Brown Jeans

This is Sunday, the end of COVID week eleven the beginning of twelve and a whole new anxious.

This week has been a really strange week and I have felt like most, a whole range of emotions. There seems to be so much unrest, fear and anger across the world. The kindness that seemed to appear at the beginning of this pandemic seems to have dissipated into the ether this week.
I sobbed for the first time in a little while, I have had pockets of sadness but on Thursday I had a real good wail.

I don’t even think I can tell you that there was any ‘one’ thing I felt upset about, as it was everything really, I do know I felt much better for it.

The thought of our ‘New Normal’ and our lack of human contact has begun to make me feel anxious something I don’t usually feel but talking to friends has made me realise that I am not the only one.

The unkindness of man to one another at this present time in America and across the world has compounded these feelings. Far from ‘A Kinder New World’ for which I was hoping, it now feels like a scarier ‘Old World’ with a lack of compassion and humanity.

I have just subscribed to ‘The Happy News’ a newspaper that quarterly delivers only good news from around the world. It is not that I want to bury my head in the sand, just that I am fed up of reading the sad and negative. I am looking forward to reading a little sunshine.

I know that farmers may be rejoicing in England but the miserable weather this weekend has also helped to dampen our spirits. This weekend being the one when we were told we could finally meet six members of family or friends from different households outside!

The reason I started this blog is to write about the connections and stories that unite us as human beings, sometimes these stories will not be full of laughter and starlight but they are equally important to share, especially in our current crisis.

During my jogging route there is a beautiful but potentially dangerous path, I walk this short section as it would be unwise to run. This track is awkward and treacherous in parts, meaning I could easily stumble and fall.

This journey seems to follow the metaphor of our present world and I think like many, we are just running too fast.

When the world begins to change there is always something that seems to try and stops us, be it ignorance or fear, a lack of trust in fellow human beings or indeed ourselves.

There has been so much written in newspapers and on social media this week, there has been frustration and hurt and several phrases repeatedly printed and shouted out loud, relating to recent events.

I am understanding of ‘White Privilege’ except for me it has another connotation.

When I was a young teenager like many, I didn’t feel as if I fitted in and there is a part of me that will forever feel that way, it will always be who I am. Now I am older I have finally embraced the weirdness perceived by some, but it wasn’t that way when I was younger.

I wasn’t super popular or cool at school, some of my friends were but I wasn’t and thanks to a world that sends messages of how girls ‘should’ look when fourteen years old, I was incredibly body conscious. The Baz Lurhrmann lyrics of ‘Sunscreen’ tell us loudly and succinctly of “How much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked, you are not as fat as you imagined” I wasn’t, but when we are young we do not see, we are victims of opinion, environment, and ignorance.

I have mentioned before that as a young teenager strikes were commonplace in 70’s Britain and my Dad was often on strike along with his fellow workers and that money was tight. My school had a fairly relaxed uniform policy and when I look at my old class photos the alleged blue and white uniform looks a little like ‘Joseph’s Coat.’

Needle corduroy blue jeans were really big when I was fourteen, the ‘It’ girls wore them to school and I wanted to wear them too. Brown corduroys were for some unknown reason much cheaper and so with this uniform policy it meant I would be able to own a pair and wear them. However, these cords were not blue and not as cool, even though I really did love them.

These heavenly corduroys were edged with white faux leather on the front coin pockets and a white cross on each back pocket but I still wasn’t sure if I actually looked ok?
I remember walking upstairs in school on the way to lesson when a boy in my form (tutor) told me “You look great in those jeans.” I remember my fear subsiding and feeling ten feet tall! I know he will have no idea how much those words impacted on my well being, on a day when I felt out of step and different.

The same boy a few weeks later caught up with me walking home after school, I had stayed late at Drama Club and he at Art Club.
As we were both in the same form it was our turn as a class to perform something in assembly and I had written a play, something our teacher had allowed us to perform and he wanted to ask me about it. It was the first and last time we ever walked home together, for no other reason than fate.

This walk was a moment in time, two classmates talking for a little while until we branched off in different directions, but it was a moment that has stayed with me.

A man had been following behind, I know now that he was probably drunk and it it wasn’t until we both separated that he shouted at me when he passed with the words “Nigger lover.”

I was scared, I was fourteen and young and small and yes, I was naive and I didn’t totally understand. I remember running home and here is the ‘White Privilege’ I am proud to own.

I asked my Mum and my Dad why?
They told me he was ignorant and I remember my Dads words “It doesn’t matter if you are black or white or pink or green or yellow or blue, what matters is that we are all people.”

My Dad isn’t really one for speeches but this is probably one of the most important things he ever said to his teenage daughter, when she was trying to make sense of the world.

My White Privilege?

That I had and have parents who saw through the madness and taught me how to really see the world. Yes, I am proud of that.
Something I have been privileged to pass on to my children.

My Daughter this week was explaining this same concept to my five year old Grandson but really she didn’t need to, he already has it all sown up, this was his reply:

“But we are all the same you know, because everyone has hearts and a belly button.”

I hope and pray that one day if and when my beautiful Grandson has children, he doesn’t have to explain why? It is a hope but hope unites us in everything.

May your ‘hearts and belly buttons’ be full of love and less sadness this week.

Much Love,

Joy