strength

About a week and a half ago, Kampire pointed out the plight of the Biting Beaver (link) for us to see an actual story of a woman denied EC. Over at her blog (link), she's posted her story cut and dried, and it's empowering. As a young feminist in this rich internet socio-political community, I strangely (and rather guiltily) feel more proud of her actions than sorry for her troubles. I'm thrilled with the fact that she's living rpoof they're all wrong--all those anti-choicers out there unreasonable enough to believe that denying a women EC fights abortion, that a 24 hour waiting period will change a woman's mind when that's all she's probably thought about since she learned she was pregnant, that abortion directly results in depression and anxiety disorders.

While I was doing my biology homework, I stumbled upon an old friend: Sekhmet. In the 5th grade, I had to portray her for a project on Egyptian history. Today, I see her in a much different light.

Women are constantly being told to relax, to calm down, to become passive. When we're stressed, we're supposed to take bubble baths and deep breaths and "let it go" so we can feel better. And, throughout history, when women have said NO and kicked a little butt, they end up calm and happy through either trickery or a sudden epiphany- the moral of the story is supposed to be that women don't fight what's given to them.

My best friend is named Nikki. I think when, and only when, it comes to her am I part of a sisterhood. She has a guitar, and while she's not an excellent player, and she doesn't read sheet music, and she needs a new pic, she can play.

We started with a single riff, Nikki playing a single set of notes in a simple pattern, and voila. I wrote a song to it, we've found a drummer-who we won't be able to practice with for a while because she's in Belgium-and so our first song is complete. I've written others to be practiced later, and others that take different things.

So now we've got ourselves a band, which is inadvertently all girls because Janet won't let Eric anywhere near me, a song, and we're going to work on others. I even know someone who can get a hold of some friends who have a recording studio, and I also think there'll be some investing into a keyboard for me, which I will love as well as my flute.

It's taken me a while to compose my first blog entry - partially because I'm a perfectionist and partially because I've been so incredibly busy getting ready to go back to school this fall that I've hardly had time to think in between my comings and goings (apartment searching, supply shopping, FAFSA scouring,etc.). Now I've a few hours to sit and think, and I've come upon my topic: physical disparities between the sexes and the degree to which sexual discrimination is accepted in public opinion.

Let me preface this by saying that this is a very touchy subject to me. I live in Alabama, a land where, in my experience, the whole chivalry deal (in this post, I'll adress the physical aspect of 'chivalry') is alive and kicking - if subtley so. Perhaps it's like that everywhere..... in that case, I'll soon be living alone in the Australian bush somewhere. If it is as I have hoped, and such archaic traditionalism and sappy, patronizing "respect" is only so common around here because it's the Bible belt and pretty much everything here is traditional, praise be!

As you know, I am Pagan. You may or may not have read my post on War and my debate there. I ended it by saying that I would post about my honour. First let me tell you that I have NEVER written this down. It's just a few hard-and-fast rules I came to for myself. I've never researched honour, I've never really looked at others' opinions on it.

Second thing, I will be posting a little about my Goddess and mythology. What I know of her, NOT from any myth, but from my own relationship with her.

First off, my Code Of Honour:
1. Be yourself. Don't let anybody else make you someone you're not.

A strong woman is a woman who is straining.
A strong woman is a woman standing
on tiptoe and lifting a barbell
while trying to sing Boris Godunov.
A strong woman is a woman at work
cleaning out the cesspool of the ages,
and while she shovels, she talks about
how she doesn't mind crying, it opens
the ducts of the eyes, and throwing up
develops the stomach muscles, and
she goes on shoveling with tears
in her nose.

A strong woman is a woman in whose head
a voice is repeating, I told you so,
ugly, bad girl, bitch, nag, shrill, witch,
ballbuster, nobody will ever love you back,
why aren't you feminine, why aren't
you soft, why aren't you quiet, why
aren't you dead?

A strong woman is a woman determined
to do something others are determined
not be done. She is pushing up on the bottom
of a lead coffin lid. She is trying to raise
a manhole cover with her head, she is trying
to butt her way through a steel wall.
Her head hurts. People waiting for the hole
to be made say, hurry, you're so strong.