she

Rwanda:


She climbed the hill determined to reach the top and make her stand. Something in her had snapped, she wasn’t thinking straight. Her family had suffered in the genocide, many killed off by soldiers whose souls had long departed, men who were able to sleep at night because their hearts felt nothing. It had been a month since she had been told her husband was dead, tortured, his body disposed. She had buried her only son a month earlier and this news of her husband created in her a resolve to die. What was left of her family, a sister and a cousin, stood vigil over her, determined to stop any attempt she might make to end her life. Her days were spent rocking in place, sitting under a tree. Her nights were spent, sleepless, unless sleep overtook her at which point the dreams would awaken her to her own screams. And then, one day…she noticed something…and this little something sparked a change in her…a new resolve that brought back a light to her eye. She realized she was with child and this new life was the catalyst she needed to awaken from her deep, deep sadness. The sadness remained but, no longer did it dictate her choices. On this day, she climbed a hill and stood with her fist raised. The clouds opened up and released a warm rain. Drenched she stood, fist to the sky. “I AM ALIVE!” she said, softly…it was enough to have found the strength to say these words…the energy invoked was powerful…she looked in the face of evil and with unwavering courage, she said, “I AM ALIVE”.

Iraq:

Her only crime was walking outside without covering her face. The baby ran out the front door, so, she gave chase and in doing so, brought upon her a night of hell. He beat her soundly, stopping only to eat his nightly meal, which he demanded she prepare. She lay down while he finished eating, waiting for him to continue his punishment. The next morning, she prepared his clothes for the day, saw to his breakfast, and that of her children. He left her a warning, she could still feel the sting on her cheek. He left and after she saw the children off, she pulled up a small section of their wood floor and retrieved a hidden notebook. Within the pages she wrote, her dreams, her stories, her ideas. She lived lives unknown to anyone else and she created characters that were real to her, characters that gave her strength. No matter the abuse she suffered from her husband’s hands, she found a way, a place to go to for solace. This place wasn’t real, yet…it was to her, a sanctuary. In this place she was loved, in this place she walked with her face defiantly open, her heart defiantly free.

U.S.A.:

He left her with 5 children. Something about, “This shit is too hard, I’ll be back, I’ll send money, blah, blah, blah.” He never came back and, the money never came. She had to figure it out and take care of her babies. She had always worked, but, one job now was not enough. So, she took on working four nights per week in a grocery store, luckily right down the street from her house. The extra money was slim, but, it was enough to pay the bills. She lived in a broken down neighborhood, with broken hearted people, but somehow, she kept her dignity intact. She kept on keepin on and ruled with an iron fist and a loving heart. She had to…her five children were not about to run around loose in the ghetto, getting into all kinds of mess. She was not above yanking her son off the basketball court by his ear if he chose to ignore her calling him in. And the boys who came flocking to her door were chased away by her chilling looks, while her daughters grumbled in the background. Her children hated this, yet, they didn’t…strange paradigm indeed. And the other children in the neighborhood were attracted to her home, her kitchen to be exact. She cooked well and somehow, she cooked enough. Enough for her own and for children whose parents had long since given up. She never gave up and they sensed this. Many times they could be found at her home with a hot meal in front of them and with her asking them 20 questions about their school, their thoughts, their dreams. She refused to give up her own dreams, she refused to give up period.

Women, I say to you…you are strong, you are worthy and you are treasured…you have free will…if a situation is such that you cannot escape…I hope that you find escape in other ways…mankind’s divinity…both that of woman or man…is not dictated by man (although man deludes himself into thinking it is)…it is a gift from something more…it is our birthright.