BROKEN BARRETTE
“It sees me at my best and at my worst, the barrette.”
Karlie Flood might be persuaded to give up this significant object… but we’ll need your help. Read the following nonfiction story, then SUBMIT YOUR PERSUASIVE RESPONSE HERE.
I know it will be the first thing I see because it always is: the tarnished, broken barrette that has been withering away next to the sink for the past year. It sharply contrasts with my delicate, dainty bathroom. It’s embellished with off-white fake pearls that have become dull with age, and the back of the bronze metal clip has been permanently bent backward, rendering it non-functional in more ways than one. One of the pearls has fallen off, leaving a vacant space where dirt now gathers.
It used to be pristine, though. Elegant and dignified, the emblem and finishing touch of an impressive, chic outfit. Once, it was a gift that I had felt honored to receive—a gift that delighted me because someone had seen this beautiful piece and thought of me.
It sees me at my best and at my worst, the barrette. Its presence and existence serves as proof that even after something changes in a way that alters its core, it can still exist. Even if it does not look the same or no longer serves its original function, it can serve a different purpose.
I wash my face, staring at myself in the mirror as I consider whether it’s time to get rid of the barrette. Growing up, my mother always told me most mistakes could be fixed. I could soak the metal in a cleanser, find a pearl online and use a hot glue gun to secure it onto the clip. I do not know why I do not fix it: maybe because it is not asking to be used, only asking to be seen without being discarded. I wonder if it will ever be. It wonders the same about me.
I choose to keep the broken thing, knowing it cannot provide me with any practical benefits and also knowing that to throw it away without even trying to fix it, let it enter a landfill and simply replace it, would feel morally worse than its quiet, persistent daily presence. To get rid of it would mean to support the destruction of something solely because it was once pure and now it is tainted, therefore it has become worthless. This is a message I am not willing to send, even if the only recipient is myself. I keep it despite knowing I could buy a functional and cheap replacement for it. I keep it because although one pearl might be missing, thirty-seven are still glued tight.
The pearls glisten in the moonlight.
— KARLIE FLOOD
Please SUBMIT YOUR PERSUASIVE RESPONSE HERE.
You can commune in person with this object (and 10 others) at solo exhibits in Kingston (NY) from August 15–September 1, and at a group exhibit — at Camp Kingston — from September 3–10. The object essays will be read aloud, and the most persuasive responses announced, at the GIVE IT UP project’s wrap-up party (open to all) on September 10. Join us there!
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So interesting that this "giving up" is so hard, despite the logic of it. But these daily relationships with things . . . I have a friend who's updating her kitchen, and she's struggling with the idea that the counter guys will take away her old counter when they bring her her new one. She's thinking of all the hard days she leaned on that old counter for support. I wonder if you'll find the pearl in some remote corner of your house years from now--and what you'll do with it if you do.
Karlie, your story emphasizes a needless connection to this barrette, with the fake pearls and discolored metal, that has worn and broken with age. Despite all of this you have kept it. My initial reaction is, well why not? Why give it up? The beauty of this project, I think, is that it memorializes the objects, whether they actually are "given up" or not, their significance and meaning is so much stronger because there is now a visible and real story behind it that places it on a pedestal compared to other items we possess. If you like the barrette, you should keep it. Even if it's just a small, pocket-sized reminder of the significance objects accrue overtime. With something so small that has only limited uses, it is not like it is taking up much space in your life, though I cannot attest to the space it is taking up psychologically, though I never considered the possible mental weight of a piece of jewelry before. I think if this barrette is meant to leave your life, you will lose it somewhere along the way; maybe it will get shoved by an unperceiving foot into a sewage drain and glitter faintly in its recesses to passersby above. Maybe it will find itself wedged in an unreachable space in your room, bathroom, car, or get mistaken by someone as being theirs. I think if something is meant to leave our life, it will, whether you "give it up" or not. But, after all of this build up, maybe the act of tossing it into the trash, with a desultory clink, will be all you need to find some closure. I don't think there is really a wrong answer, and isn't that a beautiful thing?