I was listening to a podcast the other day in which two self-proclaimed feminists were berating the rise of fitspo on social media. If you’re not familiar with fitspo, know that it’s short for “fitness inspiration,” and it’s represented in the memes you see on Facebook, Pinterest, Tumblr, etc. with pictures of muscular guys or girls and/or some motivational saying. There are pros and cons to both the messages and the images of fitspo; and I’m not qualified to referee that debate.
What grabbed my attention, though, was something the cohost said in her scorn. She admitted that she hated fitspo, because it made her feel worse about herself. She continued to explain that she doesn’t eat right or exercise regularly and that these memes remind her of her shortfalls. That’s a natural reaction. Most of us dislike reminders of our weaknesses or insufficiencies.
The leftist podcasters’ ensuing conclusion surprisingly sounded the same as some of the memes I’m seeing from women of the religious right. “All women are beautiful. Love your body, no matter what it looks like.”
It’s repeated often, even though it can’t be true—just as it can’t be true that all men are handsome.
While we all have a potential to be a beautiful person, some of us are limited—even in the age of artificial bodywork—in what our bodies can be. To make matters more complicated, the definition of beauty varies according to culture, time in history, etc. It’s a moving target, and our trajectory toward it is mostly determined before we leave the womb.
The same goes for other attributes like humor, intellect, musicality, creativity, and athletic coordination. Yes, some of it can be taught; but a lot of it is genetically determined. Those, like me, who believe in the sovereign supernatural believe we were individually designed and assigned our gifts. I would guess that the unreligious look at it as a genetic lottery.
Very few people are given superlative measures of all of these innate attributes. (Even Tom Brady can’t sing or dance.) A large percentage of my friends are engineers, and I would never assert that my mind can do what theirs can. At the same time, most of them would never attempt to work in a right-brain endeavor like my graphic design business. Hillary Clinton would answer the questions posed to Miss South Carolina and Miss Utah very differently but could never have been competitive in the swimsuit portion of the pageant.
And that’s okay.
We don’t all have beautiful bodies—no matter how you define physical beauty. We’re not all musically inclined, regardless of what you call music. We can’t all dance on television or win the gold medal for the 100 meter dash. We’re not all capable of Nobel Prize work in a science lab or ADDY-winning creativity. A smaller percentage of the population is part of an improv theater troupe than has a modeling job.
The bane of this reality is that we put so much stock in these unearned attributes. We wrap our self-worth in how we look, how smart we are, how we make people laugh—or the byproducts of such like wealth, influence, or other achievement. It’s taking credit—or blame—for something that, for the most part, we didn’t determine.
Does that mean we should stop stretching ourselves—to quit learning and growing, to stop honing and maintaining? No. The best at what they do surpass others with more than natural gifting. They fight temptations, distractions, and even limitations.
Does it mean that we are unequal in eternal value or societal rights? No. We all deserve to be treated as a human, a divine creation (until someone proves to society that such trust is not safe or valued).
But to say that every body is beautiful cheapens beauty.
To consider everyone a genius devalues intellect.
To say that everyone is a winner means that there was no competition.
We all know better, but we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings—including our own.
We should still clap for entertaining musicians and applaud worthy comics. We should still give out Vince Lombardi trophies and MENSA memberships. We should still exercise and attend classes. But we should also celebrate our diversity, make room for our respective uniqueness, and discover how to play the cards handed to us from a mixed deck.
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Stock image purchased from iStockPhoto.com
