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.