Friday, March 17, 2006

Women's Month

Mikaela says:
All these designated months. What good do they do? Aren't they really a slap in the face, a weak form of pacification, some half-assed apology that things aren't better, but at least we're thinking about you?

Lest we take it for granted how far we've come, maybe it's good to remember and be thankful that at least we have the recognition that we warrant a month. We've fought hard for what we have.

There's still a long way to go.

The ACLU put together a wonderful slide show on women's history and a page on women's rights.

I'm struggling these days with what it means to be a woman in relationship. Not easy. Still not easy. I haven't had to make the compromises and sacrifices that many women make. I've chosen not to have children until I can have a partner who will raise them with me, but there's a ticking clock, and I've promised myself I'll do it alone -- partner or no partner -- by 36 because motherhood means that much to me.

In the meantime, I struggle in each of my relationships to ask for what I want and need, to ask as much of a man as I give, to remember I'm worthy of love and care, too. As a woman, I value care-taking; I'm good at it. As a woman, I often forget to allow space for someone to take care of me. Afraid of being disappointed, it alwasys seems easier to just do it yourself.

Real strength, I tell myself, is keeping yourself open all the time, knowing you can pick up the pieces even when your heart shatters. Friends will be there to help you gather the shards. I strive to live as though making myself as beautiful as stained glass -- broken and sealed into art and beauty.

In honor of women's month, a poem by June Jordan, one of my favorites, who always has so much to say that all of us need to learn.

The Talking Back of Miss Valentine Jones: Poem # one
by June Jordan

well I wanted to braid my hair
bathe and bedeck my
self so fine
so fully aforethought for
your pleasure
see:

I wanted to travel and read
and runaround fantastic
into war and peace:

I wanted to
surf
dive
fly
climb
conquer
and be conquered
THEN

I wanted to pickup the phone
and find you asking me
if I might possibly be alone
some night
(so I could answer cool
as the jewels I would wear
on bareskin for you
digmedaddy delectation:)

"WHEN
you comin ova?"

But I had to remember to write down
margarine on the list
and shoepolish and a can of
sliced pineapple in casea company
and a quarta skim milk cause Teresa's
gaining weight and don' nobody groove on
that much
girl
and next I hadta sort for darks and lights before
the laundry hit the water which I had
to kinda keep an eye on be-
cause if the big hose jumps the sink again that
Mrs. Thompson gointa come upstairs
and brain me with a mop don' smell too
nice even though she hang
it headfirst out the winda

and I had to check
on William like to
burn hisself to death with fever
boy so thin be
callin all day "Momma! Sing to me?"
"Ma! Am I gone die?" and me not
wake enough to sit beside him longer than
to wipeaway the sweat or change the sheets/
his shirt and feed him orange
juice before I fall out of sleep and
Sweet My Jesus ain but one can
left
and we not thru the afternoon
and now

you (temporarily) shownup with a thing
you says' a poem and you
call it
"Will The Real Miss Black America Standup?"

guilty po' mouth
about duty beauties of my
headrag
boozeup doozies about
never mind
cause love is blind

well
I can't use it


and the very next bodacious Blackman
call me queen
because my life ain shit
because (in any case) he ain been here to share it
with me
(dish for dish and do for do and
dream for dream)
I'm gone scream him out my house
be-
cause what I wanted was
to braid my hair/bathe and bedeck my
self so fully be-
cause what I wanted was
your love
not pity
be-
cause what I wanted was
your love

your love



From Naming Our Destiny: New and Selected Poems by June Jordan, published by Thunder's Mouth Press. Copyright © 1989 June Jordan. Used with permission.