Shadow Boxing
7.2.06
In reading about the role of the shadow in our psyches, I keep thinking about Iraq and Ossama Bin Laden and Bush and pro-lifers and people who in general make enemies of others who are not like them, whether they be Upper East Side snobs who look down on Staten Islanders or the spouse who hates the lover who wronged him/her or the slightly overweight woman at the Y who looks at me and says, albeit in jest, "Oooh, you're so skinny. I hate you, bitch!" (And when did "bitch" evolve from meaning a female dog to a derogatory term for an assertive woman to now, a term of endearment?).
It seems that we project onto others, or recognize in them, those characteristics that we most admire/abhor in ourselves. So, I look at the 9/11 bombers and Al Quaida, and wonder, what is it that they truly hate in us? Surely, that we've trampled all over their sacred grounds and monopolize other peoples culturally and corporately, that we won't take responsibility for global warming, hunger, disparity in resource use. And of course, because we are "morally corrupt" with our flagrant displayes of women's bodies and tolerance of homosexuality and prediliction for liquor, drugs, alcohol, and, hmm, fun. And what do we despise in them? Of course, that they attacked us, caught us with our patriotic pants down, keep their women under wraps, denying half their population equal rights. These are all obvious reasons why we don't understand or particularly like each other.
But what's underneath this distaste we have for the "other?" Could it be that, we actually envy those very traits they profess to hate? Surely they love a woman's breast as much as we do. And wouldn't many of us belly-button baring liberals, deep down, love to be protected from learing men's eyes, idolized as the mothers of children? We decry their religious fanatascism and they our wanton disregard for God and values, but isn't there a part of each of us who would love to rock in prayer at dawn to a greater value than ourselves, or converseley walk past a church on a Sunday morning and go to a bar with a pack of cigarettes and a Sports Illustrated? Having read "Nine Parts of Desire" I know that many Iranian women throw off chadors and pole dance for our husbands. And our love of romance novels appeals to that virginal desire to be "rescued" by some knight whether in shining armor or brilliant Lexus.
When we hate someone, or another, we hate that part in ourselves. How can we get the political conversation back to this level of honesty? How can we say, we are at war because I had to get the guy who got away from Dad, we want your oil and we can't possibly admit that we've ever been wrong. Can we look at the pro-lifer whose politics drive us nuts, because we believe a woman has ultimate command and choice over her body and say, you have a point there about protecting human life. (and not throw in the dig about "well, what if your daughter got raped by a 'nigger'?"). Would the capital punishment opponents ever admit that yes, I would want to pole-ax the man who murdered my son?
It seems so hard to hold opposites in ourselves; so we choose leaders who will make those choices for us. Those in the middle seem to be able to hold warring instincts better, but make worse talk radio hosts as stridency is much more entertaining. It's the extremes who get noticed. Some day, some how we have to learn how to reach across divides, hold each other's hands and look deeply into each others' eyes. And in that infinite space we see, embrace all of us, light and dark, cruelness and kindness, lust and satiety. Then perhaps we can turn the boxing match into a dance.
In reading about the role of the shadow in our psyches, I keep thinking about Iraq and Ossama Bin Laden and Bush and pro-lifers and people who in general make enemies of others who are not like them, whether they be Upper East Side snobs who look down on Staten Islanders or the spouse who hates the lover who wronged him/her or the slightly overweight woman at the Y who looks at me and says, albeit in jest, "Oooh, you're so skinny. I hate you, bitch!" (And when did "bitch" evolve from meaning a female dog to a derogatory term for an assertive woman to now, a term of endearment?).
It seems that we project onto others, or recognize in them, those characteristics that we most admire/abhor in ourselves. So, I look at the 9/11 bombers and Al Quaida, and wonder, what is it that they truly hate in us? Surely, that we've trampled all over their sacred grounds and monopolize other peoples culturally and corporately, that we won't take responsibility for global warming, hunger, disparity in resource use. And of course, because we are "morally corrupt" with our flagrant displayes of women's bodies and tolerance of homosexuality and prediliction for liquor, drugs, alcohol, and, hmm, fun. And what do we despise in them? Of course, that they attacked us, caught us with our patriotic pants down, keep their women under wraps, denying half their population equal rights. These are all obvious reasons why we don't understand or particularly like each other.
But what's underneath this distaste we have for the "other?" Could it be that, we actually envy those very traits they profess to hate? Surely they love a woman's breast as much as we do. And wouldn't many of us belly-button baring liberals, deep down, love to be protected from learing men's eyes, idolized as the mothers of children? We decry their religious fanatascism and they our wanton disregard for God and values, but isn't there a part of each of us who would love to rock in prayer at dawn to a greater value than ourselves, or converseley walk past a church on a Sunday morning and go to a bar with a pack of cigarettes and a Sports Illustrated? Having read "Nine Parts of Desire" I know that many Iranian women throw off chadors and pole dance for our husbands. And our love of romance novels appeals to that virginal desire to be "rescued" by some knight whether in shining armor or brilliant Lexus.
When we hate someone, or another, we hate that part in ourselves. How can we get the political conversation back to this level of honesty? How can we say, we are at war because I had to get the guy who got away from Dad, we want your oil and we can't possibly admit that we've ever been wrong. Can we look at the pro-lifer whose politics drive us nuts, because we believe a woman has ultimate command and choice over her body and say, you have a point there about protecting human life. (and not throw in the dig about "well, what if your daughter got raped by a 'nigger'?"). Would the capital punishment opponents ever admit that yes, I would want to pole-ax the man who murdered my son?
It seems so hard to hold opposites in ourselves; so we choose leaders who will make those choices for us. Those in the middle seem to be able to hold warring instincts better, but make worse talk radio hosts as stridency is much more entertaining. It's the extremes who get noticed. Some day, some how we have to learn how to reach across divides, hold each other's hands and look deeply into each others' eyes. And in that infinite space we see, embrace all of us, light and dark, cruelness and kindness, lust and satiety. Then perhaps we can turn the boxing match into a dance.
posted by Barbery at 8:09 AM
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