몸의 긍정
Where did my body come from?
나를 긍정하는 건 내 몸을 긍정하는 데서 시작한다.
영어 글쓰기 세미나 수업 중 identity matters라는 주제의 수업을 듣고 있다. 영어 글쓰기에 평소에 자신이 없어서 많은 고민과 스트레스를 받으면서 시작했지만 글을 쓰고 디스커션을 하면서 내 정체성은 어떤 방식으로 형성되었는지를 알 수 있어 흥미롭다. 첫 번째 주제는 내 몸에 관해 쓰는 것이었는데 작년에 길게 기르던 머리를 싹둑 단발로 자른 게 우리 가족 사이에선 큰 이슈였다. 그 일을 곱씹어 보면서 결국에 나는 누구이고 내 몸은 누구의 것인지에 생각해 볼 수 있었던 기회였다.
많은 시간을 투자하면서 글을 쓰지는 못해서 아쉽지만 앞으로 좋은 연습이 될 것 같다.
WHERE DID MY BODY COME FROM?
There’s an old Chinese saying “身體髮膚 受之父母” which can be roughly translated into “We should cherish our body because they belong to our parents”. This saying is 2500 years old teaching from Confucius and still deeply rooted in the culture I’ve been associated with for most of my lifetime. From biologists’ viewpoint, it is undoubtedly true that my body, including my younger brother’s body, came from my parents’ bodies. My parents gave me two eyes that are different in size and shape. My parents gave me black straight hair that doesn’t get tangled that much fortunately. My parents gave me relatively tanned yellowish skin among most of my Korean friends. My parents gave me bumpy toes that make me numb whenever I wear high heels. I was born in this kind of body. And I still live in here. Ignoring the fact that my body is inseparable from my parents is like running away from home. And home is a place where there is a blurred boundary between affection and violence.
My hair has been always long since I was little. I’ve always had this idea that I wouldn’t look good with short hair. Oh, short hair looks good on girls with a beautiful neck. And my dad gave me a short neck which looks just like his. I’ve got no complaint about it. No one told me that I would look bad with short hair. So, this summer, I decided to give it a try. After spending a few hours at the hair salon, I came home with the shortest hair for the first time in my life. The first question my mom asked me was, “Are you sure you look good with that hair? You look like middle age woman.” What she said was not a joke. She wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. She literally meant to say, “You look ugly with that new hair.” The next day in the morning, my mom took me to another hair salon and said, “I don’t know what she has done to her hair but please do whatever you can to fix it.” While my hair was getting trimmed by a new hair designer, my mom took a seat next to me and started talking about how I should take advantage of my youth, how short hair takes femininity away from me. No matter how absurd and offensive you think my mom’s comments are, everything she says is glamorized under the name of love and affection. “Don’t get mad at me. It’s all because I care about you” is the most powerful argument she can have to put in claims for possession of my body.
Her gracefully offensive comments on my body made me become more sensitive and obsessed with small details of the body. No one is interested in the number of pimples that burst on my chin while I’m on my period. No one is interested in the scars I have on my knees when I’m wearing shorts or skirts.
During my middle school year, I used to wear sheer nude stockings to school even in summer because I was afraid my classmates would find out that I have many scars on my knee. Sometimes I mixed a small quantity of vitamin C powder with body lotion in the hope of making dark spots faded. It wasn’t until recently that I realized my scars are just like white and black stripes that a zebra has or spots that a dalmatian has. No one questions why zebra has white and black stripes or no one counts the number of spots from dalmatian puppies. And no one takes a close look at my knees whether they are clean without any scars. I stopped wearing sheer nude stockings and it was last summer that I suddenly realized that the color of scars has been already faded.
After the incident of my short hair, my mom still asks me, “How long is your hair now?” whenever she video calls me. I can’t guarantee that someday my mom would understand how her gracefully offensive comments made me vulnerable and obsessed with pointless details and realize that my body in fact, belongs to no one including myself. But I can guarantee that my mom believes that home should be a place where I feel safe and loved. And I call my body “home” where I was born in. And I dare to rephrase the great teaching of Confucius, “We should cherish our body because we call it home.”
