Her-spective
I think it is time to claim my truth, heal my "self", and stop hiding. What better way to do that than this? Join me if you dare...this is going to get messy
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Trauma
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
We Created This
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
The helicopter crash heard round the world...and in my heart
My thoughts and prayers are with all of the families, friends and associates of each of the victims in the crash earlier this week.
Saturday, January 28, 2017
The aftermath
I want to believe that I am not alone in my anxiety, fear, and sadness right now. I need to trust that other people are watching what is happening in our country and are just as outraged as I am. I want the feelings that I am having to compel me into action, and yet I am finding myself paralyzed. I am overwhelmed with the conflict, I am sickened by the polarization, I am offended by the lack of empathy and compassion. I am afraid to see what is happening, and I am equally afraid not to. I cannot tear my thoughts away from the destruction of a nation I am a citizen of.
I am not afraid of my President, per se. I am afraid of bigotry. I am afraid of prejudice. I am afraid of intolerance. I am afraid of misogyny. I am afraid of extremists...not only the ones beyond our borders...but also the ones that I am watching within the boundaries of our country. I am afraid of ignorance. I am afraid of the apparent lack of desire or capacity for intelligent and honest debate. I am afraid of the lack of foresight. I am afraid of finances being put ahead of social progress. I am afraid of the divisiveness that I am witnessing. I am afraid of people trying to shut down others voices. I am afraid that we no longer are united.
I am sad...I am sad to the core of my body. I am sad that we are not looking at the consequences of OUR behavior. I am sad that women stood together last week and were belittled for it. I am sad that people are made fun of for being terrified. I am sad that people who already feel marginalized are trying to find a way to stay connected to a society that by and large lacks the basic capacity for understanding their marginalization. I am sad that we have to have secret groups on Facebook to feel safe in our expression of our beliefs. I am sad that I have people in my orbit that say things like "stop being a baby" when I express my fears. I am sad that I have to write blogs like this, to purge my heart so I can focus on my school work.
I am really struggling to find a sense of equilibrium inside my own body. I feel like I am being assaulted by my sensations.
It feels like I am being held hostage and I do not know how to negotiate for my own release.
As I look around, I wonder if other's are in hostage situations as well. Fearing disconnect for expressing their views, challenged by the onslaught of inaccurate reassurances, wondering who is going to insure that we will protect the rights of those with dissenting views, leery of the outcome of the actions that are being taken. I wonder if anyone else feels guilty for not being soothed even after 2 million people worldwide stood up for their voices to be heard, willing to fight on a global level to make sure that we continue to move forward rather than backward.
I am not a victim. I am not a baby. I am not hysterical. I do not need to get over anything. I will not be silenced. I will be sad for as long as I am, I will be afraid until I am not, I will not diminish or excuse my feelings for anyone else's comfort. I refuse.
I will stand, with pride, as the woman I am... a whole, feeling, thinking, acting, breathing human.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
One Simple Request
Tomorrow, people in the United States will undergo a transition that we have all experienced before, the passing of the highest seat in the land from one man to another. There will be people who will find this to be a moment of celebration, and those who will experience grief, but we all have one thing in common, we are again entering the unknown.
The unknown is a frightening place for some and an exhilarating for others. The sensations in your body can range from "butterflies" to knots in your stomach, from racing thoughts to laser like focus, from tingling on your skin to numbness. We all express our response to those feelings in a way unique to us, in a way that in the past has kept us "safe" from the fear. We predict, project, blame, deny, look to our personal history for patterns, look to world history for patterns...we need to feel settled in "knowing".
We do not know though. We do not know what this Presidency will bring to any of us. Not one of us has the capacity to see the future, or to fortune tell. We may make educated guesses, and some will be right, others will be wrong, and we will have an opportunity to say "SEE!! I WAS RIGHT", but really it is just the way probability works. We will ALL be right and we will ALL be wrong, perhaps about different issues, but we will ALL feel the thrill and defeat of our thoughts and ideas.
One thing is for certain though, we are all in this together. Not just here in the United States, but our elected officials in the nation's capital impact the world at large. Our policies, our choices, our language, our economy, our education and health care impact all citizens, both here and abroad. The way we model behavior for our children, both on a political and personal front informs how they will interpret the world around them and the people in it. The way we treat others says nothing about them, it simply and wholly says a lot about who we are, and how we see ourselves.
I do not understand how some people view the world. I do not understand how some people view policies that I consider essential for the safety of women, Muslims, Hispanics, Black people, GLBTQ people, disabled people and all others who are perhaps different than them. I do not understand how people can hold their own interests over the good of the whole. However, I also do not understand why people who say they are interested in human rights are finding it acceptable to attack others based on their beliefs.
Over the course of the next 24 hours, and perhaps longer if you can...can you all please non-judgmentally hold space for what the people you encounter are feeling? To put that differently, can you take a moment to, in each of your encounters both on social media and in person, see that every one of us is human first? Can you ask WHY people are afraid, or even WHY they are not? Can you listen and respect their answers? Can you stop with the hateful language, the disrespectful posts, the angry exchanges? Can you find it in you to hear the opposition and sit with your discomfort during tough conversations about sensitive topics and show respect for the person who holds views unlike your own?
I know this is a huge ask. I invite you to notice how it made you feel inside to read this, and what perhaps made you bristle. Then I invite you to remember that you are not alone, there are things that make us all bristle...but it is going to take us truly hearing and respecting each other to make any true progress, and that is what we need right now.
I am afraid, not of what I know, but of what I do not. Tomorrow we embark on the unknown together, let's do it as equal humans with vast histories and rich experiences that influence our perspectives.
It is but one simple request.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
I will not be silenced
This week has been a series of emotions for me...as hatred fills the air and seeps into the very fabric of our existence through social media, news outlets, public protest, and reports of crime being committed. I am watching strangers berate each other, family attack each other, lifelong friends choosing to walk away from each other. Never have I seen this level of discord, and it is coming from all camps. There seems to be no limit to the extent of this national reaction. And make no mistake, that is exactly what this is. A reaction.
As if it isn't hard enough to be afraid for the safety of the people I love, I am also afraid to blog now. I am afraid that I will be called a cry baby. Afraid I will be called a sore loser. Afraid you will tell me I have nothing to worry about. Afraid you will bully me, with your lack of empathy that you think is appropriate but is actually the equivalent of telling me to put on my big girl pants or walk it off. Afraid you will pick up your bullhorn and go off about the DNC, the RNC, and Bernie, blaming me for how things went down, even though you have absolutely ZERO idea how I cast my ballot. Afraid you will tell me I am being dramatic, even though every single thing I just said I was afraid of has already happened to me, on Facebook, in texts, in emails, in real life. I am going to ask you to refrain if that is your impulse, have enough respect for me to not put me down because you do not understand who or what I am actually afraid of.
Let's get one thing straight. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. Not as an individual. I am not afraid that he has enough charm or intelligence to woo our nation. I am not afraid of most people that voted for him. As a rule I am seeing that a lot of people who voted red did so for one or two specific reasons, and were overall unaware or didn't consider the possible ramifications of their choice. Most people that I know who voted for him are living under the "he would never do that" umbrella when it comes to issues such as women's health and gay rights. I believe them actually...Donald Trump has bigger fish to fry than if Inga has the right to visit me in the hospital while I am unconscious because it offends someone's religious beliefs to allow her to do that, or if we fall under the same Federal protections as our heterosexual friends who are married. But, again, I am not afraid of Donald Trump.
I want to take a minute to review what I am afraid of. I am then going to explain why. My shoes have only been worn by me, and have been through every situation with me, met every person in my life, heard every story, and witnessed acts so beautiful and so horrific that the idea of taking a breath becomes a challenge. Again, if you start feeling yourself getting defensive or on the verge of reacting, either close the window or take a moment to breathe through your discomfort before you decide you are going to act on your impulse to respond without being unconditionally supportive. I am not doing this for your blessing or your approval, I am hoping that my honesty will speak for the people you do not know, and perhaps inspire just a modicum of compassion and unity.
I am afraid of religious oppression. My heritage is divided 4 ways. I am 25% Irish, 25% French, 25% Polish and 25% Lebanese. That means I have ties to both Jewish and Muslim religions, directly. I have lineage that comes from Beirut, Warsaw and also from Belfast. I have visited two of the three cities, and explored the remnants of religious persecution as it directly relates to my family. I have stood in a gas chamber, and watched the walls close between the Catholic and Protestant sides of a city at sundown. I have spoken to survivors from both cities while standing on their soil, spent time with children who had food ration cards in their homes, broken bread with humans that can never fully describe what religious divide has done to them or their nations. I am afraid of religious oppression.
I am afraid of racism. I grew up one of two white grandchildren on my mother's side. I can remember one cousin visiting my hometown and being so uncomfortable with the way she felt there that she still hasn't been back, and it has been 40 years. I remember living in Atlanta, and being in a car with my friend Reuben and listening to the cop call him a stupid n** and telling me that being seen with him would put me in jeopardy. I work at BU, and have listened on countless occasions to students be told to speak English when they are in private conversations, the very students who will get a degree in their 2nd, 3rd, or 4th language. I have been caught in a Shriner's parade, and witnessed a KKK march while in northern Georgia. I am afraid of racism.
I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration. I am in the process of writing my master's thesis for Criminal Justice and have been researching ethical and just practices for years now. I consider the feelings that are associated with broken windows policing, and stop-and-frisk and on the surface they make sense, but if you did a little deeper, you find the undercurrents that cause division. Consider the neighborhoods where these policies are enforced. My neighborhood is primarily white, upper class, and liberal so I highly doubt stop and frisk will be instituted there. Lower class and disenfranchised neighborhoods tend to house minority populations who have experienced centuries of judgement and racism. Targeting these neighborhoods widens the gap between people rather than closing it. Discrepancies in sentencing based on race and gender have been researched for years. Women are more frequently imprisoned for moral crimes, and males for violent crimes. MORAL CRIMES. That is a real thing. Drug crimes are broken down by classification, most with federally or state mandated minimum sentences. For example, in most states the mandatory minimum for 5 grams of crack is the same for 5 pounds of cocaine. That brings socioeconomic status and race into the conversation. Although black people account for only 13% of the U.S. population, they are 40% of the incarcerated population...compared to white (non hispanic) folks, who account for 64% of the U.S. population and 39% of the incarcerated demographic. I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration.
I am afraid of homophobia. I can remember the feeling I had, that day...I was 31 years old, a teacher, and I got called into the principals office. I was let go...and in the most open display of prejudice I have ever experienced, told that being gay made me unsafe for the kids. 10 years earlier I had an administrator who told me she had spoken with her lawyer about me to make sure I would be protected. That was five years before I was denied service in a restaurant, and six years before I stood in front of my state senate and was told that the fact that I could be evicted from my home for my orientation was not a problem at all. I have visited assaulted friends in hospitals and survived being sexually assaulted by someone who thought I just had never had a "real man". I was at a bar in Connecticut six months ago, and asked Inga to not be offended that I would not sit next to her, because I felt physically unsafe. I have watched friends be denied access to ICU rooms and wedding cakes because the working personnel said it did not align with their religious beliefs. I am afraid of homophobia.
I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade. Before you balk...let's get real. Abortion has only been used by a select few as "birth control", or to terminate pregnancy where no preventative measures were taken. Cases with failed contraceptives, medical issues, sexual assault, or other extraneous circumstances account for a majority of abortions nationally. Late-term abortion, as described recently, is not a reality. Abortion at 9 months is frequently referred to as a c-section. Women who have to make the decision to have an abortion are often ridiculed, misunderstood, and verbally or physically threatened at some point regarding their decision. In states like Indiana, legislation has been passed (by Vice President Elect Mike Pence) to mandate that women who receive abortion services have to pay for and hold a funeral for the unborn fetus. I imagine that for me...when I was raped at 18 years old and got pregnant. How would I have managed the aftermath of being raped, the decision that I could not live with the pregnancy, and the addition of holding a funeral emotionally? I was not put in that situation, I had a miscarriage...but I know many of you just judged me before you read the next sentence. Without cause. And for most of you, without personnel experience. I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade.
I could keep going. Environmental issues. Education issues. Infrastructure issues. Economical issues. Really there isn't enough time for either of us to go through it all, so I cherry picked a few that really hit home with me. My feelings are valid, and you cannot shame me out of them. I am not burning down buildings, or putting down the opposition. I am not criticizing people's perspectives, or attacking your post election process. I am turning my fear and grief into action, and asking people from every party to join me. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. I am afraid of the uncertainty and rage that has suddenly become dominant in a country I love, and a land that my ancestors sought to be a part of for a better life for themselves, and ultimately for me. I am willing to fight for you. Are you willing to fight for me?
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Good grief
I know that not everyone expresses uncomfortable emotions the way that I do. I have met people that shop, drink, eat, drug, cut, clean, drive, exercise, and shut down to not sit in grief. I have been under the impression that grief is a choice, and that I can therefor choose to not have any. I have been told that grief is self-pity, that it is attention seeking, and that there are others who have it "worse than" me, and so I should get a better perspective. None of that is true.
My grief currently is related to noticing a shift in my relationships. I have changed a lot, my life has changed a lot, and the result is that my friendships have changed a lot. I feel disconnected from people that I have known for a long time and am struggling to connect with new folks. I feel generally awkward and uneasy in conversation, and struggle to rectify that. It has likely been this way since my father died, although I can not be certain of that. I am sure that such a significant loss resulted in not wanting to be close to people for fear of losing them.
Ironically, that is not how I think, and not what I want. It is simply what I have always done. To avoid grief, I avoid connection, which causes grief. Sitting with it is new for me. Allowing myself to be vulnerable and ask for what I need...a hug, a coffee date, a phone call. To engage in self-compassion and be aware that I do not need to isolate when I am sad, but instead have to reach out to the people I know love me.
I am almost excited about this...the idea that I can grieve and still be in relationship. I no longer need to hide from my grief, I have the option to embrace it, and even to use it to connect with others rather than disengaging. I have the ability to be honest and open with it, and stay embodied, present, and mindful that like all other sensations, these are temporary.
Who knew? Grief can be cleansing, freeing....good.