Obscure Sorrows: Lutalica
Obscure sorrows is by far the most challenging series for me as a writer, because the videos and lyrics are literally perfect. It is really hard for me to just retell this from a fresh perspective, let alone improve upon its content. But what is life without challenges?:)
This article is dedicated to a very special friend, who I have been inviting as a guest writer on my blog for some time now. This person has a very powerful voice, one that the world needs to hear, and I hope I can soon get that to happen! :)
Lutalica - The part of your identity that doesn't fit into categories
Growing up, I wanted to invisible. I wanted to be nondescript. I would shy away from anything that brought attention on me-- photographs, public speaking and even just hanging out with a large group. All of this would make me feel vulnerable. It is also one of the reasons I have struggled with publishing my writing--I felt far too vulnerable speaking my mind to the world at large. For years, I kept my writing to myself. Even after I started this blog, I took great pains to prevent search engines from indexing it, kept my identity anonymous. I have always attributed a large part of this behavior to being an introvert and a lover of solitude, but lately I have been questioning that. Is it really just that?
Maybe not. It is also about this world and its labels and how it perceives me-- I am not very happy with that. It feels like people are waiting to put me into boxes, whether I like it or not, whether I consent or not.
I don't even need to speak. I just have to show up, and people are already categorizing me. Based on my appearance, based on what I wear, based on what I speak, based on where I'm from, based on what I do. Adjectives are hurled at me like darts, some right on, some dubious, some not even close, and I despair. It is this that makes me cringe, this that makes me want to hide and not be seen, not be heard, not be read. It is not introversion.
I am so much more than this, and yet you are held up on labeling me by a tiny nuance. You don't even give me the chance to speak, for you have already made up your mind. You know everything I am, everything I am going to say, and every little facet of my personality. Why should I even try then?--I anyway do not belong.
Why is the world so keen on preconceived notions? Why is it so keen to stereotype me?
Everyone goes through this. People describe you in so many words, and soon you get used to them. You adopt those adjectives as your coordinate axes, you start to describe yourself in their words, you start to think of yourself that way. But I ask of you, is that what you really are? Do you really fit in perfectly into all of those categories? Or are you struggling to belong, forcing yourself to mold your personality/body into an existing label? What are these labels really? Words without meaning, because they are so relative, and so easily abused. They are our own creations, and we use them so carelessly, so injudiciously.
One of the most often abused categories: Appearance. In this country I live in and perhaps several others, there is an obsession about looking "fair" and "thin", especially for women. Millions of people rue the fact that they are anything but, and spend a great deal of time and resources and mental energy trying to fit in to these categories. They also wear a brittle armor, and every time one of these darts dipped in the poison of adjectives is hurled at them by other people, they flinch and retreat into a shell of insecurities that grows deeper and deeper, till it takes root in their very soul. But think about this today, what is "thin"? what is "fair"? Words of our creation, intended maybe for convenience. But look at what's happening. Is this what we really want for ourselves? For people to obsess into looking, acting and behaving a certain way, just so that they can belong? Just so that they can be comforted by the fact that they fit a label perfectly?
Perhaps we should take a step back from stereotyping and categorizing. We should keep our mind a blank slate, and actually give people a chance to tell us about themselves in words of their choosing. To actually get to know them, and who they are, and not just put them in boxes that are convenient to us.
P.S: Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz1PNIOQsFs
Transcript:
Lutalica. You tell the world who you are in a million different ways. Some are subtle, some are not. But it doesn't seem to matter: this world has already got you pegged. When you were born they put you in a little box, and slapped a label on it. So they could keep things organized, and not have to think about what’s inside. Over time you learn to make yourself comfortable packaging your identity in different combinations until you feel like you belong, and can wear your labels proudly. But there’s a part of you that never really found a home rattling around in categories that couldn’t do you justice. You look around at other people, trying to judge how loosely they fit in their own lives sensing a knot of confusion hidden beneath a name tag. And you realize we’re still only strangers, who assume we already know what the other is going to say, as if the only thing left to talk about is who belongs in what category and which labels are offensive. You have to wonder if these boxes are falling apart. If we should be writing our identities by hand, speaking only for ourselves, in our own words, taking our chances out in the open and meet each other as we are, asking: “What is it like being you?” —and be brave enough to admit that we don’t already know the answer. Maybe it’ll mean that we’ve finally arrived, just “unpacking the boxes” making ourselves at home. And maybe we’ll look back and wonder how we managed to live in the same house for so long, and never stop to introduce ourselves.
This article is dedicated to a very special friend, who I have been inviting as a guest writer on my blog for some time now. This person has a very powerful voice, one that the world needs to hear, and I hope I can soon get that to happen! :)
Lutalica - The part of your identity that doesn't fit into categories
Growing up, I wanted to invisible. I wanted to be nondescript. I would shy away from anything that brought attention on me-- photographs, public speaking and even just hanging out with a large group. All of this would make me feel vulnerable. It is also one of the reasons I have struggled with publishing my writing--I felt far too vulnerable speaking my mind to the world at large. For years, I kept my writing to myself. Even after I started this blog, I took great pains to prevent search engines from indexing it, kept my identity anonymous. I have always attributed a large part of this behavior to being an introvert and a lover of solitude, but lately I have been questioning that. Is it really just that?
Maybe not. It is also about this world and its labels and how it perceives me-- I am not very happy with that. It feels like people are waiting to put me into boxes, whether I like it or not, whether I consent or not.
I don't even need to speak. I just have to show up, and people are already categorizing me. Based on my appearance, based on what I wear, based on what I speak, based on where I'm from, based on what I do. Adjectives are hurled at me like darts, some right on, some dubious, some not even close, and I despair. It is this that makes me cringe, this that makes me want to hide and not be seen, not be heard, not be read. It is not introversion.
I am so much more than this, and yet you are held up on labeling me by a tiny nuance. You don't even give me the chance to speak, for you have already made up your mind. You know everything I am, everything I am going to say, and every little facet of my personality. Why should I even try then?--I anyway do not belong.
Why is the world so keen on preconceived notions? Why is it so keen to stereotype me?
Everyone goes through this. People describe you in so many words, and soon you get used to them. You adopt those adjectives as your coordinate axes, you start to describe yourself in their words, you start to think of yourself that way. But I ask of you, is that what you really are? Do you really fit in perfectly into all of those categories? Or are you struggling to belong, forcing yourself to mold your personality/body into an existing label? What are these labels really? Words without meaning, because they are so relative, and so easily abused. They are our own creations, and we use them so carelessly, so injudiciously.
One of the most often abused categories: Appearance. In this country I live in and perhaps several others, there is an obsession about looking "fair" and "thin", especially for women. Millions of people rue the fact that they are anything but, and spend a great deal of time and resources and mental energy trying to fit in to these categories. They also wear a brittle armor, and every time one of these darts dipped in the poison of adjectives is hurled at them by other people, they flinch and retreat into a shell of insecurities that grows deeper and deeper, till it takes root in their very soul. But think about this today, what is "thin"? what is "fair"? Words of our creation, intended maybe for convenience. But look at what's happening. Is this what we really want for ourselves? For people to obsess into looking, acting and behaving a certain way, just so that they can belong? Just so that they can be comforted by the fact that they fit a label perfectly?
Perhaps we should take a step back from stereotyping and categorizing. We should keep our mind a blank slate, and actually give people a chance to tell us about themselves in words of their choosing. To actually get to know them, and who they are, and not just put them in boxes that are convenient to us.
P.S: Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz1PNIOQsFs
Transcript:
Lutalica. You tell the world who you are in a million different ways. Some are subtle, some are not. But it doesn't seem to matter: this world has already got you pegged. When you were born they put you in a little box, and slapped a label on it. So they could keep things organized, and not have to think about what’s inside. Over time you learn to make yourself comfortable packaging your identity in different combinations until you feel like you belong, and can wear your labels proudly. But there’s a part of you that never really found a home rattling around in categories that couldn’t do you justice. You look around at other people, trying to judge how loosely they fit in their own lives sensing a knot of confusion hidden beneath a name tag. And you realize we’re still only strangers, who assume we already know what the other is going to say, as if the only thing left to talk about is who belongs in what category and which labels are offensive. You have to wonder if these boxes are falling apart. If we should be writing our identities by hand, speaking only for ourselves, in our own words, taking our chances out in the open and meet each other as we are, asking: “What is it like being you?” —and be brave enough to admit that we don’t already know the answer. Maybe it’ll mean that we’ve finally arrived, just “unpacking the boxes” making ourselves at home. And maybe we’ll look back and wonder how we managed to live in the same house for so long, and never stop to introduce ourselves.
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