In the quest of a novel to enjoy on the deck in these lovely spring afternoons I picked up a paperback at the thrift store. The cover talked about a secret language between two women inscribed on a Chinese fan.
But by twenty pages in the description of foot binding had me nauseous. I put it down and
shuddered.
What is it in the dynamic between men and women that allows such self destructive behavior? It tears open my heart that mothers inflicted such cruelty on their little girls, for the purpose of finding a husband. The practice made walking difficult, proving that she could not do manual labor. How is that a good thing?
People in a different country and time frame are aghast at the practice that was ubiquitous during the Song
Dynasty in the 11th Century. But there are other bone chilling endeavors that have been passed down through generations in the name of reshaping the human body.
I wonder how many industries would crumble if loveliness were not measured in skin and shape. I can think of five without breaking a sweat. Perhaps I can do nothing to lessen the pain of millions of daughters on another continent. But I can
choose to look for beauty in the people around me in ways that do not succumb to needles and strips of cloth.
