Yesterday, I went to a bar at the corner of Jackson and Polk. I ended up there unintentionally after I discovered the wine bar I've been meaning to try was filled to the brim. Twenty-somethings leaned out of the windows and over the small tables with glasses clinking and chatter stiffling the surrounding city noise. It was laughable to think a Thursday night would be quiet here. Trendy -- that's the word the papers and Google Maps had thrown around. Why did I think I was the only one who had gotten the news?
Anyways, I walked past this hotbed of happily-grouped friends as if I had never heard of the place. Walked right by without breaking stride until I passed by a little bell tower that boasted food and drink 'till late and I barreled my way inside. There was no hostess or bartender to greet me, and I awkwardly stood looking around until I saw a man wiping down tables. He gave me a menu and told me to sit wherever I wanted, so I positioned myself ny the window and ordered their house wine.
A group of boys came in and sat down next to me, ordered some food and beer, then proceeded to talk about biostats and how much iron they had in their blood. I had read an article earlier in the week about SF techies always wanting to be "early-adopters" and the rise of peptides and biohackers, so I listened in.
Oh, the words they used! They talked about apps and how you could calculate the amount of cholesterol in the body by doing a calculation involving grams and daily percentages. They talked of vitamins, melanin, how their skin color determined their retention of fiber. How to maximize deep sleep brain waves, male pattern baldness, hiding being vegan from parents, seed oil, strings of chemicals and numbers and horrible sounding medicines, longevity, the right type of high to get without sacrificing health -- it was all mentioned and discussed. It seemed they had nothing else to talk about besides the tortuous optimization of their health and wellbeing. And as I looked over, wondering what "perfect health" would look like (one of the guys gushed over another's perfect bioscore), I only found three nerdy-looking CS types who looked like they needed a shower, a comb, and new clothes.
And then it clicked. I don't know why it took me so long to realize, but I finally did. The early-adopters, the biohackers, the looksmaxxers, and all the techies were desperately trying to heal the child-wound of being unwanted, left out, and ugly.
This hurt had never resolved for them. Adulthood and the world of corporate backstabbing and tech-fueled riches were just the Playground 2.0, this time with no bell to bring one back to class. For all they had earned in the world, it meant nothing if they were not voted Most Beautiful, Most Popular, Most Likely to be Whistled At. These boys at the bar were fledglings -- they still had all their down -- but they were ready. With all their talk of stats and ways to make themselves better physically, I thought of all the other people in the city doing the same. God help me if I ever have to talk for more than five minutes on the subject in real life. As Malcom X put it:
"Who taught you to hate the texture of your hair? Who taught you to hate the color of your skin, to such extent that you bleach, to get like the white man? Who taught you to hate the shape of your nose and the shape of your lips? Who taught you to hate yourself from the top of your head to the soles of your feet? Who taught you to hate your own kind? Who taught you to hate the race that you belong to, so much so that you don’t want to be around each other?"
While Malcom X was specifically talking about how Black people turned against their bodies and their modes of being to better appease white people, I think the same logic backs the prevelance of killing ourselves in the name of health and beauty
Today, I will not