“I hate that word boobs. I wish people wouldn't say it, especially girls. It's like calling your own body stupid.”
"I hate that word boobs. I wish people wouldn't say it, especially girls. It's like calling your own body stupid." - Betty Miles
In this quote, Betty Miles expresses her distaste for the word "boobs" and how she wishes people, especially girls, wouldn't use it. She likens the term to calling one's own body stupid, implying that it is derogatory and disrespectful. This quote highlights the importance of being mindful of the language we use to talk about our bodies and the bodies of others. It serves as a powerful reminder to choose our words carefully and to treat ourselves and others with kindness and respect.
In today's society, there is still a tendency to objectify and sexualize women's bodies, often through language that belittles or degrades them. Betty Miles's statement about the word "boobs" resonates even more in a time where body positivity and empowerment are key focuses. The word "boobs" can reduce the female body to a mere object of desire, rather than a vessel of strength and beauty. It carries the weight of societal expectations and stereotypes that can have damaging effects on young girls' self-esteem and body image. Thus, it is important to encourage girls to use language that reflects respect and love for their own bodies, rather than derogatory terms that reinforce harmful narratives.
By reflecting on Betty Miles's statement about the word "boobs," we can explore our own thoughts and feelings about language, body positivity, and self-acceptance. Consider the following questions:
“If you're feeling bad for any reason, going to the mall always makes you feel worse. It's so glarey and noisy. The stores are full of things you think you might like until you get close and see how stupid they are.”
“It seemed strange that someone as old as Aunt Sylvia would talk about growing up. In a way I'm not sure i like the idea that you always keep on doing it. It seems sort of tiring. And then, people don't automatically do it right.”
“I wish you power that equals your intelligence and your strength. I wish you success that equals your talent and determination. And I wish you faith.”
“Oh, I know, I know, she was a sweet girl, a simple country girl; everyone told me that, both then and since. But I could not forgive her animal dumbness - worse, her rank sensuality, easy as any cow's, and like her dumpling breasts, quite irresistable to men - while those of us whom God has made to think and feel, who are strung out like harps along the wires of our own nature, why, we are rarer than music and must content ourselves with smaller audiences.”
“I'm not sure the word "sorry" does anything justice. It's such a loose word isn't it? I mean how can one puny word encompass all the stuff you did - But also the, all the things you didn't do? It's the inactions that keep people up at night. The actions, they're done. They're done. It's the inactions that never go away. They just hang there. They ROT. How is sorry supposed to stretch across all that?”
“Had Stella been named anything else, and/or had we lived in any other city besides New Orleans, my desperate call would have been just my desperate call. In that alternate universe the neighbors might have peeked from behind the curtains but they wouldn't have laughed or, worse, joined in. But you simply cannot shout the name Stella while standing under a window in New Orleans and hope for anything like an authentic or even mildly earnest moment. Literature had beaten me to this moment, had staked its flag here first, and there was nothing I could do outside in that soupy, rain-drenched alleyway that could rise above sad parody. Perhaps if she'd been named Beatrice, or Katarzyna-maybe then my life would have turned out differently. Maybe then my voice would have roused her to the window, maybe then I could have told her that I was sorry, that I could be a better man, that I couldn't promise I knew everything it meant but I loved her. Instead I stared up at that black window, shutmouthed and impotent, blinking and reblinking my eyes to flush out the rainwater. "Stella," I whispered. The French have an expression: "Without literature life is hell." Yeah, well. Life with it bears its own set of flames.”