautiful . Yes , there are new trends of using pus sized models and promoting new ideals of " pretty " . But they do so little to help when there are about 50 television shows about changing your outfit to change your life , or plastic surgery shows to say that you aren't perfect as you are , you should change . It would be a welcome change to see a beauty pageant with girls who weren't stereotypically pretty or to see The Most Beautiful Woman in the World be someone who didn't have fake breasts . Something that isn't Ideal . 

  It does not help that many adults encourage this form of thinking . Often , I encounter older people ( often relatives ) who will tell a little girl ( who is a perfectly healthy and pretty child) that she needs to go on a diet because she is getting fat or that she must stay out of the sun or she will get dark . And yet , no one challenges them ( I'm prevented from saying something particularly caustic by my mother who believes very much in maintaining respect for ones elders . I do concede  that respect is important but it is a 2 way street . ) ( also I've been told that in the same breath by those people and therefore also cannot be rude because , again , my mother is a force of nature I wouldn't contend with , but who would rather tell them off herself in a polite manner ... Thus defeating the purpose of it all ) . My parents feel that I take those comments far too seriously , that the little cousin will be fine because they don't know what I know  . People think she'll be ok but ...  But she won't . I know because I was her once . 

And now this gets all too personal when I intended to be very argumentative and objective ... But yes , I was that little girl once too . I think it was around my eleventh or twelfth birthdays when someone said , " You've gotten fat hey , shame you're so pretty otherwise ."  and if memory serves me correctly it was the same set of people who keep doing it now . It may have been just that as a catalyst and many other things that did contribute but for a long , long time after , I grew to hate myself . I hated that I wasn't tiny and fair . It grew to be something that may or may not have been an eating disorder at the time but I would starve myself and then eat and then purge ( and oh no , I sound like a headcase but that's what happened for about a year or so , erratically) and cry . Because I wasn't what society wanted to see . I was a bookworm , who liked to talk , who was short and who had curves . I cried a lot during that time because I didn't understand why . I didn't know why I wanted to look different because before that , I was happy with me . I was happy with who I was . This may be far too confessional but I think that because it happened a long while ago ,it doesn't hurt as much to talk about why I get angry when people tell my little 7 year old cousin that she is fat and that I want to tell them just how disgusted I feel because of their words . They make me want to be excessively brutal with my words so they understand the impact if their narrow minds on an impressionable child . 

I cry every time I revisit that because it's like it happened yesterday . I cry because I wish more was done to show young girls and young women that they are beautiful , that they are in fact more than just a face . You say that we are a civilized and modern society , tell me how ? Tell me how when such narrow views are placed on one of the the most undefinable things in the universe : beauty . The fact that we are alive , is a thing of beauty . When we see a plant grow , we should see how intricate and dynamic a group of cells form the basis of our food chains .  We should find our own ideas of beauty , not what is on the cover of the latest magazine that is dictated by a small group of people who never leave their hotels or villa's . 

If we said , to the next girl or woman we saw , that they are beautiful beings , that they are worth something  , maybe we could begin to change a life , that a life can impact the people around them . And if the ripples are big enough , we could impact our society as a whole . 

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Finding A Suitable Boy ... And no , this isn't about an actual boy. But about my first love

Not everyone remembers how or where they found their favourite book , some don't even know what that book is . It's that one book you could read over and over again but never tire  of the story that rests in it's soft pages.   For me , it was when I was 11 in Grade 6 ( being a  December baby , I spend most years being the last to hit the appropriate age for my grade  )  and the book that became my most beloved was "A Suitable Boy " by Vikram Seth  . A heavy and large novel that often (as the author warned in the poem that was on the front pages ) I did sprain my wrists many times carrying the immense volume around. 

I recall finding the book , hidden amongst the various papers and files of old electricity bills and family photographs . High up in a cupboard in the kitchen , one that I could reach by getting onto the cold counter and holding tightly onto the bars of the window , all the bric-a-brac that couldn't be thrown away or stored elsewhere had lain dormant for a while . Now to understand why I had ascended to the heights of this cupboard , it must be stated that I was searching for a comic book I thought I had lost . I had an insatiable appetite for Archie comics , at that age it was to read something not so serious . They had taken pride of place among my classics and books about war or history or something altogether too depressing when one needed a laugh . So I went on a hunt to find a few that I thought had disappeared . 

It must've been summer , because I remember the day being chilly and cloudy skies that threatened to dampen the freshly cut grass in the neighbours yard . So I dragged a chair over to the cupboard(being my last resort as nowhere else yielded success ) and climbed up . I love the smell of paper, old paper to be specific . Not that musty scent but that warm aroma that seems to smell like sharpened pencils , so this cupboard was filled with these smells and also of the glittering  pine-cone smell of Christmas decorations that were in a box in the corner . Well I used to think it glittered as the tinsel peeped out of the box . I digress , anyway , so I sifted through the cupboard with one hand (the other clinging to the window bar like a monkey of sorts ) and after a long time I noticed a thick book I had ignored for a while . I had read one or two other books that my father (who is also a voracious reader) had left up there , but they were Charles Dickens or Thomas Hardy . Not really what I was looking for , but nevertheless I hauled this large book out . The cover was of a river and a boat with two silhouettes on it and the pages were the most delicate and thin I have ever felt . Almost see through and incredibly smooth, the ink stood out dark and rich to the touch. I should have read it immediately ... But I didn't . 

Instead I read a bleak drama about a woman who decided to move ahead in life and mine gold after her husband died ... And then I re-read Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw ( My Fair Lady in theatre ) and eventually I got to reading this book that would keep in enthralled for days on end . I've learned that the beauty of a good book , is not merely the first page ( because I will never just read the first page ) but the first two or three chapters . However , this book had a first page that leaped  out at me .. And soon I was taken to a wedding in India .. 

That is the mark of a great book . I won't dwell on the rest of the book because there's too much and it's too real to be boiled down into a quick summation. At its core is a love story , not completely atypical but not your cookie-cutter boy-meets-girl . There are extracts I will read in isolation or maybe I have a whim to relive the entire book . Invariably it is the latter . 

I'm not saying , "Go read it !!" because all taste does differ (however I highly recommend it ) but find a book , any book , that you can read again and again , finding something new each time . And find a book that speaks to your core , regardless of how abstract the relation may be.  The solace of a good book surpasses any other distraction when you most need to find comfort ,