October 02, 2008 - 11:31 p.m.
Hopefully tonight, I redeemed myself. Picked up the smooth stone and washed my face and body with it. Washed away disappointment, self-pity, self-loathing, self-doubt, and other negative attributes of middle age. Menopause. I am happy to be alive in 2008! I scream it from the rooftops and rafters. I've been having Descartes, quiet moments of self-reflection. The moment I find myself anchoring to stereotypes about men and women, I become my own worse enemy. Deep down, I am attracted to a person's soul, not his or her genitalia. Package material. And then the need for beauty arises. I work hard to be in the best shape this container allows me. To be in good shape for the shape I'm in. Some people have faster metabolisms, height advantages, born naturally beautiful with stunning features. We gravitate toward beauty and shun disfigurement, homeliness. Allowing two dimensional images to dictate whom we are attracted and willing to devote endless hours in pursuit of. Putting the cart before the horse. I think of Jody & Dil and one of my favorite movies..."The Crying Game".
Ironically, this movie was first entitled "Soldier's Wife". Boy George wrote the hit song "Crying Game" which tied it together, making the title stand out in marketing and distributing the film.
What if I had been a biological female named June who falls in love with Jody or Fergus and later realizes my "man" is man or woman made... How would I handle the situation? Or if I were a biological woman and fell in love with another woman (Dil) who began life as a biologically born male. How would I react to the truth once I became aware of it? Maybe I should rent the movie again for answers, my own rationalized ones. In the movie, Dil could easily pass as a naturally born woman. For me, the mind, body, and spirit would have to be in synchronization. As a realist, I cannot see all three simultaneously, in the same way he or she perceives them to be. Not at first glance. Other people's reactions could influence me. I would feel intense sorrow for the person being ridiculed, rejected, or dismissed.
Last weekend, I went cycling with a new group of lesbians. One woman in particular stood out from the hefty crowd. She is a cancer survivor of the face and neck. Her left eye partially paralyzed, perhaps now blind. From the cancer which is currently in remission. The organizer of the group had little compassion for "slow poke" cancer survivor. She joined us on the trail with no helmet, a Huffy style, mountain bike, heavier frame. She wore a pink visor and earplugs for her Walkman. She was literally in her own world and could not keep up with the rest of us on more expensive, road bikes. I went back for Pinkie. And struck up a conversation with her at lunch. It seemed everyone in our group dismissed her. Pinkie didn't weigh as much as the others. She's about my size. Yet her droopy, almost shut left eye and owl size glasses make her appear odd looking. Eccentric. When people are dismissed, they get treated with indifference. As though their presence does not matter. Not appreciated.
The cycling group didn't wait for Pinkie on the return trip. I waited at the bridge until she was in line of sight. Then I left her alone on the trail. My intentions were to double back after leaving the group at their departure location. I never saw Pinkie again on the bike path. She gave me renewed hope, Her aggressive type cancer physically altered her appearance. Yet her spirit remains strong, vibrant, and appreciative. She has survived more than five years in remission. She was my secret messenger this weekend. And I served as her temporary watch dog... at least for a few miles.
~ Soldier Girl
