The Fallacy of the Glass Slipper…(Part 2 of, “Where Are All the Men Hiding?)

There has been significant interest in my previous post, and I have been thankful for the feedback, questions, support and general feelings of resonance – and, not surprisingly, most of the feedback has come from women! (Surely men read blogs, too?!?)

As I have been able to think about the responses I have received, I have realized one important problem that perhaps need to be addressed above all the others – I would like to call it The Fallacy of the Glass Slipper.

The glass slipper, as the story goes, was made to perfectly fit Cinderella and no one else. It had unique design features that made it impossibly uncomfortable for anyone else who put it on, and was only at home when snuggled perfectly on Cinderella’s foot.

As improbable as this seems, it has become a cultural myth we unthinkingly embody.

We have come to believe that unless something fits us perfectly, it is not meant for us. We have come to believe that there is a glass slipper out there for us, and it is just a matter of time before it finds us – but until then, we are just fine waiting for it to appear (even better, waiting for the dignified person who is surely seeking me out, slipper in hand, because they know how talented/beautiful/awesome I really am).

I see this in many college students with whom I am privileged to journey. There are dreams spoken of that include the perfect job in the ideal location, the right spouse at the right time, the best church when I am most in need. Are these dreams wrong? I don’t know. I do know that these dreams are stifling, and that in itself is a problem.

This image of perfect fit has become an idol, and it has created within us an acute case of Cinderella-itis.

The world I know is not a world of perfect fits. This is a fallen world. I have had several different jobs within higher education, and while I have really enjoyed them all, none of them have been a perfect fit. It’s not because of the job, but because there is no such thing as a perfect fit.

There will always be aspects of anything we do (that is, anything we do that is worth doing) that doesn’t quite feel like it fits. And in this moment of realization we have a choice.

Our choice is this – we say “no thanks” to the opportunity, sit back in our comfortable chairs, and wait for the next one to come along (to which we will most likely say no thanks, or take begrudgingly which will quickly lead to life-sucking cynicism).

Or, we develop the ability to listen and to trust, and step into shoes that might not seem to fit at first, and maybe even seem like they will never fit. But as our feet get used to them, and the shoes grow with us (these are not literal shoes, people!), we begin to see that maybe our perceptions of the perfect fit were imperfect themselves.

And we begin to like these shoes. Sure, there is scuff mark here, and they might not be quite wide enough or have enough arch support. But I can dance more beautifully in these shoes than I ever have danced before, and it almost seems easier than I imagined it would be.

Let’s be people who learn to live beyond the maxim, “If the shoe fits, wear it.” Instead, let’s be people who say, “The shoe might not fit, but I am not Cinderella.”