Feminism, trauma in the body and teaching people how to treat you
The day it was announced that Donald Trump would be the next president of the United States, I was in a cold hospital room that looked more scary than inviting, waiting for the insertion of my IUD. It felt like the most vulnerable, womanly thing I could be doing on that day, something that was equal parts empowering and terrifying, as the United States elected a man who said he "grabbed women by the pussy" as their next president.
I've had many days where being a woman felt vulnerable. But on this day, as I was waiting half naked on a cold exam room table for an act that would define my near reproductive future as well as an act of me taking back power over my sexuality, it wasn't just about me. I felt the ache of all the other women in my bones, the ache of women who may not get to make choices about their reproductive futures, women who now live in a country where their president grabs women by the pussy. I don't even live in America and I feel unsafe. I couldn't imagine what the thousands upon thousands of american citizens who were grieving felt like on this day. so this vulnerable, empowering, terrifying act wasn't just about me, or the man who would a few weeks from then be my husband or even the family we will or will not have in the future. It was about women, the rights of my sisters across the globe, this deep ache we all feel to some degree just because we were born women.
\The women's march happened yesterday all across the country. There were marches in the states and solidarity marches around the world, and a few here in Canada. I didn't attend these marches, but if I had the opportunity i would have. Because i believe women's rights are human rights. i believe black lives matter and the rights of the LGBTQ community matter and immigrants matter. I would have marched for my future daughters and sisters and friends, because patriarchy isn't what i want for the world, nor is it what i believe God intended. While I am no stranger to oppression (I know what it is like to be oppressed both as a woman in north america and as a woman with a disability, and on some small scale i have seen first hand racism as it effects my brother and sister) i have privilege. i have the privilege of being born white in north america. the last thing i want to do is let my privilege sit there when instead i could be speaking up for those who don't have the same privilege i was afforded. its what i want people to do for me. in the end we belong to each other, friends, and if one of us is oppressed all of us are oppressed. i'm angry because i'm paying attention.
over the last couple of days, my heart has been aching. i feel my old trauma rising up in my body. I'm not sure if its all the news floating around recently about rights and the old wounds of others, or maybe its the book i'm reading on healing trauma or maybe its just life. Any form of intimacy feels dangerous. My heart feels heavy. I tell myself its alright, to get out and enjoy myself, but as soon as i get out i find myself overstimulated and craving the comforts of solitude. I've been going to bed early, moody and pulling myself away from others. It's not that there's anything wrong with me, its just that the trauma in my head makes it too loud to do much else, that everything out there feels like a trigger warning. This is the part of trauma that no one talks about. they don't talk about how it could go on forever. it gets less, it gets manageable, but there are still moments when out of the blue something comes up and i forget to breathe.
I've had a few discussions around the women's rally since i chose to be so open about my political views and my feminism. some have been healthy and productive, holding space for the other even when an agreement is not reached. and some have been unhealthy, people questioning my beliefs or my character. I am learning that while engaging in conversation with people who see the world differently than i do is beneficial, i can't let myself be stepped on, or treated unfairly.
I'm in one of those phases where being a woman feels vulnerable. Being in this country, in this body feels vulnerable. But i don't think feeling vulnerable means i can step away from advocating for myself and others. I think it means more than ever i need to lean in.
There is an ache in me as old as the world. It is one that vibrates deep in me, that reminds me we belong to each other. It means i can't sit still and watch while other people are being violently mistreated. It means that i believe in the core of my being that we all belong to each other. my trauma in my body isn't just my trauma in my body. it's the trauma of every single sexual abuse survivor, every single woman, every human being. After the pain, this pain, comes the rising. Together we rise.
I've had many days where being a woman felt vulnerable. But on this day, as I was waiting half naked on a cold exam room table for an act that would define my near reproductive future as well as an act of me taking back power over my sexuality, it wasn't just about me. I felt the ache of all the other women in my bones, the ache of women who may not get to make choices about their reproductive futures, women who now live in a country where their president grabs women by the pussy. I don't even live in America and I feel unsafe. I couldn't imagine what the thousands upon thousands of american citizens who were grieving felt like on this day. so this vulnerable, empowering, terrifying act wasn't just about me, or the man who would a few weeks from then be my husband or even the family we will or will not have in the future. It was about women, the rights of my sisters across the globe, this deep ache we all feel to some degree just because we were born women.
\The women's march happened yesterday all across the country. There were marches in the states and solidarity marches around the world, and a few here in Canada. I didn't attend these marches, but if I had the opportunity i would have. Because i believe women's rights are human rights. i believe black lives matter and the rights of the LGBTQ community matter and immigrants matter. I would have marched for my future daughters and sisters and friends, because patriarchy isn't what i want for the world, nor is it what i believe God intended. While I am no stranger to oppression (I know what it is like to be oppressed both as a woman in north america and as a woman with a disability, and on some small scale i have seen first hand racism as it effects my brother and sister) i have privilege. i have the privilege of being born white in north america. the last thing i want to do is let my privilege sit there when instead i could be speaking up for those who don't have the same privilege i was afforded. its what i want people to do for me. in the end we belong to each other, friends, and if one of us is oppressed all of us are oppressed. i'm angry because i'm paying attention.
over the last couple of days, my heart has been aching. i feel my old trauma rising up in my body. I'm not sure if its all the news floating around recently about rights and the old wounds of others, or maybe its the book i'm reading on healing trauma or maybe its just life. Any form of intimacy feels dangerous. My heart feels heavy. I tell myself its alright, to get out and enjoy myself, but as soon as i get out i find myself overstimulated and craving the comforts of solitude. I've been going to bed early, moody and pulling myself away from others. It's not that there's anything wrong with me, its just that the trauma in my head makes it too loud to do much else, that everything out there feels like a trigger warning. This is the part of trauma that no one talks about. they don't talk about how it could go on forever. it gets less, it gets manageable, but there are still moments when out of the blue something comes up and i forget to breathe.
I've had a few discussions around the women's rally since i chose to be so open about my political views and my feminism. some have been healthy and productive, holding space for the other even when an agreement is not reached. and some have been unhealthy, people questioning my beliefs or my character. I am learning that while engaging in conversation with people who see the world differently than i do is beneficial, i can't let myself be stepped on, or treated unfairly.
I'm in one of those phases where being a woman feels vulnerable. Being in this country, in this body feels vulnerable. But i don't think feeling vulnerable means i can step away from advocating for myself and others. I think it means more than ever i need to lean in.
There is an ache in me as old as the world. It is one that vibrates deep in me, that reminds me we belong to each other. It means i can't sit still and watch while other people are being violently mistreated. It means that i believe in the core of my being that we all belong to each other. my trauma in my body isn't just my trauma in my body. it's the trauma of every single sexual abuse survivor, every single woman, every human being. After the pain, this pain, comes the rising. Together we rise.
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