on: When I Grow Up
What do you want to be when you grow up? A generic question that we ask young children to attempt to bridge the gap between our ages. We halfheartedly listen to their ramblings. Train driver. Ballerina. Doctor. Trash truck driver. Singer. Actor. You-Tuber (apparently this is very much a “thing” now, if you can believe it). Their excitement about their futures bubbles into the conversation as they rehearse to you their dreams.
Any adult in their right mind will listen to and encourage their little aspirations. Make them feel as if they can do anything that want to do. Be anyone. Achieve anything.
When does the hope begin to wane? Dreams once so vivid, become so dim.
I remember wanting to be a pageant model growing up. And by “growing up”, I mean 14-years-old. I knew the silky dress I would catwalk in. Practised the Whitney Houston song I would sing for my talent exhibition. Rehearsed answers to some of the commonly asked questions from the judges. Watched Miss Congeniality on repeat to get tips to help me win. I was convinced I could win.
And yet, before going to college, I narrowed my career choices down to journalism (regret not choosing this in the end), an international politics (because I thought it would give me a chance to travel – naïve), and a teaching. You notice “Miss America” pageant winner didn’t make the cut.
I chose teaching. Teaching would pay the rent. I enjoyed kids. Adored communities. Wanted to make a difference. There’d always be a need for teachers. I could have a family whilst working. Numerous reasons to have a life career teaching children.
Why did I abandon my dream of becoming a pageant winner? I was too fat (body dysmorphia). With a flat singing voice that sounded nothing like Whitney Houston. The money to compete and train wasn’t easily available. And I couldn’t travel to all the competitions occurring around the country. All very valid reasons not to become a beauty queen.
Make no mistake – I do not regret deciding against my dream of choice. Especially as I now think beauty pageants are a patriarchal establishment created to make a woman’s body something to be consumed. And I want no part in it.
But when my boys come to me with a dream of becoming an artist (Hudson) or a policeman (Isaiah), I don’t pour water all over their embers. I don’t outline the financial outcome. Or the reliability. Or the sustainability. Or their inability. I just smile and remind them that they can do whatever they want.
However, when Hudson is 15, still wants to be an artist, but can’t manage to draw a stick figure, do I discourage his career choice? When do we begin guiding children to think practically about taking care of themselves through their employment? I don’t have an answer.
Adults seem to become jaded with age. Maturity and practicality slowly drown out dreams. In part, it’s necessary. Mortgages need to be paid. Kids need to be fed. Cars need to be fuelled. We have to think realistically about how to provide enough income to live.
But I’m wondering if we have to give up on our dreams. The dreams that don’t fade (like becoming a beauty pageant winner). Dreams like building a house, swimming in the Red Sea, hiking the Appalachian Trail. Dreams to become a musician, artist, writer. Dreams to fight for social justice in healthcare, racial equality, and climate change.
Let’s not lay down our dreams. Let’s put to sleep our practical minds, and dream of all that we once longed for.
My first semester in college was in the fine arts, I wanted to be an artist like my mother. When I discovered the talent around me, I understood it was not my calling. I still feel enchanted, disturbed, calmed, amused, and even mystified with art and appreciate it all the more for having tried. People who achieve great accomplishments often do so when innate talent, motivation/obsession, honed skills, experience, energy, and perseverance collide. For me, I have learned to be content with playing my part on the larger stage of life with the hope that focusing on love, faith, and good works will lift us all up at least by a quark, which is something on the continuum of life.