To be a woman is to have a body that is not my own.

A possession

A temptation

My mind is a threat.

A woman's mind has the power to take back her freedom.

And what is a man? What is he without women? What is he, if he does not have a woman to procreate with?

To be with a woman is to be with Gaia herself. And man is killing Gaia.

My heart is a weapon.

A woman's heart has the ability to heal herself and others.

Who else will care for us without women?

But if a man could see

His place is not to be a woman's hero. She is her own.

She does not need to be hidden, but you can be her shield if she lets you.

It isn't to be her voice, but to fight for her voice to be heard.

It is to step out of the way and let her shine. It is to receive all her light and offer replenishment.

It is to offer strength, but not by force.

Let her waters flow freely and be in awe of the power of her flowing river. Receive the waves of glorious love. Only when the floodgates are let free will man see the beauty he had trapped behind the walls.

And to the men who are fearful of tearing down the damn: Know the strength behind that concrete will slowly erode and chip away, and the rage will destroy anything keeping her restrained.

Be the man that stops the damn from being erected. Fight to have the walls the restrain her released. And above everything: Let HER Be!

Political Experiment

As I write this, visa holders and immigrants from Iraq seeking asylum in our country are being held at the JFK airport. A Mosque is burning in Texas. This bleeding heart liberal finds herself getting angry and wanting to lash out to say, “See, this is why we couldn’t just ‘Give him a chance’! You ignorant racist assholes who loudly proclaim their religious views are doing exactly what Jesus’ taught against”.

I could, and sometimes do, use Facebook to express my anger and shout different versions of “I told you so!”. But what am I actually accomplishing? I have called my representatives, and hope that makes a difference, but with the Republicans controlling the house and senate, there are bound to be many things that will change that I am not going to agree are the best for our country, humanity, or the earth. 

Anxiety takes over my thoughts. Each day feels a little scarier. 

All this time I keep asking myself, what really makes a difference? What can I really do that I will see first-hand to change my world, and help me go through each day with more love than anger and fear?

So, I am going to start an experiment. While it may be quixotic, I want to see what will happen if, when interacting with those viewpoints that are different than mine, I ONLY ask questions in response. Sincere questions that honestly try to understand. Why do people feel we need to halt immigration? What is the deal with the wall and why aren’t there other options? 

I go back and forth with the idea that Trump is just the lightening rod that uncovered the sentiments people already have, to thinking that the lightening rod has created fear that would otherwise not be electrified. However, does it really matter? What matters is how I get through holidays with family. What matters is feeling that I live in an inclusive community. What matters is having conversations with my neighbors, knowing them. Knowing the men and women that sleep outside a few blocks away. What also matters is that I am acting in a way that feels authentic to me and true to my values. I cannot watch families be torn apart because of arbitrary lines that differentiate our nationality. I cannot wait it out while women are forced to maintain a pregnancy that could be dangerous or unwanted, or try another unsafe route to end it. I won’t stop making calls, donating time and money, marching and resisting. 

And, I won’t alienate my friends and family by using words like racist, misogynist, ignorant to describe people that voted for Trump. Meanwhile my anger and impatience speak to me and tell me that these people are these things. To let it go without being called out only feeds the wrongdoing.

Here lies the dilemma. When is it appropriate for racism and discrimination to be called out, and when is it appropriate to inquire to find out what is really behind the rhetoric? My gut may tell me, but only if I slow down enough to listen to it. 

The three year old boy, innocently intermixed in a war that caused his death, popped back up on my Facebook feed. He is tragically lying on the beach, taking no further breaths. No more laughter. I look at my daughter and I shudder, thinking how easily she could drown if we had to escape by a crowded boat. Deciding as a parent to stay and risk bombs or risk the unknown and a treacherous journey to where you have no idea if you will be welcomed wherever you land. 

My first thought is, how can YOU (read: other than me) let this happen? How can you (insert judgmental comment) allow this to happen? Innocent children. HUMAN LIFE. 

Then I stop. What have I done or not done to create this? Did I call my senator when the refugee crisis in Syria was happening? I may have shared some Facebook posts and put my name on some petitions, but what did I really DO? My judgment is palpable. It is as if I am embracing it as the life raft that could have saved the boy. 

My first question in this experiment could be, “How do you allow the loss of innocent life due to war like with this boy?” The judgy liberal in me really wants to ask this question. What would it bring in response? Am I really asking them, or am I asking myself?

To be honest, I am scared to ask the questions that would solicit sincere answers. I am scared people might have a rational response that I cannot argue with, even if I remain in disagreement. I am also scared the response may indeed uncover racial or religious bias or sexism. The fragile respect I hold for my friends and family that voted for Tump is like the Brave Man’s Bridge in China. Made of transparent glass, the transparency of it is what is the most frightening. You can see straight down almost 600 ft and a tiny crack could send you tumbling to a certain death. Yet the bridge is sound engineering. The clear view allows an exhilarating and extremely frightening walk to the other side.

We have been traveling on concrete bridges. In Washington, we know our bridges are deteriorating, yet we drive on them every day, less fearful than if we were to walk on the solid glass bridge in China. In politics, we have been going on a path of ignorant deterioration. Moving farther and farther apart from our neighbors. There is so much tension, perhaps making issues more extreme than what deep down they really are if we actually listened to each other. 

So today, I challenge myself to ask and listen. I will still show up to rallies. I will still call and write my representatives. And when someone from the other side opposes what I am doing, I will step on a glass bridge and ask them why they oppose me. I will listen to the response and do my best to hear with an open heart their concerns and fears. If nothing else, maybe we can meet in the middle.