I landed in Florida a little over three months ago now. I moved here to build a new pathway with my fiance, Govian. After a year and a half of being an Atlantic ocean away from each other, we finally came up with a way to create a life that balances both of our passions in the same place.
And now?
We are living in a renovated tour bus on lush green lands nearby to a beautiful beach, training each day to create circus acts to go out in the world and travel with. My days are spent dancing in the air now in various aerial acts. My evenings are spent by firesides, painting and writing, and having real time to create more than I probably ever have. As an artist, I couldn’t ask for more than to spend my hours in this way.
Oh, and I shaved my head!
The hair? I
donated it to a wonderful charity called ‘Locks of Love’ that use donated hair
to make wigs for children with cancer. Govian boldly shaved
it all it off for me one evening in our tour bus home. As the hair fell away, I physically
felt years of weight and history fall away with it. In all honesty, it was one
of the most liberating experiences of my life.
The moment that really caught me about the whole experience was the surprising amount of fear that came to me in the moments just before we started the process. My head was filled with the casting directors that might now reject me, or the modelling jobs I may no longer have access to. Most superficially of all, I was worried I would look terrible. I realized in those moments how heavily invested I was in my own appearance.
Thankfully, my ugly
duckling fears were lifted away by the gentle encouragement of Govian, who could
see past the vanity and the social conditioning I was gripping on to. As I felt
the cut away of my long ponytail to be sent on to ‘Locks of Love’, I let go, and
listened only to the buzz of the razor as it danced around my skull.
Since donating, I
have been amazed at the love people have shared. Some even going as far
as making financial donations to the charity I gave it all to! As for me, I no
longer hide behind my hair as I once did. I am exposed, and cannot rely on my long red mane for approval any
longer. In all honesty, I've never felt more confident or more feminine. It’s
a whole lot easier to get ready, too!
So why are we so
hung up on how we look? What lies within us that we feel the need to be any
more than we are at any time? What counts as ‘more’, in any case?
Currently, a close dancing friend of mine is frustrated in her audition experiences. Irrespective of her talent, years of training and the steeliest determination I have seen in anyone in a long time, she is often cut from castings because the panels are choosing the ‘model look’ dancer rather than the one who can do the job to a higher standard. My friend is utterly beautiful, no doubt. But the girl with the 6-pack abs is so often the one who gets the job, regardless of her level of skill. To my friend, this is the ultimate frustration of which I can totally understand. Is this the stage we have arrived at now? Do we really value looks over talent to the extent that we would lower the quality of a production for it? Are these the shows we want to pay tickets for?
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My arms are not as
ballerina thin as they were when I graduated from dancing college. But they are now strong enough to lift me high into the air on circus apparatus. My thighs are thicker, mostly with hard worked for
muscle but admittedly with a little fat also. The very fat that I used to fight against, but now recognize
as an integral part of my body make-up. This doesn’t mean that I leap for joy
every time I see myself without clothing, or that I don’t see the same flaws we
all suffer on occasion. But it does mean I have less interest in bullying myself for
those flaws. In short, I don’t
want to skip meals to chase bones any longer.
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Here’s to your physical liberté! Enjoy every moment, muscle and thread of it.
Yours truly,
Helen Victoria.
#liberté #journeytolibertys #freedomblogger
#liberté #journeytolibertys #freedomblogger