NEXUS ISSUE 09 2014

nexus magazine
PHOTOGRAPH: ANDRE KONG
EDITORIAL
RACHAEL ELLIOTT
—
Winter is coming (or some other vague GOT reference). I
have a love-hate relationship with winter, which tends heavily
towards the hate. I hate getting up and driving home in
the dark. I hate getting inside the doors at uni and having to peel myself
down to a singlet, then lug my jackets and jerseys around with me all day
because the heaters have turned all central lecture theatres into saunas. I
hate getting rained on all the time. But most of all, I hate wearing shoes. So
for me, it’s fitting that the Identity issue turns up as the weather gets cold.
One night during my second year of university as I staggered along Hood
Street, a girl I had never seen before came running up to me. She was taller
than me (which anyone who has met me knows isn’t difficult) but other
than that I don’t remember much about her. She rolled up, put her finger
in my face and yelled “I know you, you’re that girl from uni with the long
hair who never wears shoes!”
As she headed away into the night I was confronted by the fact that
people actually think they ‘know’ me because they recognise random
aspects of my appearance. For many people, my whole personality has
been reduced to body parts- the sum of who I am is “girl with long hair
and bare feet”. I had to wonder why this girl, who I’d never seen before
in my life, had recognised me out of over 12,000 students who attend
the University of Waikato? And I realised- that ‘girl with the long hair and
no shoes’ is part of my identity, and for many people, the only part of my
identity they’ll ever interact with. It is the version of myself that people
recognise. People don’t see me as anything other than a barefoot hippie.
I mean, I get it, I am a bit of a barefoot hippie. It’s not the sum total
of my personality, but I’d rather they thought that any number of other
snap judgements people make about strangers (by the way, Douche Girl
on Thursday, I DID hear you say to your friend “Look at her, so ugly” as I
walked past, which I presume was your intention. Do us all a favour, go lick
your own armpit and die in a fire). So I embrace my barefoot hippie status.
But do you know how hard it is to be a barefoot hippie during winter?
I love walking barefoot, always have done, it’s part of who I am. I think
it’s a lost pleasure of our generation- to just stand on the earth and feel it
between our toes. I’m also way too poor to buy shoes that actually fit my
freakishly small feet. So I take it as a personal insult that winter is coming
with its frosts and its chills and its other assorted bullshit to fuck with my
sense of self. And worse- how will people recognise me if I wear shoes?
I will last it out, keeping my feet naked for as long as I can and rest
assured- even if I cave and put on a pair of boots, I will still be me, the
proud barefoot hippie with long hair. She is not lost! She is just hiding in
plain sight- in shoes.
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