"Cuteness"

This weekend, my husband and I added to our family. We chose a child to sponsor in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Her name is Lydia. She is our second sponsored child. It was an interesting process for me, looking through the pictures of children on the website.

I asked my husband, "How are we supposed to choose?"

I figured I would see the picture of a child we were "meant" to sponsor, and I would feel...something. I imagined looking at a pair of eyes that seemed to speak just to me. A connection.

As we scrolled through, I saw several little faces that melted my heart. Chubby little cheeks, puppy dog eyes, lovely features that looked somehow familiar. But in the end, I couldn't bring myself to choose a "cute" kid. Cynically, I figured these kids would have no trouble getting sponsored. You can't help but get attached to some of these kids. They are little angels.

No, in the end I was struck by an older girl whose face was not the cherubic image that is usually featured on mailings and commercials. This girl is not what I would describe as "cute". She looks about as different from me as one can get. Except for her head--she has a beautiful head, unencumbered by lots of hair.

I saw her, and she looked so unhappy. None of these kids look happy, but she looked world weary already, at the age of 8. I read her bio, and apparently she is an orphan who lives with her uncle. My husband had wanted to find a child who was an orphan, so I wrote her name down as a possibility. We kept looking through pictures, but I couldn't forget her. Truthfully, I was immediately mistrustful of the fact that she lives with her uncle. It's horrible to admit, but I tend to assume the worst about male family members in certain parts of the world. I hope to be wrong enough times in the future to change my view on that. But her eyes--they have something in them besides hunger, sadness, or fear. They have hard edges, perhaps formed by bitterness or anger. I can't tell. All I know is that my thoughts kept returning to her. No other child seemed as urgently in need of help as she.

I know, I know. Here I am, the "white savior", assuming a plight that may or may not really exist. And I know she and her uncle are fully rounded human beings. At least, I am trying to intentionally remind myself of that. But whatever her reality is, whether there is abuse in the picture or just the daily grind of poverty, I have resources that she desperately needs.

So back to the night we chose her. When I told my husband that she was the one, we tried to go back and find her picture, but we couldn't! The pictures didn't appear in the same order as the first time we had scrolled through. We did a search for her name, for kids her age, everything we could think of--for about 20 minutes. I was so frustrated, but we had decided that by 8:50 pm we had to choose a child. It was 8:49. We settled on choosing the next child who was an orphan. We clicked to the next child, and the story came up before the picture loaded. I saw the word "uncle", held my breath, and Lydia's face appeared. The clock turned to 8:50. She was for us.

My husband wanted to share her photo on Facebook, which he did, but I was hesitant. Not really for security reasons, I don't think. After all, World Vision has these photos available for anyone to see. No, I think my hesitation was because she is not "cute". I could imagine people looking at her and not feeling anything, because she doesn't make you say "awww...". Maybe I was embarrassed. That would be awful, but I think it's probably the truth.

Lately I have noticed that this value we place on "cuteness" in children is really pervasive and harmful in a lot of ways. My six-year-old daughter has been lapsing back into baby talk and whining, which I think has to do with the fact that her two-year-old brother really is stinkin' cute. He knows it, we know it. When he does something cute, we "ooh" and "ahh" and laugh. When she tries to get the same reaction from us by doing the same thing, we find it annoying. Or, at the very least, just not new and cute anymore.

I have to really be careful to give my daughter affirmation for things she does that I know she wants me to think are "cute". I want her to grow up too, but right now I think it's really important to her that I still fawn over the things she says and does. Because to her, "cute" means "important".

This post has maybe been a bit rambling, but I really need to process my own complicity in a society that values "cuteness" and figure out how to open myself to different kinds of beauty and sweetness. Of course, "cute" kids deserve every bit of the love (and sponsorship) they get. And of course, not everyone doles out favor according to "cuteness". But I recognize the tendency in me to be attracted to it and repelled by anything else.

Gerber shouldn't get to trademark "cuteness" and define it for us. Recognize the beauty of every face, the innocence of every child, and the sweetness in every age.

Look unto others...

Life is funny. Four years ago, I held my breath as I took off my scarf to reveal my bald head to my two-year-old daughter for the first time. I was so worried she would start screaming and that we would both be traumatized. But I kept it light, and she was fine. Curious, but fine.

Last Saturday night, I decided to wear my favorite wig to a dinner I was going to with my husband. It's a cute wig, but very bold: jet black wedge with purple in the bangs. I put it on and went out to say goodbye to my kids, and my two-year-old son started backing away, frowning. "I don't like it, take it off", he said. Far from being traumatized though, I simply chuckled and took it off, donning it later in the car.

I used to worry and worry about how my kids felt about having a mommy with no hair. Now, as I toy with the idea of getting several cheap, funky wigs that I can have fun with more often, I worry about them getting confused or shaken as they witness their mommy, the person who should always be rock solid, changing appearance so drastically.

I haven't gotten to the point yet where I can comfortably throw one wig off and another one on. For me, it highlights the fact that I am able to change hairstyles so quickly--in other words, the fact that I have no hair. But I am thinking about it, and I am faced with this question of responsibility for the feelings of others versus personal choice and fulfillment.

As a mom, do I have a responsibility to appear to my kids in a form they are comfortable with and feel loved by? Or is my responsibility to teach them about true beauty and acceptance, no matter how freaked out they get when they see me in "costumes"? Is there a certain age when it's more okay to make bolder choices with my appearance (I mean the ages of my children, not me)?

This brings up a whole host of other questions: Do I have a responsibility to make my adult ESL students feel comfortable around me? How can I dress professionally while also helping myself to feel confident in the classroom?

Do I have a responsibility to my husband to tailor my appearance to his desires? Does he have that responsibility toward me?

I just think it's interesting that, by the time I get comfortable with my own appearance (not an easy thing to accomplish), I begin to worry about whether others are comfortable with it.

Let Them Be Little Girls

I took my six-year-old daughter to Target tonight to pick out a Halloween costume, among other things. We left the store with a lot of fun Halloween goodies from the dollar bins, but no costume. Once we got to the costume aisle, I just cringed and immediately wished I had never left the house with her. All I saw were half-opened plastic bags spilling out thin, chintzy fabrics--for the average bargain price of $35.

But I had promised her we could get a costume.

Not being a seamstress by any stretch of the imagination, I suppose I can't be too picky when it comes to costumes. I've actually been lucky: every previous Halloween I have either been able to use hand-me-downs or have my kids' costumes made for me (thanks Mom!).

So what happened in the store that made us abandon our quest for a princess costume?

I was actually proud of my daughter. She walked around "ooh-ing" and "ahh-ing", but she clearly wasn't that thrilled with what she saw. She decided not to get any of the costumes on the shelves, to my immense relief.

It wasn't just the disconnect between the price and the flimsiness of the material that got to me. What really disturbed me was the sexualization of young girls that was so blatant. I have tried to avoid buying my daughter's clothes at Target for that reason, so I guess I wasn't surprised at what I was seeing. But I guess it's been awhile since I was really confronted with it. Here are a couple examples:

I just found these online. They are not the worst of what I saw in the store. What do you think--am I being too prudish? Am I overreacting?

I'm so glad my daughter chooses outfits based on her mood, or the colors and designs of the fabrics, rather than on how cute they make her feel. I think it's a subtle difference in her case, because she does often ask me what I think of her outfit. But she doesn't parade around in it and look in the mirror. She looks down at her shirt or skirt because she likes how it looks. She doesn't strut in her skirts because she thinks other people are looking at her.

I think we need to take much more responsibility than we do for how young girls view themselves, their bodies, their roles in society, and the definition of "beauty" (rather than "cuteness"). Some might accuse me of being a stick in the mud, but I think the carelessness we show toward a serious issue of sexual identity is actually very dangerous. Even when we're just talking about Halloween costumes.

Just my thoughts for now. I welcome your opinions, as always.