Tag: goatee

Ode to the Goatee

One year. It’s been an entire year since I last shaved off my goatee. When I first decided to go one day, then two, then three, then a whole week on what was essentially a whim, I had no idea where I was headed. My nerves were so shot by the end of that first week that I couldn’t even imagine going an entire month much less a year. I couldn’t imagine doing any of the things that I have now done while sporting my own unique version of a goatee. It only seems appropriate that I stop for a moment to reflect. This is my Ode to the Goatee.

Not that I have decided to ditch it, because I haven’t. The entire way through I have woken up with the open question: to keep it or not to keep it? While that question was quite loaded for much of the way, these days it is more of a curiosity floating around in the background. In the foreground I hardly think about it anymore. It’s just a part of me, no different from any other part of me. As I wonder about whether or not I want to keep my goatee now, what comes up is the opposite question of whether or not I want to resume all of the time consuming plucking, trimming, and shaving. Not that my goatee doesn’t require maintenance. It’s just that that maintenance is actually, well… fun. 

Not too long after being set free, my goatee decided to take a turn. It whirled back up toward its roots, expressing itself by creating a curly cue. “Free at last! Look at how I can flip upside down and over!! Doesn’t it make you smile?! Don’t I look like a magical creature?!” She didn’t whisper, she shouted. She didn’t hide, she made herself as big as she could muster. She wasn’t angry, she was joyful. She didn’t push away, she invited you to look closer, to come closer. “Come and see me! Let’s get to know one another,” she excitedly exclaimed like a newborn who had just entered the world. 

Did anyone bite? I can’t say for sure what effect it has had on those who have or have not approached me. I can only observe that as time has passed, people have seemed to shy away less. No doubt that was a reflection of my own growing comfort level with myself. That nobody has dared to ask me directly about my goatee hardly matters. The only thing that matters is whether or not I accepted my goatee’s invitation. And that I did. I’ve let her grow to her heart’s content- about 6 inches long to date. I’ve tended her each morning, encouraging her own unique expression… often laughing, smiling, beholding, appreciating. I would like to think that in turn my goatee smiles upon me, daring to show up as I am. 

We have become one, me and my goatee. That dread about the maintenance involved if I were to choose not to keep her is really only a secondary thought. The truth is that now I am having a hard time even thinking about not keeping her. If I were to shave her off, I know I’d more than miss her- I would feel like I had lost a part of me. Of course it’s just hair, right? It would grow back, but still! I suppose she will always be with me, no matter what. 

I used to think that I would be done with this experiment when it no longer mattered to me whether or not I let my goatee be. When it mattered not whether I chose to let it grow or not, I would be healed. It never occurred to me that actual healing would come when I truly fell in love with her. Not in any superficial sort of way, but with that deep understanding and appreciation that comes with being in an unconditional and allowing relationship. Healing comes in the recognition of and gratitude for our shared uniqueness, our inseparability no matter the time or the distance or the difference, our interdependence bolstered by our individuality, and our grand excursion into the relative so that we might experience once again the mind-blowing grandeur and mystery of our Oneness. 

Thank you, Goatee, for being my companion, my teacher, my guide, my guru. It would make me happy to watch you flaunt yourself for another day. Have at it, Dear. I love you. 

Neverland

We live in Neverland, or so we have convinced ourselves. This could never happen. That could never happen. I could never do that. We will never do that. And on and on. But is it true? Who decides what is possible and what is not? We so often point to the “system” these days and throw our hands up in the air. Everyone knows that the system is the problem. Although we don’t agree on the nature of that problem, we do agree that it simply cannot be changed. The course of history is set in stone. All I’m asking is… are we sure?

So many “I could never do that’s,” so little time. It seems to me that I am not wasting any! This past week I have been on a, let’s call it hectic, adventure running here and there. It wasn’t meant to be quite as hectic as it has turned out, but then again- that’s life! Sometimes. I was supposed to head down to Houston to celebrate my parents’ birthdays, squeeze in a few business meetings, and catch up with friends. Then I would hop a plane to Colorado for some business with the U.S. Department of Energy before returning home to Vermont. That was the plan.

Let’s start with the fact that I was very nervous about this plan. My nervousness wasn’t based on my itinerary, per se, it was based on one simple fact- I still have a goatee. If you need a recap as to why, revisit my post “Hairy.” When I wrote that post I was early into growing out my goatee and still had a long list of things I could never do with it ahead of me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to face those fears or not, and I gave myself full permission not to. Here is a partial list of things I could never do:

I could never interview for a job with a goatee.

I could never get on an airplane with a goatee.

I could never go to Houston with a goatee.

I could never face my parents with a goatee.

I could never go to an important business meeting with a goatee.

I’m sure I could list a million things, because the truth is that just about every other thing gives me some form of angst. The thing is that I just didn’t know how deeply ingrained this effort to hide myself has been, nor how successful it’s been. So you can see that this trip invoked a whole slew of my deepest fears. I honestly wasn’t sure if or how I would face them. True to course, I had a complete panic attack the day before I was supposed to leave. Understand that my goatee is now quite prevalent. It’s unavoidable. It makes me highly visible in the exact way that I don’t like to be. People notice me. Ugh.

Mostly what happens is that at first people see my hair hair (the hair growing from my head rather than my face & chin) which is blonde and quite long at this point. Due to that and my stature they immediately register “woman.” Then they catch sight of my goatee and there is this visible moment of complete disconnect. It’s simple cognitive dissonance. They naturally go to their memory banks for an image that they can utilize to make sense of what they are seeing… and there is none. Nope, no images of women with goatees in there for most folks. I get it. It’s interesting to watch it. I am learning not to be bothered by it. It’s nothing personal. Uncomfortable, yes. Personal, no. It gives me an opportunity to work on holding an empathetic space for an expanded sense of possibilities. It gives others, of course, an expanded sense of possibilities for their memory banks. All of that is interesting and doable.

But then there are the wounded parts of myself. The parts of myself that have faced judgement and rejection are not quite so empathetic. That part of myself wants to crawl under a rock, or perhaps kill you. That part of myself feels the sting if that look of confusion turns into any sort of judgy stare or even glare… which on occasion it has. One might ask why in the hell I would subject myself to this. Those were, in fact, the first and only words out of my father’s mouth, “Why are you doing this?” Sometimes, I wonder that too! Yet I know why. So here is your answer. I am doing this to allow the wounded parts of myself space to be felt, expressed, seen, and healed. I am lucky that I have such a tangible means through which to invoke all of the small ideas about the world (and therefore me) that oppressed me in the first place.

Why on earth we humans decided that women are not beautiful as they naturally occur is beyond me. I don’t understand this. Growing up in Houston, Texas and the South in general comes with certain expectations if not demands when it comes to how females are supposed to appear. I never felt comfortable filling that image. This is mostly because I find it to be unnatural, when in fact I appreciate the beauty of raw nature. I think women are beautiful – more beautiful- without all of the masks. I was trained to wear makeup at age 13. I won’t even get into hairstyling. Then there are the clothes, the mannerisms, the not being too assertive or too smart, and on and on and on. Yuck. I found it oppressive, and confusing.

Yet by the time I arrived on the East Coast to start college I would never even think of walking out of my dorm room without a full face of makeup on. That is, until I noticed that for the first time in my life, most of the other women on campus were not wearing makeup. Hallelujah!!! Let freedom ring!!! I stopped it all immediately… the makeup, the hairstyling, all of it. By my junior year I had cut my hair boyishly short. Returning to Houston in this condition was, well, nerve racking to say the least. This is to say that I have dealt with this anxiety before. While nobody had a problem identifying me as a woman on the East Coast, I was routinely asked if I was in the wrong bathroom back in Houston. Ugh. Why can’t you see me??? Do you understand that the messaging is that women are not beautiful just as they are? This is to say that we are not good enough. While I think we have made progress on this front over the last 25 years, we are not there yet. So, yes, I am growing out my goatee as a declaration. Here it is: “I am beautiful just as I am.” Well, that, and… “I don’t give a damn if you don’t agree with me!” Mind you, I have to muster a lot of gumption day in and day out to hold this messaging in my mind. The world has done quite a good job of convincing me otherwise.

Now for that list of never coulds. I have chosen one by one, step by step, to keep facing them. Two weeks ago I went to a job interview with goatee a flowing. This wasn’t just any job interview either. This was THE interview… you know, the one for the perfect job that I have been jockeying for for three years now- a teaching job in the Architecture Department at Middlebury College. Granted, the interview was just for a short, temporary gig for Winter Term. But still. If I didn’t pass this test then I would’t be considered for a permanent position later on. My every last nerve went berserk- complete panic attack. There is some part of me though that is ready and willing to fight for me, to stand up for me, to take back complete control over my own narrative. This part of me said, “You are doing it.” So I did. Although I do have to admit to crying en route to my interview. But you know what, in spite of that initial awkward moment of cognitive dissonance, the interview went great. And… I got the job!

Next stop, Houston. Passing the job interview test helped some, but it didn’t stop me from having a panic attack all over again. In these moments I just stare at myself in the mirror trying to be o.k. with it all and wondering if I can. Then I remind myself that the point is to be uncomfortable, to get the very reflections from others that I am trying to move past. This helps me to invite those reflections rather than trying to hide from them. After some serious deliberations I psyched myself up to move ahead with it. Then the storm came. Tropical Storm Imelda that is. The night before I was supposed to leave, the storm was predicted to make landfall and flood Houston. It is impossible to play dice with the weather. No matter what you do, you loose. I ended up changing my flight to a day later in hopes that the worst of it would be over by then. Of course that didn’t happen. Instead the storm stalled out and arrived a day late and the very thing that I was trying to avoid- getting stranded in Newark- happened. Nature will have her way.

At first my flight was only delayed, or so they thought. I took my extra time at the airport to pull out my computer and start something that I have been meaning to start for some time now, to the point that it had been nagging me like a pesky five year old for days. Sitting there with the Manhattan skyline in full view, I started to write my book. Yes, you heard it here first, folks. Book is in progress. Then they cancelled my flight.

Fortunately, I have friends in Jersey- Mary, my best friend from college, to be specific. She lives in Princeton so I texted her to ask what our plans were for the evening. It turns out that we were heading to Philly for a screening of her husband Jim’s trailer for the movie he is working on. Take that, Imelda! Actually, here is what I really think. I really think that nature takes very good care of us and this was a case in point. Not only did I get to see one of my best friends, but I also got to see Jim’s family who I hadn’t seen since they got married, well, let’s just say some time ago! It was so great. They were all so, so happy to see me and we had a marvelous time together. And it was all so damn comforting, which is exactly what I needed in that moment. The following day I was supposed to be attending the climate strike in Houston with one of my close friends there. I instead went to the one in Princeton. No harm, no foul. And for the record, go, Greta!

As I walked through the Princeton campus to catch the Dinky (train) back to Newark, something dawned on me. Just the day before I had sat looking out at the Manhattan skyline recalling how much I love NYC and have felt at home there since my days at Princeton, even though I have never lived there. Then I ended up at Princeton, which most definitely has been and feels like home to me. Now I was heading back to Houston, the home where I grew up and have spent the majority of my life. From there I would be heading back to Denver, Colorado, which is my family’s home and where my grandparents had always lived during my life. This trip was quite literally walking me back through my entire history, step by step. Such a strange turn of events. Yet it mirrored exactly what I have been doing, walking myself back step by step by step.

When I landed in Houston, what can I say, there it was right out of the gate…. the glare. The glare of a white middle aged male as I walked past him to get to the rental car shuttle. He turned his head a full 180 degrees keeping his eyes on me as I walked past just to make sure that he maximized his full glaring opportunity. I paid no mind. Look, Houston, I know it isn’t everybody, but the truth is that you have some work to do still. You have some work to do on multiple fronts, in fact- social, economic, and ecological to name a few. I get to say this and call attention to it because I am a native. I have earned that right having called Houston home for the last 50 years. It’s true that I have more to say to you than to most places, but that is because I know you best. We are family. I see you for who you are, as you are, in your naked truth. Yes, you are naturally beautiful and full of potential, but as I shared with my greenie friends at brunch on Sunday, it is way past time for you to face your shadows so that your true beauty can shine through. I am not convinced that you will, but I’ll keep cheering for you- from a safe distance.

Most people don’t know what to say about my goatee, so they choose to say nothing. That is how most people, and my friends in particular, show their support. They choose not to make a big deal about it. I am still trying to figure out how to open up conversation about it myself. For the time being, I also choose not to say anything and proceed as I normally would. But you know what has been the best reaction so far, besides the complete loving support that I have received from Shannon, that is? My very good friend Amanda leaned over to me during brunch amidst a whole table of friends and whispered “I love your scruffy.” I just had to say that. Thank you, Amanda! That put a huge smile in my heart.

Finally the last leg of this little adventure landed me in Colorado where I have been doing some important work with the U.S. Department of Energy. I am still in Colorado as I write. All I can say is that I was so tired by the time that I got here that I couldn’t even begin to care anymore… at least not about my goatee! I care deeply about the work that we are doing and feel so grateful that I am able to make a meaningful contribution and that I am trusted to do so. I have many friends in the DOE and you know what, not a single one of them seemed to care one iota about my goatee. They cared quite a lot, however, about what I had to say. They also care quite a lot about me personally and how things are going in my life. The feeling and respect is mutual. And it is this way because we all show up with authenticity and genuine care for each other and for the planet.

Nature is as it is. I am as I am. You are as you are. All three statements are related. I noticed something as I walked through Princeton, then Houston, then a short hike this afternoon in Colorado. I noticed the air. The air is distinct and familiar to me in each place. In each place it has a particular feel, a particular buoyancy, a particular smell. Each one was familiar to me and each one felt like home to me in its own way. That is because the air of each place is embodied in me. It is embodied in me in the way that my body has adapted to it. It is embodied in me in the fact that it has delivered breath and life to me. It is embodied in me in the way that it has delivered molecules that have literally been incorporated into my own body. There is no escaping that we are one with this place and with each other.

Now to end this little story with my original line of questioning. Are we sure that everything is set in stone? I notice that I am evolving, even though I am fundamentally the same person that I have always been and even though I am interdependent on the places and the people who have informed my life. I notice that Houston is evolving, even if not as quickly as I think it must. I notice that humanity is evolving, even if it looks like we are moving backwards these days. More than anything, I notice that we have written the rules that guide what we call “the system.” Nobody outside of ourselves decided that women should wear makeup and should not have goatees. We did that. If you still think that women should not have goatees, all I can say to you is that I have one- quite naturally- and I am a woman. Guess what? We have full power to rewrite ourselves, to rewrite the rules that we have written, to drop what no longer serves us, and to write a new ending/beginning. How do we do so? Step one: face our shadows. Do whatever it takes. Grow out that goatee (metaphorically speaking) if necessary!