This August, I allowed myself the small joy of ordering a pair of ballet shoes. I already own a pair, but it’s sitting at Piece by Piece Moving and Storage’s facilities in suburban Massachusetts until I return to campus. Referencing my previous order to get the correct size, I realized that with the first pair of shoes, I’d ordered a narrow size for some reason. I can’t quite call it an accident — I don’t remember having a width in mind and just misclicking.
To be clear, these were slippers, not pointe shoes, for which poor fits are much more costly. Still, I experienced some pain every time I danced in them, which I attributed to my toenails being a bit too long… or something. I was never told (how) to take care of my feet, with the thoroughness some dedicate to their skin. Despite all my feet do, I don’t think of them until they have issues. It seems that my body doesn’t either — if my circulation is a subway, my feet are the overlooked station at the end of the line.
Feet are sometimes taboo, particularly because of their association with foot fetishes. Pedicures and arch-supporting insoles are acceptable conversation topics, and athlete’s foot can get by, but ingrown nails, warts, and fungal conditions that lack a euphemistic nickname are off the table.
Harmful fetishization of feet is disturbingly prevalent. In middle school, my class read a story about a Chinese-American girl training for her first pair of pointe shoes, to the initial alarm of her grandmother, who had suffered from China’s foot-binding practice. When I looked that up, I was horrified. For centuries, little girls — especially those in the upper class, since this was a status symbol — had their feet broken and re-broken into a desired shape, subjecting them to gangrene and a lifetime of increased injury risk and impaired balance. “All for the pleasure of men,” I told one of my classmates about the findings of my further research. She laughed, but I didn’t.
Ballet (and the high heel industry) is perhaps not so far off. Many dancers promote healthy practices — after all, an injury could end a career. But professionals face intense pressure to have the right body, especially the right feet. My Instagram Explore page provides me with ballet content it knows I enjoy, and so much of it is just people pointing their feet or doing exercises only showing the lower half of their legs. A high arch exaggerates the continuous “line” from hip to toe. So do hyperextended knee joints and thin legs, which many dancers endanger themselves to attain.
As a recreational dancer, I’ve given thought to my arches too. Mine are in this limbo between flat and, well, not flat. The official term is flexible flat foot: flat only when you’re putting pressure on your feet, like when you’re standing. (But isn’t that when it matters most?) Flat feet, with the accompanying pain and insoles, runs in one side of my family. I wear shoes that tend to be either really helpful or really infeasible for the flat-footed: minimalist shoes.
The main gripe people have about minimalist shoes is that they look weird, resembling scuba fins or foot gloves. The niche is complete with extremists: some people run for miles barefoot or with the least possible material to protect their feet from the elements. Companies produce lite versions, which look more like pared-down regular shoes, often designed for athletes. A pair of minimal New Balances is my go-to when the weather (or high school chemistry lab) calls for closed-toe vessels. I’ve also endured full New England winters wearing only minimalist boots at most.
Minimalist shoes let your feet function the way they naturally do. From a very young age, shoes squeeze our toes together. A baby’s foot looks strange to us. We’re led to believe that our feet must be changed. I haven’t given serious thought to how I would raise a child, but I imagine there are many things I’d take caution in exposing my hypothetical child to, from soda and coffee (no one introduced me to these, so I don’t drink them at all and I’m happy with that), to social media, to maybe... shoes.
I feel this especially given that cheap and designer shoes alike, especially for women, are often terrible for your feet. They’re not looking out for us, and how many of us have a podiatrist who is? It seems that mid-range brands, which need to make a compelling case to sell their particular shoes at $100/pair (still expensive, but it’s between cheap and luxury), are the ones giving some thought to our foot health.
Like my ballet shoes, Birkenstock’s — my go-to open-toed shoes — also come in regular or narrow sizes. They are the other brand I’ve been considering buying to stave off my depression. The regular for my size was out of stock, so I headed downstairs to try on the pair I own — maybe I could pull off a narrow. The verdict: no, the regular was a perfect fit. A Google search led me to r/birkenstock, where I curiously read and saw photos of a few people’s professional fittings. Yeah, confirmed. Don’t force it.
Life updates:
I took my only final today, so I’m free from school until Valentine’s Day 2021, yay! I feel like I’ve freed up 10 GB of storage and 4 GB of RAM in my brain
I made a shitpost dance video. “I had this bRiLLiAnT idea to wear a [pink] wrong-color-but-right-style shirt for my dance recording and then color grade it.... but it turns out that I am also pink” so I ended up with a red aura >:)
I used Duolingo for the first time in years, unlocking the entire Chinese course in 40 minutes and somehow unlocking 31% of Modern Greek
I started making a multivariable calculus study guide in Figma
Happy Hanukkah! As always, feel free to reply :)