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Honey is Sweet

Value - 2008-03-17

I am grateful for: a little bit of sanity in my vision; a hat with hair for my Purim costume; Israeli sunflower seeds (garanim), much better than the ones I thought were good when I lived in the U.S.

When I was very little, my mother used to take money from men in exchange for them having sex with me (among many other things, but this is what is in my mind tonight). I've called it many things over time, 'pimping' being one word that is generally accepted. People have said she 'sold' me for sex, but that's just silly. She retained control of me so I wasn't in any way 'sold,' at best you could say she 'rented' me.

I don't know much if anything about the details, first of all I was quite young (did I mention?) and secondly, you don't think they bothered to explain the details to me, do you? Lets not be silly.

However, when I was a bit older, I was sold. In the U.S. it's generally not as easy as in some other countries, as if there is family, neighbours, any possibility of notice being taken, some basic externals have to be preserved. Thus, I went to school every day (almost). And I spent a certain amount of time in my mother's home, 'living' with her, for suppers and occasional weekends. The rest of the time I was the property of the man I now call my uncle. I didn't call him that then. I was his property, like a piece of furniture, or an entertainment centre. I'm also not interested in talking about the details of that. I just want to explain clearly, I was not a 'person,' not in my own mind, not in the mind of other people I came in contact with. I was a person-who-was-property. There was actually a quite formal contract involved. I've seen it.

Why AM I talking about this? Because for the time that I was a person-who-was-property, I had no illusions or doubts about my value. I knew almost exactly what I had cost (I've described it as more than a luxury car, less than a house - that's about forty years ago, when the costs of a car and a house were somewhat closer together).

There is something I cannot describe for people who haven't had the experience, that is good about knowing your own value. I never doubted my worth. I knew that I was too expensive to just throw away or treat too badly (except by those sort of super-rich people, who do exist, and do do such things, but that's also not for tonight). Since the man who bought me was not super-rich, and for him I was a valuable asset, I had a sense of security that I just don't know how to explain. Much better than being one of the hordes of Indian girls sold to brothels to be merely bodies. I was trained in certain things which made me an even more valuable possession.

All of that was irrelevant, and even a disadvantage when I was at school, where I was never just a kid among other kids. The other children sensed what none of us could put into words, even had we known the right words. I was not their equal, I was property and they were people. Many, most of the teachers were also aware, whether consciously or not I can't guess, and accepted my place in the class the way teachers have accepted children being victimized in their classes throughout history.

When at my mother's house, my mother, who had received at least some of that sizable chunk of change (most of it probably was taken by whoever she looked to), despised me and made no secret that I was less than nothing to her. In fact, she didn't even feed me when I was at home - I'm guessing she assumed that since she'd sold me, it was his job to take care of those things. That's another tangent. Sorry.

When I was in my late teens I was returned to my mother. I don't know if it was a part of the contract or just something that happened, I found myself stranded here, in this world of school where I was so miserably unwelcome, and my mother's home where I was treated even worse, amazing as that seems.

For a long time, even under those difficult circumstances, I retained a sense of myself having some value, some worth. I couldn't have put it into words, but there it was. It was gradual, and over a long time it became clear to me that this wasn't just a long weekend, that I was stuck here, and not going back to live with my uncle. I started to feel the complete lack of value that is placed on people in this society.

As property among people I could accept the idea that I was 'less than' and treated that way. Once I had to take my place as a person among people, I struggled (and continue to struggle) with the fact that people simply are not valued as people. In many situations people are valued for how much money they make. In some situations, for how much they can produce or create. But basically, in this world that seems to believe itself so superior to the world in which I was sold, people are not seen to have any intrinsic value at all. What amazes me even more is that this extends to personal relationships.

Gad, I can't write this for shit, can I? In my head I can say it much more simply and perhaps more sanely, but I just can't put the words out there less klugey than this. *sigh*

I don't 'produce' anything. Except gas, and over the years some number of children. In the U.S., my producing children was not seen as a good thing, in fact I was even less valued, since I was basically a 'useless eater' producing more 'useless eaters.' At least until or unless one or more of my children became 'productive' members of society - that is, earning money, producing or creating something considered of value, and/or paying taxes.

I think I get angrier than many people at the fact of valuing people monetarily (how much money they make, or have) because it is such a lie. I *know* what it means to have a dollar value. To be able to gauge myself against others based on our differing purchase prices. I didn't have a choice, but here people play this game by choice. And compete to be worth more, not by learning more skills that are of benefit to society but by learning new skills or other methods, that bring in more money.

It is SUCH a lie. The lie is that people are being considered of any value at all. Looked at that way, no one is of actual value at all. If the only value I have is in what I can bring in, then you might as well sell me for an ice cream truck. Except that you can't, because I am not worth enough to allow you to buy a cup of coffee, forget about something worthwhile. *I*, the person, the set of experiences and feelings and skills and ideals am less than nothing. I am less than I was when I was a person-who-was-property. I have no value, I am invisible, I have ceased to exist, I just haven't managed to stop breathing yet.

That is a thought that might lead one to thoughts of suicide, or other drastic and possibly violent action. Fortunately, I had rather a long gradual lead up to it, and have been able to build up some defenses against this complete lack of value that society places on me.

The most important of them is to remember that - 'I Don't Have To Play.' This is a horrible game that I don't need to participate in. I know that I and other human beings have value. I see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. When I share a laugh with a friend, or reassure someone that everything will work out, I have a value that cannot be measured in dollars. And it's not. If it weren't for the fact that my husband has better than average earning power, we would live in the direst poverty. I've spent literally years, more than a decade of my life, doing nothing beyond rearing and nurturing my children and being there for friends, family, and complete strangers in various states of crisis. I've talked people through, and out of, suicide, I've counseled children of all ages, I've dispensed hugs whenever possible, and said "I love you" more times and to more people than any other member of my family of origin (or my in-laws, or probably anyone I went to school with) could begin to imagine. And I meant it.

According to the majority of the society which I inhabit, I am only above being one of those horrible welfare moms, just popping out babies in order to get a bigger welfare check, because my husband has stayed married to me.

Okay, so, which one of us in insane?

I am obese, I am a college drop-out, I am a disabled, stay-at-home mom, I produce nothing, I earn nothing, I don't even pay taxes. I am a useless, worthless nothing.

I don't think so.

I'm listening to David Bowie: Sweet Head

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:: Yesterdays : Tomorrows ::

~~~Last Five Entries~~~
Hi and goodbye - 2010-10-15
I'll be moving on - 2010-10-10
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Decisions, decisions - 2010-10-07
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