*R&R = โranting and ravingโ, btw. I donโt want my titles to be overly long anymore. Thatโs what the post itself is for.
Above is the poem โInvictusโ by William Ernest Henley. This poem and its central focus have always been central components of my life, even without me knowing its exact origins for a time. I often struggle with the harrowing reality that I really am the master of my own fate and the captain of my own soul โ being raised in an environment where every choice was (and often still is) made for me, often with little to no input from me being accepted, put a muzzle on that sobering realization.
My parents are Generation X, and anyone who knows me knows that I am staunchly outspoken about the negative effects of their trademarked and terrible helicopter parenting style. As I mature I have grown to be a lot more accepting of who my parents are and what their motives were behind my sheltered rearing โ a somewhat stunted form of religious influence and general trauma โ but the effects and the resulting resentment still linger.
I am at a place in my life where I greatly value autonomy, freedom, independence, and even selfishness to an extent and in the right contexts. Growing up in an environment that weaponized the Christian faith in order to beat children into mental and emotional submission removes the necessary agency and mental fortitude that children need to evolve and be upstanding, contributing citizens. I would say this is exacerbated for girls who will eventually grow into women. Withholding the ability to say โNoโ from girls โ all in favor of bending them into subservience โ does more harm than good. To elaborate, my mother has always been a strong, confident, and resilient women. Due to the traumatic background plaguing her family as well as being consistently challenged in the workplace, she really had no choice but to be those things. But every time I even made the attempt to emulate those same qualities, it was dismissed as โdisrespectโ or a โlack of gratitudeโ. As a result, I find myself loving my parents deeply yet longing for the day that I will no longer be in their grasp nor in their zip code. I find that a vast majority of my friends feel the exact same way about their parents.
Iโve also found myself as of late being immensely drawn to stories of women who completely defied the odds of their repressive eras or settings and were able to cultivate entirely new, free ways of being. The top poster is an advertisement for Yorgos Lanthimosโ Poor Things, starring Emma Stone and Mark Ruffalo followed by a star-studded ensemble cast. Poor Things is an absolutely BONKERS tale thatโs equal parts porno and philosophical exploration; a Frankenstein-esque tale of one โBella Baxterโ (played by Stone) who, after being reanimated by her โGodโ (Willem Dafoe), embarks on a salacious, sexual, and somewhat saddening tale of self-exploration. Her literal baby-brain is only somewhat human, and her physical and mental growth skyrocket in a fraction of the time of normal human development. The colorful peak of the movie begins โ contrasting with the earlier black and white โ as she is shown explicitly in the throes of pleasure. And this is only the start of it. Simply put, in this movie, the girl fucks. A LOT. And found myself simultaneously in awe and simmering green with jealousy! Girl was getting it innnnnnnn and my virgin self was absolutely enthralled.
The same sentiment stands for my perspective on famed Venetian courtesan, Veronica Franco (as pictured in the portrait below the Poor Things poster). She is still known to this day for being one of the most prominent, successful, and (in)famous cortigiana onestas (โhonest courtesansโ) of all time. Her family was a modest one, close to but not quite at the level of being impoverished. Her mother, Paola, who was also a courtesan, schooled Veronica on the arts of love, intelligence, and seduction. Her influence grew so large that she became known virtually across Europe for her prowess and savvy persona โ the King of France at the time, Henry III, was among one of her many high-powered conquests and admirers. She is also considered to be one of the earliest feminist advocates, writing lauded poetry and prose that vindicated the rights of women long before Mary Wollstonecraft ever took her first breath on Earth.
These women, along with many others both fictional and nonfictional, have been central iconic figures that I both admire and envy, for the same reason โ I cannot imagine what I would do with their level of autonomy and freedom. Due to my sheltered, repressed upbringing (and current existence), I find that the most active and colorful component of my life continues to be my imagination. I find myself almost burdened with a deep longing masked by curiosity to experience the lush, sensual, and all-encompassing experiences that life has to offer โ whether itโs โthotting around all over Europeโ or using my passion and intelligence to see the world and be an integral part of history. I even started working on a comprehensive three-to-five year plan to hold myself accountable to reaching similar goals for myself. I will say, however, I find myself worrying โ both about myself and my friends whose parents were similar in that regard โ that one day, our cat will be killed by the curiosity, so to speak; that one day, the repercussions of our unchecked curiosity and deep wanting will be too much for us to come back from. But I also worry that, due to the fear that was routinely implemented in my psyche by my family as a result of their unhealed trauma, I will never take the plunge to experience such things at all.