Voice of Shite Strikes Again

Remember the Voice of Shite?

That bastard.

Nolie walked in the door after school last week and she wouldn't make eye contact or say anything and we knew something had happened.  That kid is usually talking a mile a minute and physically bouncing off the walls and she just went straight to her room for her half-hour of isolation and screen time.

I was on my way to yoga but I stopped in her room.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

No.

"Okay.  I understand.  But we're going to talk about it later."

More silence.

Later, Addie goes to music class and so E. and I are home alone with Nolie and they are snuggling on the couch and I'm sitting nearby and we're just chatting.  I ask her again what happened, and she shakes her head and says she doesn't want to talk about it.

Uh-oh.  Big pain in there.

I tell her she has to.  She can't keep it inside.  Whatever she has to say we are here and it will be okay.

She buries her face into E.'s chest and begins.

On the bus ride home, Nolie always sits next to an older girl who she really, really likes.  This girl (who seems to us also to be an awesome girl--cool style, big personality, quirky kid) has been great with Nolie in the past; she has complimented her on her outgoing personality and smarts.  And Nolie, being the youngest kid, is also super-excited to be noticed and included by an older girl.

But apparently, on this day, the two of them started talking about bodies, and this girl (who happens to be tall and thin) remarked that not only did Addie and Nolie have different personalities, but they also had very different bodies, and that Addie's was tall and thin, and Nolie's was...

fill in the blank.

Nolie filled in the blank.

Or, rather, the Voice of Shite filled in the blank, with one word:  fat.  Your sister is tall and thin, and you are short and fat.

Nolie couldn't say the words, and she said her friend didn't say the words, but she knew how the blank got filled in.  And how that blank got filled in turned my bright, wickedly funny, beautiful, smart girl into a dull penny convinced of her own worthlessness.

[Please note:  we don't blame the girl, at all.  This was more thoughtless than malicious.  It happens.]

E. and I froze, looked at each other.  E. hugged her tight, and I took a deep breath.

If this had happened a year or two ago, we most likely would have just showered Nolie with affection, told her she wasn't fat, told her how beautiful she was.  And those things would be true.

But I have recently been receiving some education in the school of Body Positivity, and though I'm really new at this, and struggle with my own self-concept sometimes, and the Voice of Shite has his own way with me still, I knew there was a way to talk about this that didn't 1) deny the pain Nolie felt at this encounter, 2) didn't reinforce the idea that "fat" is something bad or shameful, but merely a descriptor like other physical descriptors, 3) might help Nolie see us the way we see her, which is to say she is beautiful, she is a light in our lives, she is a integral part of our family unit and identity, and 4) acknowledges that all of us look different on the outside and that is not a bad thing, that is instead a very, very good thing and it is part of what makes humanity so breathtaking and extraordinary.

Easy-peasy, right?  Kill me now.

But not so hard, either.  I had Angie and Amy's mantra going through my head--"All bodies are good bodies, all bodies are good bodies"--and said that first.  Remember, Nolie?  Remember how we believe that?  That there are so many bodies in the world, and we think they all have worth, regardless of how they look, what they can or cannot do?

Nolie nodded a little, but still sniffed, and burrowed into E. a little deeper.  The Voice of Shite still felt like it was telling the truth.  Not mommy.

So then I reminded her about the Voice of Shite, and how for women especially the Voice of Shite is super clever, and makes us think he is telling the truth about ourselves, but actually he is always telling us lies.  And you know how we can know that?  Because the Voice of Shite feels bad.  It constricts us, shrinks our heart space, robs us of our sense of self.  The truth, on the other hand, feels like light and freedom.  It makes it easier to breathe.  It feels like love.

So which feels true, Nolie?  That you are fat, and fat is bad?  That if you don't look like Addie nobody loves you?

Or:  All bodies are good bodies?  That you are surrounded by love, that your body does amazing things every day, that you and Addie are different people with different lives and paths of possibility spool out in front of each of you in totally unique ways?  And that your beauties are indeed different, but no less amazing because of that?  And that beauty isn't the most important thing, anyway--that there are so many other ways to be of value in the world, that you are intrinsically of value regardless?

We agreed the second choice felt a lot more like the truth.

And there, before my very eyes, re-emerged my daughter.  Instant transformation:  giggling and doing headstands again, sure of herself and her body and her place in our lives.  She's going to get yanked out of that safe space a bunch of times in her life, right?  And I'm still learning what to say, how to model radical self acceptance and love, how to be in front of both of these girls and with myself.  I've messed this up in the past.  But this path feels like a much better way of doing things.  This feels like the truth.