Cover 
- 1. Introduction
- 1.1 Motivation
- 1.2 Do not Stereotype
- 1.3 Not a New Phenomenon
1. Introduction
1.1. Motivation
The motivation for this paper is to
explain about a segment of the population: barefooters. A barefooter,
quite simply, is a person who greatly enjoys going barefoot as a lifestyle
choice. This means going barefoot most of the time most everywhere, not just
around the house or at a beach. Why? It's a combination of it feeling good and
being uncomfortable even in the world's purportedly most-comfortable shoes. But
it's more than just "feeling good": It's a true delight, a delicious and sensual
pleasure from the soles of our feet, an often-forgotten organ of touch.
Barbara Holland, in her book Endangered Pleasures [1],
has written about this. An excerpt is:
TWO out of every five adults take off their shoes whenever they can, and the other three don't seem to mind having their feet smothered.However, things are not so simple as just removing one's shoes and going barefoot. In western society, particularly in the United States, bare feet are becoming more unwelcome in many establishments due to beliefs engendered by rampant misinformation, and barefooters are prejudged and often viewed with contempt, sometimes to the point of driving them into a "barefoot closet." (The fact that some people go barefoot anyway despite strong social pressure to "put your shoes on" is evidence of the importance going barefoot has and of the pleasure it offers.)
I arrive at this figure by way of my own family. One of my brothers and I go barefoot even in winter, to the continuing echo of our mother's voice saying, "Aren't your feet cold?" and "Where are your shoes?" and "Put something on your feet!" Our three siblings wear shoes. Or sandals, or bedroom slippers, or sometimes just socks, but always something to render their feet deaf and blind. I don't know whether or not there's a genetic component involved.
My brother and I don't long to rip off the rest of our clothes; we don't wear impractical shoes; our feet in shoes don't hurt; we aren't seeking relief from the pinch. It's just that we're always, at some level of consciousness, aware of whatever's wrapped around us down there, as of a hand lightly but immovably across our mouths all day. For us and others like us, the moment of taking off the footwear is a relief and a joy, and in summer, with the barefoot hours extended into days, our personalities change. Barefoot, we're almost always at peace. We're gentle and tolerant with our fellow man. Stress and anxiety evaporate and grief itself seems bearable as long as our feet are free....For some of us, the soul is resident in the sole, and yearns ceaselessly for light and air and self-expression. Our feet are our very selves. The touch of floor or carpet, grass or mud or asphalt, speaks to us loud and clear from the foot, that scorned and lowly organ as dear to us as our eyes and ears....Yes, Mother, some of the time our feet are cold. And yes, we do run the risk of stepping on bits of broken glass in the house and, outside, bees in the clover. As they say in the Pentagon, it's an acceptable risk. Highly acceptable.
Now, when I grew up to manhood I did not give up the practice. I loved the touch of the earth, and I used every opportunity to satisfy this love. Thus, when I lived among the armailli of the Mountains of the Gruyere, I seldom, during these years, had a shoe on my foot during the summer.
What the delights of climbing these grassy slopes, whose steeps run up thousands of feet, clothed with flowers whose scent and colour can be perceived miles away, or of climbing along the sides of the warm rocks barefoot, I cannot tell you. This theme alone would demand a whole poem.
Thus have I so carried the practice on through my youth and manhood, that, even during these mature years, when I go out to take my morning ramble to meet the dawn among the gentle valley or to climb a mountain, I never think of taking even a sandal out with me, and, I vouch for it, I never feel the want of them.
But not on the hills alone and not on the high road only, and not only at the hour when mankind is yet asleep, do I venture thus forth in so unconventional a way. Verily no.
For some years past I have tasted the delight and realised fully the energy of the joy of drinking in the sun's heat by walking on the hot pavements of London and other cities, and even Edinburgh, the Athens of all good taste! This I have done for miles on end, and instead of feeling tired at the finish, my body was simply aglow with radiant energy.
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Cover |
Discrimination
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