Throughout my adult life, I have heard, far too many times, “Oh but you don’t look…” Now the word look would be followed by words such as Mexican, grandmother, mother, African American, Irish, lesbian, minister, fortune teller, etc. Now…this of course should not really be an issue. People have their preconceptions of what one type may or may not look like. However, it’s said like a compliment, like I should be excited that they don’t recognize that aspect of me. So let’s for a moment take a look at these things which I do not look like.
Mexican: This is actually one that I receive often. This backhanded compliment is usually from someone whose knowledge of Mexican or Hispanic culture is limited to Taco Bell. The person most often is under the belief that Mexicans in all of our glory are only represented by the beautiful Indio features and coloring, whereas the truth is far simpler than that, since those of us who belong to the ethnic group know that we even lay claim to blond haired, blue eyed beauties and red headed macho macho men.
Grandmother and Mother: I have been told that I should feel flattered about this specific compliment since people are simply saying that I look young. Since I am proud of being a mother and a grandmother, as well as being proud of my age and the signs of my aging process, it usually ends up with me spending the day in a tiff, thinking of ways that I can look more like a grandmother, such as buying ridiculous t-shirts with the word grandmother scrawled across the chest. Does this mean that more people end up looking at my breasts? Sure, but I have less of a problem with that than I do with being told that I don’t look like a grandmother.
African American: Okay, I admit, as far as I know, I do not have any Black heritage. However, one day in Indianapolis, while waiting for a bus, a young man came up to me and asked me why I was wearing a head wrap when I’m not a sister. He went on to say that it was rude of me to wear a cultural representation that doesn’t belong to me. He of course did not say it as nicely as I just did, and I am rarely this quick thinking, but I responded by asking him what made him think that I was not in fact African American. I explained to him that he was mistaken in believing that his race was made up of only people of his own skin color, and by believing that, he contributes to the negativity by separating his own race into categories based on skin color or even shades of that color. I then gave him a lesson in the history of the greatness of his own race and that indeed there are those who are lighter as well as those who are darker and that he should be proud that his magnificent race does in fact have such an enormous range of appearance. I also pointed out that head wraps have been used by cultures all over the world and that it was arrogant of him to think that only his culture has utilized them as symbols of beauty, marital status, religious beliefs and even simply to protect against Mother Nature. He apologized, smiled, hugged me and walked away while the elderly woman next to me waited for him to leave before saying “I know that you aren’t black but that was great of you to explain that to him.”
Irish: This has been a difficult one for me, because I don’t identify on an average day as being Irish. This is certainly not because I have an issue with my maternal lineage, rather I am comfortable with what I look like when I see myself in a mirror. I did not inherit anything from my mother but her big feet and her freckles, so on the occasion when someone asks me what a specific tattoo says or means, and I tell them that it is the Irish word for prophetess, I am bombarded by statements that I don’t look Irish. Well, since I have dated four different culturally and genetically Irish guys and each of them have looked different from the next, I’m not sure what Irish looks like but I imagine that this too can run the range of appearance.
Lesbian: Okay, yet again, I am not a lesbian, although I have dated women. During these times, it has been difficult to get past the arguments of labels and categorization, some never being happy with my response of “I love who I love at points in my life. I don’t need a label maker to print out a specific title for who I am at each point.” Besides, this still makes me wonder…what exactly does a lesbian look like? I imagine the idea of a lesbian is the stunning butchy types, but then again, I have known some stunning butchy types of women who in fact have been as straight as boards.
So I guess I can stop with the examples right there, I’m sure that you catch my drift. After all, don’t we limit ourselves by assuming that everyone of a certain community will appear similar to everyone else within that community? Don’t we shame ourselves by feeding into presumptive prejudices? Why does the comment or response need to be “You don’t look like, sound like, eat like, dance like…” Why is that even a thought in our heads? Perhaps we don’t understand the insult that comes along with that statement. We are, in essence, saying to the person that they don’t belong in the community to which they identify with. We are telling them that they are not enough to belong, a mutation of what the community is known for. We are placing them into a state of limbo, a place in between, a place of being an outcast. We are saying that they aren’t good enough to be a part of the group which they have belonged.
These are not compliments. They may be said with good intentions, but like many good intentions, they can pave the road to Hell. It is a Hell where they who feel shunned send themselves. These statements of “you don’t look…” create a line between the recipient of the words and their family, friends, religion, gender, sexuality, community, peers and so forth. From that moment on, especially when it is repeated from time to time, the recipient of those compliments questions themselves when looking at the other members of their circles. They can begin to ask themselves “Do I belong?”
That question leads to joining cults, gangs, and so forth…all in the quest to belong, to have a part of you that you know is connected to others.
However…if you’re feeling like you don’t belong, you can totally belong to my family. I’m just not doing your dirty laundry.
Hellish Behavior 