NissaAyen

Every day, I push through my breaking point and shatter. I push through the peices and walk until I hit the wall.

I quit for 5 min..
...and 5 min...
.... and 5 min....

Until I can collect the pieces of me in a bag and keep going.

By the time I crawl into bed I've gathered myself again. The loose and chaotic parts roughly assembled into a Nissa/mom/person shape. I trust the lost bits will be stumbled across and absorbed. I fight to believe the carefully hoarded and insufficient sleep will hold me though the following day

When I wake it is a slow streatch to shake the peices into place- let the heat relax me so things can fall into place. Nap while I'm waiting for the glue to set...

Waiting...
...waiting....
... shit what's missing...

....I'm running late!

Rush through the rest of my assembly and assimilation until up pops the children.

... breathe, ignore what you've missed.

Subvert who I am and what I need to be a mother.

Learn to appreciate the struggle...
... take pictures...
... hold hands...
... wipe away tears.

Breathe,
They won't be babies forever.
You'll miss this.

You'll miss fixing everything with a kiss and ice cream.

Except...

When your baby is autistic you cant fix it. You can only love them and appreciate the mile stones. Try not to take the setbacks too hard. It could absorb all your time.

Except...

Off to work with matters of life, liberty, and justice. Try not to crumble while you hold someone else together. Be a shield, provide hope, pray that this time the system will be compassionate. Care more than they can.

Deep breaths...
... in the car alone
... in the store

Brief moments of sanctuary...

Ignore the pressure, the racing thoughts, try to be mindful of the time but dont forget anything... dont fuck up because.

Home,
... appreciate the moment and play and pick up... soothe tempers, support frustration, clean rooms, bathe kids, read stories, encourage calm, separate kids, pet, quiet, night lights hold, try not to cry...

.... shatter...
... shatter...
... shatter....

In the quiet exhausted hours try to find a single piece of me to hold onto- gather begin again.

Dream of love,
Dream of sanctuary...
.... but dont hope, it's too costly.

Just dreams and wishes... each day and forever.

 So yesterday i listened to two seperate podcasts that spent time talking about women's body image and the conversation shifted  to pubic hair and why the trend of -younger girls - has been to remove all or most of their pubic hair.  When puzzling out the - why - of it could only imagine that all these girls must have been victimized by expectations set up by the porn industry directly or by the expectations of boys who have seen porn and set it as an expectaton for their partners. 

This doesn't -hit- for me. That is it doesnt seem fair or reasonable to think an entire generation of young ladies has been disenfranchised by pornography. Sure, maybe some have... maybe a reasonable portion of them.l, but that labeling is damaging to the rest of us. 

I shaved my pubic hair the instant it arrived. That was far too young to be aware that pornography exists or to be sexual with anyone other than myself. Then and now i didnt like it, it felt unnatural to me and it seemed reasonable to remove it to feel more happy and comfortable with my body.  I haven't spent a lot of time worrying about what may have influenced me into feeling that way. Still don't ready care.  It's my body i didnt like it and so i got rid of it.  Now sometimes I'm too tired or lazy to shave but when i want to feel like im owning my sexuality i remove it all.  If there were reasonable and affordable ways to make it go away forever i would.

How exactly does this relate to my feminism? There's a subset of feminism that insists to be empowered we must deny our femininity and pretend that to be empowered we must be -exactly like- men. That you shouldn't allow your daughters pink and princesses that you don't allow your boys to engage their own masculinity. It's the part of feminism that makes me eschew the whole word and further more YOUR MISSING THE DAMN POINT.

Feminism is supposed to empower women to be whoever they want to be executive to housewife.  To wear a dress or a suit. To have all or none of of their own body hair.  Yes you need to raise your daughters of the messages the media sends and help them to chose way feels right to them.  You need to allow all your children to play with whatever toys they want from trucks to barbies. Raise your children to understand that passive is not permission and understand what ongoing enthusiastic consent is.

But if you could very please leave my vulva out of it.

I've meant to write an article about how my mom is a secret femnist for years but today I'll say. I want to be a femnist like my mom. I want to work hard and bust barriers between me and my goals. I want to lose the pretense of listening to well meaning advice about how to be a better wife and mother a better female co-worker a more accommodating woman who smiles. I want to be unapologetically -me- just who i am despite all pressure to fall in line with the pretty and popular crowds out there. I want to teach my children to do the same with the simple act of loving them no matter who they decide to be on their own.  I want to prepare them for the messages they will receive from all sides by talking to them all the time of how their body only belongs to them and they get to decide what happens to it. I want to warn them that they world might not like what they choose but the only person who matters is them and that voice inside that echoes right and wrong.

Feminism is not telling your children who they -must be- but showing them who they can be every day.

That's it. Thanks.