Where the Spirit Meets the Bone
Today was a difficult, enraging, amazing, humbling, heartbreaking, loving day in FemSex. On the heels of our unit on violence against women, today's class was about sharing our stories related to that. We all met at a classmate's apartment. I brought tea for everyone, and we had cake and fruit, and we sat through the silences and the tears to hear each others' stories. We told our stories, our mothers' stories, our friends' stories; stories of physical and emotional violence, of rape, of assault, of fear, but also of becoming stronger.
For awhile in class, I felt like I was floating on a raft of calm while a sea's worth of rage swelled beneath me: part of me just felt open and calm, listening with complete attention, but I was also so, so furious that these beautiful, amazing, brilliant, strong women had these bone-shaking stories of violence and pain to tell. I wanted to go back in time and help each of them, to call the police for them, to tell them it would get better, that one day they would be survivors and not victims. I wish we didn't have to tell these stories. But I am so blessed and honored to have heard them, to have been there to say, "I hear you, and I am with you."
I didn't entirely know what a safe space was before this class. I'd seen the term bandied about in fandom, mostly when people said "fandom is not your safe space," which, no arguments there. But I'd never understood or internalized what safe space truly meant. From this class, now I do, and I wish every woman could have a space like this. I wish all of you could have the chance to take this class.
Another thing I kept thinking of during class was today's poem by Miller Williams. I met these women four months ago, and knew almost nothing about them. Now, we've all shared things with each other that we've never told another living soul. Now we know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone, now we are filled with compassion and joy for and in each other.
"The Ways We Touch" by Miller Williams
Have compassion for everyone you meet,
even if they don't want it.
What appears bad manners, an ill temper or cynicism
is always a sign of things no ears have heard,
no eyes have seen.
You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets
the bone.
This entry was originally posted at http://yasaman.dreamwidth.org/344416.html, with
comments there.
For awhile in class, I felt like I was floating on a raft of calm while a sea's worth of rage swelled beneath me: part of me just felt open and calm, listening with complete attention, but I was also so, so furious that these beautiful, amazing, brilliant, strong women had these bone-shaking stories of violence and pain to tell. I wanted to go back in time and help each of them, to call the police for them, to tell them it would get better, that one day they would be survivors and not victims. I wish we didn't have to tell these stories. But I am so blessed and honored to have heard them, to have been there to say, "I hear you, and I am with you."
I didn't entirely know what a safe space was before this class. I'd seen the term bandied about in fandom, mostly when people said "fandom is not your safe space," which, no arguments there. But I'd never understood or internalized what safe space truly meant. From this class, now I do, and I wish every woman could have a space like this. I wish all of you could have the chance to take this class.
Another thing I kept thinking of during class was today's poem by Miller Williams. I met these women four months ago, and knew almost nothing about them. Now, we've all shared things with each other that we've never told another living soul. Now we know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone, now we are filled with compassion and joy for and in each other.
"The Ways We Touch" by Miller Williams
Have compassion for everyone you meet,
even if they don't want it.
What appears bad manners, an ill temper or cynicism
is always a sign of things no ears have heard,
no eyes have seen.
You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets
the bone.
This entry was originally posted at http://yasaman.dreamwidth.org/344416.html, with
comments there.