Beauty Redefined(julianna ziezio) I think that what needs to be said is the concept of beauty touches every one of us without exception. This idea probably defines our personality and character more than we thought possible, leading to anxiety, depression, stress and other mental health issues. Of course, there will be people who will read this article and think “Oh no I’m fine, this is not for me”, I will say “Yes, this is for you” because somewhere, deep, this idea still lingers in the shadows of your subconscious.

Beauty, what is beauty? Once a wise old philosopher said that ‘surface beauty fades with time, when beauty of the heart lasts forever’. Yes, yes Julie we all know that these are very noble thoughts, but we live in a real world here, wherewe see flashing billboards with picturesque actors of the silver screen, slim-fit models with plastic faces and hair made by the finest barbers of Paris. We see this and think that this is what we should be, and if not now, this is Who we should become!

Now, here I’m about to walk you through a rough East-End part of London where once upon a time, not so long ago actually, lived a person, a human-being, who defied all these ideas, of beauty.
Tissue in hand, ready to wipe the constantly dripping beads of sweat from my steaming forehead, I walk through the bustling, hustling streets of Whitechapel Road,which melted in the swarming crowds of the Saturday market.Making my way through the street, from both sidesI hear themarket salesmen shouting, “fresh fish, fresh fish”, “7 pounds a box” “sale, sale, sale”. Market day in London town, no questioning that.Endless lines of people pushing against each other trying to reach their designated place at the end of a long line of buyers, waiting for that on-sale fresh box of honey mangoes. As I pass by, trying my way through the countless crowds flowing on the pungent smell of fish, I finally manage to get out and breathe-in some air. I stand. In victory of overcoming that immense bundle of human flesh. I face my right-handside and I see an inconspicuous,very ordinary cheap clothes shop with its racks overflowing with colourful clothes displayed outside. The “Ukay International” it was called. Interesting name for a clothes shop. Very catchy. Hmm.

Well, as I was standing there, a pigeon flew by and was pecking at a left-over sandwich on a slowly degenerating cardboard pizza box. Yes, well the pigeon is not what I wanted to talk about in this story, but it was as if by Providence, a metaphor for the person who used to live in what is now the “Ukay International” shop. The reason why I was standing there was because this inconspicuous shop was once a circus. Not just any circus, mind you. It was a circus for the extraordinary, so-called “freaks-of-nature”.

Here, used to live Joseph Merrick, nicknamed The Elephant Man due to his extensive bodily disfigurement formed of immense amounts of fatty flabs of skin that smelled of degenerating human flesh. He was a young man in his early 20s who suffered from what is now believed to be a genetic disease called Proteus syndrome (remains unconfirmed due to lack of significant DNA evidence). However, once during a parade his mother got frightened and ‘apparently’ hit by an elephant which ever since was believed by his relatives and later by him, to be the cause of his condition, and that earned him the nickname ‘Elephant Man’.

Frightful, isn’t it? To be nicknamed so, because of some absurdity which became popular belief. Hmm, but wait a minute…popular belief…that sounds familiar…isn’t it what we are doing now? Isn’t this what the glittering ads are bombarding us with? Our society is being dictated what to do, by new trends, new styles that keep telling us to be More Beautiful…secretly saying ‘We are not beautiful enough’.
How distant it might seem, this idea was still as accurate in the 19th century as it is now, and as that thought lingers with you, I turn from the market into a quiet side road, where hurried steps and chattering cutlery are no longer to be heard. Only a single Robin perched on a thin twiglet barely able to support its tiny corpulent feathery body, softly tweeting away in the sunny rays, was the sole living being heard on this lonesome street. Peace and quiet. I heard my own heartbeat, as it slowly accelerated when I stepped in front of an elegantly crafted iron gate. I took a deep breath and sighed, as through the gate bars I saw a beautiful little garden, overflowing with magnificent flowers of all colours of the rainbow. Pink peonies, white roses, purple violets, red begonias and so many more. This was the entrance to a church that was the constant comfort and muse of our poor, grief-stricken Joseph Merrick. He so loved that church that even though he couldn’t see all of it but the highest tower, he imagined its grandiose red-brick walls with stained-glass renaissance windows and made his mark of it by building and painting a small cardboard model of it in his room, which can now be viewed in the museum dedicated to him in the cellar of this very church in front of the entrance of which I now stood.

Poor Merrick…in his life he was constantly treated as something less than human, something so bizarre that even science could not explain it and surprisingly still can’t. People around him focused so much on his outside that they didn’t even find the time to see how truly beautiful he was inside. He was treated as a freak, and a freak he became as that would be his only means of living when all other doors have closed. But this didn’t last long since being a gentle character he was frequently beatenand used by his employer and so at the point where his strength was fading and his employer threw him away without his pay, Joseph finally runs away, trying to hide away his monstrous appearance in some dark, miserable corner of London. In his last desperate act, he finds a small piece of paper. On this paper were written two words: Frederick Treves. And he remembered. He remembered this doctor who was to forever change his imposed exile.

Our story now takes turn, a little flashback to the time when Joseph was still part of the ‘freak-show’ at the circus on Whitechapel Road. Even though for purely scientific reasons a certain doctor namely Dr Frederick Treves, a surgeon at the London Hospital, was so curious about this ‘freak-of-nature’ that he ordered a personal show and then decided to invite him to his lecture, as an exhibit that is.After his inspection of the patient, he ordered him to go his own way, without much further attention to the matter. Strictly business for the benefit of science, it was.

Now, as poor Merick found this little scrap of paper he handed it to the police who confused on what to do with this oddity who neither belonged to the living nor the dead; called upon the doctor at the hospital. The doctor, as heartless or business-like as he seemed at first, pondered the matter and noticing that the poor creature had nowhere to go as everywhere crowds followed him, called him various horrendous names and beat him mercilessly; Dr Treve’s heart swelled with empathy and pity forJoseph and so he dedicated a small room to him on the ground floor of the hospital, where he found his peace. His writings and that of Joseph Merrick are our last clues of the events that took place then.
Joseph Merrick has found peace and what’s more he found compassion. Compassion and affection first from the doctor and then from the head nurse, both of whom stood by him day or night. Once he was even visited by Queen Alexandra herself who on behalf of Queen Victoria granted permission for his permanent stay at the hospital.

During his stay at the hospital and what is later described by Dr Treves himself, it was found that Jospeh Merrick was an incredibly intelligent and delicate young man, who found pleasure in reading Shakespeare and what is surprising to some, romance novels. It is interesting that a man who to the world was just a bag of flesh and broken bones, could be so gentil, so loving and so caring. Apparently, this type of person should match his look with his character, someone who looks hideous is supposed to act hideous as well. Yet the noble example of the unbreakable spirit of Joseph Merrick reminds us that character is what makes a person. It is what created astonishment, aspired courage and at most, earned Joseph respect from the hospital staff and from the Queen herself.
But let’s not forget and to whom Joseph had the utmost gratitude and friendly affection, the brilliant Dr Frederick Treves, who was the first to step out of the raging crowd and proved to the world that here stood a human-being, not an animal and with this he replaced hate with compassion, neglect with care.

As I turned into another side road, I stood in a crossing which divided the old and the new London Hospital, and when I turned to my left, I stood exactly in front of the window near the outpatient unit, where once upon a time, lived a man, and his name was Joseph Merrick.

This story was brought to light in the 1980 film drama entitled “The Elephant Man” which was my first inspiration to know more about the life of the loving Joseph Merrick and which still rings with truth of what it means to be truly beautiful and what it means to be human.

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