My father used to love telling me to keep my chin up. Let them keep hitting away, he’d say.
Like my being able to withstand that kind of invited torture was a virtue.
Oh, I knew what he meant. That the world is going to take shots at us.
That we have to be strong. Show we can take it.
But, surely, we don’t have to invite that kind of challenge. Even innocently.
Keeping my chin held high in that manner probably conveyed some kind of unnecessary pride.
Or arrogance.
Or ego.
In looking back, it was most definitely not helpful.
If we’re talking about showing resilience and healthy self-respect
maybe it’s not so much about keeping our chin up as it is about keeping it
beautifully, confidently level.
