Don't Call My Daughters 'Beautiful'
Rethinking Artificial Limitations
A young girl approaches the neighborhood basketball court, her heart pounding as she grips the worn leather of her ball. The court is alive with the shouts and laughter of boys and men, none of whom look like her. As she steps onto the asphalt, conversations hush, and curious eyes turn her way. She faces a choice: retreat to the comfort of the sidelines or stride forward, ignoring internal doubts.
Often, we find ourselves in situations where we feel out of place, where our internal narrative tells us we don't belong. Yet, it's precisely in these moments that there’s an opportunity to broaden our perspective.
In Irvin D. Yalom's "Love's Executioner," a patient grapples with insecurities in the waiting room for a job interview. He stares at his clothes and tattered footwear below his slacks, and makes a life-affirming declaration: "I am not my shoes."
Just as the young girl on the basketball court is more than her sex or age, the young man is more than well-worn shoes. You too are more than imposed labels and expectations.
Remember that while "shoes" allow you to move, they are mere tools - and do not define you (even if gatekeepers proclaim them luxurious).
Your status-climbing symbols are embarrassing excesses to folks like me - the politically homeless.
Just as a pair of cleats can transform an athlete's performance, adjusting our metaphorical "shoes" can lead to significant differences in our personal and professional lives. It's not as simple as purchasing new footwear, but the effort to reassess and realign our means of moving toward or away from personally meaningful projects is worthwhile.
Next time you find yourself stepping onto an unfamiliar court, remember: you are not a mere object or set of words. You are the player. The one who decides how to move, how to engage, and ultimately, how to define yourself.
NOTE: This is an ode to my three daughters and other young women who must contend with peers and adults who label them - by physical attractiveness (LINK). Often the first words used to describe them. Almost everything of value is irrelevant to looks - happiness and meaning, productivity and creativity, positive social relationships, and mental and physical health. Unless the plan is to be a runway model….which is a conversation for stoners eating Pringles at 3 am:
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Todd B. Kashdan is the author of several books including The Upside of Your Dark Side (Penguin) and The Art of Insubordination: How to Dissent and Defy Effectively (Avery/Penguin) and Professor of Psychology and Founder of The Well-Being Laboratory at George Mason University.
Read Past Issues Here Including:
A Letter to My Adult Twin Daughters - Who Turn 18 Today
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If the shoes don't fit...
I was surprised once again by your writing, Todd. Using the shoe metaphor helped me realize how much we need to talk about language and of course, shoes.
In a fast-paced society where you need to be "one of the bunch", having a 'weird' shoe creates hassle and problems.
Being a big size in shoes, I've had my literal share of problems finding my size.
And of course, metaphorically, my shoe doesn't fit the standard. An engineer, facilitator, magician, visual thinker, slow creative and overall contrarian will probably won't find a shoe to be fit on these days. And damn, I'm so proud not to.
And I hope my daughters have carte blanche on this. To do what they want to do. To find their own colourful, weird, unique shoe that only fits their self.
An experience of being on an 'unfamiliar court' happened to me when I was an undergraduate student - decades ago. In one of my education tutorials we were reading all the bad statistics about Indigenous NZers. Less educated, higher teen pregnancies, higher incarceration rates, higher mortality rates. As the first person in my large extended family to attend university it was the first time in my life that I thought 'I'm not supposed to be here' and I also had the thought that maybe I was 'less than.' Add being raised by a single parent who dropped out of school at 15 and I really, really wasn't supposed to be there. I high five my younger self for sticking it out.