I have seen my grandmother’ s shoes but have never seen her feet. She always hid her feet from view as if they were hideous objects. Our feet, which carry our weight as we stand and walk, are blameless. They render us outstanding service. It was her shoes that were hideous. They were an instrument of torture and a mold that distorted nature. Each time I learn about an uncivilized arranged marriage, I am reminded of my grandmother’ s tiny shoes and her bound feet.