Posted yesterday at 5:00 p.m.
In second year, at Notre-Dame de Roberval school, I was often alone at recess. I no longer know if it was by choice or by lack of friends. In any case, I do not keep the sad memory of a rejection, but rather that of a melancholy loneliness in which, at times, I liked myself. It must be said that the landscape lent itself to it: the schoolyard ended at the birth of the lake, and on windy gray days, the waves crossed the fence and came to die on the asphalt, at the feet of the ugly little girls. . […]
Children, we are first pushed into Uglyness, then we are locked in there twice. Then it becomes home, it becomes self. The center, where beauty riots, is a foreign space where we do not find our community. We don’t want to leave Uglyland anymore. We just want to be there on our own and walk around with ease. Where the beautiful season is autumn. […]
Wanting to go unnoticed, my posture has adapted; the pelvis forward, the head leaning on the trunk, the shoulders tucked in, a small egg to protect everything from blows that could come from behind, and the top of the head cleaving the air to go faster towards isolated places. After years of trying, I can say that it offers poor protection and, on the contrary, attracts more jeers. Also, although we hope, our shoulders can never carry the weight of the world. The posture is however durable; once put on, it cannot be taken off easily, and physiotherapy is expensive. […]
I had many beautiful friends. Contrary to what is portrayed in some bad movies, I never felt that they were using me as a foil. Nor did I envy them to the point of hating them or wishing them harm and did not feel in competition with them; we belonged to different cultures. Between beautiful and ugly, there is above all curiosity. And I hope that there is no more rivalry between beauties, that it is only a construction of the media. I have often wondered what it was like to see yourself beautiful in the eyes of others, to have confidence, when entering a room, to please most people. I even asked the question to a friend, who took it badly. It was ridiculous. Nobody can answer this question: we evolve in one or other of the cultures. And you can’t rely on a person’s appearance to know which camp they are on since it all depends on their personal background. There are people in Laideronnie who fully comply with the canons, but whose appearance has changed or who, despite having an image that meets the criteria, have received sufficiently mortifying criticism. If inside they feel on ugly ground, they at least enjoy the privilege of being considered non-ugly in the eyes of others. While some non-compliant people don’t live there or no longer live there. Maybe they’ve never experienced rejection, maybe they’ve invested in the best shrinks. My beautiful friend who couldn’t answer my silly question may be living with me in Ugly.
Who is Kareen Martel?
Kareen Martel lived her childhood in Lac-Saint-Jean, crossed her youth in Quebec and she is now aging in Gatineau. A graduate in literature, she has published poems, among others in magazines Porthole, Moebius, Meninges and 17 secondsand stories, especially in News from Gatineau! (West winds).
ugly
Kareen Martel
Preface by Safia Nolin
All in All Editions
March 2022
117 pages