When I was a child, no older than 5, my parents took me to the Big City for my first trip to a real bonifideshopping mall. We lived in a small podunk town a few hours away so this was a pretty big freaking deal. Seriously the town was small. Heck a few years back I had the chance to visit it again (for a funeral) and not much had changed. The biggest news was that the town finally got its first electric street light. They had a parade and everything to celebrate the thing — some welcoming of the modern-age I guess. Funny thing is that they didn’t even really need it. There was still no traffic there, but I guess they just really, really wanted one. Why? Well all the other towns had them. Why should they be left behind?
The mall was huge. It was my first trip to Toronto. I remember being in awe looking at all the people rushing about, and at all of the stores and stuff to buy. I held on to my mom’s hand tightly — I did not want to get lost in such a vast sea of people.
Then there she was — this beautiful punk rock chick. I still remember her to this day. She was wearing a leather jacket with some pins and paint-pen graffiti on it; stating names of ideas or bands that I was too young to have been introduced to. Her skin was pale, and her nose was pierced. She had this kick-ass Siouxsie Sioux style haircut, but the outer part of her hair was died blue; while the inner part of her hair was died jet black.
My eyes grew as big as saucers. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I knew that I liked it. I tugged on my moms dress and pointed to the girl as I said “Pretty!”.
My mom and dad carefully explained to me that was not pretty.
It has been over 25 years now, and I have got to tell you… I still think that she was pretty. I still think that blue hair is awesome.
Over these years my family has told me that it was not; my school system has told me that it was not; my religious institution has told me that it was not; hell, there were even times where I tried to convince myself that it was not. But you know what!? It is pretty. At least I think so, and there is nothing that can be done about it.
I am who I am. I embrace that now. If you are a Christian and you think that we are all “fearfully and wonderfully made” then I do not understand why my being myself is such a distasteful thing to your God.
If Buddhist — we are all individual expressions of the Divine experiencing itself in new and unique ways through us. This then is life experiencing itself through me at this moment, and at this moment it is really enjoying art, diversity, and kick-ass punk girls with blue hair.
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