Prompt: The ways in which individuals deal with the prospect of an uncertain future.
Text: “The Road Past Altamont” & “My Father’s Plot to Get Home” & “Habitar La Oscuridad”
General Thesis: When individuals are faced with the prospect of an uncertain future, they may estrange themselves from the past they once knew in order to better cope with their uncertainties; escaping from the nostalgic reminders of the past allows them the ability to forge a new path for themselves. At the same time, the idea of facing an uncertain future to someone rooted in past familiarities- and therefore dependent on nostalgia and tradition- may make them feel as though their past success, hard work, and security have been uprooted.
I can’t stand the thought of looking at myself in the mirror.
My eyes drift uncomfortably over the vanity in my room, desperately avoiding the looking glass above. My hands skim over the various concoctions and powders, labeled with promises to make me desirable, pleasant, beautiful, and maybe even… wanted.
Fancy telling a leftover woman she has any chance at being wanted.
In China, a woman over twenty-five who has failed to secure for herself a husband has nothing but a future filled with uncertainties – both for herself, and for her parents. She is leftover, an afterthought, a disgrace to the very society that raised her and the parents who bore her. Without a marriage to tie me into, my parents have no way of knowing if I’ll ever have a loving family, a husband, a home to call my own after they’re gone. Without marriage, they have no way of securing the hard work they put into raising their only daughter, no conviction that their beliefs and traditions would be passed on. I have a career, a modest personality, reasonable looks, an honourable background… but without marriage, I fail to check off the last box on my family’s list of perfection; hence, I represent a darkness that blots out all trace of respectability for both myself and my family.
Without marriage, I am incomplete. A soul vanishing.
Unwittingly, I raise my eyes and glimpse at myself in the vanity mirror. Where the skin should resemble a translucent pearl, the perfect reflection of a wanted woman, there is but a pallid, weary face. Where the hair should have been sheets of smooth, midnight silk, there were only tangles of dull brown-black thread, knots and breaks that I could never undo, try as I might. The eyes are blank coal, uninspired by any ember. The lips, wilted petals, withered now that the winters of age and the raucous winds of disappointment had stolen from them the full bloom of youth.
Sighing, I turn away from the vanity in the mirror and hurry out the door. If I move fast enough, I may be able to talk my parents out of posting my profile on the Marriage Market – a park plastered with advertisements from the children of desperate parents hoping to find certainty in a car and house tied to a potential husband. The future may be looking bleak, but the last thing I need is public humiliation; I don’t want to know that I’ve been rejected again when I see my parents come back defeated. But, I don’t want to be forced into a marriage
My father and mother are downstairs in the kitchen, and I stop just short of the stairs, hand poised on the rail, when I hear them talking in low, secretive voices. Trepidation digs its claws into my back as I listen.
“I’m worried, dear. We’ve been searching for three years now, but we’ve had no luck. She’s already 28. She’s been drifting wayward for a long time now, without a family to root her down. What if…?” My mother, a woman of realism and little imagination, carved firmly in the bedrock of tradition and culture. She had hoped that her past would trickle into my future – that I would have been married by 23, with perhaps a child that she could hold, a tangible measure of her certainty. It was hard for her to stop idealizing the past to which she was attached, now that she was no longer young.
“It will be alright. Our daughter… she just needs time. What could we have done but what we have done? When she is ready, there will be a home ready to accept her.” My father’s certainty lies in his plot to find a home for me. He is a man that basks in conviction; ever since his eyes were taken from him, it is within the routines, the conventions, his unfailing imagination of what can be is where he finds comfort in his truth. He wishes for me to find the same strength that he has, but if I want certainty, I don’t want it to be because I have been stripped of myself of reality.
My mother, not much given to flights of imagination, living in fear of reality, clasps her hands and sadly sighs, “We don’t have time! Soon, she’ll be thirty; who’ll want her then? Her looks are average, her job is mediocre, and these days, no one cares about personality! Where will she go when we are no longer here?”
My father let out a deep sigh, slowly consents, “We’ll head on over to the Marriage Market, then. We won’t be able to solve anything arguing like this.” Mother breezed past my father huffily, leaving him to forge his way through the hall himself.
My father is – and always was – a steady man, reaching for the walls, the rules, to guide him, treading over the tiles of black and white without realizing that others can only see gray, that others fear the grey. I can’t help but understand my parents’ desire for my security. He seeks certainty for me in a place where he has always found it, a place where another pair of arms can take me – much like his arms once did for my mother – and fix me into the familiar, consistent life I have always known. His desire for me to marry is a fortress wherein which his traditional and cultural values are safe, his nostalgia is secured – if I can marry, it will not matter if the mountains rise and the rivers flood, for his certainty will be locked within my newfound home.
But what of me?
I cannot resign myself to a certainty that is not mine; I am not rooted to these past familiarities, not dependent on the nostalgia and tradition that their lives have been based around. Instead of being a dandelion stem – rooted and stubborn, until it is torn from the ground and tossed aside – I would much rather be the seed, letting go of the past, drifting along wherever the wind takes it, growing wherever it lands. To find truth in the uncertainty of my future would allow me to forge a path all my own – find my own certainty, because if I can flourish in the uncharted territory of an unmarried, leftover woman, no one will be able to tell me how to grow. My legacy would be my own. When life proves uncertain, maybe – just maybe – it can be an opportunity for renewal.
Renewal. I love that word.
My journey to find myself in a path of uncertainty was perhaps the most liberating experience of my now twenty-nine year-long life. There was a certain ecstasy in the air that night. I left the house of my parents a changed woman.
The skin of that woman was no pearl; it was the moon, in all its splendor and shimmering grace.
Her hair was a melody, the notes and knots alike murmuring through the silver flute of the scissors.
Her eyes were not embers but flame, alive and dancing with the light of the stars far above, her lips roses and peonies revived from their winter.
I have spent a year learning about the woman who is no longer leftover, the woman who had the nerve to head over to the Marriage Market and tear off her profile, regain her pride.
She was the woman who helped her parents reclaim the youthfulness of inexperience, as opposed to the certainty, experience, and fear of old age.
She was a dandelion seed where others were roots, separating her past from her future, trading the certainty of home for the renewal on the breeze, and when she landed in the midst of her uncertainty, she learned to grow.
She was a woman wanted, not by others, but by herself. A woman who pursued her independent, adventurous spirit and went my own way. In the city, I am accomplished, successful, an independent woman with friends and good fortune – not found in the Market with a man, but by my own spirit and will. I know my parents struggle with these choices, but they’ve found acceptance, and maybe – someday – they will find peace with my choices.
Nowadays, I can’t help but smile when I look at myself in the mirror.
4 thoughts on “Renewal- Polished Personal”
You are such an excellent writer–reading this personal response was so easy because it was written so beautifully, and it was so compelling. You have such a way with words. Wow.
-This line is stunning: “Fancy telling a leftover woman she has any chance at being wanted.” WOWOWOWOW
-Again, wow; “Trepidation digs its claws into my back as I listen.”
-Great job weaving in the prompt here: “My father’s certainty lies in his plot to find a home for me. He is a man that basks in certitude; ever since his eyes were taken from him, it is within the household he finds his truth. He wishes for me to find the same strength that he has, but if I want certainty, I don’t want it to be because I have been stripped of myself.” It is so subtle that you don’t even notice it. Great job!!
-Again, excellent job weaving in the prompt, and then combining it with your thesis: “I cannot resign myself to a certainty that is not mine; I am not rooted to these past familiarities, not dependent on the nostalgia and tradition that their lives have been based around.”
-Beautiful–“When life proves uncertain, maybe- just maybe- it can be an opportunity for renewal.”
-The full circle at the end is so gorgeous–honestly, I feel like I learn something about writing every time I read your work. You truly have a way with words, and it just baffles me, because you are absolutely brilliant.
To work ons:
-Just for the sake of the reader, it would be nice to know what text you are responding to.
-You contradicted yourself when your narrator talked about hating looking at herself in the mirror, to having reasonable looks, to her description of herself as having pallid skin and dull hair. Just watch out for those little inconsistencies.
-When somebody is speaking in a story, you don’t need to have a period after the quotation marks, like this: .”. –instead, it should be “speaking speaking speaking.”
Again, excellent job with this piece!! I am just blown away.
Thank you so much for all of your incredibly kind comments- I truly do appreciate any amazing insights a writer as astounding as yourself has to offer. I didn’t even realize that I had left out the visual, the poem and the story… that was careless on my part, especially considering the fact that the story was based on the visual of the blind man treading over the black-and-white tiles. Thanks for catching that! Thank you also for catching my quotation mark errors- I keep confusing the way punctuation works in tandem with quotations, and I really appreciated the mini-lesson! Honestly, I feel that I have learned more from you that I will ever truly realize, so thank you for helping me grow!
Maybe it’s impossible for you to write badly or something, because every blog piece you post is just brilliant. This personal is certainly no exception. I really loved that within this story you gave us a whole “Initially, Then, Finally” – it made for a stronger protagonist because we got to see her transition from one mentality to another. There were lines in this piece, woven throughout, that literally took my breath away. I think my favourite was “fancy telling a leftover woman she has any chance of being wanted.” Wow.
The full circle effect with self-perception did wonders for this piece – it made the ending feel so satisfying and tied everything together in a truly beautiful way. The contrast you established between the protagonist’s outlook in the beginning versus at the end was interesting; I really appreciated that you made the choice to take the same lines you used at the beginning and just twist them to fit a different purpose at the end.
I feel like you addressed the prompt excellently – what an interesting take you had on it, too. I love the idea that when an individual is faced with an uncertain future, they feel the need to distance themselves from familiarity (in this case, tradition) in order to get perspective. This personal captured that idea perfectly. However, I do think that the wording of your thesis needed to be changed slightly; it just feels a little convoluted and is somewhat confusing at first glace. I think it could be condensed and simplified a bit. I would also offer that because this is a personal response to a certain text, you owe it to your readers to give us the context of what text you are responding to – that way we can properly trace your connections to it (that’s an easy fix, though!)
As for something to improve upon, I think that this piece had issues with its flow. You broke it up into two different sections with the asterisks, but rather than being clarifying and delineative, they actually confused me more – I wasn’t sure if time had passed, or what exactly their function was other than to interrupt the flow you had. I wonder if the reason this story felt a little choppy was because you were so focused on the created a parallel contrast from beginning to end that you missed the opportunity to sew the two ends of this story together in the middle and create a compelling “Then”.
The only other constructive criticism I would have for you would be to just watch your punctuation when it comes to quotations marks and all – that’s not really a big deal or anything, but I’m one of those people who can’t properly focus on the story if I notice GUMPs errors along the way. Just something to check for before you post, or to work on if it’s a habit you’ve gotten into.
But you really did do a great job with this personal response. You should be proud of it, and of yourself – you have a really beautiful writing style, and I am humbled by your writing every time I read it.
Thank you so much for your kind comments- I wish it was impossible for me to write badly! However, I’m slowly building myself up by learning from the all-consuming radiance that is your writing! I completely agree that my thesis is a bit ~extra~, because I’m usually so caught up in the high of the ideas and the writing that my words come out like a weird tongue twister for the brain (brain twister?). I was trying to account for the perspective of the parents in my thesis, but looking back, they weren’t really my main focus, and therefore not a necessary part of the thesis in itself. I’ll also be sure to include the visual, as soon as I can go back and edit- thanks for catching that. The flow of this piece was something I struggled with, because I knew where I had started and where I wanted to end up, but the commute ended up a little messier than I had anticipated. You hit the nail on the head; I didn’t really know how to incorporate the marriage market into the story without lengthening it- I felt that it might have gotten tedious and extensive. I also wasn’t sure how I wanted the parents to react, or how the heated dialogue would ensue. Looking back on it though, I really do feel it would have cemented my story structure, had I built it up skillfully. I have to admit, this piece was the first time in a while I have been this excited to just write my heart out- I credit this enthusiasm to the amazing writing you have inspired me with. Thanks so much for the suggestions, Ziyana- your comments always help me become both a better writer and a better person!