Monday, December 15, 2014

Unbound


I was 8 years old and ran into the kitchen where my mother was cooking.  My feet were cramping in exquisite pain.  “Take those off right now!” ordered my mother. 

My feet had been bound for the first time.  My toes were squished together, my feet having lost a third of its length.  My grandmother had wrapped my feet in bandages.  “Your feet are getting so large,” she exclaimed.  “Just like a man’s feet.  So ugly!”  Some of my schoolmates had their feet bound, and they complained bitterly of the pain.  Most had begun with the binding years ago, younger than I was when grandmother first got a hold of me.  My mother knew what going on, but was powerless to say anything as grandmother held the power in the family.

When my mother told me to take the bindings off she told me that from then on when I was near my grandmother, that I was to slow down and move very slowly.  “Her eyes are failing her now and she won’t be able to tell whether or not your feet are bound.”  And so I tried to do so whenever I was close to her.  I can’t imagine now how she didn’t know, but I never had to have my feet bound again.  Maybe my father intervened in some way. 

When Mao Tse Tung and the communists took over, foot binding was made illegal.  I may disagree with many of their practices, but I wholehearted agree with having foot binding banished. 

Listening to my mother tell this story turned my stomach.  Apparently this practice was instituted to increase women’s perceived attractiveness and enhanced their chances of marrying up in class.  As barbaric as foot binding may seem nowadays, I wonder how many other similar cultural practices to painfully enhance one’s sense of physical beauty still exist today in our society. 

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Lifelong Learning

My mother came into my room last night wanting to talk…

I received a phone call this afternoon.  It was from Linda, the daughter of one of my oldest friends.  I was so surprised to hear from her, as it had been years since I had spoken with her.  “How have you been doing?” I inquired.  “I’m doing fine, getting older, but my life is good now.”   We chatted awhile when she told me that she was still living with her policewoman friend and they had been together for over 40 years now.  They apparently have owned a house together for many years and they also own a boat together as well!  She told me that I might not understand her relationship with her friend but that Irving would know.

I remember that Linda was married when she was 18 years old but ran away from the marriage after only 3 days.  Her mother was incensed because it was generally felt that her husband was a decent fellow.  She apparently moved in with the policewoman friend shortly thereafter and they have been together ever since.  I remember telling Linda’s mother not to be too hard on Linda, that we really didn’t understand what was going on after Linda left her marriage.  Maybe her husband was abusive!  I realize now that Linda was talking about being in a gay relationship.  I don’t think I fully understand the choice, but I do know that they have been together for a long, long time.  If that is what it takes Linda to be happy, then I am happy for her.  After all, it is her life and it doesn’t interfere with anyone else’s life.

We had just returned from a weeklong family reunion in Virginia Beach last week.  “Do you know that one of the young couples in the reunion are gay?”  I asked my mother.  “Really?  I didn’t know!”  I went to Facebook and showed her pictures of one of my favorite couples in the world and who both happen to be of the female persuasion.  “I remember them from last week.  They look very happy together in these pictures,” she exclaimed.  “I know that I didn’t approve of such things when I was younger.  Maybe I just didn’t understand it.  But they seem so happy!  I’m glad for them.  And I’m happy for Linda.  She was always a good girl.”


My mother is 85 years old and proof that you can teach an old dog new tricks.  We are never too old to learn and to change.