Wrong-sided people

For my birthday last fall I was given a book entitled "Histoire des gauchers  - Des gens à l'envers" by Pierre-Michel Bertrand (Imago). Dislocating and fracturing my left shoulder joint and arm reminded me that I was in fact left-handed. I have a vague and unpleasant recollection from age 4 or 5, sitting with my sister at a children's table at home, drawing. Suddenly the maid stopped by and abruptly pulled the crayon from my hand - I actually seem to still feel how she yanked it out from above of my left hand, yelling, that's bad, you are not allowed to draw with your left hand! This happened more than once, I must have finally yielded, because I don't recall being told at school that I must not write with my left hand. Now that my left hand was disabled, I realized I did most everything other than writing with my left hand: washing my face, shaving, washing dishes, pulling something out of somewhere etc. 

I began to think about how the forced switch to the right hand might have affected me. Being left handed was regarded for centuries and until the generation of my children as weird at best, and evil at worst. Bertrand cites Quevedo: "Left-handed people can't do anything right, they are wrong-sided people of whom one wonders whether they are actually people." 

So being left-handed is one thing. Having to switch and pretend to be right-handed is another thing. Reading Betrands book makes me realize how much humanity has come to be more humane, more accepting. That's what I call real progress. That comfort is good enough to let me stop wondering about how much damage was done to my poor soul when I was five. Except that it does help me forgive myself for feeling weird sometimes, for being routinely confused about what's left and what's right, and generally just ticking a little differently from plain people. - What's wrong about not being plain? Today I solemnly affirm: left is beautiful! And actually, being "à l'envers" has its charm...