Anything Goes : What My Father Couldn`t See by Wyman Brent

When I was a teenager, I sold things at a local flea market every weekend to earn money. One hot summer day, my father stopped by to bring me more items for my table. We were talking casually when both of us noticed a woman standing nearby — she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and we both agreed she was incredibly attractive.

Then she turned, and we saw she was missing part of one arm.

My father’s tone changed immediately. He became disgusted and made it clear that, in his mind, this woman was no longer “attractive.” He said things she couldn’t hear — things I wish I could forget.

I told him I still thought she was beautiful. He looked at me as if something were wrong with me.

It wasn’t the first time he reacted that way. My father was a violent man — racist, misogynistic, and unfaithful. Yet somehow, I was the one who was “wrong” because I believed that missing part of an arm didn’t make someone less beautiful.

That moment has always stayed with me. Maybe it’s because it revealed the deep divide between us — not just in what we saw, but in what we valued.

He saw imperfection.

I saw a human being.

To this day, I believe beauty and worth have nothing to do with so-called perfection. They live in how a person carries themselves, in their spirit, in the light that shines through despite everything they’ve been through.

There can be real beauty in creativity if you do not limit how you see the world and others.