(sits for 10 minutes, staring.)
Hello blank page.
(Still sitting waiting for the page to respond. And it doesn’t. Guess it’s up to the “writer” to write.)
I never thought of myself as a writer. The only er I’ve ever been is a dancer. Well, that’s not true. I’ve been a daughter. I don’t know if that counts. Writing is scary, I am not grammatically correct. I use too many commas. I say “so” too much. I’ve seen blog posts that I’ve written where every paragraph starts with “So”. My father is an English teacher and so I think that makes me extra, super critical of my writing process and product. Just like that old block, I am chipped.
But I’m writing a book now. Who the hell do I think I am?
In “The Dance of the Dissident Daughter”, author Sue Monk Kidd tells a very big, little story. She’s at a party and accidentally blurts out how in spite of women’s dedication to the church, they’ve gotten a rotten deal. At this point in her story, she is struggling with her spiritual self and her female self and has a large internal turmoil brewing. I’m going to quote from the book…
“A man rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘Oh no,’ he said. You’re not one of those women are you?
‘What women?’ I asked.
‘You know, those screaming feminists who are always yelling about how bad women have been treated.’
‘No,’ I told him fast as I could. ‘I’m not one of those.’ And I dropped the subject as if it was toxic waste.”
In these current political times, feminists are still screaming harpies. Called slut and whore when including themselves in the national healthcare debate. There is still a cultural taboo against a woman speaking up. I feel that now. Who am I to talk? Who am I to document my story?
I mean… Just ask the bible, the book that was fed to me every day.
Let’s give 1 Timothy chapter 2 a gander:
“9. In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array;
10. But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.
11. Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection.
12. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.
13. For Adam was first formed, then Eve.
14. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression.
15. Notwithstanding she shall be saved in childbearing, if they continue in faith and charity and holiness with sobriety.”
I am a woman who wants to give warnings to the future. I am a woman who wants to confront the past. I am a woman who tore off my head covering a long time ago and said, NO! I am a woman who knows that there are so many people trapped in spiritual abuse and I want to put my voice into the wind so that maybe they will hear me and find strength. I want to take my scars and my naked vulnerability and sacrifice it so that others won’t go where I have gone.
Sometimes you have to zip up your gogo boots, stand tall and scream “I am one of THOSE women!”