#releasing hate

[everyendeavor]

Opinion | The Dalai Lama and Arthur Brooks: We can break the cycle of hatred — The Washington Post

The best way for each of us to improve society is to model behavior that offers a way forward.

“The objective is not to vanquish a person I considered my enemy; it is to destroy the illusion that he or she was my enemy in the first place. And the way to do this is by overcoming my own negative emotions.” - Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate

[shaughnessyspeirs]

Chip on my shoulder.

She is an overweight black woman; she is unfamiliar with not being marginalized. Already, there are marks against her, and she wins anyway because there is no denying she is good. She stands at a podium smiling and grasping a shining statuette and when she lifts it, gives a wide-eyed, jokingly shocked expression at how heavy the thing is. Unlike at the last awards show, her silver dress covers her arms. I wonder whether she examined herself in a mirror after and decided she wasn't making that mistake again. Going sleeveless brought too much negative attention. Next time she'll know better--never mind that the lavender was beautiful on her. She is so weighed down by this albatross of a few pounds that she can't see herself and frankly, no one can see her. To People magazine she graciously admits she could stand to lose a few pounds, ha ha, if I admit it myself then I am safe. Look, you cannot judge me, because I got there first; I am judging myself enough for the both of us, see? I hate to read this on the computer screen, where in bits of binary code like letters she is stripped to herself, her "less valuable" (in her own words) self, nothing but a fat black woman, when the woman I watched accept her award was like a tower: crying and laughing and trembling with pride and gratitude and fear.

I spend so much time fighting for myself, telling myself I am wonderful and no one can judge me, that it is strange how quickly a person can be immersed in an adolescent self-awareness.

I am a senior and my first lead role in a play has me in a constant state of pride and grownness; I've worked hard, I've been here long enough, I deserve this. I am on the edge of the stage, leaning back on my hands, ankles crossed, next to my friend, Jesse. The director is Sandy Scott, and she gives notes in a cold list, listening for a "thank-you" from each recipient, which I give politely, as is the custom. Then, with as much ease as she says things like "move that chair forward", she says, "Shaughnessy: suck in your stomach."

I feel like I've lost the air in my lungs, and I crumble and cry and later, my friend Jesse halfheartedly comforts me but she is preoccupied with the problem of it being time to lose interest in me as a friend, which soon happens.

I am at speech team practice, where Phillip Rohrbach is already sitting, and he is stewing because of an angry fight he had at the meet yesterday with a teammate. Other people are in the room. Maybe Sierra is there? Maybe Ben is there? I can't remember but I do remember when I try to say something to him he spits, "Shut up, Shaughnessy, you self-righteous bitch with your fat, pregnant-looking stomach."

It's been seven years since I was a senior in high school. Does Phillip remember me, does Jesse, or Ms. Scott remember? Do people ever remember who they hurt?

Do the grown men who shouted at me out a car window as I was jogging to lay off the donuts? 

I want to stop letting other people set the bar for me. I want to be more relaxed in my judgment of myself than anyone else. These moments in my life are moments of condemnation and hate, and I have let them get out of control; they are the running soundtrack to my life.

When you criticize a woman's body, as though any part of her is relevant to you, there is a smattering of convenient excuses to shroud your disdain. I wish I could say that I'm sorry you have to look at fat people, but that wouldn't be honest--I'm not sorry. If you can't look at a fat person without controlling your hate and your mouth, you've got your own set of problems, and I feel sorry for you. God, how poetic is that? The overweight are one of the most vilified contingents in American society, and this fat girl feels sorry for you. I'm tired of being sorry for myself, for judging myself, for hating myself because I've got meanness and spite playing in a loop. I'd rather pity the people with hate in their hearts.

I'm releasing this hate. I don't deserve it, and if you want it, you can have it back; I'm sure it would have you. But I'm not going to hide. As a fat person, what I can do to make the situation better for people who identify with me is not allow myself to be marginalized. For the people who hate fat people, who will continue to hate fat people, who indeed may always have that vacant, spiteful place, the worst revenge I can give to them is to force them to look at me.