Today I went to our Sarasota Farmer's Market. Going to the market this time of year is akin to visiting the Detroit Farmers Market on January 13th. Our seasons are reversed - not too much is growing in Florida this time of year, so the produce is scarce.
But I went because I always seem run into someone I know and today I saw a woman I hadn't seen since radiation treatments over a year ago. She is an artist with a little booth at the market. She looked great and was doing great. What struck me was she was wearing a light pink nylon t-skirt and she had had a mastectomy, so it was very obvious she only had one breast.
I have to be honest, I was a little rattled but amazed and proud of her that she was so blatantly displaying her story. I felt like a coward. I would never be brave enough to draw attention to myself that way. When this woman lost her hair, she went around bald - I wore my wig.
This got me thinking. I consider myself avant guard, but only within the parameters of 'acceptable' avantguardness. Do you know what I mean by this? It's certain look of women that implies a flair and forward thinking - sort of hippie stylish, but not over the top (no tie-dyes for sure). This woman seems not to care what or how people think of her. Why do we make these distinctions - or is it just me? Within some communities she would be considered a heroine, or at least held in high regard, whereas I would blend into the woodwork as a nondescript clothes horse.
This woman asserts freedom with her bearing. Who am I trying to be, and why can't I be who I am? Or am I being who I am, and that's it? Why do I always quest for more - and is that such a bad thing if I do?
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