I really love living where I live.
The California Wine Country is gorgeous, and it’s always changing. Every day, the vines that surround me are in a constant cycle of something new, something hopeful, and something exciting. It really gives me so much perspective.
But there are some things about living in this area that are just plain weird. And at the risk of offending someone, today’s post is about a person I noticed who I’m pretty certain was in a cycle of transition that I’m not sure how to properly consider.
Let me set the stage…
I’m driving in my truck on a sunny afternoon, and I’m about to slowly make my way around the Sonoma Square. This is the absolute social hub of my town, and there’s always something going on in the park. This happened to be a weekend day, and so the square was packed with picnickers and people who were roaming around the shops and the tasting rooms. There was a festive, happy feeling in the air, and I love that about this little town.
As I was stopped at a four-way stop on the outer edge of the Square, I watched a person walking toward me. This person had short dark hair and was kind of built like a young man, but this person was wearing bright red lipstick and very famine-looking wedge sandals with a pair of baggie cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt with some kind of print on the front.
This person crossed the street to the right of me, and then lined up to cross in front of my truck. I made eye contact with the person so he or she would know that I saw him or her. The person smiled at me and then proceeded to cross the street in front of my truck. That’s when I noticed the message on the T-shirt that he or she was wearing. It said:
STOP LOOKING AND GROW A PAIR!
I immediately averted my eyes because the scoldy T-shirt told me to. But I wasn’t able to keep myself from thinking about the person wearing the shirt or the rest of the message. I was clear that I wasn’t supposed to look, but the last part of the messaging had me confused.
Was I supposed to grow a pair?
And if so, a pair of what? Balls? Boobs? Hands? Feet?
If you’re following my blog then you know this isn’t the first time a T-shirt has been the trigger for a post. But this time, I’m genuinely concerned about how I’m supposed to process my reaction. I probably would’ve noticed this person even without the bossy T-shirt — just like I noticed the older gentleman in the cozy yellow cardigan and the young boy in the collard shirt who also crossed the street in front of my truck because of my hesitation to go after the shouty-T-shirt person passed.
As humans, we notice each other. At least I do. I may only be able to gather the surface details of the people I see, but that’s sometimes all you get the chance to do in this life. You can’t possibly get to know everyone you see, and they can’t get to know you either. So the best I can do is always reflect kindness in my attention, and then move forward in my life, and let others move forward in theirs.
But for me at least, wearing an aggressive message on your shirt that causes confusion doesn’t help me get better at integrating your search for self into my understanding of things. It just makes me feel uncomfortable and kind of offended, to be honest. A shirt like that assumes too much about me and how I see the world, and then it goes on to add an inference that I’m not enough without growing a pair of something or other that might make me the same as you.
I do have to wonder if people who wear shirts like this are the exact people who might actually understand how this type of shirt presented me with a shaming I don’t believe I deserve?
Where I live, things that shouldn’t be controversial often are. Take going to the bathroom, for example. Here, in the tasting rooms, we have “All Gender Restrooms” just to ensure no one feels underrepresented while taking a leak. We are also encouraged to use “Gender Neutral Vocabulary” so as not to inadvertently use “hate speech” against someone who is still in transition because a person in transition could be deeply offended or hurt by the use of the improper pronoun. (In fact, the person I’ve mentioned above is better described as “they” versus “he or she,” I’m told…)
Whaaaat???
How are we supposed to be connected to people when everything we do is so extra-loaded with personal meaning and temperamental conditions that are constantly changing the social rule book? Is it just better to stay clustered off with people you know how to be around? Does insular living really make us better people in the long run? Or do you just “grow a pair” and get up in someone else’s business and demand that they understand you even if they don’t know how?
I’m thankful that my blog creates a place for me to express my thoughts, and for me at least, that helps me grow and expand my own perspectives. And maybe “Cargo Shorts” is just trying to express something, too. (By the way: that’s the mental nickname I came up with for this person I encountered because cargo shorts seemed like the only somewhat gender neutral physical reference I could use.)
I’m willing to try to understanding that for someone like Cargo Shorts, a bossy or shouty T-shirt is the only way to express something important in a quick and pithy way. But for those of us who need more words (and perhaps less scolding), I’d like to make a suggestion. It might be nice if you decide to wear an angry message on the front of your shirt if you’d consider printing a note on the back of the shirt that says something kind or at least more encouraging. Might I suggest one such statement?
