I Honour the Women

(Originally published, with different edits, on elephant journal on October 26, 2015)

Photo by (the incredibly talented) Camilla Albano

I honour the women.

I honour the women who howl at the moon and the women who bow their heads in silent reverence, instead.

I honour the women who are loud with their words and the women who don’t feel they need to be loud in order to be heard—the ones who know that the wisest ones speak softly or do not speak at all.

I honour the women who call themselves fearless and the women who are full of fear but also full of courage; the ones who rise above fear; the ones who speak the truth even when their voice shakes.

I honour the women who understand that feminism is about choice—about choosing to be a mother or not to be a mother, to be a CEO or not to be a CEO, to have many lovers or one lover-for-life or no lover at all.

I honour the women who respect that there is nothing wrong with a white picket fence if that is what a woman chooses; the women who don’t consider other women to be inferior (less fun, less free, less fierce) simply because they have made different choices.

I honour the women who hold others accountable for their mistakes, but also hold themselves accountable when they are at fault; the women who understand that accountability is important, but that forgiveness (of self and of others) is infinitely more important.

I honour the women who realize that it’s not all about them; that the world is built on interconnection; that every action creates ripples in the fabric of life itself.

I honour the women who respect their perfect, precious vaginas (and treat them like the lifegivers they are) and I honour the women who don’t because they have been told, their entire lives, that being a woman means being second best and that to "play like a girl" is to play weak.

I honour the women who have explored their sexuality and accept themselves as glorious sexual beings and I honour the women who haven’t explored their sexuality because it has never been safe for them to do so.

I honour the women who value their own worth and those who aren’t sure they have any worth at all.

I honour the black women, the Muslim women, the indigenous women, the trans women, the poor women, the homeless women, the abused women, the women who have a voice but whose voice has been muffled for decades upon decades upon decades; the ones who are rarely represented in media and government; the ones who must ceaselessly fight against the marginalization imposed upon them.

I honour the women who don’t give up.

I honour the women who do give up; the ones whose spirits have been crushed; the ones who have been beaten down one time too many.

I honour the women who work tirelessly to protect Earth and her earthlings and those who don’t because they are too busy working two jobs to put enough food on the table to feed their families.

I honour the privileged women who not only acknowledge their privilege, but push back against the system that fosters it.

I honour the women who vote with their dollars; the women who know that change happens from the ground up and so who get down on their knees and dig in the mud; the ones who put their actions where their words are; the ones who understand that we are all doing the best we can with what we know and what we have and that that is enough.

I honour the women who don’t vote with their dollars because they simply can’t afford it.

I honour the women who, through their thoughts and words and deeds, revere the children (who will inherit the world) and the elders (upon whose shoulders they stand).

I honour the women who create—the ones who write and sing and dance and paint and knit and garden and mother—in brave and inspired ways.

I honour the women who recognize that it is their duty to give a fuck, that it is necessary to give a fuck, that there are too many people in this world who don’t give a fuck because they are too caught up in romanticizing the moment, the individual experience, and the ego.

I honour the women who understand that in order to create a better world—one where there is justice, equality, and freedom for all—we must exist in the present, but expand our awareness beyond the present (we must think of tomorrow); beyond the individual experience (we must consider others); beyond the ego (we must restore the heart to its rightful place as chief commander).

I honour the women who try to be perfect because they have never been taught that they are fabulous just as they are and the women who don’t try to be perfect, but aim to be purposeful.

I honour the women who build bridges between the gaps that separate women from women and women from men; the ones who know that, despite our vast differences, we belong to one another.

I honour the women who are real, who are raw, who are able to walk in the world with a heart full of scars that declares:

Here I am. I am a bit tender, a bit scared, a bit unsure. But here I am, taking another breath, greeting another morning, walking another step in the direction of wholeness, of healing, and of love.

I honour the women who love; the ones who keep on loving this broken world and its broken people because love is the force that fuels action.

I honour the women who, in time, learn to shamelessly own their stories and the women who never do because shame is so deeply embedded in their bones.

I honour the women who sacrifice, the women who give, the women who grieve.

I honour the women who stand tall and proud and those who keep crawling forward on their bruised and bloodied knees.

I honour the women.

***

(Note: In August 2014, a piece was published on elephant journal entitled, This Is For the Women Who Don't Give a Fuck. That piece—which both excited and angered me, at the exact same time—was the spark that inspired this piece and, for that, I am grateful.)

Popcorn and Pyjamas

Twelve years old.

It was a time of sun-filled days spent lounging around the pool, of bike rides and drumsticks and dreams about the future.

A time of posters plastered on bedroom walls and horror movies and dance parties.

A time of firsts: first kisses, first periods, first cigarettes.

A time of growth spurts and sex talks and boys with blue eyes and yellow dirt bikes making hearts flutter and skinned knees go weak.

A time of girls.

Gangly girls who thought they knew it all. Who thought they had it all. (Didn’t we?)

Some were friends I knew would last forever (they have). Others were friends I knew would eventually drift away (they did).

I see it so clearly: pyjamas and popcorn and bowl after bowl of Heavenly Hash ice cream.

Staying up until sunrise sharing the secrets that hid in the deepest crevices of our hearts and trusting that they would never be repeated. (They never were).

There were silly moments and scary moments as we giggled our way towards the unavoidable task of growing up.

Then, we grew up.

We met more girls along the way - in high school, in university. Some are now sisters. Others crossed our path for one brief moment and in that moment they made us laugh, or cry, or question. They taught us a lesson we were ready to learn.

Different girls at different times and so many popcorn-fueled confessions.

I miss those confessions. That feeling of harmony and solidarity that came from just being girls, in pyjamas, chatting the night away.

These days, I see my girlfriends once every few weeks, if I’m lucky. We try to connect over a rushed lunch date or last-minute coffee break and barely even get past “hello” before it’s time to go.

We often plan to have a nice dinner, catch a movie, talk until the bartender kindly asks us to leave. Sometimes these plans work out, but usually they don’t. They fall to the bottom of our list of things-to-do while work or family or other more pressing commitments consistently take the top slot.

And women everywhere are suffering because of this.

Women need women just as girls need girls.

We need to relax, unwind, discard the heels, the makeup, the earrings. We need to turn off the cell phone, turn off the charm, turn off the polished skills of the accomplished professional and just chill out.

Like we used to, when we were 12.

So, ladies, I am bringing it back. I am reinstating the slumber party. I am checking my calendar, choosing an evening, booking it off, and treating myself to a night of uninhibited sharing and squealing and ouija boards and pillow fights.

There can be some tweaking, of course. We can substitute root beer for red wine, M&Ms for dark chocolate, and chips for brie cheese and crackers, but the rest must stay the same: the pyjamas, the popcorn, the ice cream, the horror movies. These are the slumber party staples.

I see it so clearly: women reconnecting with their girly selves, their childhood aspirations, their genuine feelings. Women, freed from the pressures of city life, loose and giddy and unguarded.

And though the evening itself is sure to be fun, I am certain that bringing back the slumber party will have repercussions far beyond the living room.

Imagine a world in which women are regularly encouraged to take some time for themselves, to unclench those fists, peel off those tights, and talk and share and dissolve into giggles.

Imagine a world in which women are encouraged to detach themselves from their various roles of girlfriend, wife, mother, staff member, boss and relax into the realms of girl and friend.

This is a world in which women feel valued and worthy. It is a world in which women can more easily shrug off stress because they understand the importance of putting themselves first. It is a world in which women give themselves permission to throw on some pyjamas and replenish their reserves of strength and passion and power.

Yes, power. Women, united in a sisterhood of love and trust and laughing fits, are a force to be reckoned with.

Ladies, let’s make this happen. Let’s take care of ourselves, and each other. Let’s indulge in some guilt-free girl-time and remember who we once were, before we became so many things to so many people.

I am having a slumber party.

Who’s in?

***

This week's affirmation: I am grateful for the women in my life.