I’m half jill
I feel as if I have no history. I have no collective past to call back to. My grandfather used to tell me all about boyish ways in golden days. The days of youth are not so clean and free as the generation before. I remember my supernintendo fondly, not holding hands in the dime store.
I told my friends this, they told me all about the feminists, about “I am woman, hear me roar.” How can I be proud of a heritage which I disgrace, all pumps and frills and lipgloss? Equality is an ongoing history that I have no part of.
Others have age, race, religion, ethnicity. I am Casey. I am a part of the Northern European Imbred Poor. I was raised atheist. None of the traditions mean anything anymore.
I celebrate my heritage in empty corporate holidays, I wear my identity in designer clothes. I am American and I emulate perfect identity-less beauty, I have second helpings at every meal. I waste. Constantly.
I am American and I will turn back the hands of time with chemicals and scalpels when I feel too old. I will suck out all of my fat and throw it away to lose weight. I do not know hunger. I medicate through pain. I have a winter and summer wardrobe.
I imagine that once my ancestors wore a tartan… My mother tells me I’m not very irish. I wear my red hair, pale skin, freckles like a question mark. I know who I am, but have no idea who I was.
And half jack.
November 30th, 2007 at 2:38 am
That’s what I love about being Jewish. I may be a soulless product of the 1990’s, but the Jews basically have the history of civilization for me to fall back on.