Stereotypes and bias are a fact of the mind. One theory of psychology posits the mind contacts stimuli (internal or external) via the senses - including the sixth... which is basically our own internal dialog; identifies it; categorizes it as good, bad, both, or neither; then formulates responses to the stimuli. Another (with evidence to support it) moves categorization one place before identification in some instances. These circumstances usually include matters of life and death where the cerebellum is in charge rather than the cerebrum.
All that mumbo-jumbo means is that judgments and bias are a fact of the mind. We cannot stop categorizing anymore than we could stop breathing. Prejudice is a fact, actions based on those prejudice are decisions.
This is late in reporting, but last weekend was another visit to the awesome pool parties with my nude friends in Minneapolis. I enjoy these times with these men more than I could possibly describe here, and if I tried I would probably sound insincere with my tendency to rely on facts and opinions I've already heard to express myself. I would sound more like a nudist ad campaign than a person attending.
One of the reasons I enjoy the events so much is the seeming absence of these aforementioned judgments. At no time does anyone seem to be making assessments of my body, desirability, or worth... all things I can do adequately myself should I ever need an ego adjustment.
As since most of us attending are of a certain age, the presence of anyone under such an age draws notice. A couple of men, obviously committed to a romance, were also present. Both were beautiful and both were noticed. I'll have to address ideas of beauty and attractiveness at another time, but suffice it to say that everyone not familiar with these men found ample gossip to get the basics of name, relationship status, and an overview of prevailing opinion towards their personalities. I heard nary an unkind word about these men... which just made them all the more beautiful. Again... nicest group of people I know.
Nude, I found each to be in the peak of health and this country's standards of beauty. Failing to find any rational reason to speak to either of them, lest I appear lecherous, I was unable to pass any further judgements of my own.
What I want to point out here, is after the party wound to a end and most of the younger men decided to leave, I again saw these two clothed for travel... as one should do to abide the neuroses of others and stay within the bounds of law. Again, I'll have to expound at another time.
Clothing has always been a symbol of status. Uniqueness of dress being one of the highest regarded after the materials used - or these days the label stitched upon the fabric. Uniqueness of dress is one phrase I'd use to describe the choices one of the men had toward his attire.
While I've never actually seen an ascot outside of British television, I do believe he was wearing one... or at the very least attempting to mimic wearing one. Since I've not made any attempts to speak to either men, I cannot say what his motivations might have been for such a daring fashion statement - if, in fact, he was attempting to make one. However, my judgment I can describe.
It was a hot summer day, everyone around me was comfortably nude in the temperate air, yet this man was wearing a scarf - an item I associate with colder air and an attempt to keep warmth near the skin. My first judgment upon seeing him in his clothes was one of shock, a violation of expectations. Shocks are unpleasant, at least in my world. I am not a fan of haunted houses or truly scary movies and abhor roller-coasters. I'm a big fan of accurate prediction.
Once I was able to process what I was seeing, my next - and most shameful - judgment was linking the clothing choice to a stereotype. "Really, Mary's wearing an ascot?"
Fear not, gentle reader, this was not my most prominent nor final assessment of the man. Rather I recognized the unkindness and intolerance of my own thinking and chose to accept his clothing as simply an expression of style. That style needn't my approval nor, for that matter, disapproval. He simply was dressed as he was dressed. I would not have chosen to wear anything around my neck - June or February, but he did and I had no place in critique.
I had nearly forgotten the incident until I became frustrated with being unable to post my chosen entry, such was my dismissal of my own prejudice for all things remotely stereotypical... which may be funny to those who know me and recognize my own behavioral tics keeping with many stereotypes, including an encyclopedic memory of the names of Hollywood hunks.
Aside from wanting to place myself near beauty and gaining a neurotic sense of worth from beauty's acceptance, I now am strongly curious as to what the choice in neckwear symbolized and how else the man's personality either adheres or departs from the stereotypes with which I'm familiar. Hearing a deep rumble erupt from his mouth when I first hear him speak and listen to an obvious fascination with cars or the NFL would be just as fascinating as confirming my stereotypical ideas of a gay man. Subtlety has most likely found it's way into the grey areas between such extremes and I could likely find myself in love with such a creature... since I do love a challenge.
It's so true Troy. Clothing plays a large role in how we see people. I had a large light bulb turn on above my head as I was reading. You could almost hear the "ding". I absolutely understand why you enjoy these pool parties so much.
ReplyDeleteThis whole ascot obsession is fascinating, and I'm equally curious. I realize it's a fashion statement, but since you never had any interaction with the man now I have nothing to base my opinion nonnother than the ascot. That kills me. Hahahhahaha. :))