As I Was Going To St. Ives....

Today, I saw a family of Muslims.

No. This has nothing to do with St. Ives - whether poem, riddle, or place. It just seemed a properly rambling title, and does muse on women and wives and secrets.

Ask not what logic there is in my head - only trust that there is method to my madness.

And there's also not going to a be a picture for what they represent as I couldn't find on that looked right.

They were in the library, and I was in the library again; and they had quite a large family. They young girls' faces were still uncovered and they wore vibrant coloured head coverings - quite a contrast to the elder women's black attire.

I am a Christian. My first reaction was, surprisingly for me, to wish I had the courage to go talk to them. But I don't know the etiquette of THAT introduction, and...I am a coward. Simply put.

But my second thought was: 'Those poor women! Forced to keep completely covered up at all times, in such drap colours, always having to obey the men! And, I know, it's also because they're 'treasures' or some other such thing - but that would be so demeaning! How could any thinking woman submit herself to that? How could it ever persist? I'm so glad I wasn't raised that way....'

I thought all of that, more or less. It was actually more of a feeling - but I've communicated it in words before, so that is the gist.

But then after I left, I began thinking about it.

What must modern women think about ME?

I wear a girdle, would love to wear a corset at all times, wear a chemise, wear an undershirt, wear a garter, wear a slip, wear stockings, sometimes even wear socks over the stockings.... And that's just the immediate undergarments for a normal day or outing - for a day, I'll skip the girdle and stockings to preserve them - but basically! I've also four petticoats and one underskirt I wear with any circle skirt I have, and often wear a shawl. Most of my skirts are well below the knee, my necklines are very high - almost turtlenecked, but those are harder to find - and most of my sleeves are long.

I cover my head in the summer with long shawls, and have even made a...mantilla? I think that's the right word.... But a lace headcovering for church. My hair is long, nearly always curled or twisted up. I wear minimal makeup, and have only started wearing any at all in the last few months after my parents allowed me to at their leisure. My hair is completely natural, and I have no piercings.

Even in the middle of summer, I will cover most of my skin and wear at least this many layers. although occasionally I will bend and wear trousers.

I expect men to escort me places, and to carry my things, and to open doors for me. I will also submit to them.

I know, there are a bunch of Biblical reasons why this is good.

But think about it: what does the modern woman - the feminist, even the christian - think of me? What does she think of others like me that act this way?

I'm dressing for the men, or I'm locked under my father's rule, or I'm letting men trample all over me, or I'm giving men the inch they need to subjugate women, or I'm hurting myself, or, or, or.....

But these things make me feel beautiful, and these actions make me feel precious!

And do not the Muslim's feel the same then?

I do not agree with their religion - I cannot - but..... It was a point of reference I had never had before.

And it makes me sad.

I'm not supposed to be born in the wrong time - God is supposed to have planned everything perfect with no mistakes. Well, obviously he HAS done that, so I'm NOT born in the wrong time - yet it feels that way.

Because I prefer elegance. I prefer secrecy. I prefer modesty. I prefer tradition.

Is that not what the Muslims prefer as well?

And they weren't looking at dull books - they rented out books I've read and enjoyed and my siblings have.

So, in the end, we're not THAT much different. Aesthetically at least. Doctrinally....  Well, I didn't come here to rant about that. I'm hardly someone vaunted as an apologetic - I'd likely do more harm than good.

But it's another lesson not to judge a book by its cover.

As though I need another lesson: my life's mistakes are basically BUILT on that foundation...

Of course, I'm not saying I didn't know this before - but I didn't. In a weird way. I did, but I didn't. It's easy to imagine the people in England still wear gowns and waistcoats and breeches (more or less....), or the people in France are still wear rosettes and shouting for the Revolution, or the people in Germany still hail the swastika - it's easy to forget that they aren't really people. That they don't have dreams and humour and sorrow the same way we do. We can completely disagree with them - but we should NEVER forget they're just as human as us.

Who knows? As Americans, we know how we are - but who's to say the rest of the world doesn't see us as cowboys or colonists?

Although, in reference to the title, I suppose it does work. That poem - that line - is well-recognised as a piece of literature, even if it is a nursery rhyme. Thus, as I went to the library which is a place of temporarily procuring literature, it is still relavent.

See? I told you there was method!

 

 

I hadn't intended to use pictures for this post. Well, I had - I just forgot which I planned to use and so pulled down a bunch of new ones. I typed this post out while the pictures weren't uploading to the site, so it was straight text.

 

But then I pulled down these pictures of Bacall, and Hayworth, and Kelly - and they were familiar. Not in the way that I could recognise them by sight from the films they are in, but from looking in a mirror.

 

I've been told a few times that I look like I stepped out of a 1950's picture, but I never believe it. Me? Look vintage? I make my own clothes, dear - trust me, I don't. I look close - but not THAT close.

 

And perhaps I'm right in terms of clothes. But Grace Kelly's hair? Hayworth's? Even Kelly's dress? My hair turns out well now, and I've enough petticouts - roughly made to save cost - that I easy have that silhouette.

 

So perhaps I'm closer to my dream than I think....