It's for You

How far should I bend? That is the question.

I was headed to you-know-where Thursday, and a demonstration was headed in my direction down Mount Pleasant Road. My first reaction was, "Crap, it's a 'pro-immigrant' rally." As I got closer, I could see banners with Planned Parenthood's logo, and pink and white balloons. I finally realized that it was a rally against women's oppression. I strained to read the signs, etc., in the growing dark (a lot of them were in Spanish, which in my case is hopelessly rusty). It dawned on me that this was a rally by and for the Hispanic community to support women. I have never seen such a thing, and certainly had been the last thing I'd expected. It took me a few minutes to absorb the whole idea, and I wanted to get to the meeting, but I finally turned around and headed back toward the parade, trying to see what the banners said. A woman came up to me on the curb and tried to give me a domestic violence pamphlet, but it was one I already had, and I told her so. At first she asked me whether I spoke English. It was so sweet. At the tail end was a group of men, all Hispanic, and I smiled at them (I've been forcing myself to do this to people of Color, but these guys in particular deserved it). One of them said to me, in an accent, "You should join us. It's for you." I felt too awkward, even though I wanted to. It was the best anyone had made me feel all day. Another pin prick in my bitterness wall.

The good thing about being tough is that it has helped me to survive. The bad thing is that it may at times cause me to treat people unfairly. It also keeps me isolated. I am so used to ostracization that I am comfortable with it. I don't question rejection anymore, as I have come to see it as my fate. I don't want to be alone, but I don't welcome the alternative. I'm so sick of other people's rules. I'm sick of phonies. People who leap at the chance to prove their superiority to others.

You know? M doesn't know anything about me. Not a thing. Which is not to say that a lot of her points weren't valid, because they were, and I need to do some re-thinking. The irony is that I feel completely ready to change my views. That's not even the point. The point is that there is a right way to do things, and a wrong way, and for myself, if I keep letting people like M dictate terms to me, I deserve whatever happens to me. I'll be goddamned if I let people like David Bowie and Mos Def lecture to me about how to think. How much money have either of them donated to battered women's shelters? How many times have they spoken out about women's repression? No; because it's always racism that has to take a higher priority than saving women's lives.

I respect Tupac because he had the line in "Keep Ya' Head Up" about supporting a woman's right to choose. I assume that's how he really felt. It would have been nice if he could have kept away from the guns, etc., because he'd be around to spread more of this message. Just like it's not "murdering babies" to have an abortion, and it's not anti-semitic to want to reign in Zionism, it's not racist to hold people accountable for their actions. I appreciate that a double standard is being perceived in Jena, in that Black people felt they'd been treated unfairly over an extended period of time. But sometimes victimization and oppression are all in the mind.

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

At some point I have to acknowledge -- and work to meet -- my need for human connection. Sexuality. Belonging. Comradery. Achievement. Positive regard. Fulfillment. I just wish I could fucking figure out how to do that.

Everything is so hard all of the time. They don't call it "struggle" for nothing.

Maybe it's not struggle. Maybe it's baby steps. Like me getting on the phone right now, or getting out a sheet of paper and a stamp and mailing someone who is important to me a letter. "How are you? Just wanted to check in. Are you having any problems?" I have to start to do myself some good.

Life is not easy.

http://www.afterthetrauma.org/