Prove It.

My favourite part about Halloween is the irony and near-obvious hypocrisy. We take off our natural masks to don closer facsimiles of our true nature. Real artists must love this holiday. So must psychologists. I don't like to dress up. I dress up every other day of the year.

The first time I heard about "To Write Love on Her Arms" was on a T-Shirt. I almost rolled my eyes and stifled contempt. If not for the political ramifications of speaking out against it, I probably would have done so, right then and there. I would have provided a genuine, obviously uninformed criticism of the on-the-surface value of such a shirt.

The most recent time I heard about the "movement," as they're calling it, was on Facebook. I did roll my eyes, this time. Someone told me, or I read somewhere, that all of the sales for the merchandise goes to mean-well organizations. Charities to help the depressed, or the suicidal, or something like that. I've learned also, that this merchandise is in addition to a giant attempt to raise awareness for these emotional and psychological causes, as well as to genuinely show those afflicted or who feel unloved that they are indeed cared for. This is done by having everyone physically write "love" on their arms, on a specific day.

I've known a couple of "cutters." I think they self-identify as cutters, but I'm not perfectly sure if they do. I'm not about to ask. If a label helps, great. If it doesn't, toss it. I just know them by their names. They've got those curious marks up and down their arms. The ones that you notice, but try not to notice. The ones that encourage an immediate thought in your brain; a judgement, even if it's a judgement not to judge.

I'm glad I've met them, and known them. Honestly, having known people before, during and after they've cut, as well as asking and talking to them about it, has empowered me to the whole thing. I can look at those arm-scars with far less judgement, and certainly without label. It sounds cliché, and is in no way meant to downplay their significance, but they feel merely like another part of who they were and have come to be.

I would be embarrassed to be in their company and have "love" written on my arm. But I'm not embarrassed to tell anyone that I care for how much they mean to me. I'm not embarrassed to tell them they can call me at 3 in the morning if they want to. And I'm not angry when they do call. I'll take a taxi right on over.

My Facebook live-status thing informs me that 9 more friends will be attending "To Write Love On Her Arms". I can't help but wonder if they've ever held a person close while they wept. No ink on a wrist compares. Have they ever altered their actions and taken the time to talk to someone they were concerned about? Do they ever think, unbidden by any presented tragedy, of the well being of specific others? I don't know. But I've known people who don't.

Caring is officially a cause. Hypocrisy, really. Defying the definition of "support." It boils my blood. It's what we excel at, actually. We would rather "raise awareness" than be aware ourselves. Pay lip service rather than actual service. We would rather donate to a fantastic cause than alter our lives to naturally support it. The democracy of the dollar. Buy the image you want, then be whoever else you want to be underneath.

And don't even get me started on corporations. Legally people too, they embrace the masquerade with a particular penchant.

Happy Halloween.

By now, I must sound like the Gandhi quote that I abhor: "Be the change that you wish to see in the world." I don't believe that. I don't think that if you want there to be no war, you must become a pacifist. I don't think the key to everyone loving each other is to start loving.

(The best way to cause change in the world is to convince the people in power that it's in their best interest, while veiling the change in the costume of democracy, and the frills of capitalism. Often that requires a smiling deception, not a genuine adoption of a change well before its time. For more education on the matter, watch any reality TV show.)

I'm not pretending to be a saint, myself. Often, the largest reason I donate to the homeless is because someone else is watching. I don't feel the need to meaningfully connect with every person that I meet on the street. I use careful scepticism to ensure that I feel validated in not donating to charity. And, emotionally, I'm god-awfully selfish.

What I'm trying to say is be the person you claim to be. Be the label, don't label the being. Writing love on your arm doesn't show you care. Actively caring shows you care. So, if you want to show your support, support! Don't write letters, write phone numbers. Don't stand on a soap-box, sit at a coffee table.

And, if you must, then instead volunteer to write love on the arms of anyone that has shown you earnest caring. Better a contest than a cause. It's a far better costume.

Love,
- Z