Coming of Age

Many, many moons ago, the human body would develop the wisdom tooth as a way of compensating for the wear and tear owing to the rough diet. At the time, the provision was necessary to help aid the overworking molars and premolars to ensure the rest of the body still enjoyed both the pleasure and the benefit of chomping on raw meat and barely ripe fruit, or whatever it is our ancestors nourished their bodies with. As nature always decides, the teeth would cave and crown, almost like an infant at the ninth month (or whenever it’s ready to make its grand arrival, really), when the time was right. When the good old ones had held the fort for as long as they could and chewed on bones fingers couldn’t count and memories made turned so faint stories about them were no longer being told. Their arrival was just in time for the shift change, when the little boys were becoming men and little girls were coming of age.

Given the big task ahead, you could trust the jaws to have opened up enough room, as would a birthing mother to make way for the newborn. The gums, ever so tender, inorder to meet pain halfway and make the ritual bearable. Trust, the human body also summons the appetite of a carnivore and builds up enough muscle so the boy could go hunt and the girl could go to the fields, to bring home food they would have to chomp. Everything in between field/forest and mouth kind of had to be in sync in order for life to make sense or social order to balance, if you may.

Not as many moons ago, humans traded the rough diet for a much less rough diet and so outgrew the chomping. As nature would decide, the human body stopped preparing for the arrival of the savior tooth, jaws clenched, gums resisted the advances. Now they go to war because one refuses to retire and the other insists it no longer needs saving. It causes so much chaos we just have to remove it as soon as it makes it to the surface. The ritual now seems rather painful and unnecessary. So instead of preparing to go hunting for food, we get medical aid, or if you’re poor like the majority, develop an insane level of pain tolerance and just get used to the inconvenience of chewing the walls of your own mouth. As the little boys become men, they build little cars and dream about making money, and as the little girls come of age, they build little houses and also dream about making money so they can afford health insurance. Everything between the money-making place and the mouth has to be in sync in order for life to make sense or social order to kind of balance, if you will.

When I turned 19 the “instinct” kicked in, a mild rush to get my ducks in a row so I could secure the bag. As one who never goes against the grain, I was set on working twice as hard in college so I could get good grades and prepare the foundation for the good job promised post graduation. Hell, I even gave up writing poetry and performing a couple of ages later because it got in the way of stability and the consistent income that was yet to come. That’s how seriously I was determined to achieve the middle-class person dream of getting a paycheck that would probably go from hand to mouth with slight chances of improvement, just as long as I could afford healthcare because damn, I refuse to live with the inconvenience of chewing through the walls of my own mouth. As a mere mortal I would expect for things between mouth and money-making preps to be in sync right, because that’s the only way life could make sense. If nature decided it was time to fend, surely the stars would align and make enough room for me to cave and crown, making my grand arrival into the adult world.

And then I turned 25, things didn’t quite go according to plan. I could never fill up the void of giving up the only thing that made my existence make sense, and the thing I gave it up for doesn’t seem to be living up to its hype. I am a full year behind on my studies and have attempted dropping out one too many times, but because I’m never one to go against the grain, I escalate commitment until it’s rather too late. So I stay in school, as would any rational first-generation college student with a bag full of dreams and carrying that of many on her shoulders too. Anything to make mother proud, absolutely anything to show cousins, nieces, and nephews that we too could defy odds and become something. Except, this is a story only reserved for the outlier, and the rest of us need to throw coins into the wishing well so a miracle befalls us and saves us from the clutches of the struggle. I stay in school because, in all honesty, it does bring me somewhat closer to being able to afford health insurance, never mind how far away my starting point is. I apply myself hard and constantly give the chomping world of academia the best side of my brain, smiles and all, with the savoir tooth tearing my gums apart, promising wisdom but only delivering ridiculously unrealistic expectations. I have finally arrived, but nothing makes sense here. I have all the instinct and will, but the money-making place seems rather unwelcoming, jaws clenched and gums rough as ever.

I’ll be 26 in a few weeks, and I still don’t know what it means to live like an actual adult. I am still housed under mother’s roof, and I can only dream about independence, not just of a woman but of a human being who can fend. I have read more rejection emails than my fingers can count, and memories of victory have become so faint, I no longer tell stories about them. The post-graduation promise may have been a myth. I have heard tales of some receiving it, but I’m yet to meet one who’s living it.

I break down at the break of dawn and find reason to live by sunrise. Tim Minchin says “ there is only one thing to do with this empty existence, and that is to fill it.” So I try, working twice as hard still to nurture the dreams I have buried in my heart somewhere, that of mine and of those I carry. This clearly isn’t nature’s best work of syncing, but it’s something. Polker dot moments, although fading, many attempts to trade the rough times for softer ones, continued strides to resist the inconvenience of chewing the walls of my own mouth. It may take me DIYing it or reinventing myself for the 6th time and making way for new evolutionary traits, but I will eventually be free of the Tooth.