Acceptance or Ridicule
I was born with an optical condition called strabismus, also known as crossed eyes, or lazy eye, or various other increasingly derogatory misnomers. It was assumed that I inherited the condition from my mother who likewise was born with alternating strabismus. At 60 years old I underwent outpatient surgery which aligned the eyes to an undetectable closeness. To explain, the many people who have alternating strabismus focus only with one eye, and it can be either eye, only one at a time. The non-focal eye becomes akin to peripheral vision. Of course, without stereo optical vision, the element of dimension is considerably more difficult; however, that part is easily adapted to and compensated for in the magnificence of the human brain. So, while I still have alternating strabismus and my singular focal vision is exactly the same, my elation is an unfamiliar change in who I am.
Having any irregularity in the human body from crossed eyes to three arms, from a harelip to having no arms, causes the bearer of that difference to be mocked and pitied and bullied and patronized. The guy with only one arm sees people looking at the absent space, and can well read the reaction on every face. The skinny white boy with crossed eyes hears the whispers and subtle giggles of his classmates. The lady with misshaped teeth whose parents simply had not the money for braces, attempts to speak while trying to move her lips as little as possible and who always, always covers her mouth with a hand before laughing. The middle-aged man who wears a tee shirt at the swimming pool to avoid the second and third looks at the scars on his chest from heart surgery. The teenage girl who doesn't have a cell phone who finds a few thousand excuses and reasons for her connected peers. The young person who realizes he or she simply is attracted to the same sex and creates at least one alternate personality to accommodate the seemingly requisite judgment and rejection. Importantly I wrote 'the bearer of that difference'.
The distance between empathy and sympathy is equally as extreme as the difference between right and wrong. Absolutely! And the polarity of acceptance and mocking closely resemble the distance between heaven and hell. We do this to each other. Look, no matter how quick the glance or how many double takes, we inherently notice when anyone is different from . . . Yeah, from what? Okay, so you noticed my eyes were not both looking at you when we met. Please don't pretend that it isn't there. Empathy is greatly realized and appreciated when the rare soul notices the difference and, perhaps, smiles. No verbal acknowledgement is necessary when you see that a man has only one arm, but you both know that you know, and it is in your face how you wish to treat that man. Are you freaked out and just want to get away? - that's the quick side-glance and furrowed brow. Are you filled with such sorrow that this man, bless his heart, has only got one arm? - that's the corners of your mouth drooping and a semi-weepy, puppy dog kind of look in your eyes. Are you inclined to move just a bit closer and regale this one-armed man with a tale of another unfortunate person who was missing a leg, or arm, or toe? - that's the, oh never mind, please don't do that! Hell, we even consider Albert Einstein to be irregular, different.
And yes, I include race and skin color and sexuality and ethnicity in league with any other difference, as it were. This all starts the first time a child overhears a voiced judgment from a respected adult. It can be as simple as a flippant yet overheard comment that plants the seed of discrimination and demonstrates the permissibility of sharing judgments: they look down on us 'cause we're poor; I'm not quite sure where her husband came from; I couldn't tell who that cross-eyed man was looking at; taller people have life so much better; theirs is an interracial marriage; I wonder which side his bread is buttered on; that girl is a little too tomboy; well you know he doesn't even know who his daddy really is; etc., ad nauseum. It is truly amazing how we learn to assuage the individual ego. You may have it better, but it doesn't make you better, because there is no "better". If you want to interact with or maybe even know a particular person, then do so; however, to do so, you must learn who the person is without your interpretation. If or when you do not wish to interact further or even engage in any exchange with a particular person, leave, don't, allow them to be something, whatever, other than you. Beliefs, deformities, scars, religion, mores, bodies, opinions - all of these are yours, and yours alone. Why, why, why do we humans feel the need to be better, prettier than other humans to define "normalcy".
We stand on the shoulders of history and see clearly that every attempt exclude any particular human beings from the "normal" has failed, miserably, and with angst and shame and perhaps feigned regret. We wait until we are older to acquire the "I like myself" power of being. As a people, we humans of this planet must embrace the peculiarities and peccadilloes or any other human, with the right and power to know or not know any particular individual. And leave it at that! To quote Shakespeare, "nothing is bad but that we think it so". Damn right! There is a recipe to bring this harmony about, and there's only one ingredient: education. Acquiescence is a balm that diminishes the power of the bully and coincidentally the desire to be like others. Acceptance is the unfortunately implausible dream that "it", whatever "it" is, doesn't matter, and will therefore have no label, no distinction. This isn't rocket science, it is mind your own business. You do the best you can with what you have, and I'll do the best I can with what I have.
What I have learned from these past two weeks while my new eyes were healing, is that I judged myself to be "different" right along and in tandem with everyone else. I compared, and thought myself lacking, and I wonder the difference. My vision is the same, still different from most people, but now no one will know when the look at me. Am I still different? And why the hell does it matter. I am the same person but I am received and regarded differently. I see no facial reactions from those who look at me. Shame on me for allowing that in my life. Shame on everyone who feels better than any other person because of your, or their, individuality or difference or . . . what the hell ever!