'wow - you are so good!'
yes, yes, i am totally ok with having my ego stroked, but there are times when this statement kind of irks me. prime example - this past weekend whilst i was in bend, or. i am doing a 60 day bikram's yoga challenge, and thus went to classes at the studio there. i like going to other studios - see how they look, run, feel. it's nice to walk into a place and feel like i already have some semblance of what is going on.
but back to my ire.
the issue i take here is one that i experience myself, and also see it happen to other people - especially women. remember i wrote a while back about the yoga all-stars? well the bend studio is PACKED with them. i was by far the person in the room who looked the least fit. this led to said compliments. 'wow - you are so good,' is tinged with a hint of surprise, and should be followed by 'for someone who looks like you.'
the implication being that someone who does not have the perfect yoga body is not expected to be able to put forehead to knee in dandyamana - janushirasina (i can often), see their knee (not foot, but knee) over the top of their head in dandyamana - danurasana (on the right side at least), or do a back bend in which their arms have gone below parallel to the floor (yep - do that too). i have been practicing hard for a year, and am generally strong and coordinated. it follows that i'd be able to do some of these things. now i am not saying that i am perfect in there. i struggle with many poses, and my incessant soccer playing (and soccer injuring) keeps me from getting as far along as i'd like. but yes, people, the 'fat girl' in class...she's got game.
i put quotes around the words 'fat girl' because i am quite literally quoting a statement made about me a while back. a group of women covered in letters from one of the local sororities (i will spare them the embarrassment of sharing it here) came in for a first class. there were only three other students in the class, and we were asked to stand in front of them so our practice would demonstrate the postures. when i leaned back for my first back bend i was looking the gal two lines behind me squarely in the eye. at the end of the night these women were standing in the parking lot talking while i walked to my car. this is the exchange i overheard:
'oh my god. the fat girl in the front row was soooo good.'
'you mean the cute one with the pigtails and the nose ring? yeah she was awesome.'
that night the other two practitioners with me were a tall blond woman with a pixie cut, and an elderly gentleman. clearly they were talking about me.
this attitude does not stop at the edges of the yoga studio. i was talking with one of my students the other day about cycling. i mentioned that i used to race, and his response seemed curious. he said, 'oh...i would not have thought that from looking at you.' when i asked him what he meant by that, he got very quiet and just apologized for the statement. the truth is that we don't think of people who are heavier than the sexualized, idealized, media-created body as active, athletic, or able. when i do perform well athletically, or talk to someone about things i have done in the past, their overenthusiastic statements often end up sounding more like a condescending pat on the head rather than kindness.
also, i am not fat. i am even below average for women in america. i am in some of the best shape of my adult life. i think the only time i have been more physically fit is when i was cycle touring new zealand (riding a bike nearly 2000 miles will do that to you). so sure, i don't walk into the yoga studio in a sports bra and tiny shorts, but my blood pressure is low, i can run 6 miles easily, i can touch my palms to the ground and bend my elbows with my legs straight. i am an athlete. i am in shape. these subtle (or not so subtle) hints that i should not be able to do these things, or that it is surprising that i can, make me angry.
i am sure that the people who gave me these compliments this past weekend meant well. i am sure they wanted to be encouraging and kind. i am sure they thought it would make me feel good to have someone praise my postures. i am sure they did not mean to send me this message.
intent and impact can be so different sometimes.
18.1.12
10.1.12
so not a new years resolution
it was december 20-something (post christmas), and i was walking home from the coop with summdogs, carting solid poundage as quickly as i could to stay warm. i really enjoy backpacking trips to get groceries. besides my one excursion with my cousin, they have been the only times i've strapped a loaded pack to my back since i trekked out of the utah desert. i enjoy the pressure of the belt on my hips, and the way that my back heats up where the pack touches it. i like feeling the weight in my legs and on my shoulders.
i suppose you could call me a backpacker - that would be fair.
i am a goal setter...i think professionally at this point. at least if i were to get paid for each goal that i set, even pocket change, i think i would be able to retire by the time i turned 40 (of course, when i think about that i realize it's a good thing that i don't get paid for setting goals...i think i would get bored pretty quickly were i to retire). small, medium, large - it matters not at all to me. i set goals about cleaning my house, and walking my dog, and doing my job, and writing my blog. of course, i also set bigger, broader goals that encompass living intentionally, being healthier, and being more open. i like goals. they help me to move forward and to chart my progress. goals work for me.
so of course one would think that if i were such a fan of goals that i would be a fan of the new years resolution. this tradition is just that - setting a goal for the year. combine that with the symbolism of starting a fresh new year (i love symbols AND fresh starts), and you'd think i would be all over that resolution thing.
so this takes me back to the sidewalk along highway 99 as i trekked home with my big bag full of kombucha and kale. i had been looking for a plan for ringing in the new year. i'd missed the boat on winter solstice (which is think is WAY cooler than new years by the way), and i wanted to plan something that would be interesting and meaningful to me as 2012 started up. i had been invited to a couple of parties, and i also had half a mind to stay home and drink tea. that said, none of these options seemed exactly what i wanted. i thought back to other new years i'd had, and i realized that the best ones were those in which i was doing just what i was doing at that moment - backpacking. whether in the field at aspen, or doing a hut to hut in glacier park, i have to say that the best new years were less about when midnight struck, and more about being where i felt alive and ready for new beginnings.
of course i had to go to the backcountry.
so i had my goal. plan a wilderness trip for new years. i knew i could get my friend jesse in on it for sure - he's always looking for some time in the woods. i imagined sitting by the fire in the snow, sipping some whiskey and perhaps burning some sage. the thought of sage of course took me to the idea that perhaps i should engage in some kind of ceremony while i was out there. perhaps i would write all of the things i wanted to leave behind on pieces of paper and burn them, or smudge and imagine the things i want coming to me.
i thought about the things that had happened in the past year. one year ago i had been driving my car from new york to utah to spend new years with jason in salt lake city. i was so sick at the time that i could not sit up in the car for longer than 6 hours. my voice was gone, and because i had no health insurance, i'd not gotten antibiotics for the pulmonary infection i had until my aunt's doctor friend in chicago graciously wrote me a prescription. even a year later i can feel the scar tissue on my vocal cords - not what one likes as a singer. that said, i had just been offered a job at oregon state university running a program that helped students in poverty. after a hard year that included underemployment, unemployment, homelessness, hunger, sickness, and heartbreak, bronchitis seemed to be a small bump in the road.
the year that followed was intense with both joy and sorrow (they are lovers after all). walking down the street in corvallis 365 days later, i felt poised to start the time ahead of me with hope and intention. i thought that perhaps if i were to spend ceremonial time at my new years fire that it would be best to look forward, and leave the past behind.
so goals...
as i ruminated on the goals i might want to set for myself, i realized that i could not remember a single time where i had made a new years resolution. i thought back as far as i could remember, wondering how i could have made it through 31 years without a memory of setting such a goal. i am not sure why, but either i made resolutions that were forgettable or lacking in impact, OR i did not make any at all. my inclination is to say that this probably had to do with my unwillingness to do things because they are traditional or 'what people do,' but i do not think that my oppositionally defiant ways are to blame. i think it is because i already set so many goals that the idea of a new years resolution seems moot. i decided that perhaps i would keep with my tradition of being irresolute.
maybe that was my resolution...who knows?
my time in the backcountry over new years was truly amazing. i got my fire in the snow with a good friend and some whiskey. i threw in some dark chocolate with blueberries, hazelnut rice crackers, and smoky bleu cheese as well. we had no watches, no cell reception - we sat and talked and watched the stars until we felt tired and decided that the new year was rung. after that, this insomniac curled up in a pair of cozy sleeping bags and slept all night long without waking or dreaming. the next two days included more of the same.
i did make some goals going into 2012 (how could i not really?). they are broad, and include things like increasing my wellness, deepening relationships, and making choices that serve me and those i love. i breathed them out with clouds of steamy breath into the chilly air along the deschutes. i whispered them to the waterfalls, and drank them in with hot coffee. i closed my eyes to the sunshine and let them penetrate my eyelids with warmth. i saw them in the smiling face of my dog.
since my new years experience there has been tremendous movement in my life on so many levels. but, that's a whole other post don't you think?
i suppose you could call me a backpacker - that would be fair.
i am a goal setter...i think professionally at this point. at least if i were to get paid for each goal that i set, even pocket change, i think i would be able to retire by the time i turned 40 (of course, when i think about that i realize it's a good thing that i don't get paid for setting goals...i think i would get bored pretty quickly were i to retire). small, medium, large - it matters not at all to me. i set goals about cleaning my house, and walking my dog, and doing my job, and writing my blog. of course, i also set bigger, broader goals that encompass living intentionally, being healthier, and being more open. i like goals. they help me to move forward and to chart my progress. goals work for me.
so of course one would think that if i were such a fan of goals that i would be a fan of the new years resolution. this tradition is just that - setting a goal for the year. combine that with the symbolism of starting a fresh new year (i love symbols AND fresh starts), and you'd think i would be all over that resolution thing.
so this takes me back to the sidewalk along highway 99 as i trekked home with my big bag full of kombucha and kale. i had been looking for a plan for ringing in the new year. i'd missed the boat on winter solstice (which is think is WAY cooler than new years by the way), and i wanted to plan something that would be interesting and meaningful to me as 2012 started up. i had been invited to a couple of parties, and i also had half a mind to stay home and drink tea. that said, none of these options seemed exactly what i wanted. i thought back to other new years i'd had, and i realized that the best ones were those in which i was doing just what i was doing at that moment - backpacking. whether in the field at aspen, or doing a hut to hut in glacier park, i have to say that the best new years were less about when midnight struck, and more about being where i felt alive and ready for new beginnings.
of course i had to go to the backcountry.
so i had my goal. plan a wilderness trip for new years. i knew i could get my friend jesse in on it for sure - he's always looking for some time in the woods. i imagined sitting by the fire in the snow, sipping some whiskey and perhaps burning some sage. the thought of sage of course took me to the idea that perhaps i should engage in some kind of ceremony while i was out there. perhaps i would write all of the things i wanted to leave behind on pieces of paper and burn them, or smudge and imagine the things i want coming to me.
i thought about the things that had happened in the past year. one year ago i had been driving my car from new york to utah to spend new years with jason in salt lake city. i was so sick at the time that i could not sit up in the car for longer than 6 hours. my voice was gone, and because i had no health insurance, i'd not gotten antibiotics for the pulmonary infection i had until my aunt's doctor friend in chicago graciously wrote me a prescription. even a year later i can feel the scar tissue on my vocal cords - not what one likes as a singer. that said, i had just been offered a job at oregon state university running a program that helped students in poverty. after a hard year that included underemployment, unemployment, homelessness, hunger, sickness, and heartbreak, bronchitis seemed to be a small bump in the road.
the year that followed was intense with both joy and sorrow (they are lovers after all). walking down the street in corvallis 365 days later, i felt poised to start the time ahead of me with hope and intention. i thought that perhaps if i were to spend ceremonial time at my new years fire that it would be best to look forward, and leave the past behind.
so goals...
as i ruminated on the goals i might want to set for myself, i realized that i could not remember a single time where i had made a new years resolution. i thought back as far as i could remember, wondering how i could have made it through 31 years without a memory of setting such a goal. i am not sure why, but either i made resolutions that were forgettable or lacking in impact, OR i did not make any at all. my inclination is to say that this probably had to do with my unwillingness to do things because they are traditional or 'what people do,' but i do not think that my oppositionally defiant ways are to blame. i think it is because i already set so many goals that the idea of a new years resolution seems moot. i decided that perhaps i would keep with my tradition of being irresolute.
maybe that was my resolution...who knows?
my time in the backcountry over new years was truly amazing. i got my fire in the snow with a good friend and some whiskey. i threw in some dark chocolate with blueberries, hazelnut rice crackers, and smoky bleu cheese as well. we had no watches, no cell reception - we sat and talked and watched the stars until we felt tired and decided that the new year was rung. after that, this insomniac curled up in a pair of cozy sleeping bags and slept all night long without waking or dreaming. the next two days included more of the same.
i did make some goals going into 2012 (how could i not really?). they are broad, and include things like increasing my wellness, deepening relationships, and making choices that serve me and those i love. i breathed them out with clouds of steamy breath into the chilly air along the deschutes. i whispered them to the waterfalls, and drank them in with hot coffee. i closed my eyes to the sunshine and let them penetrate my eyelids with warmth. i saw them in the smiling face of my dog.
since my new years experience there has been tremendous movement in my life on so many levels. but, that's a whole other post don't you think?
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