You Too

So the majority of women I know and love, who are on social media (and many who are not),  have been victims of sexual and other forms of gender based violence. Men and people responsible for raising men, are you fucking telling me that our daughters do not stand a chance in living lives without being preyed upon?! Are we expected to warn them that their bodies & spirits will always be under attack by you, people who look like you, and the sons of the world?! Please tell me this is NOT normal but our testimonies, both spoken & unspoken, say that sexual assault & rape are expected, normal, pervasive & chronic! Do not respond to this post, just go do the work of humanizing manhood and masculinity.

And if anyone even tries to come for me with that “not all men” bullshit I will quickly shut that shit down by saying, I’m not a fucking idiot. I live with 3 beautiful feminist men. I know what manhood and masculinity can look like and I have faith in men’s capacity to grow and evolve. Having said that, it is up to ALL MEN to address rape culture head on with all the other men they are connected to. We are tired and many of us are assaulted just as much by your silence & apathy  as your son’s, brother’s, uncle’s, father’s, grandfather’s, teammate’s, frat brother’s, pastor’s, coach’s, friend’s, neighbor’s, colleague’s, coworker’s, favorite athlete’s, and your boy’s attack on our humanity.

Survival in Practice

I’m typically a chatty Cathy…except for when I’m in pain. When I was in labor with my children, I was sooooooo quiet. Labor was painful and somehow I intuitively turned inward to survive it. During my first labor and delivery, I remember my grandmother being very worried about me not using medical intervention. She and her bible sat in the corner. She was present and prayerful and I was grateful for her. Cedric was right beside me and I recall when the pain got so intense I looked at him and said “I don’t think I can do it!!” He looked back at me and said, "Yes, you can”. I turned inward and I did.  I pushed out a 7 lb 15 oz baby boy. It was then that realized that I could survive what was quite surely one of the greatest physical pains that a body can tolerate. I set the terms, no pain killers, a Ghanian fertility doll as a focal point and loved ones present to help me get through. But ultimately, it was me who had to get that baby out of me and had to deal with the pain associated with childbirth. It was no joke but I felt like a bad ass after. During labor, it was my silence that was most necessary. I had learned the Lamaze breathing/panting (ineffective) technique, but I just wanted peace and quiet so I could listen to my body and survive the pain. With each childbirth, I refined my desire for intentional silence during labor. I learned Hypno birthing and incorporated affirmations that helped me believe that I could birth my baby. This practice is necessary only because we have been taught to fear our bodies and the child birthing process as well as deny our strength. The hypnotic state was really a deep relaxation and meditative process. It required inward reflection and visualizing a place of peace. Even the verbal prompts Cedric had practiced to help me go deeper into a hypnotic/relaxed state were distracting in the labor process because of my deep desire for silence and turning inward. I needed peace and quiet to survive that pain. No nurses coming in and out poking and prodding, no lights on, no massages. Just me getting through that shit. Leave me alone. I birthed an 8 lb 7 oz baby boy that day with very little pushing thanks to a very self determined little one.  By the time the 3rd labor came along, I was skilled at childbirth and also at knowing which conditions were ideal for me. Silence and solitude during labor! I wanted my support system there, which now included Cedric and the boys. I had the boys with a family friend while I was in labor but they were the 1st ones to hold and see their little sister after she was born. Unfortunately, my midwife did not get the memo about my need for peace and quiet and got on my damned nerves the whole time. She could not accept that I was in charge of my birthing process and kept trying to offer suggestions. Irritated the fuck out of me. What I have realized is that when I am in pain, deep pain, I hurt too much to explain myself to others. Cedric was my advocate but we could not regain control of the labor and delivery process. I felt disempowered. I recall that process as my worse birthing experience simply because I felt imposed upon and I was not allowed to just lie there and meditate til that baby was ready to come out. She wanted me to shift positions and just kept talking. I needed to just survive the ugly beauty of my pain in peace. Thankfully, a 8 lb 6 oz baby girl blessed me with another quick labor and put me out of my noise induced misery.

I find myself in pain a lot lately. My current pain is not physical, it is psychic, emotional, psychological and spiritual. It still hurts and it’s hard to explain its fullness to others. I tend to retreat into myself during these times. It's simply too tiring and painful to try to help others get why and how a happily married, mother of 3 beautiful children with a bunch of sister-friends who owns a home, smiles a lot, and is a professor is dealing with anxiety and life long depression. My support team is ready to help—friends call, family members pray, Cedric does the heavy lifting at home and is the affirming spouse that I need in my life. I am grateful. But I have learned that sometimes I still have to--need to-- turn inward to survive my life. Especially when I feel my survival and joy are at risk or are being threatened. It is how I have survived before when there was seemingly no one at my side (go ahead, insert your “but God” here). Turning inward is how I am still here. I need to time to think, to name my pain, and at times go numb to survive it. Turning inward feels safe in this moment. Being in silent solitude through pain also allows me to spiritually ground myself and to store my reserves so I can tackle life as it is dealt. Living in solitude means not having to explain why I stopped listening to someone in the middle of their sentence, or why I am not feeling happy at "happy" moments or why I am not interested in things that typically bring me joy like socializing and exercising and eases some of the pressure. It means not having to cry in public or navigate answering the dreaded question "how are you doing?"

Prayer, meditation, silence, and out of body robot mode—have helped me survive before, in beautiful times like during childbirth and in horrific times, like during child sexual abuse.

 I won’t stay forever but this is where I am in this moment. This is survival.  

(Not a ) Mother's Day Post: Happy Our Lives Day!!

I keenly remember seeing a school video of myself in 6th grade wearing a green leotard top and thought that my breasts and stomach looked big. I was pregnant but had no recollection of having sex. I did have a recollection of my father coming into my bedroom at night fondling me in my sleep. I did recall waking up one night and being wet between my legs. I did recall waking up and seeing my father’s penis in front of my face. In hindsight, I’m thankful that I do not recall the details of my impregnation. The brain protects the spirit. The spirit protects the brain.

After several tests and an ultrasound it was revealed that I was pregnant. I then had to tell my mother about my father. She did what every women who feels the need to upholding an institution that judges women and demands them to stay “for better or for worse”. Obviously, she took this literally and protected my father over me. She never turned him in but instead coached me through a series of lies regarding how I got pregnant. My deepest apologies go out to the Latino men in my community who may have been wrongly harassed by the police as they searched for “3 Latino men who gang raped a 11 year old black girl”. In hindsight, I am not even sure the police cared enough about my innocence to actually investigate the “crime”.

My mother then asked me what I wanted to do. I could have the child and she would raise it or I could abort it. I was 11. 11!!!!!!!!!! But my spirit and brain joined forces again and helped me to get free. I chose an abortion. I had no desire to be a mother. I was 20 weeks pregnant so I had to travel out of the state of RI to NY for the late term abortion.

Here are my nuts and bolts of a late term abortion. The saline solution was inserted into my abdomen with a long needle. That induced contractions. The roomful was of other women and girls going through the same experience. The moans. The moans. All night long. Seeing the fetus. The painful removal of the placenta. My spirit was challenged that day. Even witnessing what I witnessed and experiencing what I experienced, I’d choose that abortion again and again and again. I had little power in the world at age 11. But that day that I chose to have an abortion was my assertion of power over my life and my body!!!!!

5 years later, when I was in 11th grade, I had unprotected sex with my then boyfriend. He convinced me that my bc pills were still “in my system”. Smooth move and clearly my brain was not fully engaged that day. But my spirit was intact and I knew that I did not want to become a mother in that moment. I made a uninformed decision (I did actually believe him and at the time I had not developed the highly political skill of telling a boy NO when it came to sex) but I had no desire to pay for it for the rest of my life. I shared that I was pregnant with my mother and told her I wanted an abortion. I had a 1st term abortion. She accompanied me and used her health insurance to pay for my procedure.

A year later, the summer before I headed to Morgan State University, the same boyfriend and I were having sex. He told me to climb off but I didn’t. I was just beginning to enjoy sex and it felt good in that moment. Sadly, my newfound moment of sexual pleasure landed me pregnant once again since I was doing so unprotected. In some ways I felt punished and betrayed by my body and my brain. How could I be so stupid!? I was finally making it out of my abusive household and I had fucked up. Some might argue that choosing an abortion as my reproductive decision at this point was selfish. But I disagree. I had power over little in the world but I knew I had power over my body and my future. Caring for the self is not selfish. So I walked right past the anti-abortion protesters with my head held high and I had another 1st term abortion. I moved into the freshman dorms at Morgan State still bleeding and recovering 7 days later. I didn’t share my decision with my mother this time. I no longer trusted her with my body nor my future. I was charting my own course and after 18 years in my bio family’s unsafe and abusive household, my spirit and brain were steering me towards my freedom. I did use our family’s healthcare insurance and while both of my parents worked for Blue Cross/Blue Shield, the company had a confidentiality policy that protected my privacy even as a teen, even from my parents. The anti abortion PNA laws that require pregnant teens to notify their parents are both dangerous and restrict their reproductive freedom.

I share these reproductive experiences on Mother's Day to demonstrate the wide variety of reasons why girls and women (and trans men & non-binary people ) choose not to biologically reproduce/parent/mother. Sometimes it is because of rape/incest, sometimes it is because we don’t know how to (or can’t) say NO to our intimate partners, and yes, sometimes it’s because we may have engaged in risky behavior by having unprotected sex. Add 1000 other sometimes to my aforementioned 3. No matter the circumstance, we all deserve access to legal, affirming, safe, & confidential abortion care. I am so thankful I had these healthcare conditions for my 3 abortions. My abortion history is part of my trauma history. Yet my spiritual and intellectual assertion of power over my life, my body, and my future during these—at times horrific and uncertain moments— is also central to my history of joy! So this Mother’s Day, I chose to celebrate the moments when I/we choose life…MY LIFE/OUR LIVES over motherhood.

Most importantly, on this and every other Mother’s Day, I remain politically committed to demanding that the state continue to respect and protect our reproductive decisions and make reproductive healthcare (including abortion care) accessible to all.

Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but … life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” - García Márquez (RIP)