she found me, I found her when I was young.
I found her on Saturday mornings around the time when I smelled like a pasture filled with horses and my legs carried me faster than any of the boys in the neighborhood. I could hang from the jungle gym by the strength of my biceps, only letting go when I was bored, not tired.
She had a lasso and an invisible plane and the best red boots. And she was beautiful.
I sat in the theatre tonight, decades later, and she returned.
She returned to remind me of who I am.
In all these years of looking around for something in the culture, in the movies, television, even books, I rarely, if ever, have seen a reflection that made me stand taller in my own self wisdom.
Mostly I've seen: pretty, sexy, beautiful, sassy, strong but bitchy, powerful but ruthless, fierce but broken, truthful but neurotic....women as sluts, bitches, dykes, dipshits, bimbos, ballbusters, nerds, sidekicks, sidedishes, hotties, boobs, asses, fat slobs, giggling, superficial shoppers and gossipers, looking for romance, the duped, the dumped, the dopes...it's always all come down to sex.
Do they ooze it, sell it, provoke the fantasies of it, are they exploited by it or for it, or are they overtly sexless?
It's always about their parts and how useful or perfect or imperfect they are.
If a woman is intelligent or wise, she's usually an old dowager, a geek or a plain, unfashionable, awkward at life kind of character.
These cardboard cutouts make their way off the pages and screens of fiction into the women around me who bend and fold and squeeze themselves into agony about how they look, not who they are. Myself included.
I find myself mourning the loss of my dancer's body, my used to be effortless capacity to have a flat stomach and strong, lean limbs. I find myself wondering if I look good enough when I am going to be seen in public socially or to teach or do my work, instead of wondering if I am present and embodied and reminding myself I have a lot to offer.
I notice if I have a five pound weight gain or loss and I see that my husband doesn't notice that in himself.
He likes the way he feels when he is active but he doesn't ruminate about his body's shape or size. Not like I do.
Not like every woman I know does.
It is insidious how it penetrates every woman that we see in our culture: in fiction, in advertisements, in traditions, in law, in e v e r y t h i n g.
There is very little room in this culture for the celebration of or reverence for instinct and truth.
I live from this place.
I bristle when this innate wisdom is ignored. It is intolerable to watch truth become the martyr for social acceptance.
I don't want to smile when someone is slyly unjust. I want to have the courage to admit that I see it, smell it and know it when something mean or nasty is happening in the room that is trying to stay polite. I want to not prioritize being easy going when I get a whiff of aggression or toxicity.
I am getting better at it, for certain, but I am calling myself out for the distance I still have to go. It can be said that I've smiled on the outside and growled on the inside in the presence of subtle, and even not so subtle, racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, backstabbing, meanness, etc. disguised as "jokes". I'm a woman who has learned to literally survive by smiling and playing nice and trying to blend in...not too big, not too bright, not too talented, not too smart, not too dumb and certainly not too pretty or beautiful or sexy. I'm realizing that I have survived and those strategies are old business I don't need anymore.
I've come a long way.
I rise now and speak. I choose my silences with wisdom and I fight when necessary.
More often than I'd like, I fight with a sword when a step out of the line of attack might be better suited.
I have to brush up on my aikido.
But I'm also honing the skill of the fight with a capacity and clarity to stand embodied in a truth and knowing, to be the mirror and watch the momentum of another's transgressions topple them to the floor.
I am improving on my aikido.
I celebrate my instinct.
I seek out my animal self and I am cautious of those who do not know their own.
I return to my power as a woman and not in the wear a flower garland in my hair, dance around in flowing skirts while speaking in a new age yoga teachery voice kind of way.
In the real way.
The boots on the ground, sword in my hand, expansion in my heart, wisdom in my walk, animal allies by my side kind of way.
and this reminder tonight brought me back to what I know about myself, truly, as a woman.
Wisdom, Instinct, Fearlessness, Compassion, Truth, Justice, Principles, Love, Strength, Vulnerability.
Horses, hand to hand combat, power, athleticism, grit, grace....an intact heart.
That is the woman I am.
I thank you for the reminder and mirror of my own wonder.
No comments:
Post a Comment