Challenge accepted

I have had the pleasure of being reminded that I know a lot of really supportive, thoughtful and sensitive people this week. It makes me happy. One friend read the blog I posted about KLS and pointed out that I am letting the negative nelly voice in my head have a bit of free reign.

I agree, but I also think that even though I am sometimes blogging up a pity-party storm, its important for me to keep developing the habit of blogging. Some people blog because they are experts about something, some blog because they think they are, some because they are super funny and some because they want to make money (can't figure out how that one works). I suspect a lot of people blog because they are writers and writers like or need or at the very least should write.

I don't really know where I fit in there yet. I know that writing is helpful to me. I also have fallen into a bit of a workaholic-crazy-overstuffed life and I am really attempting to be a bit more healthy. Healthy in the way I eat, sleep, exercise and just generally go about my life. I don't really think my blogging would interest many others, so I am not concerned if I don't have a wide readership or following. I am writing to myself, mostly. But I do want to get better at writing, develop a bit more discipline about writing on a daily basis, and to reflect more honestly on how my days are going.

When I was studying for my degree, the writing staff always gave the advice that the only way to improve your writing was to write. Obviously getting grammar, form and style are all important too - but it is the writing that makes writing better. If you don't write, you don't progress as a writer.

I am not sure how many other people are like me, in the sense that I have a lot of long conversations in my head. Not command hallucination conversations, just long winded monologues really. Often I catch myself thinking that I have summed something up beautifully. But then when I try to recall it later, it is of course gone. So clearly sitting my ass down to actually write is key here.

I learned to teach when 'reflective practise' was all the rage. It still is, and our school is implementing a whole range of exciting opportunities to engage in it. The fact that this mainly seems to involve going to more meetings is the downside. However, reflection is important. It is not just a good teaching habit, its a good life skill. Meditation is great too, but that is about emptying the mind. Reflection is about really mining your experiences and in a focused way, using it to reaffirm your self-belief by acknowledging what you did well, and looking constructively on what you can improve.

So THAT is why I started this blog. There is a certain sense of anxiety on my part to create something that is entertaining. I am not sure why, because a: I am relatively certain that almost all of my page-views are in fact me. And b: I learned a long time ago that if I laugh about myself first, it doesn't sting so much when others do. I am steadfastly ignoring the fear of non-entertainment because if I gave into it, I would not write a single word.

So the challenge I accepted was to only write positive things for a week. This is not a bad idea, as something in my Irish/ Scottish/ possibly Viking invader ancestry has a definite taste for sadness. I looked for a picture of a sad Viking on Creative Commons, but sadly most Vikings look to be having a lovely time while pillaging etc and there were a few men at parties with the horns on their helmet facing downwards. So I had to search for sad Irish pictures (mainly green cupcakes and people at football matches where their team was losing) and sad Scottish pictures (which were very confusing and involved a lot of leaping in fields). Seriously, google images has no control over its search parameters. No sad pictures today! Anyway, I was all about being positive, and I know for a fact that training your brain to think about stuff that went well is very very effective. I did the '3Goodthings Happiness experiment' a year ago and it worked (go here if you want to try it: https://www.facebook.com/thehappinessexperiment?fref=ts ). Accentuating the positive is a good habit.

But giving that negative voice some air is too. Because although we all say 'that little voice' we all know that he or she is not someone else. It's us. And it is often a very young us. It's the us that got knocked back before we really even knew who we were. Its child us. And children need to express fears. they need to be able to say 'I'm scared' out loud. And they need to know they are being heard, and that it is OK to be scared. The trick is, teaching yourself to answer like an adult, and not add more stress onto that young voice inside.

So yes, she will be popping her head up every now and then. But be assured, my wonderful supportive friends, I know she is quite often misguided in her worldview. I am just letting her say her piece. Eventually, I am hoping she will start to really truly believe that she is OK.

And as for this bloggy thing, who knows how it will evolve. I'll just keep an eye on it for now and see.

Fat Shamed by Kimora Lee Simmons

Each year the school I work in has a night of cultural dancing, food and market stalls. It’s a pretty big event, noisy, colourful and joyful. Students facilitate their own items, teaching each other a traditional dance from their own culture – sometimes with a modern twist, and often learning dances form other cultures. Some items are perfect and full of technical mastery. Some are not. They are all, without exception, filled with joy and the kind of magic, which only happens when you get 350 kids dancing in one place. The show is so popular, we run it three times in a row, so that everyone’s parents, grandparents, and friends might squeeze in. Even so many people miss out. It is exhausting, with a long build up and a lot of energy input. Things get fraught. Not enough sleep is had by anyone. Normal school life continues around it.

Last night, as I stood against one side of the hall, some people entered late. Not unusual, as the lightest smattering of rain can render taxi’s invisible and cause traffic gridlock on our tiny island, and we had just had a heavy downpour. They were talking loudly, which was unusual; because even though people sometimes come late and make a bit of noise finding a seat, it is all done with that kind of hunched over, apologetic shuffling in the dark. Actually only one of them was talking loudly, and she sounded a little like someone who has had one or two drinks and lost the volume control. (EDIT: People seem to have taken this to mean the lady concerned was drunk. And she was not, to my knowledge, intoxicated. She certainly wasn't staggering around shouting. She was just a little loud.) Eventually, the couple sat down nearby and the lady continued to talk really loudly, mimicking the dancers and commenting on them. It was low level, but I was tired and I love these kids and it’s not TV, performers can often hear chatter. Without thinking, I shot one of those laser beam ‘teacher looks’ over, the kind you use in assembly when someone is talking.

Now, the laser beam look is not something you should be shooting at another adult. It’s kind of rude and I should have actually done something more grown up, like politely asking her to be a bit quieter. Or maybe, just ignoring it. But the lady in question said to her partner that ‘That fat bitch is mad at me’.

That. Fat. Bitch. Is Mad At Me. I stared straight ahead, more upset than I have been in a long time. Was this a parent? I teach so many kids, I tried to imagine the horror of meeting her in a professional setting and hearing the words ‘fat bitch’ in my mind whilst talking to her. The man looked my way, and I leaned over and said as loud as I dared ‘It’s a live performance, the kids might hear you’. I actually doubt he could hear me, but I felt I had somewhat explained my grumpiness.

At the end of the show, I went outside and stood chatting to students. The word ‘bitch’ floating around in my head. I didn’t think my teacher look had been so bad, but I was standing next to some middle school girls and they were excited. There was a celebrity in the audience, and they were waiting to get autographs. Kimora Lee Simmons had come to see the daughter of a friend perform. The penny dropped. That’s why she looked familiar. As if summoned, she appeared in front of me.

I stepped towards her and started a sentence which, I will be honest, was about to be one of those terrible non apology things that amounted to “I’m not actually a bitch, I was just worried the kids would get distracted by the talking and sorry if I gave you a rude look’. Not stellar. But I was pretty annoyed about being called a bitch. It’s most definitely not a nice thing to say where I’m from. Or where I live now. Or anywhere, I think.

Before two words came out of my mouth her hand was in my face. ‘Don’t talk to me! You’re rude! You’re a bitch!’, she steps to one side and turns, then rounds on me with a vicious ‘And you’re FAT!’.

The Middle school girls were aghast. I looked at them and said ‘You still want her autograph?’. And I walked away.

You’re FAT.

Kimora Lee Simmons is wealthy, beautiful, and successful. She has had weight gains and losses, and she knows that the worst thing you can say to another woman is ‘you’re fat’. It was worse than being rude, which is about how I behave. Worse than being a bitch, which is about how I am as a person. It was about how I look, which is my greatest failure. Nothing I said was valid to her, because I am fat.

In front of 12 and 13 year old girls, she single handedly confirmed what they all suspect and fear – that no matter what you do or how you behave, the worst thing you can do is get fat.

You’re FAT.

That one sentence stuck in my head. I stood in front of hundreds of parents, students and colleagues. Humiliated, ashamed and yes I will admit it, feeling pretty bloody shit about how I look. I have been working 70 hour weeks. I am fat, so I was wearing some ugly stretchy pants and the only national costume I can fit, a black tee shirt. The uniform of fat middle aged women everywhere.

You’re FAT.

Because she didn’t mean you’re fat. Anyone with eyes can see that about me. She meant I was ugly. Worthless. A failed woman. Fat.

I internalize my feelings. I literally eat them. I worry about my son, who has learning disabilities. I worry about money, because I’m a single parent. I worry about doing well at my job, because it’s demanding and I cannot fail at it. I eat all that. Maybe if I went around being more of a bitch I wouldn’t be so fat. Or not, maybe it is just genetic heritage meets 21st century food wealth. I know I lack self control around food and I suspect it’s because I have always had that voice inside me saying ‘you’re not worth it’.

You’re rude. Yeah, I was rude, I had no business shooting her that teacher look and I own that one.

You’re a bitch. Well OK, you don’t know me and maybe that one interaction justifies a first impression of me as bitchy. I can be mean. I’m human.

You’re FAT. Yes. I’m fat. But I am NOT worthless, or ugly.
And I am not the kind of person who swans into a school, acts like a bigshot, and verbally abuses a tired teacher in front of students.

I’m fat. And you’re a bully.

(I made a couple of edits to this post. Just to clarify: this is not about calling out or getting revenge for me being upset. It is about what words really mean, and how powerful they can be. It is also my own personal way of downloading the bad stuff and expressing my feelings, not a cause celebre.)