View bodies spiritually, not aesthetically

Still shaking off jet-lag, I’ve already noticed lifestyle differences between New Zealand and the United States.

I’m taking a course analyzing the gradation surrounding body perceptions in Pacific cultures, titled “Pacific Bodies,” through the University of Otago. During our first class, the teacher told us that we would be playing what I assumed to be a classic ice breaker.

She asked us to state our name, our course of study and how we would describe our bodies.

No one has ever asked me to talk about my body in a formal setting. I war surprised and a little uncomfortable. I had no idea what to say, so I waited and listened to other people’s responses.

A girl from New Zealand raised her hand and said she was just grateful that she had a body and that it works — another surprise to me.

Her response was something that, at least in American culture, we never think about — a completely fundamental aspect of our daily lives that we take for granted. Our culture discourages us from being satisfied with our bodies through fashion, cosmetics, fitness, cleanses and medicine.

Our obsession with appearances has reached a point that we can’t appreciate what our bodies are, what they can do and the fact that, even if they’re not perfect, they’re functioning — and sometimes that needs to be enough.

After contemplating her answer for a moment, I listened to another student say that their body is central to how they view and interact with the world. I could only imagine the potential answers if we had been asked to consider our bodies in an American university classroom.

It’s amazing to see the consideration Pacific cultures have for their bodies. They don’t prioritize aesthetic properties, whereas my outlook for my body is geared toward how it looks — and how I can change it.

In America, we’re encouraged to look at our bodies as a reflection of ourselves — but only physically. We look at a person’s stubby, uneven nails and think “they need a manicure,” rather than consider the anxiety or stress behind the bite marks. We see hands covered in dirt and see it as unhygienic, rather than as a sign of hard work and responsibility.

Any day of the week, you can look in a magazine or on a Hollywood news channel and notice people criticize a different celebrity for slight weight gain or provide tips and praise for having the “perfect beach bod.” Amanda Seyfried has frequently discussed body issues in media on multiple occasions, once telling Elle U.K. that she’s “constantly aware of her body.” She doesn’t have to look like a supermodel or have abs, she said, but because we have all been designed to want these things, even celebrities in the spotlight are victims, too.

Each iteration of “body perfection” objectifies one body type or another and pervades American society to a point that every person of any shape, size or color can — and is even encouraged to — rectify “problem areas.”

In the Pacific, the body represents the spirit t. The body changes form with a person’s role, such as child, parent, spouse or caregiver. Pacific Islanders see the body as being sacred and its appearance as being individual and beautiful for what it is. There also exists an interesting dichotomy between personal appreciation of the body and individual responsibility for it.

For example, in my “Pacific Bodies” class, I learned there is a sacred covenant between a brother and sister, in which the former is responsible for ensuring that no one transgresses the latter’s purity. In other words, the brother is often held responsible for the sister’s sexuality. And if the two are watching television together and, say, a kissing scene or a scene with swearing comes on, one of the two is expected to leave the room — usually the male. There are also regulated conversation topics and certain words that Pacific Islanders would consider inappropriate for the two to say to each other.

I also learned in class that often, brothers and sisters are not allowed in one another’s rooms and are not meant to share clothing. These specifications are in stark contrast to most American sibling relationships I know. My brother and I enjoy incessantly screaming profanities at one another and stealing each other’s belongings.

From relationships with siblings to relationship with myself, Pacific culture has changed how I view the human body.

This class has taught me to appreciate my body and to be comfortable with everything that it is. Growing up, teachers and parents always told me to have confidence, but these same people also encouraged me to “look my best” or to “put in a little effort.” This class has taught me to question what these expressions mean and why people invest so much of their time in others’ appearances.

There are definite differences on the body and its responsibility in the Pacific, but there is also a distinct freedom in being able to look at it beyond a physical, aesthetic reflection of personhood. I’ve never found myself able to experience either side in the United States.