Women can be together without persecution being triggered so strongly. Now we can really do something.
I had a dream with my mother in it. She was a young woman, likely in her 20’s. Wearing lipstick in a shade that I’m currently wearing, salmon like. With horned rim glasses, and a smart black suit and white shirt, her hair slightly darker than the auburn of her pictures. She was sitting on a bus. So reminiscent of one of the women in the movie Hidden Figures. My mother was a bookkeeper and when I saw the movie there was a gentle reminder of her energy.
In the dream she was happy. This was the real standout. It took me 2 days to realize the power I was feeling from this dream. It was more like a visitation. Just a day after the women’s march, I had to take note. She was happy. Wearing her dreams on her beautiful face, this version of her was full of the potential of her becoming.
My mother’s mother worked in the steel mills of Gary, Indiana. Her mantra to my mother was women were to be seen and not heard, passed on to her no doubt. My mother would mention it to me, not as a suggestion, but sharing with me what she had been told. My grandmother didn’t care for women, and my mother had an easier time with men too. I as well, in my 20’s was more welcomed into the life of my husbands band, than the circle of women surrounding it who threw shade my way.
My mother, Bette, faithfully raised her brother, as my grandmother, Lola, worked the swing shift at the mill. My uncle Terry never receiving anything less than an A+, breezed through Old Miss college, being their most outstanding student – the Woods society of excellence created in his honor, was a Rhode Scholar, then worked in D.C. as a nuclear engineer. Unfortunately he dropped dead of a cerebral hemorrhage on the squash court in the pentagon gym at age 28. (my mother was convinced he was killed by the government) My mother was 9 months pregnant with me at the time. Unable to attend his funeral, at Arlington Cemetery, my grandmother shunned my mother and consequently me as well. Telling her that she no longer mattered.
I came into this life fiercely defending her. I would fight her battles. My dad wasn’t a tyrant, but had a way of teasing her, and sometimes put her down. It was cloaked with sweetness though, as they were a loving couple. He was frustrated that she kept so much to herself, he’d try to bring her out.
Back on the bus. I had never seen this version of my mother. Beaming with the dreams she had of becoming a lawyer. There was a freedom around her. She seemed to be letting me know how far reaching the events from the 21st of January really are.
Women want to unite. Sisterhood is natural. The incorrect position women have had with other women, has been forced by the patriarchy. It’s gained much by keeping women apart. No more.
This collective energy is not only giving permission for all people to speak up now, but encouraging it.
To be heard
This uniting spirit is creating a safety net for expression. Or at least a fuck it- what do we have to lose. Persecution is finding healing. Women can be together without that being triggered as strongly. Now we can really do something.
My mother used to say to my sister and I that we were so powerful. Well, she was no sissy, she just never felt safe.