Last week I was following a thread on a friend's Facebook page questioning whether or not allowing a young child to dress as Moana for Halloween is cultural appropriation. This issue, it would seem, is that the young heroine of the Disney movie by the same name is Polynesian. I admit, I haven't seen the film but if it's like so many similar films the lead, regardless of nationality, shows exceptional bravery and character in overcoming some kind of adversity. Here's where I begin to hear my parent's voices in my head. As they got older and the world changed they seemed stuck in their past, unable to accept newer ways of thinking. And while I absolutely think we have gone too far when we worry this much about an early elementary child's innocently desired Halloween costume, I also wonder if I'm getting to an age that makes it difficult to embrace this kind of change. I've always been open minded. Having spent my career in the creative realm, my people often represent the near fringes of society at least in their worldviews and taste for fashion. I've traveled, lived across the US in large cities and small towns. But lately I feel a bit overwhelmed by these kinds of discussions. Not to mention all the "they" and "their" pronouns young people are using to describe sexual and gender orientations. Don't get me wrong - I think being open to the idea that some of us have enjoyed societal acceptance and privilege if not at the expense of others, then completely blind to their suffering, is something we need to embrace and improve. But when a child who really just wants to "appropriate" a character's bravery leads us to think we have some other problem, I think we need to take a step back and try to see that for what it simply is. When adolescents feel they have to choose a complicated gender identity just because the more widely known identities are, perhaps, not as exciting could it be that we are over complicating things? I'm torn between wanting this to be just me getting older and our culture getting just a little crazy. Honestly, I don't know which is worse. I guess I'll find out.
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At this point in life, we should all have gained some wisdom, right? After all, if we’re going to lose a little of our luster, to be replaced with a few more aches and pains, at least we hope to have learned something in the process. I certainly hope my achy old knees buy me a lot more wisdom before I’m through. But if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s this: Life is most satisfying when you grow – and even bloom – wherever you’re planted. And transplanted. And transplanted again. I am one of those who’ve been planted in a number of places. Some by my choosing and others, not so much. I also like to think God has a plan for my life, but I leave lots of room for the possibility that I’m allowed to forge my own trail, in one way or another. I chose New Jersey after college, returning to where I grew up, against my parents’ wishes. I found my passion for advertising working in New York City during that time and certainly made the most of being young and single in one of the world’s most exciting cities. When living that fast-paced life became a little overwhelming, I trudged back to Texas, not really wanting to return to a place I’d chosen to leave, but knowing I needed to regroup. I stayed 15 years, meeting the love of my life, starting a family and a company. That company spawned a number of other small businesses and even a career for our little work family…before we decided to move to Colorado. No surprise, Colorado was a choice. We lived six years in an achingly beautiful little valley until the economy took a toll on our business, at that point re-tooled to serve not-for-profits. It was painful to leave and I often think back to our time there, trying to uncover what life’s purpose was for me there. We had incredible experiences and, I suppose, we did grow and bloom in that we created a youth group at our tiny church that may have welcomed some kids that hadn’t found their places elsewhere. At least I hope so. I think knowing comes in retrospect. Unlike real gardens, the seeds we sow take time to grow and may even bloom later, after we’ve moved on. A friend once did describe my husband and me as seed sowers. That feels good, even though sometimes I wish I were more of a reaper. But the world needs both, I suppose. Now that we live in Illinois, I’m not really sure what seeds I might be sowing. But, if the past is an indicator, I’ll figure it out someday. For now, I'll dig my feet in, turn my face to the sun and do my best to grow and, if I'm lucky, bloom. |
d.a.meek
Young at heart. Archives
December 2017
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