Saint Bernadette

took place exactly one week ago. This was a historic event that you probably missed, but you will nonetheless feel its after-effects, as the seismic shift it caused in my consciousness alone had to be powerful enough to bring about change throughout our fair city.

As I stood in the window of my loft in downtown Bridgeport, looking out over Baldwin Plaza, the time came for me to come to terms with the true existence of my pot belly.  What do I mean by “true existence”?  What I mean is it’s “actual size”, not the size that I pretend it is when I am sucking it in and standing sideways in the mirror.

What I’ve discovered in recent months is that I am nearly always sucking in that stomach – when I’m driving, sitting at my desk, writing this blog. The cumulative effect of constantly sucking in my stomach is that my body and my mind have started to live as though the pot belly is not really there. Over time, different parts of my body, like my shoulders and upper back, knees and hips, have been taxed unfairly to maintain this illusion. The illusion, in turn, compounds the effect by allowing me that little bit of leeway in any changes to my diet or exercise habits that would eventually eradicate the pot belly.

This cycle of denial seems as inherent to modern human nature as the search for food was in primitive man. But, what is truly sad is its exponential and compound properties – the way the denial of the problem prevents the problem from being addressed, and the systems developed to cover up the fact that the problem is not being addressed simultaneously worsen the problem.

Does this remind you of anything?

My problem is that I consume more calories than I burn, thereby resulting in the pot belly. Until I lower my calorie intake sufficiently and consistently enough, that pot belly will remain. And the longer I keep sucking it in, the longer I will fail to make the necessary changes to my calorie intake and the more collateral damage the rest of my body will suffer.

Bridgeport’s problem is that nearly all efforts focused on the improvement and redevelopment of the city are based on reclaiming an image of the city from the past or from other cities in Connecticut with which we do not have the resources to compete. The longer we keep trying to fashion an urban environment that caters to the smallest slice of our diverse population, the longer the isolation and stagnation will continue and the more collateral damage the city as a whole will suffer.

I could go into detail about what I mean here, but I think everyone knows what I’m talking about, don’t they?

I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to this crippling pattern of denial, but I made the choice to open my eyes and address my pot belly, utilizing the most powerful force of socialization known to modern civilization, the oft-abused, but nevertheless imperative: public shame.

I opened my window at Read’s Artspace as the moon rose over Baldwin Plaza and let the belly hang over the window sill. My husband stood on a chair holding a flash light and called out “look up here!”

Now, as we Bridgeport residents know, there is no one on Baldwin Plaza at night on a Tuesday, it’s only Thursdays when we can count on the downtown artists that the city so wisely and uncharacteristically imported in four years ago to do something crazy and enjoy this beautiful city resource. But despite the lack of people to witness the public shaming of my belly, I can assure you that my belly did, in fact, feel ashamed and in the past week, I have stayed true to those changes in diet and exercise that are the only proven path to the elimination of the pot belly. In addition, my shoulders, back, knees and hips have stood up in strong support of this action. We stand, unified, and together we will succeed.

Bridgeport is an international city and at the same time, a uniquely American city. Its history is a reflection of every major American drama of the 20th Century. But if you want to know what the kids in Bridgeport think about Bridgeport’s history, you might come up with something like this recent news item.
Many of the efforts over my 4-year residence in Bridgeport are the equivalent of this monstrosity on my pot belly. But because I am just a humble local artist and community blogger, and one with a firm commitment to bringing only the good news about Bridgeport, I will refrain from using this platform to publicly shame anyone who may be responsible for the layers of misguided and futile efforts that swirl around Bridgeport’s redevelopment efforts. Instead, I offer you my own public shame as the catalyst to the end of my own cycle of denial.

If you see me riding my bike to Seaside Park, just give me a wave of encouragement!

love,
Saint B