As I began drafting a series of children’s books, I began delving into the underpinnings of what makes a good book enduring. And I realized that a truly good book is timeless, whatever age group it is classified for. When I read the Narnia series now, or A Wrinkle in Time, I still find them deeply nourishing, sometimes with new insight.
For me as a child, in a deeply troubled family, books were an oasis and a lifeline. Whatever was happening to me in a world where I experienced abuse at home and in school, in books I had a sane place to go where my feelings and values were affirmed. I believed in kindness, and honesty, and patience, and it was nowhere in evidence in my daily life. But it was in special books, along with humor and courage. No one hurt or judged me when I visited The Wind In The Willows; I was among friends.
People have written me saying books saved their lives when they were children. What were the underpinnings that these books proffered that is so important?
Accepting people for who they are. Respecting their identity. No one ever told Eeyore to stop moping around and buck up, or made Pippi Longstockings cut her hair and dress like a good little girl.
And this is an essential value. When I was nine I was dealing with all kinds of crap a kid shouldn’t have to, but I found a place of strength, of deep self-affirmation in the way I dressed and wore my hair. I wore black jeans and a black denim jacket, with my hair flowing, unstyled and free. And I let my bangs grow long so I could hide behind them protectively when I needed to. I loved the feeling it gave me.
My mother and her therapist cut off my hair. They had it styled as my mother wanted. They forced me to wear clothes she liked. I hated them.
I felt deeply violated and intimately transgressed. They were controlling my body against my will. I walked around with a hole where my self-esteem used to be, feeling humiliated and ashamed of what they had done to me. And they justified this assault on my identity with the adage: “It’s for your own good.”
I wasn’t fooled. It was about power. One, or in this case two people forcing themselves on an unwilling child as if she was an object they were free to play with.
Consent and respecting others’ boundaries begins at birth. Children, women, all people - and I will add animals - are not dolls, to be dressed up and toyed with. Their body is their body. Their hair is their hair. Just as their feelings, beliefs, and thoughts should not be violated. To force someone to look, act, and think like someone else is a kind of psychic violence. Who one is is sacrosanct.
With genuine love, there is acceptance of the other person as they are, and delight in their individuality.
If you haven’t visited the books that held a special place in your heart as a child lately, have a look now. You may find in reflection that they affirmed you at a profound level, be it that they gave you a place for your imagination to soar and grow, or that they created a safe place where you found acceptance and a reflection of your values. And that the same books that spoke to you then will speak to you now - possibly in a new, richer voice.
Comments