From Izzy's previous post:
In actuality, my face is blank. I can paint any picture on it that I want, so in comes makeup to paint in over the invisible eyebrows and eyelashes. I have a very high forehead and my hairline in set back. Also my head is shaped like an egg, so I style my hair to offset the flaws, wearing bangs, always, and hair down the side of my face and I poof up a bunch at the crown to offset the flatness. So now I have a hurt and painful persona that looks acceptable in public.
This struck me when I first read it because, of course, it reminds me of myself. I was and am the only redhead in my family. Often the only redhead around. In school, in the neighborhood, at work. Now, all of my childhood my mother was very concerned about my "invisible" eyebrows. My whole face is very fair and in harsh light my face disappears, too! Once my husband told me, you're very pretty in the dark! And I said, oh thanks, is that like, you're very pretty with a bag over your head?!? But what he meant was that my features really come out in a certain light. I knew that, I was just teasing him.
Anyway, my mother constantly pointed out the problem area of my eyebrows and I became obsessed with the issue myself for a long time. Always wishing I were darker. Nowadays, I never go in public without eyeshadow and mascara, especially now that my face is looking older. But for the rest of my insecurities I have learned to be more accepting of looking different. I finally decided this is how I look, and this is part of who I am and it has to be okay for me to look like me since it is okay for others to look like themselves. I told myself that way before I came to Voicelessness. So, I can be taught!
Another sidenote before I get to the point--on New Year's Eve we went to my cousin's for a party. Her husband's sisters and their families were also there. One of the little girls is very fair and kind of red-haired too. She has all this self-confidence and many interests she is unafraid to share. I marvel at her. I have often thought that she is kind of plain looking and felt bad for her about that even though she seems to be a happy and spirited little girl. Well, that night her aunt was staring at her and out of the blue she asked, "How come you're so pretty?" Like it had to be obvious to anyone with eyes. And the little girl accepted the compliment graciously but also as if she already knew that. She seemed to consider herself "so pretty" without being vain about it. And once again I realized just how narrow all my definitions of beauty and worth still are. Those seeds were planted in me from day one when I came out of the womb looking different. But that night I started seeing the beauty in that little girl. And it is a great thing to be able to do that. To accept it.
I was thinking that you're about the same age as my mom. And I was wondering if on top of all the abuse and all the things in your FOO that went into your own voicelessness, if there wasn't something about the times, post-war, fifties, that gave girls and women very unrealistic, narrow definitions about themselves. I mean even if your family had escaped all the abuse, maybe there would still be a problem due to the time period.
You see, I have been having trouble understanding my own upbringing. Many of us here understand that our parents were often abused and on some level did better by us than was done for them. My mother has a lot of the Nish behaviors described by people here. But it also seems to me that some of what went on in my childhood was the result of a mom who was trapped by what she thought she was supposed to be doing. Wife and mom. Period. Have a certain kind of face and certain kind of body. That's it. That's all you need to be a happy, fulfilled woman. One of the reasons my mother is still married, over 25 years, to someone with serious issues, abusive, crazy-making stuff, is because she doesn't want to be a "twice-divorced woman".
I see you as a completely different kind of woman, one who always had her own mind, could solve problems so creatively, and you didn't give that up about yourself. But there is still that thing about appearance. That just struck me, your comment about having a blank face. Like a canvas. Like nothing was there to begin with. That can't be true.
There are very few pictures of my mother from when she was little. In one I have seen, she is sitting on her tricycle and the sun is in her face and she is grimacing. She looks angry and defiant. Age probably about three. I was completely surprised by the amount of spirit on that little face. Well, actually my first thought was, so that's where my sister got it from. My sister was always the "bad" one. Defiant and angry to a high degree from a very young age. And to think that she might have been more like my mother than my mother would ever admit, that was very interesting. I had never, ever seen that side of my mother. She has kept that little one well-buried all these years. Over sixty-two years. The little one does pop out every so often. Even more, now that her "filter" seems to be breaking down a little. It can be embarrassing in restaurants when my mother just blurts out "rude" things. Must be the little one asserting herself. I used to get annoyed as well when she did that. This is the same woman who was continually shushing me in stores, or anywhere that other people might be around, all my growing up years. Who was continually embarrassed about my eyebrows.
Well, Izzy, you got me to thinking. Many, many of the moms from your generation seem to have these limitations. Well, many moms of this generation have limitations too. Some of the same ones. I just got to wondering if the times were a recipe for "N", were the times a recipe for abuse, so is my mother "N" or Voiceless? Maybe it doesn't even matter. Well, I guess it matters. Sometimes an understanding of cause can lead to an understanding of cure. That's how it seems to be for me anyway.
Yes, you sure did get me thinking about things.
Pennyplant
