Women Rising

** This video seemed to want to be shared with this post. Enjoy**

Anne Lamott shared a post today on her facebook that was heartbreaking in it’s authenticity and transparency. It was real. I could feel the texture of her life through the cadence of her storytelling, touch the bittersweet moments that had been her lot of late, and it occurred to me while I was reading it that readers do not want your bluster or bravado. At least, the ones that I am after don’t.

The readers I am seeking to reach are the women who have been told their whole life to “Smile” while they are internally weeping, or screaming, or bleeding or raging. They are strong and tender souls who have the eternal task of childrearing and householding and glass-ceiling-smashing. These women have a core of steel, and the flesh of a peach, tender and easily bruised, but whose heart is near impossible to break. Yet, broken they have been, and put back together again by their own hands, for their sisters hands are filled with their own burdens and wounds and worries. The women I am after smile softly at one another over the work that busy’s their hands and offer the “I feel you sister” acknowledgement wordlessly, because their eyes burn with understanding and compassion and love.

The women that I want as readers know that we belong to each other.

There is no one coming to save us from ourselves.

We are the heroes we have been waiting for.

These women tremble and weep and rage over the strange and dark days we find ourselves living in. The dream is crumbling and we are being faced with the stark reality of our times – shootings and corruption and division and fear. Nuclear weapons and terrorism and governments that are caricatures of the villains we so love to hate in our movies. And the incredible, unlikely, yet clear and present truth that the children are rising to hold us adults to account, begging in their righteous anger for their lives to be sacred, and protected, as they should be. We mothers and grandmothers and aunts and sisters and daughters rally behind them, next to them, in awe of their courage and self assuredness, their unwavering commitment to their cause. We can survive this, and revolutionize this reality together.

These are the women I am reaching for. They are the ones whose stories need to be told, whose hearts need to be cracked open and made to bleed anew for the hope that has been born for humanity.

We will arise.

Disagree.

Disrupt.

Disobey

Disassemble.

Revolutionize our way of life.

Unite the divided.

Call out the corrupt.

And generally clean up this mess.

We will bring our men along with us, if they wish to come, but we will not be waiting for their permission to do what so desperately needs to be done.

The women and children who are rising.

I write for them.

I write for me.

I write for you.

As I rise, and you rise, and we all rise up together, we are each of us not alone. The world over women are awakening and as the proverb says “When she awakens, she will move mountains.”

There is a mountain to move sisters.

Lets lift it together.

 

 

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