Tuesday night I watched “Very Young Girls” a documentary about the sexual exploitation of adolescents in New York. Their accounts were unsettling, one after the next talking about how they got into “the life, selling their bodies for the profit of some (usually older) man. The pattern that seemed to follow was that the men would approach the girls and masquerade themselves as potential lovers or father – whatever void appeared to be in the girls’ lives. Through manipulation, they would ensnare them...”I love you. If you loved me, you would do this for me” and eventually the girls would prove their devotion by going on the track and down a path they would have never envisioned.
Wednesday morning I was still disturbed by what I’d seen and called my mom to vent. Surprisingly, we had a great conversation. Generally she just tries to change to subject to something more “pleasant”, but this time, she had offered her perspective. Later at work, I was telling a coworker about it and his eyes just glazed over right before he put on his headphones as if I hadn’t just said that the average age of young women entering prostitution is 13. I’m like “DO YOU NOT HEAR ME??? THE AVERAGE AGE OF YOUNG WOMEN ENTERING PROSTITUTION 13!!! DOESN’T THAT MATTER TO YOU???”
Sadly enough, I am not shocked at blank looks, shrugged shoulders, or topic switching when I talk about matters like this. When I started volunteering with the DC Rape Crisis Center, I was so impassioned with all the new things I was learning about sexual assault, gender roles, sexuality, domestic violence and all of the isms (racism, sexism, classism, etc). During my 8 week education, I was completely blown away by all these thoughts and concepts that I had never considered (Gender is a continuum???) and could not wait to share and discuss these revelations with my family, friends, and colleagues. I assumed that for the most part people would be open-minded, or at the very least interested. Imagine my disappointment at the awkward silences and apathy I was met with.
I know I am not the only one who thinks about this stuff. My bookshelves are literally lined with books about women’s rights, transforming rape culture, sex work, and healing from sexual violence. The volume of literature alone proves that there are voices out there. My DCRCC volunteer training group was so large that people had to sit on the floor because there were not enough chairs. With the last two Saartjie Project performances, during our talkback, several audience members comments on the relevance of the show in addressing the issues of the black female sexuality, including the abuses of it for money. So I know the dialogue exists, but only in these pockets – these “feminist”, “womanist”, “intellectual” pockets – so while the dialogue exists, it often feels like preaching to the choir (or sitting in the pews).
My issue is getting beyond the theory/rhetoric and being proactive. I stopped volunteering as a rape crisis counselor, when a particular training session triggered my own memories of being assaulted as a child. Taking time out to heal myself (i.e. get counseling), I fell back from the movement, beyond reading about it. I found a creative outlet for my concerns with Saartjie, but I still want to do more. I want to talk to folk outside of the “pockets”, and compel them to listen instead of grabbing their headphones or turning a deaf ear. I get really discouraged though. I know it is not an easy conversation for anyone, but it is relevant and unfortunately always timely.
More later,
Nia
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Let The Circle Be Unbroken
It is Sunday evening and I am just capping off a huge weekend. On Friday and Saturday, I attended the Sacred Circles conference celebrating women’s spirituality. Held at National Cathedral, the event included an incredible array of workshops and speakers focused on the central theme of “love in action”. This conference was truly a blessing from start to finish. I first heard about it on Kiamsha Leeke’s blog and immediately went to the website. Initially, I was discouraged because of the program cost (close to $300), but I applied for a scholarship and was ecstatic when I received an email from the program staff saying that I had been awarded one.
On Friday morning, I arrived in the midst of confusion and long lines. Many of us had pre-registered, but had not received any materials in the mail (snail or email) to let us know which workshops we were signed up for, etc. When I finally received my name badge ,which had the class codes for the workshops I was supposed to attend, I found that I did not have any of my choices for classes. Then, due to bad directions, I ended up being 30 minutes late to my first session. I say all this not to sound ungrateful, but to illustrate how God works. It turned out that every workshop I wound up with was exactly what I needed.
The first “Inspiration from the Soul” was taught by singer/songwriter, Beth Nielsen Chapman, who has penned many of her own songs as well as hits for Faith Hill and Willie Nelson. When I actually found her class, I scanned the room and wondered if I was in the right place. Although I think country songs are beautifully written, I am not much of a fan. As I walked in, she was talking about the country music industry and I briefly considered leaving and trying to sit in on a class more suited to me. But then, she talked candidly about her husband (of 16 years) death and how she used her music to deal with her grief and I was intrigued (I still find it difficult to write about my father’s death). She sang “Sand and Water” and my eyes filled with tears. The lyrics have a depth that I have not heard in some time. “Solid stone is just sand and water, baby/with a million years gone by”. Those may not be the exact lyrics, and I doubt that merely describing it will do her justice, so please google her. Better yet, if I can find some footage on YouTube, I will attempt to attach it to this message. She would talk about the creative process and then sing a song and talk more about the process and sing some more and I sat on the steps (there were no more chairs) with my pen in one hand and wiping my eyes with the other. Everything that came out of her mouth was literally and figuratively music to my ears. Looking at the notes I jotted down, I still have not processed everything she said (“Grief hollows us out to hold more joy”). But I definitely was inspired to pick up songwriting again. Yes, I write songs. I have written songs since I was in junior high. At one point my best friend and I thought that we would write songs for the likes of Mary J. Blige and Faith Evans. I am not sure when I placed songwriting in the “pipedream” category - probably when I gave up trying to learn how to read music. Color me astonished when a fellow poet who also hears melodies when she writes but cannot read music sang one of her poems with Beth accompanying her on the piano. The result was a song manifested right before our eyes.
That night we heard from Karen Armstrong, who fascinates me even though I still have not been about to get through “A History of God”. She was the keynote speaker and talked about compassion, at one point citing Confucius saying “Look into your own heart and see what brings you pain. Adamantly refuse to inflict that pain on anyone else”. She also spoke about the Global Charter for Compassion that she has been working on. Learn more about it (as I will) at www.charterforcompassion.org.
We also heard from Sakena Yacobi whose quiet strength deeply resonated with me. Her story of getting her education in America and returning to help her people in Afghanistan, particularly the women and children was incredibly inspiring. All the work she has done against the odds she attributes to her faith in God. Even as she had guns trained on her, she prayed for the right answer and not only walked away from danger, but was able to empower those who had been a threat.
The next day, I began by walking the labyrinth and half-meditating as Elizabeth Lesser spoke about emotional intelligence and the power of women. She instructed us to put our hands over our hearts and pat them like babies and realize that our hearts are going to ultimately save the world. Clearly, I was taking in so much food for thought that I did not really get sad about not having a “boo” (as Rev. John Kinney put it today in chapel) for Valentine’s Day.
During my second session “Spiritual Art Journaling”, with Salima Raoui (Moroccan artist and fiber designer), I was invited to take a 5 minute walk in Bishop’s Garden and then meditate on love before launching into a collage project. Beyond, the actual art I made, what I took away from this session was the message Salima gave during our meditation. She had us each visualize a person who had awakened love in our hearts, whether this person was with us or not. She asked us to say the person’s name in our heart and to see him/her. I did and pain filled my chest. She encouraged us to not remember the loss, but the memory of love awakened - what it felt like to be with the person. Hearing his laughter in my head, I smiled to myself and the hurt seemed to fade. “Feel gratitude for this person and your experience. For even if they are gone, the love will always be there”, she said. It made perfect sense and I felt perfect peace.
My last session, “Beijing Circles: A Social Justice Resource for Circles” was lead by Kim Robey, program officer for women’s ministries and leadership development at the Episcopal Church Center in New York was challenging. To run one of these circles is to confront (in conversation and prayer) the nightmares that are taking place in women’s lives across the globe. Sitting in a circle, as a group, we took turns reading aloud from a list of statistics regarding poverty, illiteracy, female genital mutilation, gender based violence, unwanted pregnancies, trafficking, slavery and so on. I felt deflated, exhausted and overwhelmed at the staggering numbers - at the realities that cannot be sugarcoated or ignored. At the end of the circle, as is custom, many of the participants left a sentiment, prayer or intention for going forward. I did not say mine, but right now, it is clarity of how God wants me to be of service in bettering the lives of women and girls - which I already feel called to do.
One way of answering the call has been my work with The Saartjie Project. After church today, I headed over to rehearsal for our next shows which will be on Friday, February 20th and Saturday, February 21st at the Capital Hill Arts Workshop. After Sacred Circles, I was exhausted, but it was important to connect with my own “sacred circle”. The women of Saartjie are all so ridiculously amazing and talented. It is definitely one of the safest spaces, artistically or otherwise, that I have ever been in. One day, when I have not already loaded the page with information, I will speak to the synchronicity that lead to my involvement in this productive/collective and the work that we do. All I will say right now is that it is something that I am profoundly grateful for and proud of. As tired as I am, every rehearsal energizes me - perhaps because I am convinced (and constantly being shown) that this thing is so much bigger that any of us involved.
I am so blessed, just praying (and requesting prayer) that I will receive guidance on how to put love in action using the unique gifts and resources that have been bestowed upon me.
So much still on my mind that I really need to download….
Later.
Love and Light,
Nia
On Friday morning, I arrived in the midst of confusion and long lines. Many of us had pre-registered, but had not received any materials in the mail (snail or email) to let us know which workshops we were signed up for, etc. When I finally received my name badge ,which had the class codes for the workshops I was supposed to attend, I found that I did not have any of my choices for classes. Then, due to bad directions, I ended up being 30 minutes late to my first session. I say all this not to sound ungrateful, but to illustrate how God works. It turned out that every workshop I wound up with was exactly what I needed.
The first “Inspiration from the Soul” was taught by singer/songwriter, Beth Nielsen Chapman, who has penned many of her own songs as well as hits for Faith Hill and Willie Nelson. When I actually found her class, I scanned the room and wondered if I was in the right place. Although I think country songs are beautifully written, I am not much of a fan. As I walked in, she was talking about the country music industry and I briefly considered leaving and trying to sit in on a class more suited to me. But then, she talked candidly about her husband (of 16 years) death and how she used her music to deal with her grief and I was intrigued (I still find it difficult to write about my father’s death). She sang “Sand and Water” and my eyes filled with tears. The lyrics have a depth that I have not heard in some time. “Solid stone is just sand and water, baby/with a million years gone by”. Those may not be the exact lyrics, and I doubt that merely describing it will do her justice, so please google her. Better yet, if I can find some footage on YouTube, I will attempt to attach it to this message. She would talk about the creative process and then sing a song and talk more about the process and sing some more and I sat on the steps (there were no more chairs) with my pen in one hand and wiping my eyes with the other. Everything that came out of her mouth was literally and figuratively music to my ears. Looking at the notes I jotted down, I still have not processed everything she said (“Grief hollows us out to hold more joy”). But I definitely was inspired to pick up songwriting again. Yes, I write songs. I have written songs since I was in junior high. At one point my best friend and I thought that we would write songs for the likes of Mary J. Blige and Faith Evans. I am not sure when I placed songwriting in the “pipedream” category - probably when I gave up trying to learn how to read music. Color me astonished when a fellow poet who also hears melodies when she writes but cannot read music sang one of her poems with Beth accompanying her on the piano. The result was a song manifested right before our eyes.
That night we heard from Karen Armstrong, who fascinates me even though I still have not been about to get through “A History of God”. She was the keynote speaker and talked about compassion, at one point citing Confucius saying “Look into your own heart and see what brings you pain. Adamantly refuse to inflict that pain on anyone else”. She also spoke about the Global Charter for Compassion that she has been working on. Learn more about it (as I will) at www.charterforcompassion.org.
We also heard from Sakena Yacobi whose quiet strength deeply resonated with me. Her story of getting her education in America and returning to help her people in Afghanistan, particularly the women and children was incredibly inspiring. All the work she has done against the odds she attributes to her faith in God. Even as she had guns trained on her, she prayed for the right answer and not only walked away from danger, but was able to empower those who had been a threat.
The next day, I began by walking the labyrinth and half-meditating as Elizabeth Lesser spoke about emotional intelligence and the power of women. She instructed us to put our hands over our hearts and pat them like babies and realize that our hearts are going to ultimately save the world. Clearly, I was taking in so much food for thought that I did not really get sad about not having a “boo” (as Rev. John Kinney put it today in chapel) for Valentine’s Day.
During my second session “Spiritual Art Journaling”, with Salima Raoui (Moroccan artist and fiber designer), I was invited to take a 5 minute walk in Bishop’s Garden and then meditate on love before launching into a collage project. Beyond, the actual art I made, what I took away from this session was the message Salima gave during our meditation. She had us each visualize a person who had awakened love in our hearts, whether this person was with us or not. She asked us to say the person’s name in our heart and to see him/her. I did and pain filled my chest. She encouraged us to not remember the loss, but the memory of love awakened - what it felt like to be with the person. Hearing his laughter in my head, I smiled to myself and the hurt seemed to fade. “Feel gratitude for this person and your experience. For even if they are gone, the love will always be there”, she said. It made perfect sense and I felt perfect peace.
My last session, “Beijing Circles: A Social Justice Resource for Circles” was lead by Kim Robey, program officer for women’s ministries and leadership development at the Episcopal Church Center in New York was challenging. To run one of these circles is to confront (in conversation and prayer) the nightmares that are taking place in women’s lives across the globe. Sitting in a circle, as a group, we took turns reading aloud from a list of statistics regarding poverty, illiteracy, female genital mutilation, gender based violence, unwanted pregnancies, trafficking, slavery and so on. I felt deflated, exhausted and overwhelmed at the staggering numbers - at the realities that cannot be sugarcoated or ignored. At the end of the circle, as is custom, many of the participants left a sentiment, prayer or intention for going forward. I did not say mine, but right now, it is clarity of how God wants me to be of service in bettering the lives of women and girls - which I already feel called to do.
One way of answering the call has been my work with The Saartjie Project. After church today, I headed over to rehearsal for our next shows which will be on Friday, February 20th and Saturday, February 21st at the Capital Hill Arts Workshop. After Sacred Circles, I was exhausted, but it was important to connect with my own “sacred circle”. The women of Saartjie are all so ridiculously amazing and talented. It is definitely one of the safest spaces, artistically or otherwise, that I have ever been in. One day, when I have not already loaded the page with information, I will speak to the synchronicity that lead to my involvement in this productive/collective and the work that we do. All I will say right now is that it is something that I am profoundly grateful for and proud of. As tired as I am, every rehearsal energizes me - perhaps because I am convinced (and constantly being shown) that this thing is so much bigger that any of us involved.
I am so blessed, just praying (and requesting prayer) that I will receive guidance on how to put love in action using the unique gifts and resources that have been bestowed upon me.
So much still on my mind that I really need to download….
Later.
Love and Light,
Nia
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
When I Put My Weapons Down
Still haven't made it to yoga class, still have not properly meditated or prayed - but I will. I have been doing my Morning Pages. Sometimes I hate doing them. Even though I know they are beneficial and sing their praises, there is something about having to wake up at 6:15 in the morning to start writing or do anything that irks me. Thankfully, the writing does not have to be profound (though I find lots of interesting things when I read back on my old entries), just whatever I can muster, cranky with sleep still in my eyes and on my mind.
I have noticed some progress with the coworker (Thank God!) that I lamented about in an earlier post. He is still irritating, but I discovered that I feel better and more relaxed when I stop working so hard to ignore him. We have shared stories and laughs that I never would have expected. In telling a friend about this change I said "the war ended when I put my weapons down". In dealing with him, I transformed into this person most people who know me well would not recognize - cold, prickly, defensive, and quiet. Somehow, I thought withholding my natural warmth and kindness would make him easier to get a long with. All it did was add fuel to the fire. I know there will be stumbles as the other day, he made the assumption that I could sing (of course all thick black women can sing, of course) even though he's never heard me utter a note and then suggested that I sing a negro spiritual for Black History Month. Dear readers (the two or three of you that are out there) please pray, light a candle, or hold a space for me. We shall overcome!
I have noticed some progress with the coworker (Thank God!) that I lamented about in an earlier post. He is still irritating, but I discovered that I feel better and more relaxed when I stop working so hard to ignore him. We have shared stories and laughs that I never would have expected. In telling a friend about this change I said "the war ended when I put my weapons down". In dealing with him, I transformed into this person most people who know me well would not recognize - cold, prickly, defensive, and quiet. Somehow, I thought withholding my natural warmth and kindness would make him easier to get a long with. All it did was add fuel to the fire. I know there will be stumbles as the other day, he made the assumption that I could sing (of course all thick black women can sing, of course) even though he's never heard me utter a note and then suggested that I sing a negro spiritual for Black History Month. Dear readers (the two or three of you that are out there) please pray, light a candle, or hold a space for me. We shall overcome!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Radical Acceptance
“Here,” she said, “in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They do not love your eyes; they’d just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face ‘cause they don’t love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain’t in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don’t love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I’m talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. And all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver–love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.”
Above is an excerpt from one of my favorite books, Beloved by Toni Morrison. In the book and the movie, this part is always makes me emotional in thinking of how much people war with their bodies, how much I have warred with my own. Will write more about this, but just wanted to actually put it on my page as a reminder.
Above is an excerpt from one of my favorite books, Beloved by Toni Morrison. In the book and the movie, this part is always makes me emotional in thinking of how much people war with their bodies, how much I have warred with my own. Will write more about this, but just wanted to actually put it on my page as a reminder.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Nation of Tribes
So I really love Rev. Dr. Renita Weems. She is pretty much who I want to be when I grow up. Smart, sassy, spiritual...and outspoken. I discovered her while poring over some books in the Black Studies section of the MLK Library. I was looking for literature on women in ministry and came across her book , Showing Mary (which I still need to read and purchase). I am not sure what I was going through at the time, but her words seems to speak directly to my heart. Not too long after, I decided to find out more about her on the net and ended up reading her blog, Something Within. This woman is soooooooooooooooo on point. If you ever get a chance, go to the blog, find some of her books...find out about Ms. Renita...She's no joke!I was delighted today to listen to her preach today at Howard's Rankin Chapel. Her sermon came from Luke 22:24-33 and correlated with communion, but also a struggle I am currently dealing with. She spoke about how right after communion, Jesus's disciples began to have a dispute about who was the greatest among them. She talked about dispute in the context of where we are in the world - how there are so many factions, calling us "a nation of tribes". She said that we are more drawn to our idealogies than what actually matters and consequently are divided. We only gravitate towards those who look, think, and act like us.
In hearing her words, I started thinking about how a particular situation has unfolded in my life. I have a coworker who I am not fond of (euphemistically speaking). His very being grates my nerves. From the moment that I met him, I have found him rude and condescending. Whenever he speaks to me, it seems like he is baiting me for an argument rather than making an attempt at conversation, and even then the topics are racialized (i.e. "You're black, what do you think about this?"). Rather than correcting him or conceding to dialogue with him, I ignore him. Even though he sits right next to me, I tune him out. For so long, I have thought that was the appropriate solution. In my heart, I know that its not. In my heart I know that I should be kinder, that I should show grace, that I should hear him or at least be honest and tell him when he's been offensive. Those things would probably be more mature than telling anyone who will listen about how much I hate his guts. But alas, its been easier to just dismiss him as being "different" and "wrong".
At a point in her sermon, Dr. Weems said that there is one thing to have a dispute, but its literally an entirely separate issue when there is a "spirit of disagreement" which she says is demonic. I had never thought about it that way, but it makes perfect sense. Some days, even before he has an opportunity to open his mouth, I already have on my screwface just waiting for him to piss me off. My whole attitude and mood shift when he is around. My body tenses up. Its like I am preparing to do battle even though I am not even clear what the war is about.
As these gleanings came to mind, so did a very clear picture of this person that I have made my adversary (I jokingly call him my "arch nemesis"). Seeing him and thinking of all the negative things I have said and how horribly I have acted towards him made me really sad and convicted. Suddenly, I saw this person who I perceived as an enemy as my brother - someone who deserves a lot more compassion than I have ever shown him. I was surprised to feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I saw him. Before today, I was always able to justify my anger towards him. As I am writing this, I just want to release all the nasty feelings and start with a clean slate.
I committed this situation to prayer awhile ago, but not from this perspective. I am curious as to what I will see/how I will feel tomorrow morning when I get to work. I will report back.
Dr. Weems also spoke briefly about homosexuality. Apparently someone read her blog and took issue with what they assumed was her saying that homosexuality is not a sin. According to her, its not for her to judge anyone, that's God's job, as she does not have a heaven or hell to put anyone in.
Amen and Amen.
It brought me back to the "Trials of Ted Haggard" documentary that I finally got a chance to watch last night. I honestly did not pay much attention to this scandal when it was fresh and new. I think at most, I may have said a quick prayer for his wife and family and just wrote him off as another fallen religious leader. Maybe I am desensitized so much that these kinds of situations never really shock me anymore. Leaders are human first and humans make mistakes. Oversimplification, perhaps...but, that's how I feel.Nevertheless, watching and listening to the story and how it unfolded has me incredibly sympathetic towards this man. I mean, I absolutely cannot imagine walking a centimeter in his shoes. And this whole situation brought him a deeper understanding of the words he had been preaching for so many years and how that even having lost everything, he is better off now than he was. I'm just like...wow.
When I was searching for a pic of him to upload, I glimpsed an article about him admitting to a second affair. I just sighed. I probably will not read it. I am less into the tawdry details than wondering how he persevered. Whenever I hear anything like this, my general question is "how do you survive this?"
Anyhoo, being in church felt pretty good. The music was better than I expected and it was not too crowded. I heard that when Jeremiah Wright was there the Sunday before inauguration that Howard pretty much had to open every possible viewing space to accomodate the crowds that came to see him. I may return to chapel next week, but I hope to do some research on local churches soon. I might just check out the service at All Souls Unitarian Church. We'll see.
I have nothing to say regarding the Superbowl, beyond the fact that I opted out of a Superbowl party to update the blog and get some rest. Signing off to do the latter.
Love and light,
Nia
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