I was meeting some old friends on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. We happened to duck into a very ritzy little bistro for lunch; a place that just happened to be jam packed with some of the most wealthy and glamorous and powerful people on the planet. I recognized some literary and theatre celebrities, and the place just reeked of society, darling. There I was in my denim jacket and infinity scarf and black pants and boots and cross-body bag, and my friends were tourists from Sweden and we were all clean and presentable human beings but this joint was POSH.
Their menu outside only posted the food and prices, so really, I had no idea.
I realized upon stepping inside the cafe that I was in a different world. As I said, I immediately spotted various big names having a power lunch, and every woman in the place was incredibly, extremely thin, drowning in jewelry and carrying bags that cost more than half a year’s mortgage payments (and I know this for sure, because the whole phenomenon of obscenely priced bags fascinates me, and I pay attention to these brands). There were numerous victims of Restalyne and Botox abuse — top lips plumped beyond recognition as lips, faces stretched tight and shiny, skin raw pink from chemical peels, brows lifted to the hairline. It was a kind of shocking spectacle and one I have never seen before. I’ve seen money, and I have seen society, but never up this close and never at this high a level. I felt a bit like an anthropologist as I observed the amazing spectacle without overtly staring at anyone.
Then I saw her. She was sitting at the bar looking at me. She was tiny and brittle, not an ounce of extra fat on her, dressed in something so blindingly chic I have forgotten it — except that I remember her heavy polished gold chains and fitted buttery leather jacket. Her hair was cropped in a most elegant way and her face and make-up perfect. She was over sixty and had a few wrinkles, but had had work done and her eyes were unnaturally wide and her mouth pulled a bit too wide, as injectable fillers will do. Her posture was perfect. i took all of this in in seconds and almost gasped when I saw her expression. She was staring at me with a look of total and unmistakable contempt, not even trying to hide her disapproval of everything about me and not looking away when I met her eye. I was shocked for a moment but I’m not an idiot, I know the judgment of this class of people (I grew up with some of them), and I know how I look in her eyes: fat (the inexcusable crime of it!), poor (of course I’m not poor at all except in that particular context), unacceptable, disgusting. She radiated this. She radiated it at me like an arrow shot from a quiver.
The anthropologist part of me was astonished, filing the experience away for future consideration in my bulging file of Human Social Behavior. The Fat American in me was offended and defensive. But as your Faithful PB, I was intrigued. I immediately wondered, “If I wanted to have some influence in this woman’s life and community as a religious leader, what would I have in my closet — what LOOK could I put together — to address her in her own setting?”
Is not ministry about feeling called to have influence in the world?
I wondered if I could have influence in this woman’s world, or if I am simply too (to her) bumpkinish, frumpy, unchic and inconsequential.
It would depend on who introduced us. It would depend if she knew my work and achievements (maybe). It would depend if she has any respect at all for the life of the mind: she may or may not. If she does not, she will never hear me. Which to me is a challenge! I don’t think it’s that woman’s job to meet me where I am, to see my inner beauty and value and that sort of thing. The whole point to me is that I am the minister, I am the woman of God, and it is therefore my job to meet her where SHE is, to love her shallow, contemptuous little self as best I can (which was not very well at first glance, I’ll tell ya) and to try to find a way to bridge cultural and societal gaps to be able to form a relationship with her.
I think the nicest black suit I have (not very nice, and not actually a suit) with very high heels, impeccable hair and make-up, lots of corseting and nice jewelry might get me a hearing with this kind of woman. To me, that’s what this blog is about. It’s about acknowledging that we want to get a hearing with all kinds of God’s children, and that the way we present ourselves opens or closes doors before we open our mouths.
Be ye wise as serpents and gentle as doves, and have ye at least one outfit in your closet that would get you a hearing with someone like this woman. Because she may desperately need the message and ministry you have to give, and if not her personally, you may need and want to have some influence with some interest or community she represents. You might want to enjoy working with her on a project of some sort. You might want to get to know the possibly awesome lady she is under all that Chanel. You can’t get your message heard by this kind of person looking like a (fat) slob. And as much as it rankles me to accept that my body size was the cause of her contempt, and much less so my attire (if I had been tall and model slim, I don’t know that she would have cast the steely glare upon me), that’s the world in which we live and serve.
When I am uber critical of what seems to my dear pigeons as a perfectly acceptable manner of dress, remember that I am always thinking of the way we are seen, read and regarded either consciously or unconsciously by the public. My job is to mediate between the worlds of insular clergy attitudes (“God loves everyone! We’re all beautiful!”) and the rest of the world (“God, what a mess”). If we want to influence the world, we must not expect the world to come to us with our own enlightened attitudes* already formed, right?
Go be beautiful.
Peace.
Bang.
xoxo MWAH!
*I was going to put this in quotes, but I won’t. We’re not as enlightened as we like to believe, for one, and then there’s the whole argument around aesthetics and Beauty as a transcendent value, but I need to get to Home Depot so I won’t get into that now. xoxo PB
What contempt. On your part. You are projecting your own feelings onto her. You have no idea what she was thinking, what her expression meant. What a self centered response. Perhaps she could minister to you.
[Hey Rebekah, I think you can trust me a little bit more to be a reliable witness in this case. There are certain expressions that most human beings recognize as contempt. Let me do a blow-by-blow for you: swivel on her bar stool, looking toward the door for someone she’s going to meet. Catches sight of me, freezes. Raises eyebrow a bit, presses lips together in disapproval. Looks me slowly up and down, then freezes eyes on me in glare of disgust. Did you hear about the lady in Texas who was handing out notes instead of candy to fat kids who Trick-Or-Treated at her house? Yea, the notes apparently critiqued parents for their children’s obesity. This is the culture we live in. As to your suggestion that maybe this woman could minister to me, sure she could. Anyone can minister to anyone. That’s a whole ‘nuther conversation. – PB]
Hmmm. I read this post with great interest, as I also live, move, and have my being among a wide spectrum of people with all different degrees of privilege. In addition, I have a perfectly adorable set of hackles that rises when I perceive a particular look or tone of voice. The issue of what to wear to approach people who (in my own words) don’t just push my buttons but the entire fabric and notions department is a difficult one and well worth discussing. To my mind, it’s not about dressing for them. Speaking for myself, I don’t think there’s anything I could borrow, buy, or dig out of the back of my closet to impress someone who’s convinced I don’t belong. [“Convinced I don’t belong.” Yes, that. That’s where I’m most fascinated, is in that place, that predicament. Do we stay away? Try to “pass” or “pass muster?” Storm the barricades? Analyze the situation through the anti-oppression lens and intellectualize it? Pray for folks? WHAT? I love my friend Donna Spencer Collins’ benediction which goes, “We belong to God, God belongs to us and we belong to each other.” How to remain faithful to that in spaces where someone is convinced we don’t belong? – PB] That said, I could wear a nice navy wool sheath dress and blazer, make sure my pumps had new heels and a shine, and do a few other things to look my best.
If it’s only about appearance, however, I don’t think I’d have a chance unless I took some time to sit with my own (considerable) prickliness. I’m so prickly I’ve sent several varieties of cacti home in tears. I’d really have to be in touch with the reasons why I felt bad around this person before I dared enter her space. [Yes, that’s a good point. I had definitely entered this woman’s space in a way that she was broadcasting was entirely unacceptable to her. It’s fun to think about her “display” as somewhat equivalent to a peacock’s display — when someone spreads their tailfeathers like that, does it attract or repel? All I did was meet her gaze with my best “Don’t you look at me in that tone of voice” expression.- PB]
“….as much as it rankles me to accept that my body size was the cause of her contempt, and much less so my attire (if I had been tall and model slim, I don’t know that she would have cast the steely glare upon me)…”
I’m intrigued that you could judge that her contempt for you (if that’s what it was and was directed toward you) was based on your size and not that your handbag cost less than a midsized car. Maybe she was listening to a phone conversation on an earpiece and was appalled by what she’d just been told. [I am so tempted to get my camera out and re-live the moment in slo-mo, so you could all watch the swivel on the bar stool, the slow appraisal up and down every inch of my self, the set mouth, etc. I don’t know that it was the chub but I presume that had something to do with it, as my outfit wasn’t sloppy or radically unfashionable. My purse is actually quite nice. Not designer, but very well-made. I grew up around this kind of money, if I may tip my hand a bit. I think my educated guess is probably fairly safe to trust. Of course I could be wrong. That would be fine, too. I still appreciate the questions the encounter raised.- PB]
To answer your question about connecting with someone from a radically different social sphere—I’d be neat, well-groomed, my clothing would fit and flatter, I’d add a witty accessory. I wouldn’t be able (or willing) to purchase a wardrobe just to fit in there. I would make the same effort to connect that I would with anyone, and if I’m rejected at that level I’d say a prayer for her well-being, then c’est la vie. [Bingo. – PB]
It strikes me that being heard is an important reason for a professional to present herself in a contextually appropriate way in her professional arena. But you did not have an appointment with her or her company – I’m bracketing off whether anyone can know what another thinks. I know you know what you felt and experienced. What this leaves me with is the rules for living in my skin every day. I won’t leave the house in the heels and vicious suits I have everyday because I might run into some of the very wealthy, classist, biased, whatever folk who live up the hill from me. Some days I’ll leave the house in jeans or shorts or a frayed sweater and I might run into someone with whom I’ll interact as priest or professor. I deserve and demand respect no matter what I’m wearing. [Absolutely. The point for me with this encounter was that it prompted me to imagine how I might dress IF I had had a professional obligation with this woman. – PB]
wow, did I read this too fast? What I got was the reminder to not judge people based on what they look like. And it goes both ways. I needed to hear this, and thought it was well articulated. Have a blessed weekend darlin PB. Chin up!
Thank you PB! That is very thought-provoking. It is very disconcerting being looked at like that, but I love that you have turned your experience into a useful meditation and then shared it with others. I guess someone like a (religious) minister to a head of state would have similar things to consider.
I doubt PB was simply projecting her own feelings onto someone else. Everything about this blog tells me that she’s very self-aware, so I expect she interpreted “the look” correctly, especially if she made eye contact. We are social creatures, shaped by evolution to be able to read intention. Yes, we make mistakes. But I don’t question the African-American woman who suspects she is followed in department stores because of her race. I also don’t doubt that those who are overweight recognize when a sustained look of contempt is about body shaming.
PB – thank you for this thoughtful reflection. You are far more generous than I. [Well, thanks. I don’t know how so, but I’ll take your word for it!- PB]
I feel this whole drama as I read it this morning. I grew up in 2 worlds- the world of immigrants from Norway and the world of social elite. Trust your gut on this one. I feel the pressure to conform to a certain standard – change my hair color, lose weight, work out. I was priest for a whole congregation of both classes when I decided I could not keep up a front. Yes I can dress appropriately and be clean – but unless I could let go of “my tapes” (not saying these are yours) – I would be a mess.
And hey PB – you can always flash your Harvard class ring at them. Surprise what a quick reassessment that will cause. If you even want to play that game.
This article made me think of this other article. I do have the power suit and I keep an eye out for designer goods at my local consignment shop. There’s reasons to know your audience.
http://talkingpointsmemo.com/cafe/why-do-poor-people-waste-money-on-luxury-goods
really good article Bee T – I live in a small NH town – one tends to start looking a tad LLBeanish after living here awhile – when I go to Toronto and go into a “good” store, I find salespeople generally ignore me – this makes me laugh in a way – I find myself thinking “I’ve never had to work retail” which is snotty but it’s a defense after being judged – I could totally visualize the scenario PB sketched and I am 100% sure her assessment of it is correct –
Deary me – how ugly that you had to experience that contempt!
Used to think that people could relate easily up or down the class scale, but I’ve come to think that actually we’re probably pretty thoroughly ourselves and can’t really successfully ‘fake it’ to be something we’re not. I think I’m 100% middle class and don’t feel comfortable or relate particularly intimately outside that sphere. I can be polite, friendly, develop good working relations etc, but I don’t think it’s a co-incidence that every single one of my friends has at least an undergraduate degree.
http://talkingpointsmemo.com/cafe/why-do-poor-people-waste-money-on-luxury-goods?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+tpm-news+(TPMNews)
The evil side of me kinda wishes you’d rushed up to her calling in your best stage projection voice, “Mary? Mary! So good to see you dear! How have you BEEN?!? Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re not Mary. You look so much alike, but Dear Mary hasn’t had nearly the work done, of course.”
Like I said… my evil side…