After some considerable deliberation regarding the proper style that I wanted, I got my hair cut the other day. Mind you, I am fussy about my hair. I won’t let just anyone work with it, so I go to an upscale Aveda salon located in the more “poshe” area of Louisville, where I’ve become a loyal fan of Carrie, who has cut my hair the last two or three times. She and I have a good rapport, she seems to know what I like, and she does a good job.
I got a nice medium-length bob with bangs.
I then posted a self-taken photo of myself with the new ‘do on Facebook to show all my friends:
My friend Bridget immediately responded with a comment telling me to
Smile, darn it!
Here’s the thing…
I don’t like to smile in pictures. I don’t like having my picture taken to begin with. I don’t think I look good in pictures, and I don’t like the way I smile. Frankly…I hate my smile. I think it makes my face look all scrunched up and funny, my eyes get all squinty, and you can see my crooked tooth. I’m self-conscious about that crooked tooth. I didn’t get braces as a kid, and as a result I don’t have a nice glamorous set of choppers. Instead I have a snaggle-tooth that sticks out and announces itself to everyone. So I tend to be uncomfortable showing my teeth in a picture.
But since Bridget insisted, I felt obliged to accommodate her request:
It was interesting to compare the comments to the two pictures. Everyone agreed that I looked better with a smile. Perhaps the most revealing comment came from my friend MoonRose, who had this to share:
When you don’t smile, you look like you are in your sixties. When you do smile, you look like you are in your forties. The smile takes twenty years off how you look. You definitely need to smile more often.
Wow. Twenty years with just one photo.
And for those of you who are wondering…I was born in October of 1958, making me 54.
And to think that when I don’t smile, I’m adding at least six years to my age. Eek!
It’s not only the haircut that has me thinking about the concept of beauty and youth and smiles and photographs and the like. It was perhaps precipitated by an article that was recently sent to me by my cousin – an article dated from June of 1976, written about me when I graduated from high school – the first deaf student to do so at William Henry Harrison High School. The article included a picture of myself at the young age of seventeen.
As I stared at that picture, I began to compare it with a recent (pre-haircut) picture of myself taken for a work ID. When I put the two of them side by side, the similarities were pretty amazing:
Wow.
I have had high school and college chums tell me that I really haven’t changed, that I still look much the same as I did back in the good ole days. Of course I would laugh and dismiss their statements with a “you’re too kind” sort of remark. But looking at these pictures, I can’t help thinking that there’s some truth to what these folks have been saying. When I remarked on this to a couple of friends, they all told me that I haven’t changed that much and I still look the same. Interesting thing is how several of them remarked that I still have that same sweet smile.
Crystal did mention that I have the same head tilt. I think I was born with that head tilt, Sis.
So I have been doing a bit of thinking lately.
Posting these pictures of myself with my new haircut made me think about the new Dove commercial that is making a sensation – how women view themselves and their own self-image.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, check out this article that recently appeared in the New York Times.
When I look at pictures of myself, I see all the negatives. I start thinking about how I would like to get rid of those bags and dark circles under my eyes, how I would like to remove that double chin, how I’d like to fix that damn crooked tooth of mine.
My own self-image could use some work.
In the Times article, it mentions that only 4% of women consider themselves beautiful.
That’s sad, and yet I think there is a lot of truth to it. I certainly don’t look at my pictures and see a beautiful woman there.
I find myself wondering how many of my friends feel the same way when they look at pictures of themselves.
The harsh reality is that our friends can tell us how beautiful we truly are until they are blue in the face, but until we start to really believe it ourselves, such words seem meaningless.
We need to change our own self-image.
We need to see ourselves as beautiful.
If you have not seen the Dove commercials about self-image and redefining beauty, then I suggest that you take a look at this one…
Then go look in the mirror and tell yourself how beautiful you truly are.
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two
I’ll be a student of life
A singer of songs
A farmer of food
And a righter of wrong
It could have been me
But instead it was you
Well it might be me, dear sisters and brothers
Before we’re through
But if you can live for freedom
Freedom, freedom, freedom
If you can live for freedom I can too
Students in Ohio
Two hundred yards away
Shot down by a aimless fire
One early day in May
Some people cried out angry
“You should have shot more of them down!”
But you can’t bury youth my friend
Youth grows the whole world ‘round
It could have been me
But instead it was you
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two
I’ll be a student of life
A singer of songs
A farmer of food
And a righter of wrong
It could have been me
But instead it was you
Well it might be me, dear sisters and brothers
Before we’re through
But if you can die for freedom
Freedom, freedom, freedom
If you can die for freedom I can too
The junta took the fingers
From Victor Jara’s hands
They said to the gentle poet
“Play your guitar now if you can!”
Well Victor starting singing
Until they shot his body down
You can kill a man, but not a song
When it’s sung the whole world ‘round
It could have been me
But instead it was you
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two
I’ll be a student of life
A singer of songs
A farmer of food
And a righter of wrong
It could have been me
But instead it was you
Well it might be me, dear sisters and brothers
Before we’re through
But if you can sing for freedom
Freedom, freedom, freedom
If you can sing for freedom I can too
A young girl in the jungle
Ten thousand miles away
Studies late into the night
And defends a village by day
Although her skin is golden
Like mine will never be
Her song is heard, I know the words
And I’ll sing it ‘til she’s free
It could have been me
But instead it was you
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two
I’ll be a student of life
A singer of songs
A farmer of food
And a righter of wrong
It could have been me
But instead it was you
Well it might be me, dear sisters and brothers
Before we’re through
But if you can fight for freedom
Freedom, freedom, freedom
If you can fight for freedom I can too
It could have been me
But instead it was you
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two
I’ll be a student of life
A singer of songs
A farmer of food
And a righter of wrong
It could have been me
But instead it was you
Well it might be me, dear sisters and brothers
Before we’re through
But if you believe in freedom
Freedom, freedom, freedom
If you believe in freedom I can too
I can too…I can too
I’ve always loved this song. I first learned of it when I saw Holly perform at a concert in Madison, Wisconsin back in the early 1980’s. Madison was the first place I moved to after I left Gallaudet College, and it was a very instrumental city in shaping me into the person I have become today. It was a rather liberal town in those days, and continues to be to this day…although perhaps not on quite the same level. Back then Madison was teasingly (but not so erroneously) referred to as “an escape from reality.” It’s where I got involved in two things that continue to be a strong part of my identity today – Feminism and Paganism.
Madison had a strong women’s community, and it wasn’t long before I got involved in it. I had moved to Madison as the result of a friendship I had begun with a woman I met at Gallaudet – a woman who was herself a feminist and lesbian, as well as being involved in a Deaf services program at a local mental hospital. She was also a lover of women’s music, and it was through her that I was introduced to the music of individuals like Holly Near, Meg Christian, and others. These women were considered “pioneers” of the Women’s Music Movement, and thirty years later their names and their songs are still fondly remembered.
Holly was always my favorite. She frequently performed with a sign language interpreter, which of course was quite beneficial for me. I always enjoyed watching her in concert (I think I have attended three or four of them over the years.) After attending the first concert, I purchased one of her albums, the one that includes this song. It’s been one of my favorites ever since, although there are several songs of Holly’s that I really like.
Obviously it is a political activist song. I can’t say that I have ever really viewed myself as a strong political activist, although there are certainly causes that I will and do take a stand for. But the stories told through this song are ones that I can identify with, and support.
“Students in Ohio” refers to the students of Kent State who on May 4, 1970 participated in a protest against the Vietnam War, in which four students were killed by members of the National Guard. I’ve always been pretty much anti-war, and I’ve participated in a protest or two myself. It’s not that I don’t support our military, and the brave men and women who put their lives at risk to protect our country – I do. But I don’t support our government’s use of the military. I don’t support the billions of dollars being used to fight wars in other countries when we have plenty of problems right here at home that need such financial support.
Victor Jara was Chilean poet, theater director, songwriter, and a social activist who led a movement in his country for democracy, and an ending of tyranny and dictatorship. When the country was overthrown by a coupe, Victor was seized, tormented and shot to death. I didn’t know anything about him until this song… but I have to admire and applaud his willingness to sacrifice his life for something he believed so strongly in. Could I do the same? I’m not sure. There are things that I do indeed feel very strongly about, but to the point of dying for them? That’s a hard call. Of course, I doubt that Victor himself really wanted to die or even intended to do so – it was his fate to suffer such a consequence for his actions and beliefs. But he knew he was putting his life at risk, and that is admirable. I suppose that while I have no desire to die myself, there are things I would fight to the death to maintain – my proud identity as a Deaf person and everything that represents to me…my freedom to practice my spirituality as I desire…the equal opportunity to achieve my dreams and goals. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
The final verse talks about a young woman attempting to maintain her status as a student while engaging in battle at the same time. I’m a big believer in education, but I don’t feel we should have to fight a war for it…so it saddens me to have to think that even today there are women out there who are in fact having to do so. Education shouldn’t have to come at such a high price. I’m not sure if I can say that I do know the words to her song, but I will certainly dance to the music…and I will continue to play the song as long as I know that there are women out there who are not free to study, to learn, to explore all the possibilities.
So let’s examine the chorus here. That’s the part of the song that I truly enjoy…
It could have been me, but instead it was you.
This begs the question…who is “you?” Who does s/he represent to me?
The first thing that comes to mind is my mother, and our mutual battle with cancer (Mom’s being breast cancer, mine being uterine). She lost her battle…I survived mine. I do think about that, although I have become somewhat silent on the whole cancer topic of late. However, I do support cancer causes – I participated as a Deaf representative in the Cancer Parade that took place at Churchill Downs before the running of the Kentucky Oaks in 2011, to honor my mother and all Deaf women who have battled/are battling/died from breast cancer.
When I think of this line in connection to the Deaf Community, I am reminded of a scene from the TV show “Switched At Birth” – in which Marlee Matlin is scolding a student for goofing off in a Deaf Culture class where they are discussing famous Deaf leaders from the past. Marlee tells the student “These Deaf leaders broke open the doors to give us the opportunities we have now. You will not disrespect their achievements by slacking off in my class!”
I loved that scene. I loved the power that it invoked. Whenever I start to feel powerless or start to feel like I can’t do anything, or start to feel oppressed as a result of being Deaf, I remember that scene. I start to think of these people as the “you”…the ones who in spite of all the obstacles, pushed forward and made things happen so that I might be able to succeed in their shadows. I owe them a great debt of gratitude, and I promise not to slack off in their class.
As a Pagan, the “you” makes me think of the thousands of men and women who died in the name of witchcraft during the “Burning Times” – the Inquisition, a time when the witchcraft craze swept through Europe and many lost their lives due to fear, paranoia, greed, revenge, and a lust for power. Interestingly, the majority of those who died during this time were not witches, even if they were accused as such. “Witch” simply became a convenient catch-call term to label someone you didn’t like…
Someone you wanted to get rid of.
Of course, as a modern-day Pagan I bear little resemblance to these individuals who were put to death in these olden times, but I still experience some of what they did – the fear, the ignorance, the misunderstandings, the labels. Even in this modern age, witches are still thought of in outdated ways. I’m still not totally free to come out of the broom closet and declare myself as a Pagan to any and all…although for the most part I am pretty open about my spirituality.
So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two…
It’s important to me to remember that every right I have as an individual – as a Woman, as a Deaf person, as a Pagan – was won for me by people fighting hard. There are children being born right now who won’t even have the same rights I do unless I act to maintain and extend the range of equality. The nourishing stew of civilized life doesn’t keep bubbling on its own. It’s up to me to put something back in the cauldron for the people in line behind me.
I’ll be a student of life…
I’m always curious to learn more about what life has to offer…what makes the world go round, what makes people tick. I would love to travel more and experience more. I want to be able to live life with gusto, and enjoy every moment of it. I’ve experienced a lot in my own life and it hasn’t always been pleasant, but I like to think that all those experiences have taught me something…and will continue to teach me until the day I pass on.
A singer of songs…
Okay, maybe not a singer. I fear that if I was to try and sing, I would drive everyone out of the room. But I do like music. I grew up the only deaf child in an all-hearing family, and attending hearing schools until I went to Gallaudet. So music was a part of my life, and it continues to be – although I am not as up-to-date on the latest musical hits. I tend to prefer the “oldies but goodies.” While at Gallaudet, I was part of a performing group that translated songs into sign language. I still enjoy doing that from time to time, but don’t get the opportunity to do so very often any longer. I do find that sometimes I use songs I know to express what I am thinking or what I am feeling.
A farmer of food…
I love gardening. Both sets of grandparents had farms, and I grew up in the country. As a child, we had a garden at our house, and grew our own veggies. There’s nothing better than home-grown tomatoes, green beans and sweet corn. We would pick blackberries from my grandparents farm and make cobbler. Sometimes one of my grandparents would kill a chicken and we would have that for dinner – fried, roasted, or stewed with dumplings. There were fresh eggs, and fresh milk from the cows. My grandmother taught me how to make my own butter. My family also fished a lot and there were lakes at the farm. I grew up on a lot of fried bluegills! My father was a hunter, so sometimes he would bring home squirrel, quail, and other game. So I really did grow up with the concept of either growing or hunting your own food. I do prefer eating fresh food – I rarely eat anything out of a can. When it can’t be fresh, I do frozen. I like to eat local when possible, so I do enjoy farmers markets, where I can buy locally grown produce and other food items. I’m hoping that perhaps this year I can put the garden in the back yard that I want, and grow some of my own stuff – herbs, vegetables and the like.
And a righter of wrong…
I have been an advocate for most of my adult life. Much of my advocacy efforts have been in the area of deafness, but I have also advocated for women’s rights, gay rights, religious freedom, anti-violence, ending war, animal rights, environmentalism, and other issues that I believe in. I feel it is important that if you object to something, you need to speak up and do something about it. We can’t just sit back and let things happen without trying to make some kind of changes. If nothing else, we can educate and try to replace ignorance with knowledge.
As Witches and Pagans, we can use all of our magickal skills to dig into the world and push it into better shape. We can try to clean the air and the water. We can try to make the justice system work. We can bring the day a little closer when the rich and privileged have to live by the same standards as the poor and outcast. We can try to stop the next war now, BEFORE it starts, to keep old men from sending children away to die.
I won’t promise that we can right every wrong in this world, but we might at least be able to make enough changes to allow ourselves to bask in the feeling that all in all, things do seem to be moving in the right direction.
But if you can live/die/sing/fight for freedom, I can too…
That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Freedom is a nice thing, but it comes with certain responsibilities…the biggest one being an obligation to help maintain it. That doesn’t mean we have to sacrifice our lives for it – although there are people who risk and do such on a daily basis. It does mean that we need to remember to never just take it for granted, and to do what what we can to extend those freedoms to others who desire it.
I first read this poem many years ago, when I was a recent college graduate just beginning my venture into the “real world.” I loved it then, and I copied it into the journal I was keeping at the time. Shortly afterwards, I met the man who was to become my first true love. I remember reading this poem to him one night, after we’d been having an especially heavy talk about our relationship and where it was going. I then got up to take a shower and prepare for bed. When I came into the bedroom, he had opened all the drawers to my dresser – his silent way of trying to say “I’m sorry.” I was so touched by such a gesture.
Sadly, our relationship did not last – we went our own ways, while remaining friends. Over the years we lost contact with one another, and not too long ago I learned that he had passed on from a heart attack. I’m sorry that we never got a chance to see each other again, but I cherish the memories of our time together.
Relationships will come and go. People will enter my life – some fleetingly, others enduringly. Each of them will leave their own special impact…sometimes good, sometimes not-so-good.
Recently a pal of mine put up the following post on her Facebook wall:
Woke up with an overwhelming need to sob – is everyone I love okay? Please check with me or by text. Wow, not kidding, never felt like this before.
And in checking with some of my other friends, I find that this case of the blues seems to be going around. People are feeling a uncontrollable urge to just “sit down, have a good cry, and get it out of my system.”
I don’t think such a feeling is all that surprising right now…in fact, I would be more surprised if you weren’t feeling this way.
We are coming up on the Sabbat of Imbolc – the first Sabbat of 2013. We have said goodbye to what was – for many of us – a difficult and trying period in 2012. We may have survived our own personal Tower Time, but we are still dealing with the after-effects. And those after-effects are leaving many of us feeling rather raw. As those raw feelings come to the surface, they often get expressed in the form of tears. Don’t be ashamed of such tears, for they can be quite healing…a cooling and soothing balm for our emotions.
Tower Time is over. The tower has fallen, and we have taken our own tumbles along with it. We stand now amidst the ruins – a sometimes painful reminder of where we’ve been – and contemplate where we go from here. And the tears fall. Even as we welcome the changes this new year brings, we must also take a moment to grieve that which we have left behind. Change means letting go, and that doesn’t always come easy.
For many of us, Imbolc occurs at the coldest time of the year – when temperatures plunge and fierce icy winds chill us to the bone. But those winds can be a positive thing also. I am reminded of what my friend Byron recently shared on her own Facebook wall:
Let this brisk and scraping wind blow through the spiritual and emotional detritus in your life and send it off to be composted. Allow this crisp air to cool your confusion and self-doubt and make way for clear forward motion and effective action.
Yes, let these winds blow. As cold as they might feel, they serve a purpose…blowing off the dust of debris from fallen towers, stripping us bare that we might stand shivering and exposed, confronting our own stark nakedness. Yet let that nakedness be a sign of your own rebirth, as you take those first steps forward.
I am reminded of a song from one of my favorite musicals – “Morning Glow” from the Broadway production Pippin. While the scenario for this song within the play may not be the greatest, I do feel the lyrics in and of themselves are appropriate for a celebration of Imbolc as they speak to us about the “winds of change”…
Why won’t my hands stop shaking When all the earth is still When ancient ghosts are waking So many steps need taking So many plans need making I think I will I think I will
Morning glow, morning glow Starts to glimmer when you know Winds of change are set to blow And sweep this whole land through Morning glow is long past due
Morning glow fill the earth Come and shine for all you’re worth We’ll be present at the birth Of old faith looking new Morning glow is long past due
Oh, morning glow, I’d like to help you grow We should have started long ago
So, morning glow all day long While we sing tomorrow’s song Never knew we could be so strong But now it’s very clear
Morning glow is almost here
Morning glow by your light We can make the new day bright And the phantoms of the night Will fade into the past Morning glow is here
At last!
The winds of change herald the dawning of a new day. Yes, there are many plans to be made, many steps to be taken. But Imbolc brings with it the promise of hope – the light has returned and we can indeed look forward to morning’s glow. We have survived, and now old faith can shine anew.
So dry your tears…wrap yourself in a warm blanket…face the wind…then light some candles and watch those phantoms of the night fade into the past.
And may morning glow bring you a most blessed Imbolc.
Ocean is the creator & manager of this blog. Born deaf into an all-hearing family, she was raised oral and attended hearing schools. Ocean began learning sign language at the ripe old age of 16, and after meeting a Deaf man began her own journey through Deafhood. She graduated from Gallaudet College (now University), and has held positions both within & outside of the field of Deaf Services.
Ocean has been a practicing Pagan for 30+ years, is an ordained High Priestess of the Wiccan tradition, and considers herself "an eclectic witch," with a primary focus on Celtic Spirituality, but an interest in many different areas. A skilled tarot reader, she once donated her services to help raise funds for a Domestic Violence agency. She has also done workshops on aromatherapy, herbalism, & Paganism for the Deaf Community.
As a passionate advocate, Ocean often speaks out on the need for greater access for Deaf people (Pagan or otherwise) - interpreters, captioned videos, CART, etc...and works to build bridges between the Deaf & Hearing communities.
She lives not far from her hometown on the banks of the Ohio River with her two cats, Karma & Gandalf.
To contact Ocean,
you may email her at oshginva@gmail.com
MAKING CONNECTIONS
This sculpture shows the sign for "connect"...and that is what Deaf Pagan Crossroads is all about - making connections. Connections between Deafhood and Paganism, connections between the Deaf Community and the Hearing Community, connections between myself as the writer and you as the reader. I hope you will take the time to read my various posts, some of which are listed below. Welcome to the Crossroads, and I hope you make some connections here!
BLOG & CONTACT INFO
Deaf Pagan Crossroads is a blog, operated by one individual - Ocean. It is not an on-line coven or community. While I do have limited knowledge of and contact with other Deaf/ASL Pagans around the country, I am not aware of any Deaf covens. I'm happy to share what information I may have, but I may not have the answers you are seeking. I encourage readers to do their own research and find their own answers whenever possible.
Those who wish to contact me privately may do so by sending an email to oshginva@gmail.com
Please be aware that it may take me a few days to respond, depending on my time and priorities.
Thank you!
WANT TO USE EXCERPTS FROM POSTS ON THIS BLOG?
Sometimes readers will see something here and wish to use it in a paper or on their own blog/website. While I am flattered by such interest, please be aware that most of the writings on this blog site are the property of Deaf Pagan Crossroads and are copyrighted by Virginia L. Beach. As such, they may not be reproduced elsewhere without the expressed permission of the owner. I'm usually pretty open to allowing usage of such if you just take the time to ask. Permission may be granted by contacting Ocean at oshginva@gmail.com Thank you.
copyright 2006 - 2012 Virginia L. Beach
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