Recently I can’t stop looking through an album of pictures of myself before the age of five. This is not a conceited reflection, the beauty I could possibly see in those pictures is not physical, the beauty is in the energy they carry and how absolutely happy I was at some point. Holding them, I feel an urge to step inside and cradle that little girl that was once me, because her happiness, will end shortly...
Insignificant factors will begin to matter, there will be more flaws to her than virtues, she will be brainwashed into believing that physical alterations are of greater value than character development. She will become a sexualized object for the men she should have been protected and respected by. Therefore, to be deemed acceptable by the opposite gender, her body will have to look a certain way. She will strive to resemble the unproportionate Barbie doll she has played with. She will spend hours in front of a bewitched mirror that will tell her she’s not good enough. She will step on a scale that tells her she’s fat even at 125 lbs.Her thoughts, her feelings, her strength will not be acknowledged, for she will be categorized as stupid, emotional, and incapable. Her rage will be labeled as bitchy, her self-respect as a prude, and her success will be due to the efforts of a man. She will be in constant competition with the females that surround her,The clothes she wears will define her. She will lose days cutting up magazines in search of the right legs, firm buns, a small waist, toned abs, bigger breasts, a face with a small nose, full lips and colored eyes. Her self esteem will plummet to the ground and she will lose all sense of identity. The sole purpose in life will be to achieve perfection...
Because of what is to come, I want to stroke her hair and whisper in her ear that she is beautiful in every aspect and repeat it until she believes it. That the pureness of her heart is a treasure that needs to be looked after, guarded with the thickest armour because societal demons will try to break through and destroy it.That perfection is unachievable. I want to plead to her to never turn a television on, to never open a magazine, to pile her Barbie dolls and watch them burn. That models are not role-models, that they are not the perfect image that photoshop produces. I want to take her in front of me and tell her that I love her from the smallest hair of her head to the tip of her longest toe. That she is smart, talented, brave, strong and everything she has been made believe she is not. I want to look into her brown eyes and assure her that she is good enough. I want to tap her under her chin and tell her to walk with confidence because God made no mistake. That if the King of kings loves her, that she is worthy of being loved by someone else.
This is not just my problem, it is the problem of too many little girls, and women out there. Ironically most of the few females who this doesn’t apply to have a life threatening illness. This is a tribute to all of the brave women who have kept their armour up but especially to a little girl named Adalia Rose Williams. If I could feel the happiness and confidence that she feels for just one day, I’d be set for a lifetime.
Insignificant factors will begin to matter, there will be more flaws to her than virtues, she will be brainwashed into believing that physical alterations are of greater value than character development. She will become a sexualized object for the men she should have been protected and respected by. Therefore, to be deemed acceptable by the opposite gender, her body will have to look a certain way. She will strive to resemble the unproportionate Barbie doll she has played with. She will spend hours in front of a bewitched mirror that will tell her she’s not good enough. She will step on a scale that tells her she’s fat even at 125 lbs.Her thoughts, her feelings, her strength will not be acknowledged, for she will be categorized as stupid, emotional, and incapable. Her rage will be labeled as bitchy, her self-respect as a prude, and her success will be due to the efforts of a man. She will be in constant competition with the females that surround her,The clothes she wears will define her. She will lose days cutting up magazines in search of the right legs, firm buns, a small waist, toned abs, bigger breasts, a face with a small nose, full lips and colored eyes. Her self esteem will plummet to the ground and she will lose all sense of identity. The sole purpose in life will be to achieve perfection...
Because of what is to come, I want to stroke her hair and whisper in her ear that she is beautiful in every aspect and repeat it until she believes it. That the pureness of her heart is a treasure that needs to be looked after, guarded with the thickest armour because societal demons will try to break through and destroy it.That perfection is unachievable. I want to plead to her to never turn a television on, to never open a magazine, to pile her Barbie dolls and watch them burn. That models are not role-models, that they are not the perfect image that photoshop produces. I want to take her in front of me and tell her that I love her from the smallest hair of her head to the tip of her longest toe. That she is smart, talented, brave, strong and everything she has been made believe she is not. I want to look into her brown eyes and assure her that she is good enough. I want to tap her under her chin and tell her to walk with confidence because God made no mistake. That if the King of kings loves her, that she is worthy of being loved by someone else.
This is not just my problem, it is the problem of too many little girls, and women out there. Ironically most of the few females who this doesn’t apply to have a life threatening illness. This is a tribute to all of the brave women who have kept their armour up but especially to a little girl named Adalia Rose Williams. If I could feel the happiness and confidence that she feels for just one day, I’d be set for a lifetime.
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Kerry Lauerman
Joan Walsh
Salon.com
Comments
how long ago did you do the video?
and why not change your av to your bald head?