RubySoho
Winston
I'm No Scarlett Johansson
March 7th 2008 01:19
As I stated in my last post I was born in Lebanon. My family moved to Australia when I was two years old back in 1977 to escape the civil war.
Although I have visited the Middle East I have never been back to the land of my birth. I did plan to but stupidly got my passport stamped in Israel first and for those of you who are unaware, Lebanon does not recognise the State of Israel and refuses to allow visitors who have such stamps in their passport. So my trip back to my birthplace will have to wait.
Although there is no escaping the fact I am of Arab descent and my olive skin, brown eyes and curly hair will testify to that, I don’t see myself as Lebanese.
The country I identify with is the country I was raised in, the country I call home. Australia. Now relax, I am not going to get all nationalistic on you, I am not here to extol the virtues of Australia and pronounce it the best country in the world. I just want to explain to you that sometimes I forget that other people see me as different. So what does this have to do with Scarlett Johansson? I’ll come to that in a moment.
But first, I want to state that my outlook on the world is that of a Western woman. The culture and religion of my parents does not live on in me. So when a reader left this comment on my last blog
I was both angered and dismayed:
“Nor did you inform the readers that you may be predisposed to a slanted perspective as a result of your family’s refugee status. That’s dishonest and a critical point…This isn’t a trivial point; you deliberately omitted this to mislead others”.
Actually, the reason I omitted the point is because I did not see it as relevant. Being the child of Lebanese immigrants does not make me bias or prejudice. Just the opposite in fact. As someone who has been the target of racist jibes and taunts, it makes me more determined not to judge others based on how they look or how they spell their last name. Let me just stress to you that my opinions on Israel have nothing to do with where I was born and everything to do with the actions of Israel itself.
See, I see myself as an Australian and no less of one simply because I happened to be born somewhere else. And yes, I will say again, sometimes I forget that I do look different to what others perceive to be a real Australian or westerner.
A few years I went to a friend’s birthday party. This friend always likes to have themed soirees, which I abhor and I usually refuse to abide by the dress code. This party’s particular theme was Come As A Famous Work Of Art. Well I had just seen the Peter Webber film Girl With A Pearl Earring, starring the aforementioned and very luscious Scarlett Johansson. As you may know, this film is about the famous painting of the same name, by 17th Century Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer.
For a quick squiz at the painting click here:
Really Long Link
Anyway, having just seen this film, I decided I would get into the spirit of the occasion for once and go as the Girl With A Pearl Earring. I took great care in selecting the perfect pearl earring and a scarf and shirt in a shade that matched the painting. It was, in my mind, a perfect match. Noone would have any difficulty in working out what I had come as. It was a no-brainer.
Except it wasn’t. As you know, Scarlett, like the beauty in the painting is a delicate, pale-skinned and blue eyed creature. Nothing like me at all. No-one had the slightest inkling of what my costume was. At first I just couldn’t figure it out. I had the pearl earring in my left ear. I had the blue scarf. I had the pout down pat. The movie was still playing in the theatres for Chrissakes! How could they not know? And then I looked in the mirror and see myself through their eyes.
One long dangly earring. A blue scarf wrapped like a turban around my head. Golden brown skin. Huge brown eyes. I wasn’t the Girl With A Pearl Earring, I was Gypsy Woman Come To Read Your Fortune.
I was mortified. It was one of those defining moments in your life when you realise that no matter how you see yourself, no matter what your inner person is like, other people, even those with the best intentions, will see you in a different way. And they base so many of their ideas about you on your physical appearance, even without meaning to.
I took off the silly costume right away of course. That’ll teach me to break my golden rule of never dressing up at costume parties. I laugh at the memory now but at the time it really did sting. For the first time in my adult life I hated the way I looked. I hated the fact that I was different. I hated my own naivety that led me to think that I could be the Girl With A Pearl Earring, when I looked absolutely nothing like her. I was utterly unprepared for the fact that my own looks would completely overshadow the costume itself.
I long for the day when we no longer judge each other by where we are born or what religion our parents practised, when we are all truly global citizens with a common goal of secular progressiveness. But until then, next time I get the smart idea of going to a costume party I’m going as Xena, Warrior Princess or not at all.
Although I have visited the Middle East I have never been back to the land of my birth. I did plan to but stupidly got my passport stamped in Israel first and for those of you who are unaware, Lebanon does not recognise the State of Israel and refuses to allow visitors who have such stamps in their passport. So my trip back to my birthplace will have to wait.
Although there is no escaping the fact I am of Arab descent and my olive skin, brown eyes and curly hair will testify to that, I don’t see myself as Lebanese.
The country I identify with is the country I was raised in, the country I call home. Australia. Now relax, I am not going to get all nationalistic on you, I am not here to extol the virtues of Australia and pronounce it the best country in the world. I just want to explain to you that sometimes I forget that other people see me as different. So what does this have to do with Scarlett Johansson? I’ll come to that in a moment.
But first, I want to state that my outlook on the world is that of a Western woman. The culture and religion of my parents does not live on in me. So when a reader left this comment on my last blog
I was both angered and dismayed:
“Nor did you inform the readers that you may be predisposed to a slanted perspective as a result of your family’s refugee status. That’s dishonest and a critical point…This isn’t a trivial point; you deliberately omitted this to mislead others”.
Actually, the reason I omitted the point is because I did not see it as relevant. Being the child of Lebanese immigrants does not make me bias or prejudice. Just the opposite in fact. As someone who has been the target of racist jibes and taunts, it makes me more determined not to judge others based on how they look or how they spell their last name. Let me just stress to you that my opinions on Israel have nothing to do with where I was born and everything to do with the actions of Israel itself.
See, I see myself as an Australian and no less of one simply because I happened to be born somewhere else. And yes, I will say again, sometimes I forget that I do look different to what others perceive to be a real Australian or westerner.
A few years I went to a friend’s birthday party. This friend always likes to have themed soirees, which I abhor and I usually refuse to abide by the dress code. This party’s particular theme was Come As A Famous Work Of Art. Well I had just seen the Peter Webber film Girl With A Pearl Earring, starring the aforementioned and very luscious Scarlett Johansson. As you may know, this film is about the famous painting of the same name, by 17th Century Dutch artist Johannes Vermeer.
For a quick squiz at the painting click here:
Really Long Link
Anyway, having just seen this film, I decided I would get into the spirit of the occasion for once and go as the Girl With A Pearl Earring. I took great care in selecting the perfect pearl earring and a scarf and shirt in a shade that matched the painting. It was, in my mind, a perfect match. Noone would have any difficulty in working out what I had come as. It was a no-brainer.
Except it wasn’t. As you know, Scarlett, like the beauty in the painting is a delicate, pale-skinned and blue eyed creature. Nothing like me at all. No-one had the slightest inkling of what my costume was. At first I just couldn’t figure it out. I had the pearl earring in my left ear. I had the blue scarf. I had the pout down pat. The movie was still playing in the theatres for Chrissakes! How could they not know? And then I looked in the mirror and see myself through their eyes.
One long dangly earring. A blue scarf wrapped like a turban around my head. Golden brown skin. Huge brown eyes. I wasn’t the Girl With A Pearl Earring, I was Gypsy Woman Come To Read Your Fortune.
I was mortified. It was one of those defining moments in your life when you realise that no matter how you see yourself, no matter what your inner person is like, other people, even those with the best intentions, will see you in a different way. And they base so many of their ideas about you on your physical appearance, even without meaning to.
I took off the silly costume right away of course. That’ll teach me to break my golden rule of never dressing up at costume parties. I laugh at the memory now but at the time it really did sting. For the first time in my adult life I hated the way I looked. I hated the fact that I was different. I hated my own naivety that led me to think that I could be the Girl With A Pearl Earring, when I looked absolutely nothing like her. I was utterly unprepared for the fact that my own looks would completely overshadow the costume itself.
I long for the day when we no longer judge each other by where we are born or what religion our parents practised, when we are all truly global citizens with a common goal of secular progressiveness. But until then, next time I get the smart idea of going to a costume party I’m going as Xena, Warrior Princess or not at all.
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Comment by Damian
Comment by RubySoho
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Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
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Comment by RubySoho
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Then, then came the looks of pity...
Luckily, they were friends so all is forgiven.
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Daily Inspirations
Relativity Watch
Padsoc