Monthly Archives: August 2022

Shifting models of beauty

The saga of the pandemic continues to have innumerable impacts on people all over the world. It seems that not a day passes in which we don’t hear about some change resulting from the pandemic’s effects. From the exacerbation of mental health disorders and COVID long haulers to people refusing to return to work, the pandemic is leaving its mark.   

One seeming universal change is the great technological revolution available to ordinary people as well as organizations. This technological wizardry gives people the ability to not only communicate with one another and participate in meetings and other group discussions through voice but also visually. The downside to seeing one another is that people can also see themselves. People who didn’t like much about their facial features before the pandemic now spend hours looking at their own faces on various virtual platforms. Some people dealing with this “Zoom dysmorphia” don’t like what they see and decide to do something about it.

One of the most prominent facial features on a virtual meeting platform is the nose. Back in the 70s, one of my White friends had rhinoplasty. Before the surgery, her nose was naturally straight and narrow like many White people’s. After the surgery, the tip of her nose turned up slightly showing more of her open nostrils. I didn’t think that this was an improvement, but I kept my mouth shut.

On the topic of change and noses, I read an interesting article written by Mridula Amin for Quartz titled, Nose jobs: Breaking the beak. Assuming that a large percentage of nose surgeries are for cosmetic rather than health reasons, I was still surprised to see the following statistics:

              2.5 billion: Number of uses of hashtag #nosejobcheck on Tik Tok

              352,555: Nose re-shaping surgeries performed in the US in 2020

              67.9 %: Share of total rhinoplasties that are performed on 19–34-year-olds

I would wager, with a great sense of certainty, that the number of rhinoplasties historically and currently have been to change the nose to be more like what is considered attractive in noses endemic to Caucasians, and that’s why “approximately 66% of nose job patients in the US are white.”

The Quartz article mentions that “ethnic rhinoplasty” is “gaining popularity among people of color that aim to preserve their ethnic identity with their noses.” The idea of ethnic rhinoplasty is confusing to me. If one already has a nose endemic to one’s ethnicity, why is it necessary to have nose surgery to preserve that identity? Confusing or not, it may mean that fewer people of color are wishing that the bridge of their nose was not as flat and that their nostrils were narrower.

In describing what he calls the “Instagram Face” ideal in The New Yorker, celebrity make-up artist Colby Smith says, “We’re talking an overly tan skin tone [for white people], a South Asian influence with the brows and eye shape, an African American influence with the lips, a Caucasian influence with the nose, a cheek structure that is predominantly Native American and Middle Eastern.”

The pandemic changed a lot of things, but it didn’t seem to change the fact that people still want to look like what the majority holds up as models of beauty. It’s at least encouraging, as one can see from Colby Smith’s quote, that today when people opt for facial plastic surgery or choose makeup to emulate what they see as attractive, there is ethnic and racial diversity.

“There Is No Time!”

Depressed because my best friend was not returning to college with me. Broken-hearted after finally realizing that my boyfriend was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Being alone on a train was the best place for me to be after being devastated by these changes in my life that were beyond my control.

The only thing left for me to do was to feel sorry for myself and pray. I prayed for a true friend and companion who would be someone I would love and someone who would love me.

As the train slowed, I saw a guy in faded jeans and gym shoes. When the train stopped, I was looking straight at Charles William Dungy, Jr. When he took the seat next to me, we had our first real conversation.

Arriving a few days before classes started, there was only one place to get something to eat near campus. We were both famished. Looking at the menu, we saw that the prices for just about everything exceeded what money we had. We both worked on campus and wouldn’t have any money until that first check of the quarter arrived. We decided to pool our money and get what we really wanted. We shared a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich and swore it was the best sandwich we’d ever had.

That was the beginning. Fifty-five years later I can say without reservation that Charles William Dungy, Jr. is the best thing that ever happened to me. Fate looked upon me with favor when he came into my life.

He has been gone three years this past February and this is the first time I’ve been able to allow myself to recall and write about the person he was. Until now, I only allowed sneak peeks of who he was, and I fed on comments others made about him. A couple of weeks ago, a colleague from many years ago and I reconnected. In expressing her condolences to me she said that she remembered Charles as distinguished, charming, and a wonderful host. She said that she would always remember a comment that a mutual acquaintance made about him—that he was easy on the eyes.

I used the condolence comments of my dear friend, Caryn, for his Obituary. In remembering  him, she referenced the emptiness formerly filled by his warmth, gentleness, keen intellect, wide-ranging interests and deep devotion to his family.

There is no doubt that he was blessed with good looks, charm, impeccable taste, enormous intelligence, and boundless curiosity and interests. I used to call him Mr. Smithson because his interests were as many and as varied as those housed in the Smithsonian.

His varied interests may make some think that he was a dilettante. He was not. He just didn’t have the time to go as deeply as he would like to go in his many areas of interests. He needed many more lifetimes to satisfy his need to know and desire for experiences.

When he would get frustrated about time pressures, we’d often say, “There is no time!” We picked this expression up after watching the film Killer Angels regarding the Civil War. This was supposedly said by General Robert E. Lee when talking strategy for attacks at Gettysburg just before the war ended.

Charles was the most intelligent person I had ever met. When the rest of us were just learning what a computer was, his job at the university was running data for professors’ research projects. He was indispensable to them at that time as he later was indispensable to our family. He majored in math, physics, and engineering. He also attained an MBA. These degrees were just stops along the way for his prodigious mind.

We will always love him and feel indebted to him for putting his interests in a small pouch that he would only dip into every now and then because he wanted to support me in my career, and he wanted to hoist our son up so he could strive to reach his unlimited potential. This beautiful and talented man drew his ambition small and bent his will to support us.

It grieves me when I think that he didn’t have as much time as he needed to explore the wonder of everything that interested him. I will always love him, miss him, and respect him for the man he was.

Carnes Avenue

The third place I recall living while in second and third grades was Carnes Avenue…

Miss Loraine’s Sundry was the place where my Daddy took my baby brother and me when he brought us back from Chicago.

Images

In back of the Sundry up a few steps was a small bedroom. Outside the bedroom in a short hallway was a cot.

There was a large window next to the front door of the Sundry where I would search for signs of Muhdear.

Miss Loraine while talking baby-talk, holding and kissing my baby brother.

Miss Loraine while talking baby-talk, holding and kissing Queenie, her small dog.

My Daddy trying to comb and braid my hair.

Miss Loraine up late at night adding numbers and ordering stuff for the Sundry.

Events

It was cold in that short hallway where I slept on the cot. I coughed so much that Miss Loraine, put a glob of Vicks Vapor Rub on her finger, made me open my mouth, and pushed it down my throat.

I had pneumonia and was in the hospital.

Mama Rosie brought my Daddy’s father by the Sundry to see my baby brother and me. I had never seen or heard of him before. She took me outside to the curb where he was waiting. She said he could look at me, but he’d better not touch me. Miss Loraine would not allow Mama Rosie to take my baby brother outside to see my Daddy’s father.

Emotions

I longed for connection with Muhdear, Mama Bennie, and Daddy Gilbert.

I was confused about everything.

I would stand outside the Sundry and look down the road toward the cabstand where my Daddy worked and if a woman was walking towards the Sundry, I hoped it would be Muhdear coming for us.

Miss Loraine helped customers in the Sundry; I took care of my baby brother in the back of the Sundry. There was nothing to do and no one to talk with. I was lonely.

I choose not to remember

I was trying to become lovable like Queenie, Miss Loraine’s dog.

1630 W. Fulton

The second place I recall living while in second and third grades was 1630 W. Fulton:

Images

It was a tall skinny white building. When you opened the door, there were a lot of steps to climb to reach the attic apartment where Daddy Gilbert’s brother and sister-in-law lived. Daddy Gilbert’s brother was very pale with straight black hair. He was sick and always in bed.

Events

Daddy Gilbert’s brother died.

Muhdear and I began to sleep at the apartments of other relatives.

Muhdear and I stayed in one place long enough for me to go to school for a few months. For Halloween, Muhdear bought me a yellow plastic costume to wear to school. The kids at school tore it off me.

Emotions

I was miserable.

I was confused.

I wished I was back in Memphis.

I loved that I could put Ovaltine chocolate in my milk.

I imagined that I was the girl in the after-school television show when she said at the end of the show, “Take me away Mr. Pegasus, take me away!”

I was trying to become

Anybody but me.