“Freedom does not always
announce itself with parade and fireworks.” – Elaine Weiss
Smell has such strong
association for people. In my early
twenties the smells of my childhood were a source of comfort as I navigated the
uncertain and sometimes rocky path(s) of young adulthood. One such comfort was
a specific hair moisturizer my Mom used on my hair. It had a distinct and strong smell that
pleased my senses. I used it on my hair and delighted in the fragrance each
time I applied it. What I didn’t realize
to be an abusive warning sign my fiancé exhibited was the fact that he forbid
me to use the product anymore. Something that brought me such simple pleasure!
And that wasn’t the only thing. I was also told to enjoy as much incense as I
could while we were engaged because once we got married I would no longer be
permitted to burn incense in our home. His
tendencies were not blaring signs to me. Abuse was a familiar and “normal”,
albeit unwelcome, pattern in my life. I had seen my mother and her sister, my
Auntie Lo, experience emotional and mental abuse from the men they loved. I
loved and respected these two women and they loved me. They were my examples of
how women were to function with men. And I don’t fault them. They saw their
mother –my grandmother – beaten and tormented by their father. It is necessary to give the context of my
background to explain why I would’ve been more alarmed, had I known better, but
I didn’t. And so I allowed this man to embark on a gradual chipping away at the
pieces of my self-esteem that comprised my true identity. Little by little he
would wear down who I was as he tried to reconstruct me into some “better”
version of myself. In his eyes, I was
too bookish. Too introverted. Too boring.
Too quiet. Too basic. To him, nothing about me measured up. All he saw in me was potential. Potential
that never seemed to graduate to what he deemed the appropriate standard of
what a woman should be. If only I could become who he molded me to be, then
everything would be better. He wouldn’t have to be so unhappy with me. So on
edge. So annoyed. So ill at ease. It was my fault that things were not the way
they should be. He was only trying to help me, he said. As more and more of me wore away, the parts
of me I didn’t lose started to become the opposite of who I truly was. When I finally broke free from his tyranny, I
didn’t have a divorce party, a huge declaration or a large celebration. On the contrary, I went and bought myself a jar
of the hair care moisturizer my mother used on me as a little girl. I purchased
a pack of my favorite, sweet smelling incense. I went home. Home. Where I now
had peace of mind and solace, instead of insanity and discord. I lit
my incense then styled my hair and let the wonderful smells fill my senses. I
had my first taste of freedom through those lovely scents. ©2013 Joy Lyn
