The
authors we have read thus far have been remarkably candid and open with their
readers. Fey, Poehler, and Kaling have a confident, self-assured voice in their
writing, but Phoebe Robinson’s confidence and openness is far above whatever
scale you could put Fey, Poehler, and Kaling’s confident writing on. Robinson’s
complete confidence in herself has made me think about my utter lack of
confidence in myself. I want to use this post as an opportunity to present my
ideas on self-image, even though this would disrupt the pattern—strict analysis
with minimal personal reflection—that my previous posts created.
I’ve struggled with my self-image since I
was nine years old. In third grade, I loved wearing vibrant, stylish outfits
that, at nine, I thought reflected my vibrant personality. I stopped wearing
fun and colorful outfits soon after a boy in my class called me fat in a
creative way. This boy looked me up and down, put an inflated Ziploc bag under
his shirt, and said, “Look! I’m Vivienne!”, mocking the way my chubby stomach
created a bulge in my yellow, plaid shirt. To make a long story short, I never
wore that shirt again and I became hyper-conscious about how my body looked. I
had never even thought about my appearance in that way before, but because of
one boy’s stupid comment, I stopped wearing my favorite shirts, and went to
school every day wearing an oversized hoodie or sweatshirt so that I could hide
my body as much as possible.
Because of one boy’s comment, I decided
that the best thing I could do to survive school was blend in. Wear gray
hoodies that make you barely distinguishable from the walls, and hide all of
your personality so that you become just one more of so many conforming
students. In elementary school, I educated myself on calories, and carbs, and
dieting plans so that I could achieve the body that all of the popular girls
had. Your body image is an inherent part of your self-image. If you have no
confidence in your body image, then you have little to no confidence in other
areas. I was ashamed of my body, therefore I was also ashamed of my overall
personality. I suppressed all of my passion and enthusiasm so that I was as
interesting and noteworthy as a brick wall. I didn’t want to give anyone the
opportunity to notice me or make fun of me again.
My experience is not unique or
exceptional. Everyone, no matter what race, gender, or sexuality, struggles
with their self-image at some point. Why is that? We are not born nitpicking ourselves,
yet we grow to critique every aspect of our identity and appearance. We are
taught from a young age that physical appearance is one of the most important
parts of life on Earth. Women especially have this message drilled into their
heads. If you’re not physically attractive, society tells women, then you must
change yourself in order to reach that goal. Additionally, if you feel as though
your interests don’t match the interests of your peer group, you feel pressure
to dim your non-conforming passions. Since
that initial wound in third grade, I’ve had to fight to sustain a positive self-image
and a semblance of confidence. Phoebe Robinson discusses her journey to a
positive self-image in her book, You Can’t Touch My Hair. Robinson is able to love and respect herself
even with all of the negative things that society tells her about herself. If
she can face daily racism and sexism and have the strength to be confident in
who she is, then I can work to improve my own self-image.
Earlier today, actually, I saw a post on social media talking about how just one comment to someone can change the way they see and carry themselves for the rest of their lives, so we should be conscious of the things we say to others. Reading your post made me think of a life-altering experience I had, also, in elementary school (specifically second grade, I believe). At a friend's birthday party, one of the girls (who was paper-thin, by the way, because little girls seem to always either be toothpicks or pudge-balls, and I was the latter) called everyone over, wrapped her thumb and middle finger around her wrist, and said "if you can't touch your fingers here, it means you're obese". Yeah, needless to say, I had the same reaction to this as you had to the kid with the Ziploc bag. But you, as well as Phoebe Robinson, are right! It does not matter what others think or say about us, we just gotta rock it in our own special way, and make sure not to ever make someone feel like those people made us feel.
ReplyDeleteVivienne, first I would like to say I'm sorry you went through that as a kid. I, like you and Izzy, also dealt with bullies in school. I got bullied for my height all the time. I was called "Jolly Green Giant", "Sasquatch", and in one particular incident, my other tall friend and I got called the "Twin Towers" and two girls ran into us making us fall. Like wtf! How do you think of that, and why do you think of that as an insult? As you said, this incident made me hate my height and it led to me always slouching and doing whatever I could to appear smaller. As Izzy said, we have to fight the world and become the resistance. May the force be with you, my friend! (Sorry, whenever I hear resistance, Star Wars is the only thing I think about)!
ReplyDeleteUgh...this post and these comments get me right in the feels, as they say. That's all.
ReplyDeleteVivenne,
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing such a personal post this week. Many of your experiences are similar with mine as a child and many of which still manifest in my decision making today. Confidence is such a difficult thing to find when it feels like so many people are trying to tear you down. I know that it's hard out there but just know there are ALWAYS people to support you (: stay strong girlie
I think your post is extremely important because staying silent on transgressions such as these is what perpetuates this negative behavior. Like you said, we have all experienced a time where we have been put down, so why do we still continue to do it? I really don't expect there to be an answer, but I hope that recognition of the problem will bring change.
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry you had to deal with criticism like that in the third grade. It makes me so sad to think of all the girls that grow up happy and confident only to have that smashed by someone who speaks without thinking of the consequences. I once wore a tank top with a jacket zipped up to school in ninth grade and a boy told me I looked like a slut because he could see an inch of cleavage. I also opted for the 3 times too big sweatshirt for the rest of my high school career, and even now into college. I hear those words every time I put on a shirt that is appropriately sized, and I change out of it almost every time. I hope that Phoebe Robinson is able to inspire you to love every inch of who you are and nothing less, because there are so many more important traits and characteristics to possess other than a skinny body and a pretty face.
ReplyDelete