I’m a barefoot person in general. I really don’t like shoes. I have gone through countless pairs of flip flops as to appear somewhat ‘civilized’ for the sake of other people — much in the same way that I typically use a utensil of some sort when eating with ‘mixed company’. Honestly, I couldn’t give a damn what other people think about my dirty unshod feet or my messy hands (that I frequently wipe off around my hip region). As a young child, teenager and adult, I have been lectured by all sorts of well-meaning people (both strange & known) about the ‘dangers’ of being barefoot and the social ‘yuckiness’ of it all. I Know (capitalized purposely) where I am walking when I am barefoot. I am also directly connected to the Earth (I realize I am a hippie) when I am feeling soft grass and dirt seep between my toes. It just feels better and right. Shoes are rather oppressive and often hurt too much to be the ‘correct’ way of handling feet, so it seems to me.
It’s no real surprise that I belong to the shoes-off-at-the-door-club. I think it’s funny that I can be having a lovely conversation with one of my neighbors in the drive or on the street and realize that they’ve looked down at my feet more than once. I always wonder what they might be thinking. Oddly enough, I really like socks. Rather, I like to collect and often don random and wild combinations of socks, but it doesn’t please my feet, only my eyes. However, I will admit that in the last year, my feet have become colder more often than they have in the past and I have greatly appreciated my weird obsession with socks. This doesn’t mean that I don’t still go barefoot until my toes are practically blue. It’s nice, the sensory input, to step lightly onto fresh snow and grab the mail and then return to warm flooring.
My Dear Other Half shakes his head when we have conversations that involve socks, shoes, feet, barefoot or anything related. He hates flip flops and would rather me just go barefoot. I would injure my feet a lot less if I just never tried to wear shoes — even ‘real’ shoes. I also wouldn’t trip and almost kill my child…can’t recall tripping up once while barefoot. I’ve also been known to own a crazy amount of shoes, but only wear like two pair until they are no longer recognizable as shoes. Shoes and I have issues that go way back though. I have huge feet and always have. I *had to* wear ‘boys shoes’ most of growing up, not that I minded, because I was the girl who would under no circumstance wear a dress/skirt or other such ‘girly’ crap without a literal physical altercation between myself and whomever thought that they were going to ‘force’ me to wear such demeaning clothing — I actually used the words demeaning at the time. Now, you can usually find me wearing a shirt, but mind you, I am no Lady regardless of what style of clothing is covering the bits that most find it objectionable to show in public — skirts are just easier for all manner of moving, climbing & general lounging. Again, in ‘mixed company’ (what does that phrase really mean?), I do try to remember to wear shorts or other garments under my skirts.
I would assume that many of the reasons people find it so objectionable to be unshod in public are for the very same reasons they give about not wanting to remove their shoes upon entering a building/house. Oh, and all of the dangerous things that can happen from not wearing shoes. This brings me to the matter of my son not wearing shoes and the best website I’ve found on the matter (thanks for the link Dayna).
“Children were not born to walk. They were born to run — barefoot, over rocks, through the water, through the mud. We need to give greater recognition to the energy and joy of children.”
“Children were not born to wear shoes. In our concern for hygiene and safety, we develop amnesia. Give children a break! Remember how good mud feels between the toes?”. — Bev Boss
I don’t ‘make’ (that implies force or coerce) my son to wear shoes. If anything, I am usually encouraging him to not wear them. His feet don’t have the years of practice that mine have at going over asphalt, those annoying little ‘pebbles’ that litter the sidewalks and so on. He’s getting there. I never thought that I’d produce such a child that is timid about going barefoot. However, I think being barefoot outside is only part of the larger aspect of being outside, which is very chaotic, unpredictable & ever changing; it’s often too much for both of us and our sensory integration hangups. Alas, he does share my love of crazy socks.
I believe this Spring/Summer will make the beginning of a journey in a more “un-shoed” environment. When I asked Andrew at Affogato whether or not he cared that E was barefoot he replied with something like, “as long as he’s not putting his feet on the tables or something”. While I laughed and thanked him, I wondered if that meant it was ‘okay’ to place our shod feet on the tables. Sometimes, even intelligent people say odd things. The Family Dollar in Bellevue didn’t seem to mind that E was unshod, nor did the Rite Aid on the corner by our house…in fact no one really noticed and if they did, they certainly weren’t lecturing us. It was only the 45-ish year old woman on the bus who asked E whether he lost his shoes or if we forgot them. I politely told her that his shoes were in my bag in case he decided that he wanted to wear them. You can imagine her face, because at first she smiled and nodded because she assumed I was saying something reasonable about his bare feet, but then it clicked and her face twisted a little and she huffed out, “some lucky kid you are”. Some lucky lady she is that I didn’t tell her off and to mind her own feet.
Are you barefoot? Are your kids barefoot?
