Loose in the Joints and Very Shabby*

[georginasand]

The proof that the little prince existed is that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists. ~ Antoine de St. Exupery.

I have yet to write a real "I am twenty and therefore a real person" post (something about being in the middle of exams at the time) so here goes.

A continual joke among the people in my world is the prerequisites for being "a real person": the having of a retaining wall (or any sort of landscaping), or kitchen appliances (especially a toaster oven or blender), having your own space, having control over your own soul.

Twenty has always seemed to be "that year" in my mind. Part of it is because in Christian Science, that's the year you graduate from Sunday school. So even before twenty was synonymous with freedom, it sounded a lot like adulthood. The other part is that nothing exciting happened at any of the other "grown up" ages.  At twelve and a half I fasted for Yom Kippur for the first time, but that had more to do with it being my first Yom Kippur than it did with being twelve and a half. At sixteen I wouldn't even get my learner's permit for another six months. At eighteen I registered to vote and stepped quietly into my civic duty, but wouldn't actually vote or gain anything resembling real independence until just before my nineteenth birthday. I might have signed a field trip permission slip.  At twenty one I doubt I will drink any more than I do presently, which is almost not at all anyway. My excuse used to be that I wouldn't drink until it was legal, but it turns out I don't really like how alcohol tastes and I feel no regret for having had exactly one illegal fruity drink in my life. At twenty five I am sure I will rent a car, but in terms of coming of age rituals, it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.

At nineteen I couldn't be the person who accompanied my camper to the hospital when she broke her leg, because "what would it look to the parents if they should up to find that she had been left with a nineteen year old." But at twenty, things seem really different. Even in the last month I have been accepted as an adult both by people who knew my when I was very small and those who hadn't met me pre-realness. At past Thanksgivings I had been "a kid" both to my younger aunt and my much older cousins wives, but this year I found myself sitting in the same corner as them, bouncing the newest baby in the family on my lap, and laughing and chatting as if I  weren't actually fifteen years younger then them. Because those fifteen years suddenly didn't matter like when I was ten and they were twenty five.

So I am pretty sure I am not imagining this real personhood thing. But I'm also fairly certain that becoming a real person wasn't instantaneous. They say that even in the child of seven you can see the man of seventy (who, exactly, they are, I don't know), but I can tell that even in the last ten years I have changed  so much to become the "real" person I am.  Ten years ago I'd never worked in a theater, was barely interested in history. I didn’t know I was smart.  I was also in fourth grade, had just gotten glasses and was just figuring out that I had asthma. I wouldn't go to summer camp for the first time until the next June. Harry Potter had just been written. September 11th and wars were still two years off. The Red Sox hadn't won the World Series and I didn't even know what International Baccalaureate. I didn't think about the things I think about. I can say with a fair amount of confidence, I wasn't a real person yet. Because those are the things that made me real. Real and Loved (like the velveteen rabbit*).

I am now,  bogeret l'rehut nafsha--an adult with control over my own soul. And I laugh.

But I still remain,
Georgie

Comments

[pineapplechild]

I don't think I'm actually disagreeing with you over the definition of "real personhood", but I think I experienced the growth to real personhood differently.

It infuriated me when I was thirteen whenever more attention was paid to older customers, etc. (Which, incidentally, is why I bank where I do, and I have the phone service I do. They always treated me well, at 13 or 20, regardless of how convenient I was.)

Being a "real" person is something about, for me, having control of your person. And yeah, a lot of said control (civic duty, legal liability, etc) is bound to age- 18 and 21 being most notable in this country. But I had the experience much earlier then twenty of having to take control of my actions, and thus my person. Mostly this was because I've a wicked temper, and so to me, the question of to hit or not to wound is a bit more immediate. But that control of personhood is learned much earlier, and much later, then twenty.

[georginasand]

Disagree at will, seriously. I'm just throwing ideas around.

And I totally agree that being a real person is more than a specific age, and that it could happen at any age for anyone. I also think it's a combination between how you see yourself (and the control that you have-- I love how you used that word control) and also how the world sees you. I seriously feel like someone handed me my soul and said "alright, you've been practicing enough, here you go." and I've also seen it reflected in how people treat me. The age is purely coincidental--but also not, because I've always seen 20 as that age, and have been sort of preparing for it.

I have definitely seen transitions at other ages. I don't remember a single moment of meta-cognition in my life before age 12. But that I think is more due to grade level (entering 6th grade) and life changing moments (9/11 which catalyzed this huge theological crisis/shenanigan in my mind). But I can seem myself staying at least a variation of who I am now for the rest of my life. I am definitely a work in progress, but I am "closer to fine" (and perhaps the closest to fine, I've ever been)


It infuriated me when I was thirteen whenever more attention was paid to older customers, etc.

Me too. If anything this real personhood thing comes as a relief, because that has largely stopped happening. For example, the camp scenario I mentioned. I had a kid who broke her ankle in two places and had to get surgery, but they wouldn't let me go to the hospital with her for the above reasons (they were going to until they connected the age dots). And this was a kid who a) spoke in English well, but as a second language, and b) had a lot of trouble being calm. On top of that she's scared out of her wits and hopped up on pain meds. I, after living with her for three weeks, pretty much knew what made her tick. At least better than most people. (It's the only time I've cried out of anything that felt like maternal instinct)

Wow. That was almost a post length response, sorry about that.

~Georgie

[pineapplechild]

Hey, no worries. Conversations happen with however many words they happen. Not to mention, I've been thinking about personhood, so when I saw your post I kinda jumped on it.

I have some hang ups about control, and choice, and thus control of choice- thus my word choice. But I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I generally see control of self as playing into, at least to some extent, the perception of others of me. For instance, dress, hygiene, manners, etc. (And thus I delight in these weird little quirks of appearance- my ears are gauged, but I wear plugs that look "normal", all of my piercings are malleable, etc.)

I don't know that I had meta-cognition before I was 13 or so-- but I was stubborn as hell, and knew what I wasn't, at least. Catholic grade school, what can I say. Actually, I take that back. I was probably in 5th grade when I decided that indulging my temper wasn't worth it, most of the time.

I've always been seen as older then I am, more mature, whatever, so actually the rate of being dismissed based on age hasn't really changed for me, after about 15 or so. Being dismissed on account of gender or social signals, yeah. Possibly why I am more hung up on control of action and non-action then age and perception of age.
The incident with your camper is *full of lose*. On their part, not yours. (I don't know that I've felt maternal instinct-- big sister instinct, on the other hand, a lot, and for more then just my biological siblings.)

(Also, on a side note, 9/11 didn't do much for me. Which is weird, among people our age, I think.)

[georginasand]

I got hit hard (...bad choice of words...) by 9/11, but not in the usual way. I got to Sunday School (parents are Christian Scientists) after the fact, and they told us death didn't exist and my 12-year-old-new-to-thinking brain flipped out. I emotionally left the church, but had to go to Sunday School once a week for the next 8 years of my life. Thus there has already been a connection in my mind between control (and choice) and 20. Thus, for me, when you get formally recognized control over one part of your life, it somehow opens you up to make other conscious choices about control in your life.

I also think, again at least for me, that fact that I am dismissed based on age less is due to exactly what you were saying about controlling how people perceive you. I feel more adult, so I behave more adult. (I let myself get away with a lot of teenager crap, have stopped letting it slip through now that I consider myself more adult.)

[annotated_em]

*thoughtful* I reckon I came to my own self-as-adult moment a little later than that, but it was more of a gradual process, anyway. But it did come, I think, when I actually had control of my own space, and was responsible for paying my bills with money I had earned with my own work, and so forth.

There's a lot to be said for being able to stand on one's own two feet. ETA: Metaphorically, that is. *wry*

[georginasand]

It's funny, I hadn't really thought about in terms of financial standing on your own to feet. That's been the case for a while, my parents pay for most of my education, and feed me when I am home ( which is increasingly less often). But I've always equated financial independence with exactly that, independence and freedom, separate from adulthood. hmm...lots to think about.

But it did come, I think, when I actually had control of my own space
This is going to be the last big thing for me, I think. Being a college student, I don't live in the same place for longer than about three months (we're on the quarter system, so I go home--to my dorm room--then home to family house--then back to school--then house--then school--then wherever I am living for the summer) and not having a place that is *mine* as a constant has been driving me increasingly crazy

~Georgie