There's so many things we can lose as a women. Ourselves, our voices, control over our own bodies, opportunities, numerous lovers, friends, children, & life within our bodies that never got the chance to grow to childhood. So very few people speak of any of it. So I do. I speak so that other women feel the support they need to speak as well. That our losses do not have to come with a tied tongue. Words can flow from our lips. We can grow. We can sprout roses from burned weeds. I speak always, despite knowing that I don't want to meet people who think they know all of me from reading a post. I speak because someone has to for the black women who's lips are sewn shut. Maybe I can help you pop a stitch or two. Maybe the words can seep out through the cracks. I speak because I have a duty as one of few who can. And because I owe it to myself to release my wounds. Send them back & draw peace from them.-
A few weeks ago I lost the life that was growing inside of me. I've lost two now. And World Breast Feeding Week tho beautiful in its glory leaves some of us feeling inadequate as women. That some women can create & sustain a life so effortlessly. Or what appears effortless with their own bodies & others, like i can not finish growing the life. Nourish the life. Or grow to know the life apart from our bodies. It makes us feel like our bodies are failures. That we are failures. And our own skin took something from us. Plucked it from beneath our hearts. And I always think about what kind of mother I will be and if I will be able to grow into one different from my own. A mother that doesn't project her disaster onto her child. That doesn't reverse the roles and make the child parent. I don't want to hold them too tight. I want them to grow, apart from me. But i fear I am her. I see my mother when I look in the mirror. And I know I have work to do before I think of sustaining a new life within the confined galaxy within my hips. The universe knew I wasn't ready. She knew I needed time. My palms may be ready to grasp a tiny life in them, but I am not. This experience taught me to take more time. With everything. Go slow. Breathe when I normally hold my breath. That I'll survive this because that's what we women do right? We survive everything. We always have, but survival always feels better when done over tea & in the arms of your tribe. Let's do better to hold each other up ladies. Let's work harder to hold space for each others voices. Let's lay the soil for flower beds and let each other grow there. Sprout there. And reveal our full potential there. What will be heard if we all fall silent? Who will lift us up if we don't?