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Written by Lindsay Reid
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Monday, 18 May 2009 00:00 |
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It's 1:30 in the morning. I've worked all night in the kitchen at a fast-paced restaurant and now that the stainless steel is polished one last time I'm ready for the bus ride home.
Very tired, I was likely to fall asleep, except for the fact there were one hundred rambunctious people living the Friday night dream. The only energy I had saved was from a section of downtime I spent in the walk-in cooler labeling shelving for more stock arriving at my feet. I often found myself thinking, 'Oh, that's what that is' and attempting to name the product placed in front of me without checking the receipt. While sitting on the bus across from so many other human beings I became aware of my own label maker and that moment has repeated itself a few times this week.
It's human nature and I'm sorry.
I'm not too sure if my parents were honestly cruel and I don't believe they had intentions in the direction to which I've grown. I do think it's possible they used a hat to pick names for their 3 children. I mean unisex is alright for haircuts, but as legal labels it's a downhill obstacle until our grave. My name is Lindsay, my sisters are Erin and Kim, and I'm the middle child stuck between two beautiful women.
On paper I was picked last for baseball. Two girls per team was the rule, yet unknowingly under the radar I flew. In person, I'm always rephrasing my introduction to account for so many misunderstandings and mispronunciations of my name.
My sisters got the better deal it seems. I tend to swim up river while they wade in definition from 'first born' to 'baby girl' and all other sorts of pet names. I became a little sensitive amongst the waves I was making in regards to what a man is these days. After the divorce I turned to poetry of all things to discover and redefine Lindsay beyond the name.
I dug deep into my heart to find blood thick enough to paint sixteen layers between love and hate to match my age. I formed the soul of a man between blue lines. The truth in my blood can resonate to the same pace as the honest breaths I take so I can finally find myself on the same page as you.
Now I find myself in this crowded bus, and I think back to the times throughout all of my youth when I stuck to a piece of advice I received from a Bazooka Joe wrapper:
“Laugh at yourself before others do”.
A lot of times it was hard to pull through the comments about my 'hot' sisters and the femininity of my feeble frame. They became weapons of silent destruction via verbal abuse and I finally understood that I had to love myself before others even had the choice to.
Returning to my mind-set on an early hour bus ride, I closed my eyes and listened to the slow breaths I was taking. Those alone were not mine, but with those breaths blood flowed composing what I need with what I already have. All I need is life to live, and that's enough. I enjoyed the smells mingling around my nose and the traffic of language inundating my toque covered ears.
The bus was crowded to the point I couldn't understand these people around me, and so I had to try harder to understand myself, and did so by looking in their mirror. Who do they see? The bus arrived at my stop several minutes later and the previous fear of misunderstanding others had evolved to learning about me through a universal mirror. We're all on our way home.
We get caught up in judgments because we're all running a race that none of us signed up for, and I know when I stand and speak to young boys when I teach I face a shining son when I talk. Love is in the room and it's not ignored, but some have trouble hearing because they can't see past my name written on the board.
First impressions are unscheduled appointments to stand beside someone else's measuring stick. The labels we place on people in our lives only limit the person we can become. Defining ourselves is hard enough; shouldn't we quit throwing words at others without an honest alphabet to call their own? Labels limit progression and deny perspective, we are all unique above the skin and underneath it, so start with acceptance, learn to love yourself and love will grow.
*****
Lindsay is a male violence prevention facilitator, cook, and spoken word poet living in Vancouver.
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Last Updated on Friday, 22 May 2009 14:55 |
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