My Body is Not my Enemy

My body isn't my enemy. It's not. 

I'm not at all sure how to go about writing this blog post. I have so many thoughts (read incredibly strong convictions) and emotions bubbling up inside of me that need an outlet. I'm only 36, and yet I have been working at reconciliation with my body for roughly 3 decades. I cannot remember a time as a child or young person in which I did not feel at war with my body. 

The war is over. 

Not because one side triumphed, but because I/we realized that there are no sides at all. My body is not an entity outside of my "self." 

I wrote an article for The Mennonite quite some time ago on the topic of children and praying with their bodies. In it I draw from the work of Jane Vennard when I say "...the valuing of soul over body has also created a body-negative culture in North America, where bodies are seen as “beasts of burden” that need to be starved into thinness or whipped into shape."Our culture hates our bodies. I know that seems like a ludicrous thing to say given the attention that we lavish upon them. We have creams, ointments, masks, waxes, tanning lotions and beds, and programs to keep them in line. Surely we love our bodies, perhaps too much? 

I don't think so. 

Think about loving a child. If I were to daily look my child in the eyes and tell her that she is not good enough, that she is too fat, or that she is stupid, or that she needs less hair/more hair, should be taller/shorter, should get off her lazy ass, should simply not be whatever she currently is, then I would have my child removed from my care. This is not love, this is abuse. We abuse our bodies. We abuse them when we consistently and constantly judge ourselves, when we berate ourselves, when we speak as if our bodies were somehow not part of us (my body is sensitive, my body hurts etc.), when we try with every ounce of our being and every penny in our pockets to make our bodies something that they are not, we are abusive.

I grew up believing that abusing my body was healthy and good. This is what North American culture taught me. I learned that if I am sad and I begin to cry, I should stifle that impulse, wipe the tears away and suck it up. I learned that if I experience pain in my knee, I should ignore it and push through the pain. I learned that if my body doesn't look a certain way, I should fight it with every weapon I can find. I learned that every natural impulse or characteristic that I have is a problem to overcome. I have fine hair, I should check out a new shampoo. I'm heavy-set, I should try this new  diet. I'm sensitive and anxious, I should take medication. I grow body hair, I should be waxed. I grew up with the idea that my body was a thing, and that thing was a problem. And if I could just solve all the problems then I would be happy and the sun would shine out every orifice (watch a diet or hair commercial, I'm not exaggerating).

What a load of hogwash.

I'm not sure exactly how I've come to that realization. I think mentally I've known for years that this was the case, but it's only in the last few years or so that I've come to truly embrace a different way of viewing the world. My body is me and I am my body. I cannot speak of my body as if it is not in every way connected to my mind/spirit/soul/thoughts/emotions. I love how Margaret Farley talks about "inspirited bodies, embodied spirits" (Farley, Just Love). My body is not something apart from myself that needs to be overcome, my body simply is me. And as I have worked with a Gestalt Pastoral Care minister I've come to realize how ridiculous it is to actually imagine that I can feel something in my heart, and have it not impact my body, or injure some part of my body and not have it impact my entire being.

So if I am a whole being, am I then something to be overcome? Many strains of Christianity would say yes, whole-heartedly. As human beings we are at root, sinful, at root we are a problem that is only overcome through Christ. I am a worm who is nothing unless I am "saved." As Alicia discusses far more eloquently on her blog, many of us have a negative theological anthropology. It is an understanding of the self that begins after "the fall." We are oriented in the world through a lens of sin. But that's not where the story begins. Genesis was written to provide stories of orientation, stories to explain who we are, how we can understand ourselves and God. Genesis is a call to faith that begins...in the beginning. These stories of orientation do not begin with our mistakes, they begin in our goodness, in our createdness. They begin in love.

At my core, I am good. In my entirety. I live in a broken world, and I am a broken person and so my goodness is at times masked by hurt/pain, illness, bad behaviour etc. But none of that changes that I am good. And if I choose a lens through which I see myself as good and beloved, over a lens through which I see a worm who is unworthy (or the cultural lens that says I need cosmetic enhancement), that lens makes all the difference. 

When I see my whole self through the lens of my belovedness, then I am enough. I am not a problem to overcome, I am a person on a journey. When I sense that I am sad, I allow myself to feel sorrow, I weep, and I approach my sadness with compassion. When I sense that I am experiencing some type of physical pain, I approach the pain with curiousity. When I look into a mirror, I simply see me as I am. I do not approach myself with judgement, but with wonder. I do not succeed at this everyday, it's hard work to change lenses entirely. But most days, at the very least, there is no hatred. There is no war.

I ache when I see ads/videos/books that try so hard to convince me that I am a problem. My teeth which are a natural shade of "tooth" are not white enough. My body which naturally grows hair is too hairy. My breasts which are naturally large should stand up taller (a gravitational impossibility). My skin which is naturally white should be more tan. Every single day I am bombarded with people telling me that I have a problem and it needs to be fixed. That I am at war and must be armed for battle. I ache for myself and for every woman, every man, and every child who learns to view the world and themselves through a lens that promotes war against the body, that promotes an understanding of the self that is divided and in perpetual conflict.

It's funny, that often people think of God as judgmental, or exacting, or demanding. I think we do a pretty spectacular job of that all on our own. And when I feel completely disheartened and overwhelmed by our warring ways, I meditate. And God meets me. She meets me under a huge oak tree and we sit in the sun and it shines and we shine, and there is peace (no purchase necessary).