I would flaunt my body as if at a public swimming pool where people who should not see may freely gaze and stare (for example, married men, self-critical women, and young children learning gender-binaries through careful observation). But, this is more than than a day at the pool. This is my hidden self, my private thoughts made public. But, Oh! to be able to fully reveal my inner self--I would cover my body and pull back my hair; I would reveal the light within the darkness of my soul. Modesty is such an important value.
“Our hands and our faces, especially our eyes, are revealed,” an Orthodox woman wrote. “Pay attention, not to what we cover up, but to what we reveal. Our eyes are the windows into the soul.”
With my words, I reveal the inner looking of my heart and mind. I reveal parts of my soul with a pen in my hands. There is a still, small voice that dwells in deep darkness. But, I am a Western woman. I have been taught to cover my mouth, to turn a blind eye, and hold back carefully manicured hands from the poor. We are taught it young: reveal your body, not your mind. Low cut dresses and short skirts. Hair blown dry, so smooth and straight. Eyeliner and lip gloss. A certain kind of smile (seductive at times, receptive to the male gaze, and friendly but guarded to the lonely stranger). But, Oh! what would it be to cover my body and reveal my soul? To cover my long legs and my critiqueable chest, but reveal my hands to a stranger in need.
In my fitful thinking, I wonder: Have I been too vulnerable with my words?
“Our hands and our faces, especially our eyes, are revealed,” an Orthodox woman wrote. “Pay attention, not to what we cover up, but to what we reveal. Our eyes are the windows into the soul.”
With my words, I reveal the inner looking of my heart and mind. I reveal parts of my soul with a pen in my hands. There is a still, small voice that dwells in deep darkness. But, I am a Western woman. I have been taught to cover my mouth, to turn a blind eye, and hold back carefully manicured hands from the poor. We are taught it young: reveal your body, not your mind. Low cut dresses and short skirts. Hair blown dry, so smooth and straight. Eyeliner and lip gloss. A certain kind of smile (seductive at times, receptive to the male gaze, and friendly but guarded to the lonely stranger). But, Oh! what would it be to cover my body and reveal my soul? To cover my long legs and my critiqueable chest, but reveal my hands to a stranger in need.
In my fitful thinking, I wonder: Have I been too vulnerable with my words?
“You should wear your hair down more often,” people say to me (often). I want to be seen, but don’t they know, I’m putting down my words instead. They are long, thick and unruly. They are not dried straight or bleached blonde. They are my natural color. Pay attention, not to what I cover up, but to what I reveal. I reveal my eyes with my soul behind them and a pen in my calloused and careworn hands.
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