Post 24: The last post...

Post 24: “There’s a fire burning in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it’s bringing me out the dark” The last post didn’t leave off on the happiest of notes, and while I started to write this one the next day, it didn’t feel like it was quite right to share (so it’s been changed a few times). I’m unsure if it’s been the lack of work and an abundance of time that has ignited a fire that hasn’t been there in about 12 years. Okay, it has always been there; it just may not have been so outwardly out here. There are no words to express how blessed I am to have this amazing tribe of women in my life. I knew this and felt this even as a young girl. I would overhear stories my mom and aunts would tell and think to myself how incredibly strong and resilient they were. I have always felt strongly connected to every one of my aunts, and I think at one time or another in my life each of them has been like a second mom to me. My university courses would enhance just how incredible women truly are. We may be soft on the outside, but holy f*ck are we strong on the inside. Each generation must feel like things have improved, although having a daughter that will enter the adult world in only a few short years, they are not where I’d like them to be for her. I would have thought that girls of her generation would grow up with a great sense of “I can do anything” regardless of gender (or race or sexual orientation). Sadly I’m not sure this is true (yet). At Charli’s Grade 9 grad, they presented a phys ed award to one Grade 9 student. That student was Charli. I was so proud of her. She is strong and athletic, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t get it from me. So here I am so proud of her and so proud that wasn’t awarded to a boy because boys are generally known for being stronger and faster and all around better in phys ed. And then Charli would tell me the taunting that occurred every single day until the school year was over. While the male and female phys ed teachers thought Charli deserved that award, the boys in her class certainly did not, and they would ensure she knew it every single day. And so instead of being excited that she broke some gender stereotypical glass ceiling, she wished she had never received it. I would tell her that they were jealous, but knowing that doesn’t take away the frustration or hurt. When I left off in the story in the last post, it might have appeared that I laid down the white flag, but not to worry, I did not. I just needed to figure out how to “fight for what I thought was right” without being angry all the time. Things were not going to change like that. The change first needed to come from inside. The road was bumpy because where I had a clear picture of who I was, I hadn’t sorted out the rest of my shit. And instead of thinking/knowing it was me who needed to change, I blamed every “injustice” on Terrace. For whatever reason, maybe it was the book I just read which was set in the 50s or because Terrace and I watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, this passion that what women do (inside and outside the home) isn’t always as valued as I think it should be. #metoo shouldn’t be a thing anymore – that behavior should no longer be socially acceptable by men or women. Girls should be able to win the phys ed award without being harassed by the boys after. Wanting to be treated as equals does NOT mean “the same.” But there is this balancing act, and even today, what I see as injustices ignite anger. Case and point: the other morning I get home from my run and Terrace says, “Babe, look, I did the dishes!” Now, in years past, to keep the peace, I would have just said, “Awh, thanks, you’re the best.” That morning it went something like, “Um, you want me to say thank you for you doing YOUR dishes?” The rant went on and on. (oops) I know I overreacted, but I was dumbfounded that still, today, in my marriage, if Terrace does something that I would normally do (laundry, dishes, vacuum) without being asked, he wants praise. He doesn’t see it, and people can’t change what they don’t see. I am always most inspired when I hear stories of “ordinary” women doing extraordinary things (and by extraordinary, I mean all the things we do but don’t give ourselves credit for). And maybe, just maybe, if we started to share these ordinary/extraordinary stories, we would start to see ourselves differently. And maybe if we saw ourselves differently, we would be able to present to the world a different view. And maybe if we presented to the world a different view or a different set of beliefs, maybe we could change the world. “White Flag – Bishop Briggs”

May 27, 2020, 7:51 AM