Making the Statement

So most of you don't have an idea of what I've been doing this semester as far as housing goes--I've been "living" with my grandparents and spending a "couple nights a week" in Maplewood, with my roommates Bekah and Meg. We decided, after my project projection, and Bekah's suggested suggestion that we should represent beauty at it's different levels. One would represent the beauty the world love, one would represent the beauty that is biblical, and one would represent inner beauty. Although I said that I would represent Worldly Beauty, Bekah insisted that I represent Inner Beauty, as that is part of my project, and that she represent Worldly beauty.
We were dressing up for the EMU Fall Festival, which was at Parkwoods Cabin, and we started Saturday after lunch. Bekah and I were making bread, and so we went shopping for pans, stopped at my sister's house for some clothing (for our costumes), and then while we were making the bread, we worked on Bekah's hair. I straightened it, Amy did her nails, and Jamila did her toes. We searched high and low for a mini skirt for Bekah to wear, and finally decided on one from Anna on the third floor, and my teal shiny top. We borrowed earrings from Katherine, and then Bekah had to shave her legs, borrowing stuff from Crystal. Then we had to do makeup. When Bekah was done, we walked up to Jamila's room and got name tags. It took a long time to get Bekah ready, while we were doing this, I kept feeling like we were hiding who she was and making her look like every other girl in Harrisonburg going to a bar. We made her like everyone else--not unique and almost boring.
Meg wore her Tivas, a djellaba, a black scarf over her hair, and made an 'X' over her mouth, to represent that women are to be silent, women are to have their head covered, and women are to avoid showing off their bodies. She even wore jeans, although we looked up that women weren't supposed to wear men's clothing, it looked better, and when she thought about rolling up her jeans so that we couldn't see them, she said, "but my legs are hairy."
I said, "But I love you the way you are."
And so was the battle of this beauty. To represent the Worldly beauty, we had to cover up the Bekah that we all love. We took time to hide and take away 'imperfections' and made her stare at herself in a mirror, challenged to make her lips look more pouty by wearing lipgloss, to scrutinize about her eyebrows long enough to need to pluck some hairs, and to notice some unruly hairs that weren't straight. So much time was taken, to cover her up.
With Meg, it wasn't that we were covering her up. We were physically covering her up, but she could still be Meg until the 'X' was put over her lips. Because of the media we used (liquid eyeliner) she couldn't smile for fear that it would crack, and so it inhibited her from being who she really was. When we were being silly, she couldn't laugh along, or she couldn't smile while laughing.
both Bekah and Meg were costumed by physicality, and in doing so, also costumed their personalities.
All of this time, I was already in my costume. :)
Because I represented inner beauty, I was to represent myself, and I did so with great vigor. I wore a green and brown patterned dress with my pink jacket and teal scarf over it. Jamila half-cornrowed my hair, and then I braided it some more, as that is one of the things that I think is most beautiful about myself--that I can braid my hair and wearing it braided. As a finishing touch, I wore my bunny slippers, which have been making their debut for the past week since I got back from Fall Break.
So then, we went with a Pirate, a Native American, and Cleopatra herself to the Fall Festival.
We definitely got good reactions. People had to ask what we were, so we explained ourselves. Though people could see what we had done to decorate ourselves, they had no idea of the process that it took to get there, the emotional weariness that each of us carried--me for watching Bekah disappear and Meg become inhibited, and also the time it took to reach that point.
There was a costume contest, and The "Worldly Beauties (OH CODY!)" and Cleopatra won (Jamila looked FREAKING awesome, and even cut her hair for the role). Bekah and I carved pumpkins, both of them saying something--mine said, "In Her Beauty" and Bekah's said, "A Sad Story Be." I think we were both feeling our costumes.
We all learned great things about this project, and as I continue to write about my experimence with expressing inner beauty, there will be reflections of this experiment/statement.

Suicide=Beauty Destroyed

I saw a post on Facebook a couple of days ago that really made me feel. In my high school's hometown, a freshman had committed suicide. A girl who was fourteen years old hung herself. I cannot take the emotion. Where were her friends? Why couldn't she share with them what was going on inside? Where were the adults in her life to mentor her and love her? Where was God in this?

All I could see when I went to the Memorial group that was created for her as she Rests In Peace, was such a beautiful girl. Why could she not see it? Was she too focused on what other people would say to her to get that she was beautiful in the way that she carried herself, in the way that she was unique to this planet?

Why does it seem like high school is the place that makes us all conform to this heart breaking lifestyle of beauty? Why do girls wake up every morning and spend an hour grooming, and more time later, just so they look good, just so that they can get the second glance, or look like the photoshopped girl in the magazine. Why do girls have to starve themselves to feel like they are thin enough to be dated by those high school boys whose hormones and environmental shaping only make them think that the skinnier the better, the bigger breasts the better, the bigger, shinier hair the better?

Why don't girls make themselves displays of their hearts instead, displays of who they are in their innermost thoughts, letting their fears, and vulnerabilities slip away. Why can't we tell the world that what we see that is different inside is a blessing not a curse? It took, and continues to take time--years--for me to accept myself, and I didn't even have it the worst.

Suicide is a permanent end to a temporary problem. What we see as imperfections now isn't, but we don't bloom to see it until it's too late, we've already made the decision to let go and screw the world. People who try to commit suicide and then choose not to at the end have a long way to go, but they will reach happiness with who they are what they have.

God, may you give this beauty's family peace in this time as they struggle to find it. Hold them all close to you. May we as your people, not be blind to those with pain, and be able to serve them as they need us. Let it be so.

Feminism and BeautyinGrace

Grace and Katherine, the beautiful feminists

Why feminism?

On Monday, I was sitting in Common Grounds with two couch-fulls of lovely ladies, and my friend Katherine, already declared, asked me if I was a feminist, and Mila also shared her tastefulness in the topic.

I gave quite the hesitation--I'm scared of stigma--then said, "Well, maybe."

Given looks of astonishment, I gave in, "Okay, yes, I am! I just don't like the stigma."

I then went on later to say, "You know, I think my dad is a feminist," because he's always been all about my sisters and I taking on whatever came our way.

The funny part is that I went on declaring it for the rest of the day, to anyone who I spoke to about political issues, or just in conversation with Bekah and Meg, later in the day.

Feminism and Beauty:

I think it's important to establish the connection between feminism and beauty. Feminism, with one of the ideas being to give women their rights, also asks for the right of women to define their own beauty. Thus, it is very important for me to define myself as a feminist. I declare that women's beauty is unique, not what oppressive media (and some men) make it to be, and that it doesn't need someone else to say anything for it to be beautiful. If the wind blows in the forest, but no one hears it, did it move through the forest?

Of course. Part of women being beautiful is that almost nothing needs to be said. Beauty exists in the existence of feminism, in the ideals, the attitudes, the confidence, and all of these aspects are beauty. Someone could be blind and deaf and still be completely beautiful, though no one would ever clarify it for them, as long as they believed it, it would be true. 

This comes to my own unique beauty. It's very important that I declare myself to be a feminist (partially because people already assumed it was so), and also because it declares that I am more radical than the beauty that society tries to claim of me. 

Today was a day to do gracebeauty, not societybeauty. So Grace brightened her eyes, braided her hair in a circle, and wore bunny slippers to class, even though it rained. 

Goal today: go run, because it makes me feel so much better than a compliment from a guy telling me that I'm completely beautiful. Running brings out a confidence of capable dreams, and endurance and possibilities. What's great is that today I also chose to wear sweats and a sports bra. And get my picture taken for the Shen (school yearbook). I care about my unique beauty that much. People who get that yearbook will remember me as the girl with the interesting slippers, the runner, the braided hair and the bright eyes. 

I am the Plant in the Room [Perfect (2)]

Grace + "Beauty"

Last year in the class Ruling Ideas, Dr. Judy Mullet talked about the connection between fundraising, and having a plant in the room. Studies show that if there is some sort of foilage in the room when one is trying to raise money for something, a person is likely to be more generous. In essence, the plant is the manipulator.

Today was the first day of experimence (experiment and experience). Life is an experimence in itself, if we choose to look at our experiences and let our observations be so. However, today became the first day of a drive to change society's beauty standards. Is it a transformation? Is it a decision to not waste time in front of a mirror? I've already done these things today. I've transformed myself into someone that the culture would think of as beautiful.

The idea was to answer anyone who asked, "What's the occasion?"
"I wanted men to notice me today."

[Of course, I was then asked that particular question by a professor, and I chickened out.]

But why don't we instead ask a different question? There's nothing wrong with wearing make up for no reason, [although if has become a habit, then perhaps the habit needs to be rethought.]

But why not ask a question every time someone exhibits the confidence that creates their unique beauty?
"What's making you so beautiful (or unique, or confident, or you) today?"

That was tangenial. (meaning: a tangent)

Today started out as sort of an experimence to see if I would be able to manipulate men to notice my beauty by way of curlies and eye shadow. It makes me feel bad. I don't want people to think that I was doing it for attention. To a point I was, but it was also to make a point. Point: Make up and hair that's "done" do define "beauty". At least by the culture's standards. Or makeup and hair is synonymous with deserving a verbal response by those of the male species. By our culture's standards.

Can I redefine this beauty? I want to exhibit the beauty that I see all around me in each woman and man on this campus that is unique and shows an uninhibited beauty in each person.

I don't want beauty to make people rip themselves apart. I want people to look at themselves, see their own beauty, see their own gifts, and glue it all together, and let the cup of confidence and self-love overflow.

I'm starting this experimence with the opposite. And I'm going to transition from this society standard to the beauty that I feel I exhibit the most from myself.

"Watch" me as I go from externally motivated and extrinsic beauty to internal motivated and intrinsic beauty. [Watch is in quotations, because not all beauty is seen.]

How do you define your internal beauty?
What are society's standards that you feel required to navigate and why?

Mini Transition

I could get used to being at home.
In fact, I did. But I have come back to school.
Those eight hour LONG car rides really wear me out. Being dehydrated & having caffeine crashes--getting back just in time to study for an Elroy Exam (defn: Epic essays, and if missing any piece of information from the question, points docked off), which requires hours of meaningless studying because almost none of it is on the exam.
Then there were epic pains in the abdomen in combination with not having enough time to get coffee for the morning, and I was off to school to dread myself through the actual exam. Going in kicking and screaming calls for kicking and screaming moments mid-question 1, mid question 4, and mid question 5.
Then it was over, and I was almost compulsive with hug needs and my inability to have a happy mood.
Tim, an angel, provided some Tylenol (Extra Strength) during Exploring Social Work, where I also found out my mid-term was not in vain (93% A).
Then Mila and I (meaning: just me) went to get the drugs for the day. Now, two cups of coffee and an ounce of chocolate covered espresso beans later, I am functioning enough to smile at people.

I just hate the feeling of putting half of my classes on the back burner because I have needy professors. How on earth does everyone else handle getting through Social Stratification and Social Welfare history and Philosophy? Will next semester be easier? Maybe. I think that idea that I can count (on three and a half fingers) how many semesters of this I have left certainly helps.
But then where does life lead me? I used to think I had all this together, not now the world is my whetstone (is that the quote?). I think it would be more appropriate to say that the world is my sandstone. It's easier to shape. (and as I was thinking of the right rock, manure pile went through my head) The Whetstone just lights the fire. What do I do with my life?? Maybe I'll grow a garden and water it with my tears. Maybe I'll sing a song and cause someone to cry. Maybe I'll change the world with my college education. But maybe the world will change me because I spent all this time getting a college education.

I want more. I want less. I want someone. I want no one. I want no more. I want everything. I desire nothing. I'm broken. I'm mended. I'm getting there. Thus goes the wave of grace.

Perfect (1)

We think of things that we have that aren't perfect, making the world a negative trunk with occasional bump of positivity. We can paint this painting of perfection, but we cannot attain it. It is only something that we look upon and wish that we can be. In physical images, women reach for the perfection of beauty, a beauty designed by advertisements, Photoshop, and makeup. This drive for perfection pokes bones through skin, and causes fear and hate. It creates a dread to stare at the image that is created in a reflection, it creates criticism of every cell that defaces the smoothness of perfect. It creates 'ugly.'
I just want to grab this beauty and wring it's neck. Just as perfect love should cast out fear, perfect beauty should cast out ugly. There is nothing that makes this image rotten. Instead of looking in the mirror and seeing all that is imperfect, don't look for imperfection. Look at perfection. Look at what already exists. God created each of us perfect in His image. That image is unique in each of us. God shines differently in each of us. He's so diverse, he would create people big and small, with slight facial features, and sharp ones, with tiny eyes, with big ones. You are perfect. Accept that perfection. Accept that no one has the perfection that you have. If you try to be someone else, of course you are going to feel imperfect--you cannot become them. And if you try, you will continue to feel like you will never reach that point. Because you won't-- you can't.
I want you to remove the word ugly from your vocabulary. It is lethal for your health. Every time I say the word ugly, it connotates to not wanted, unloved, broken, useless. If we call our bodies ugly, we don't want them. We instead want someone else's, and we can't have theirs. If we want the ideal body, whose body are we stealing to replace ours?
What is 'ugly'?
Is 'ugly' not putting on makeup in the morning?
Is 'ugly' not having enough time to exercise?
Is 'ugly' feeling inadequate and incapable?
Whatever ugly means to you, whether it's a weakness or a feeling of failure in a reflection, free that feeling. Put it out in the open. Then, do the unthinkable. Take that ugly thing, and call it beautiful. Not the beauty that society creates. That beauty doesn't exist anymore. It has no substance. Though the media surrounds you, it is NOT you. You cannot become the media. You cannot be created by the media. You create yourself. And what you create of yourself is beautiful. Every part that is unique, and worth something. It is part of the whole of you. It is loved by God and should be loved by you. You need it and you want it. Your body is what your body is.
What's to make better when there's nothing wrong with you?
Perfection is looking at your reflection and realizing that you aren't being deceived by society's lies anymore.

The Lyrics that Pour from my mind

This is me processing what's been the past, and what is now. I know that there's good in the bad things that have happened to me, and that's the good thing.

Everywhere I look I see you

In faces of friends Potentials

And it causes me To not forget

Memories Of who we were

What we had Or what I thought

We had

Dreams, an attempt for reality failed

My mind is thrown away

That my reality can make me stronger

Moving on I can stand longer

The distance seems so great

But every stride I take

Hurdles me closer to 

Finding peace in what we made

I am strength in strength

This love that surrounds me

Carries me further than I could see

I'm realizing reality

I made vulnerablity comfortably fit

When I was around you

I jumped in with nothing

Didn't know you were drowning

You could have told me that.

Hard Times

It's hard to take eighteen credits.
And have work-study, and be scattered because you actually live off-campus.
And to be really social.
And to have your life reshifted--it seems like everything hard is happening all at once.
But at least I know that I can graduate the Spring after next.

I have exams tomorrow,
In two different kinds of psychology over all types of information.
All I can think about is the music that I wrote today, and
The songs that I accidently turned on
When memories became captivating and disheartening
And my heart weeped for the times that were
Though they were dishonest
And my mind remembered what I thought was real,
And to perceive it as not is almost like grinding me twice.

Music is the emotion that I can't express
Or that I repress
Because I am so wanting to be proactive that I can't even contemplate the idea
All I want to be is busy so that I don't have to think about what I am really thinking
Maybe taking a short moment to put a tiny abridged piece of it into a song,
Molded until it suits something appropriate from someone's ears.
But that's hard. I can't let out all these emotions completely.

And I'm so sore and tired. My body is exhausted. I want to run more, I need to run more, but
somehow I can't.
I want to be motivated to do the work that I have set before myself.

I hate looking back on everything before me and thinking that it was easier, simpler.
It used to be looking back to high school, and how that was simple.
But now I'm looking back at my spring semester in DC, and thinking, oh, wouldn't it be nice to be back there, it was so much easier then.
I long for these times to be easier. Easy will come.
I got to get over the hump first.