Sometimes, I find myself grasping for answers, and air.
Breathless, at the ongoing onslaught of efforts to dismantle the rights of women in this country, I attempt to make sense of the non-sense.
For lack of a better pronoun to highlight the plight of women, I’ve used SHE as the title of this post, and am including all who have felt the stinging frustration of the restrictions of a woman’s rights to earn equal pay in the workplace, graduate to positions of power, and govern the very personal decisions regarding body and health.
When I experience those moments of exasperation, I deliberately escort myself back to the breath.
I breathe in new life. I breathe out what is stale and no longer useful.
While I breathe, I remind myself of my own, and our collective strength.
With each breath, I’m hearing the lyrics in my head that Helen Reddy made famous decades ago…
I am Woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore, and I know too much to go back an’ pretend. Cause I’ve heard it all before, and I’ve been down there on the floor, no one’s ever gonna keep me down again.
Somehow, we must summon the masses, the voters and leaders that will ensure future equal rights for ourselves, our daughters, and our granddaughters.
My sister, Jessica recently shared the poem below with me.
It tells a story all too familiar, and seeks to empower by reminding us that we are life-force, just like the breath.
Remember, you are strong! You are invincible! You are Woman! (I am Woman/Helen Reddy, 1972)
Breathe by Becky Hemsley
She sat at the back and they said she was shy,
She led from the front and they hated her pride,
They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,
They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,
When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,
So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,
They told her they'd listen then covered their ears,
And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,
And she listened to all of it thinking she should,
Be the girl they told her to be, best as she could,
But one day she asked what was best for herself,
Instead of trying to please everyone else,
So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,
She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,
She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,
And she told them what she'd been told time after time,
She told them she felt she was never enough,
She was either too little or far, far too much,
Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,
Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,
Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,
And she stopped...and she heard what the trees said to her,
And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,
For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.
Dear Cassie: As long as there is poem sharing going on, this one is one of my favorites.
Dangerous Coats
Sharon Owens
Someone clever once said
Women were not allowed pockets
In case they carried leaflets
To spread sedition
Which means unrest
To you & me
A grandiose word
For commonsense
Fairness
Kindness
Equality
So ladies, start sewing
Dangerous coats
Made of pockets & sedition
Beautiful post, sister. Who could have thought that women would be facing this again. But we are powerful if we choose to speak up and use our strength, and we outnumber the oppressors, so we can wins our rights again.