"I not pretty" Well! What did you expect?

I was reminded that when we pay someone a complement on appearance, we may often be directing it to a store or a designer who made the item. Instead of saying “That blouse really makes you’re eyes sparkle, it’s beautiful” we say: “I love that blouse”. Or “I just wanted to tell you that I love your style, you have great taste” instead we say : “I love that purse”. Which complement would you rather be paid?

Note: The following are my personal thoughts and convictions. I’ve encountered some-what hostility when sharing my perspective in this area. While it is inevitable to feel a sense of threat or disapproval, I hope that you may walk away from this blog with questions and reflection vs. judgement.

I have three girls. Since my eldest was born I’ve put a lot of energy into understanding what messages she’ll be receiving in the world around her. This is due in part because I first processed the same for myself. I wondered which ones might be positive and therefore aiding her in becoming the strong, confidant and kind individual that most parents hope for. And which ones may be interpreted negative and might damage her sense of self worth or personal growth. Sure, I thought about methods of discipline and trying to speak to her civilly. . . However often go unnoticed are the daily messages that we all reinforce of “you’re not enough” or “this is what beauty is”. From the Ikea stores to salaries, retail commercials to clothing sizes (which are bogus).

I’ve been accused of thinking too much about it. “Oh sweetie, you’re looking too far into things” or “I don’t think it really matters as much as you think it does.” Oh really? Read on.

I read an article by Lisa Bloom a few months back that I appreciated so much, I wrote and thanked her for it (which is something I never do). It’s posted below. She wrote of her encounter at a friend’s home where she met their five-year old daughter for the first time. She was immediately inclined to complement the child on her pink nightgown. It may sound familiar “Maya, you’re so cute! Look at you. Turn around so I can see your pretty dress – you’re gorgeous!”. She didn’t and in my opinion, she knows better.

You may be thinking “What’s so wrong with giving a little girl a complement? Doesn’t it make them feel good, boost their self esteem? God intended women to feel beautiful, it’s very important to reinforce this for little girls”  Hmm.

She explains that our social ice breakers we resort to when meeting children are usually on appearance. Politely telling them "how darn cute/ pretty/ beautiful/ well-dressed/ well-manicured/ well-coiffed they are." While this may be with good intentions, it is counter-productive. 


Children are like clay. They memorize the messages they receive and if they aren't conforming into them, they are STILL being affected by them. This is a wonderful opportunity but a very fragile one. I don't believe that they exist to be trained for our amusement or doting, but to become and well serving human to the world they entered. The same goes for boys. I default to "complementing" them on how strong they are or how fast because I don't have much interaction with them and let's be honest - I don't know what to say. Then I realized, there are boys who aren't strong or fast and will never be strong or fast. I wondered how I would feel if I had a boy who wouldn't fall into that category and if I'd appreciate him being told he has to merely by the way he's spoken to. Truth is, I have a little girl who is typically out-shined, out ran and rarely ever praised for her appearance. Her skills and creative mind go unnoticed outside of family. I suppose just to let you know how that makes me feel, I get teary thinking about it. 


Lisa then goes on to explain her uneasiness in having small talk with this little girl and how difficult it was to avoid typical complements or topics. To read how this story ended, click the link below. In summary, it turns out the child had a lot of intelligent things to say. She's even read a story book or two in her short life that she could tell you about! Imagine that.

Despite my efforts to be intentional in this area, I had a pivotal encounter with my 2 year old recently. She is obsessed with the ever-infiltrating Disney Princesses. I’ll be the first to admit that I dote on her as she sways across the room dancing and singing Aurora’s song. It’s entertaining and “cute” but the entire time I am thinking “uh oh”. She demands to be read princess stories, watch the movies and most recently much to my dismay, wear princess images and logos. I’ve shared with those in my life how this is a challenge for me and have risked being thought of as a joy-killer in order to speak out on what I felt was right. It’s always been with a purpose and never from a “I’m better than you” mentality. But we are human and when someone else raises concerns about what we easily accept, we feel threatened. Interestingly enough it’s not other people who are my most difficult opponent. It’s not even the 2 yr. old. It’s myself. 

I had put Cinderalla back in her attic for awhile (get it? Hee hee) and have offered in her place a Seasame Street video or a few sing-along CD’s. Keep in mind - it’s far easier on my sanity to flip on Her Royal Highness and her little rodents vs. singing “I’ve been working on the railroad” and thousand and twelve times. . . (sometimes I think I’m losing my mind and might actually be on the railroad). Ultimately I chose to give in and play the darn thing after she had fiercely dug the DVD out of the bottom of the pile. While it played she talked and talked, happy as a clam. “I yike Cindaella” in her 2 yr. old jargon. “You yike Cindaella Momma?” I answer, “Cinderella is very kind. Yes, I like that too”.  She confirms it and goes on. “She pretty” she says matter of factly.  “Momma, you tink Cindaella pretty?” “Well,” I say. “Cinderella is very kind to her sisters and she’s so nice to animals. She loves people and yes, I like that”. “No!” she refutes. “Cindaella pretty.” I answer “I think you’re pretty Sam”. She then seemed focused on finding out if I think Cinderella is pretty so she asks again “Momma! You tink Cindaella pretty?” She raises her voice and waits in anticipation for my answer. She’s trying to find out what pretty is. And this is exactly where it takes place. I face my enemy: that constant voice telling me to “oh come on, lighten up, who cares. . . tell the little kid that her favorite princess is pretty. . . you're being extreme." I learned this voice as a small child and it is still everywhere. Finally I say “Oh I dunno. I guess. You know who’s pretty? I think YOU’RE pretty!”

She answers:

“I not pretty.” “I Sam.”   “Cindaella pretty”.

Lisa Bloom’s How to Talk To Little Girls:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html

Young Girl, Young Girl, What Do You See?

After some time of deliberating, the Doc walked in with the results. "A herniation of your L4 and L5 discs is causing them to bulge and give you nerve pain" he said, unseemly disturbed. Seriously? I'm 29 years old and I already have degenerative disc disease? Sure it's common, by the age of 50, 85% of us will show signs of this back pain. But again, I reiterate : I am 29. I have three little kids, grad school, part time work, church responsibilities, hiking trips...the list went on. The plain and simple truth of the matter is, I don't have time for this.

I hobbled to my car, easing my way in like I had just given birth while Dave drove as gently as possible back to the house. I had used the walker in the hospital to ease some discomfort, so I suppose I could secretly use it at home. After all, I hadn't seen any young suburban moms hobble to the park with snacks in their walker basket lately I would wait until this inflammation died down then I would go back to life as normal. Back to how I want to define myself. A definition that didn't include a walker, a bent over crouch or a medicine cabinet full of little orange bottles. Sure I had seen lots of people that needed assistance walking. A few girls at school in wheelchairs, older adults at church, grocery stores, heck, I constantly urge my own family members to do what's best for them and use a cane or whatnot. They were still themselves, weren't they? They were the same friends and family I loved. Nothing had changed except for a superficial adjustment of their physical ability. A walking stick wouldn't define them. I never thought poorly of them or considered them inferior to me.

BUT - then it dawned on me. Of course I did. I formulated my opinions of them, opinions that had some sort of negative connotation. I had to have. For when it came time to accept my lot of back pain, I denied it. I refused to use a walker in public. I pushed myself beyond my abilities because it's what I've always done and I won't be stopped by my pain. After all, I had places to go and important things to do!

And then it started. I noticed little things at first like toilet paper being a far reach in a stall. Heavy doors at the post office or stairs without railings. I began to notice things that could have made my life a lot easier being absent from my everyday life. Taken for granted. Overlooked by the busy and self-determined society who illuminated their privilege of ablism.

However, it's not the tangible things that bother me the most now. It's the spoken or unspoken language we all use from time to time. I caught myself saying things like "I feel like an old lady" or "my 30's better be better than this". I noticed myself get embarrassed as I would have to get up slowly from a bench once our name was called at a restaurant, or if there was an activity at my job that included a lot of movement, I passively sat out instead of saying "I have a bad back". Wasn't I a confidant woman? What was this new condition that had broken my strong hold on the world around me?

Discrimination comes in many forms.

It's most often the ones that are so closely knit into our society, our language, our slang or habits. It's disguised as personal preferences and glossed over as cliche's. It's constantly being re-enforced as we skip through life and give no second thought to what "I feel like an old lady" is really trying to convey. Are old ladies bad? Is old age something to avoid, full of pain, and horrible things? Perhaps some might think so. What if I said "I feel like an old man"? Would that insinuate a plethora of wisdom or, like an "old lady", insinuate aches, pains and miserableness? Certainly, it can't be that terrible. Certainly that's not what my future holds. For I would hope that by the time I have come to the age of being considered an "old lady", my faith will have increased tremendously. My love for my partner will be overflowing with selflessness. My children will have grown knowing their God, their passions and the love of their parents. Particularly, their mother, the "old lady".

The question is continually raised - Isn't it silly to be making such a big deal about language? Isn't this "Politically correct" business a bit too extreme? Perhaps. But first, consider this: what images am I instilling in my children as they grow and learn? If my reference to a people or population usually comes with negative undertones, what message? Or if I'm speaking of myself and the sentence is laden with put-downs. hmm.... I wonder.