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	<title>alphafemme &#187; healing</title>
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	<link>http://alphafemme.net</link>
	<description>Femme in all its forms.</description>
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		<title>walls and corners</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2012/01/22/walls-and-corners/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2012/01/22/walls-and-corners/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:29:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fear]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[happiness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[I'm tired of navel-gazing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memory]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the future]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=746</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>There are good days. There are not so good days.</p> <p>Sometimes I suddenly am aware with a gut-wrenching force that I am more than a quarter of a century along and I don&#8217;t know how to be happy, I don&#8217;t have any answers at all and I am still trying to figure out what questions [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>There are good days. There are not so good days.</p>
<p>Sometimes I suddenly am aware with a gut-wrenching force that I am more than a quarter of a century along and I don&#8217;t know how to be happy, I don&#8217;t have any answers at all and I am still trying to figure out what questions I even ought to be asking. Far enough away from childhood and youth that the process of living it can now be picked apart, bit by bit, shoved under the omphaloskeptic microscope. Turns out that&#8217;s painful. Turns out the process of turning into someone I want to be when I don&#8217;t even really know who I&#8217;ve been and who I was feels a bit like trying to build a snowman out of ash. You think you are forming a shape and then you move away and there it goes, invisible in the wind. And it&#8217;s like, why am I doing this work when next year I&#8217;ll feel like a totally different person again anyway.</p>
<p>Turns out too that when you&#8217;ve spent twenty-plus years trying to be something for someone else, that when you strike the &#8220;else&#8221; and that &#8220;someone&#8221; becomes yourself it&#8217;s exhausting, impossible, isolating. I don&#8217;t know how to live for myself and I don&#8217;t know how to talk to people anymore when what they think they&#8217;re going to hear out of my mouth is so different from what&#8217;s at the back of my throat. Somehow somewhere as it&#8217;s sliding over the tongue and through my lips it turns into banalities. &#8220;So what&#8217;s new for you?&#8221; &#8220;Nothing much. I sprained my finger.&#8221; I sprained my fucking finger?</p>
<p>How about this: I have a part-time job that puts me under the poverty line and I have ideas, a lot of them, about community and sustainability but I don&#8217;t have the resources or the know-how to make it happen and I&#8217;m in love with two people in totally different ways and I want to do sex work to help make ends meet and I waste a lot of time and I am so full of self-doubt it brings me to tears on bad days and I eat nutella out of the jar on a regular basis and I am sick most days and I don&#8217;t know how to have sex and not have it be sex-after-rape and I might not ever go back to school and I might not ever get married and I might not ever own a fucking house and I might have family that looks a whole lot different than is imaginable to just about everyone and my politics might not make any sense to anyone except myself.</p>
<p>Someone wrote to me a few weeks ago and asked me, what are the daily consequences for you of being a rape survivor? How does it affect your daily life? Here&#8217;s a thing, and it&#8217;s about more than rape but that has a lot to do with it: I keep walls behind me; I face doors at all times. I sit on the inside. I tuck myself in corners and against walls so that I can see anything and everything that might be coming at me and it is my <em>life&#8217;s</em> <em>work</em> to pull myself out of the corner and into the middle of the room where it feels like I have to spin so so so fast spin spin spin just to keep an eye on the 360-degree 3-D world surrounding me. And recently when I was talking to friends about self-destructive habits and patterns we have to work hard to keep ourselves from, the one, for me, is curling up and crawling into a fully-enclosed, iron-encased space where I am protected at all angles from things that be. My form of destruction is keeping myself so safe from everything that I become invisible, that I evaporate. Willing myself to untuck unfold, peeling myself off the floor away from the wall out of the corner is sometimes all I feel capable of in a day and those are the days that leave me spinning. Sometimes I get to the middle of the room and plant two feet down and it&#8217;s all my force to stay put. Good days &#8212; of which there are many, don&#8217;t get me wrong &#8212; are days when I can keep myself busy in the middle of the room and forget, for a bit, that I&#8217;m not watching out behind me.</p>
<p>Of course this is just an obnoxious extended metaphor but it also is the rhythm of my life and there are times I feel it crushing me. I don&#8217;t want to leave the impression that I&#8217;m depressed; of course there are times I wallow and feel nothing but most of the time I feel exhilarated or I feel obliterated or I feel something in between. I&#8217;m busy, I&#8217;m growing. Growing pains, I said in my last post, were a thing of 2011, and it already feels like they&#8217;re going to be even stronger this year.</p>
<p>I try to create narratives out of my life: I&#8217;m the protagonist, of course, and there are antagonists and various story arcs and things add up and loose ends get tied up. But then, memory doesn&#8217;t work in a linear way and as soon as I think I have it figured out I find more loose ends &#8212; like the time when I was in seventh grade and went to piano camp and all the boys snuck into the girls&#8217; cabin, one per each bunk, except for mine cuz there was one more girl than boy and I was a goody-two-shoes; and then the time I played soccer in fifth grade and the boys all made fun of me and told me I kicked like a girl and I cried and didn&#8217;t go back; and the time I gave a boy a blowjob because I went to a party with someone who didn&#8217;t tell me it was a party for all the &#8220;smart girls&#8221; to give all the &#8220;popular boys&#8221; blowjobs; and the time I made out with my second cousin at my great-aunt&#8217;s funeral &#8212; things that I&#8217;d forgotten about, things that don&#8217;t make sense to me, things that I want to place and tie up in an ugly box with a piece of twine and throw away or maybe in a pretty box with tissue paper and a bow but either way I don&#8217;t want to deal with them because I want everything to make sense, because I spend so much time trying to make it all make sense, because I want to know who I am and what the hell I&#8217;m doing.</p>
<p>What do you do with all that? What do I do with all that?</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2012/01/02/2011/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">2011</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/17/femme-invisibility/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">femme (in)visibility</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/06/04/thank-god-for-orgasms/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">thank god for orgasms</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2012/01/22/walls-and-corners/" rel="bookmark">walls and corners</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on January 22, 2012.</p>
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		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>life in paragraphs</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2011/05/08/life-in-paragraphs/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2011/05/08/life-in-paragraphs/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 May 2011 02:13:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grad school]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mi'lady]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[moving]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sex]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sexism]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=718</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>I can&#8217;t believe I didn&#8217;t post at all in April &#8211; at all! I thought I was on such a roll at the end of March; then, classes resumed after spring break, and here I am now &#8211; it&#8217;s the last week of class, I&#8217;m sick in bed for the third time this semester, and [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I can&#8217;t believe I didn&#8217;t post at <em>all</em> in April &#8211; at all! I thought I was on such a roll at the end of March; then, classes resumed after spring break, and here I am now &#8211; it&#8217;s the last week of class, I&#8217;m sick in bed for the third time this semester, and I am utterly overwhelmed. But also okay. I&#8217;m okay.</p>
<p>J, C, ML and I have all hooked up a bunch more times since the initial time back in February (that post is password-protected; just email me for the password!). It&#8217;s been awesome and lovely. We&#8217;re cooling it for a bit now; largely because J and C are going to be in New York all summer but also because we all want to focus a bit on our primary relationships. Also, another classmate of mine, K, is someone that ML and I are both excited about and for different reasons than J and C. I&#8217;ll write more about her in the future, I&#8217;m sure, because I hope something will come of it. She&#8217;s smart and open and sexy and curious and really mindful. She lives way outside the city now, but is probably moving into SF this summer so hopefully there will be more time to spend with her.</p>
<p>Speaking of moving, ML and I may be moving into Oakland this summer. We wouldn&#8217;t have come up with that on our own; the short version of the story is that a friend of ours lives in a 3-bedroom house in Temescal and his two roommates are moving out at the end of July. It would be $1000 for both me and ML for the two bedrooms. I.e., $500 each. For a house, with a yard, and two bedrooms, and a living room/dining room/kitchen, our own bathroom&#8230; two blocks from BART&#8230; And did I mention $500 each? That is an absurdly good deal. So we&#8217;re seriously considering it. It would mean living with a roommate, which would be different for us and I&#8217;m not sure I&#8217;m that excited about that. So we need to have conversations with him to see what his living habits are, etc. I do know that he spends about half his time at his boyfriend&#8217;s place anyway, so there&#8217;s that.</p>
<p>Another reason why this would be a prudent move is that we are getting a kitten!!! Our current place is tiny and has no easy access to safe outdoors for a cat. A house with a yard would be a much better situation. The kitten we&#8217;ll be getting is one of a litter of 4 that our friend&#8217;s cat gave birth to on April 15th. We&#8217;ll get to take it home with us in mid-June. We haven&#8217;t actually identified yet which one we&#8217;ll take home with us; we figure we should get to know all of them a bit better through frequent visits and sooner or later we&#8217;ll figure out which one we have the best relationship with (or which one seems the best behaved!). This semester has been rough for me in many ways and one night, when I couldn&#8217;t stop crying, angry about the world because of street harassment (which will be another post&#8230;), ML said, &#8220;I know what you need&#8230; kitten videos!&#8221; and for half an hour we watched kitten videos on youtube and it <em>really did</em> make me feel so much better. I&#8217;m looking forward to having something to love like that, something so removed from the hard stuff in the world, something to care for uncomplexly.</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve been sitting here for a bit trying to figure out how to write about the things that are on my mind: my summer practicum, drama in my grad school program that I&#8217;ve somehow been swept into, gender identity and street harassment, showing up. Showing up especially. This semester has brought up a lot for me and sometimes showing up is all I can manage and sometimes I can&#8217;t even manage that, such as the several times I&#8217;ve gotten sick. It&#8217;s like years worth of pent-up rage and sadness and internalized sexism are oozing out of me out of my control, infecting me with their toxicity. Right now I&#8217;m tired, too tired to write about this in depth. But perhaps classes ending will be a chance for me to catch my breath; maybe seeing the kittens again this week will boost me up.</p>
<p>In the meantime, I need to go make myself cayenne and garlic soup to try to kick what seems like a nasty sinus infection. Any other non-medical sinus cleansing tips&#8230;?</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/06/12/illusions-of-safety/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">illusions of safety</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2012/01/02/2011/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">2011</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/03/18/password-protection/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">password protection</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/05/08/life-in-paragraphs/" rel="bookmark">life in paragraphs</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on May 8, 2011.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>my work in the world</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2011/02/07/my-work-in-the-world/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2011/02/07/my-work-in-the-world/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 07 Feb 2011 20:30:04 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Politics]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Speculation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grad school]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[identity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the future]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=690</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>Well hello there. It seems like I&#8217;m beginning every new post in the past few months with some iteration of &#8220;it&#8217;s been a while.&#8221; It has been a while. Schmeesus. Grad school is kicking my heiny. In the best possible way. Also I have two friends visiting from Germany for three weeks. Four people in [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Well hello there. It seems like I&#8217;m beginning every new post in the past few months with some iteration of &#8220;it&#8217;s been a while.&#8221; It <em>has</em> been a while. Schmeesus. Grad school is kicking my heiny. In the best possible way. Also I have two friends visiting from Germany for three weeks. Four people in our tiny little apartment is a bit, um, crowded. And have I mentioned that grad school is a lot of work? It&#8217;s a lot. Of work.</p>
<p>This semester I have to decide what I where I want to focus my research, and it&#8217;s daunting. My professor last week posed some guiding questions for us to figure out what directions we might go in: &#8220;What is difficult for you? What are your histories, your legacies, your family&#8217;s histories and legacies? What excites you? What work will make you feel beautiful?&#8221; For me, all of those questions have many potential answers, and the answers to all those questions aren&#8217;t necessarily coinciding. So I&#8217;m mulling over a lot.</p>
<p>I met with the professor individually on Saturday because she noticed, I guess, that I was having a hard time in class with those questions. Not that we were being called on to answer them right away or out loud, but nonetheless I was struggling and she is so intuitive that she noticed. And asked to meet with me. And when we met we spoke about my struggles around identifying where I want to do my life&#8217;s work because on the one hand, there are the things that are <em>incredibly personal</em> for me, that come up for me in major ways, that I know I could throw myself into 100% &#8212; anti-sexual-violence work being a main one, obviously, and queer/gender identity stuff being another. But I don&#8217;t want these things to have to necessarily define my life; I want to be allowed to be excited about other things too; I just struggle with this feeling somehow of betraying myself and also with a fear of stepping into an unknown. When I do work around rape and around gender and around queerness, I can do it boldly because I&#8217;m working and speaking as myself, on behalf of myself.  On the other hand I would like to cultivate an ability to do other work boldly too, to have faith in my ability to be critical of and participate in the world in ways that do not have to rely on my personal experience as some sort of &#8220;expertise.&#8221; I want to take risks. So when I met with my professor and talked about all of that, shared some of my life and experiences and struggles, she invited me to think of work that I&#8217;m excited about not as a betrayal of my life and struggles but as a way of carrying myself into whatever work I do do. I do not have to leave myself at the doorstep.</p>
<p>So carrying all of this around in my mind, I see a world of possibility.</p>
<p>Mostly for myself (but also in case any of you are  vicariously interested in what I might be studying and researching and living the next while), I want to write up some of my excitements. Right now it&#8217;s all boiling in my brain, utter chaos, and I want to see it out in front of me. So, here are some of the things I&#8217;m feeling excited about:</p>
<p>- How are people in various ways self-reflexive about their genders? Not so much in terms of how they <em>perform</em> gender, but in how they <em>inhabit</em> it. How do people situate themselves in gendered ways in the world? What are their struggles around it? As a femme, for example, if I were my own research subject: how do I make decisions about presenting myself to the world? What do I think about and consider, what do I not think about or consider about my gender? What compels me to femininity? What has been my process of identifying with femininity, or not? How do I understand my gender? What feels exciting/comfortable/scary/uneasy/ambiguous/etc. to me about it? How do I understand my relations to other gendered beings? How is my reflexivity about gender tied (or not) to my understanding of my sexuality? How open am I about my gender, (how) does it shift? Are there ways I feel constricted or confined by my gender, and if so what are they? What is hard about my gender, and how do people react to it? These and more questions&#8230; and not just questions of myself, but of others.</p>
<p>- What are ways in which queer politics can be stretched and expanded in exciting ways to form new alliances? I&#8217;m thinking about, for example, ways in which queers make families push against heteronormative family models, and ways also in which people of color resist white/heteronormative family models as well. What opportunities exist there for alliance, for together re-defining for society what &#8220;family&#8221; is and how &#8220;family&#8221; can and should be protected and understood. This, to me, is more meaningful than a fight for marriage, which I see as one way for queers to form family, but not by a long shot the only way. This isn&#8217;t to say I disagree with the marriage equality struggle&#8211;I think it is hugely important in many ways&#8211;but I am more excited by ways of thinking beyond that in ways that also make room for alliance in struggle. Another example of my thinking around this: ways in which queers and folks of color, especially immigrants (and also keeping in mind that those two loose categories are by no means mutually exclusive) are both targets of nationalist rhetoric and politics in the US: we&#8217;re dangerous, a threat to national security, &#8220;Other.&#8221; And look what&#8217;s happening in schools &#8212; inclusion of curricula that address our curricula are being threatened, excluded, targeted as dangerous. This is not at all to say that our struggles are the same or to compare them in any quantitative or qualitative way, but rather to point out spaces for possible alliance, ones that I am excited by.</p>
<p>- I&#8217;m stirred, for obvious reasons, by issues surrounding sexual vi0lence. What would it mean for targets of sexual violence, including cis and trans women, children, elderly, homeless, sex workers, etc. to be able to find empowerment? How can sexual violence education be targeted towards potential perpetrators rather than towards potential victims? (And I don&#8217;t mean specifically <em>men</em> but rather, turning the lens of education away from &#8220;ways to avoid being raped&#8221; and more towards &#8220;ways to have justice and cultivate a society free of sexual violence, and ways for folks to be aware of and accountable for their actions and ways of moving through the world.&#8221;)</p>
<p>- Moving away now from the stuff around my <em>personal</em> legacies now&#8230; I&#8217;m interested in Islamophobia and ways in which the West v. Islam bifurcation is harmful to our freedom and justice in the US. Specifically I&#8217;m really interested in going to Germany to study this &#8212; I think many Western European countries are much more clear-cut case studies of the rise of anti-Islam sentiment in the world. Germany is an interesting case on its own: it has a long history of Turkish migrant workers in the country, many of whom after several generations still do not have citizenship. Turkey, too, is a place with its own West/Islam struggle &#8212; Istanbul seeing itself as more &#8220;modern&#8221; and European in many ways and then eastern Turkey aligning itself more closely with &#8220;tradition&#8221; and the Middle East (these are gross over-generalizations to be sure). So Germany&#8217;s relationship with Turkey is quite illustrative of global trends. In addition, Germany has its awful history of anti-Semitism, which I think in much of the West informs our relationship with Islam in that we are paralyzed by guilt and feel the need to be unreflexively allied with Israel. <em>And</em>, Germany (and Berlin especially, which is where I would want to do my research) <em>itself</em> has the fascinating history of being divided in two after WWII, being split between (capitalist) West and (communist) East. This is not the same split, obviously, as the West/Islam split, but I think it still does strongly inform Germany&#8217;s conception of itself with and in the world. There is so much material here. And I would <em>love</em> to be able to go back to Germany and continue fostering my relationship with it.</p>
<p>- At the end of last semester, I wrote a paper about multi-national tourist corporations and the post-tsunami (the December 26, 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, that is) reconstruction efforts in specifically Sri Lanka; how tourist corporations, US aid agencies, and Sri Lankan government leaders saw the tsunami reconstruction less as a project to re-build what was lost and more as a project to capitalize on coastal land freed of inhabitants by the waves. So (again, an over-simplified narrative, but still one that holds truth) reconstruction of homes and small businesses was forbidden along much of the damaged coast, and a green light was given to large-scale tourist operations to move in. The idea was that this would stimulate the national economy and provide jobs, but what of people&#8217;s homes? What of their autonomous fishing livelihoods? Are those really so easily replaced by jobs as concierges in luxury hotels? The lack of consultation with the tsunami-affected themselves is astonishing, and I was appalled that the money I donated back then was likely not used in ways I would have supported. This paper excited me, motivated me, angered me. And so I&#8217;ve developed a strong interest in multi-national corporations and politics of &#8220;Third World&#8221; development. How can we do &#8220;development&#8221; work ensuring that people&#8217;s lives are prioritized, accounted for, heard, respected, and also ensuring that global nations are growing sustainably and without perpetuating reliance on (and indebtedness to) the US, Europe, Japan?</p>
<p>These are just some of what my mind is busy with these days. Perhaps more to come. What are your thoughts about this? What excites <em>you</em>?</p>
<p>I will continue to write when I can. Miss you all greatly, and much much love.</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/10/28/thinking-about/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">thinking about</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/05/the-hard-questions/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">the hard questions</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/11/03/on-feeling-politicized/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">on feeling politicized</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/02/07/my-work-in-the-world/" rel="bookmark">my work in the world</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on February 7, 2011.</p>
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		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>sexual violence, part II: thinking intersections of race</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2010/10/05/sexual-violence-part-ii-thinking-intersections-of-race/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2010/10/05/sexual-violence-part-ii-thinking-intersections-of-race/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 05 Oct 2010 17:07:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Speculation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[anti-oppression]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[myths]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[norms]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[oppression]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[privilege]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[racism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rape]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sexism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[social justice]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=638</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>(Go here for part I, and afterthoughts.)</p> <p>It’s impossible for me to think about my relationship to race and racism without connecting it to my rape by a black man at the age of fifteen. Of course, the fact that it took fifteen years for me to begin to consciously conceptualize my racial identity is [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>(Go <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/14/sexual-violence-part-i/" target="_blank">here</a> for part I, and <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/26/afterthoughts/" target="_blank">afterthoughts</a>.)</p>
<p>It’s impossible for me to think about my relationship to race and racism without connecting it to my rape by a black man at the age of fifteen. Of course, the fact that it took fifteen years for me to begin to consciously conceptualize my racial identity is itself glaringly indicative of my white privilege. That is not lost on me, and I will return to it later. But since even that awareness came about indirectly as a result of my rape, it’s hard for me not to begin with my rape.</p>
<p>It’s funny—in my training to become a certified rape crisis counselor in the State of California, two “myths” of rape were drilled into us: the first, the myth of stranger rape, and the second, the myth of the rape by the “dark man.” And while intellectually I understand that something like ninety-five percent of rapes are committed by family, friends, or acquaintances and that the major structural problem in rape culture is white male supremacy<a href="file:///C:/Users/Eva/Documents/My%20Dropbox/Education/CIIS/Building%20Alliances/Racism%20Reflection.doc#_ftn1">[1]</a>, those myths are, in fact, my reality, and I have struggled—continue to struggle—to come to terms with that.  I feel uneasy about a black male stranger on the street or on the bus or at a social gathering and I have to ask myself “is this something real, a trigger, my brain responding to a perceived danger as a result of having learned experientially that something like this once caused me harm? Or is this a figment of my white imagination, is this my brain just responding to a perceived danger as a result of having learned through socially constructed norms that something like this <em>could</em> or even <em>is supposed to</em> cause me harm?”</p>
<p>I imagine that it’s a combination of both, and as a white person who cares very strongly about anti-racist work (and who also strongly believes that as a white woman, I do have a stake in racial justice), I sometimes find myself frozen, unsure where to go and what to do and how to proceed with undoing this massive tangle of myths and truths and lived experience and resistance and social indoctrination. In my early years of reading and learning about anti-racism, shortly after my rape, I erred on the side of risking my own safety. I was ashamed of my feelings of unease, sure that they were proof of my racism, and unwilling to be “that” white woman who runs away from the black man in fear or who clutches her purse tighter. The reason I say “erred” is that twice more in the years since then I have been physically and sexually assaulted by black men, strangers, in situations which felt distinctly &#8220;off&#8221; to me before the assault happened.<a href="file:///C:/Users/Eva/Documents/My%20Dropbox/Education/CIIS/Building%20Alliances/Racism%20Reflection.doc#_ftn2">[2]</a> (Fluke? Probably, yes. Or at the most, a weird coincidence of complicated circumstances.) Neither of these assaults were as invasive as the first, and neither of them resulted in substantial physical or psychological harm to me, but the fact remains that they were both situations in which I had prioritized the social indoctrination cause over the lived experience cause in trying to understand the source of my unease. I trusted my reason over my gut, at the expense of my personal safety.</p>
<p>And what then? Already I can feel my stomach curdle and my eyes roll in irritation with myself for even attempting to further disentangle this mess. The truth is there are times when I feel unsafe and sometimes they’re white men, sometimes they’re other men of color, but most often they’re black men. That is my reality. It unsettles me, deeply. But I don’t know of any other way of dealing with it other than in these insufficient ways: 1) by listening to my body telling me when it feels unsafe, which is different from <em>trusting</em> my body—I can listen to it and support it and prioritize my safety without believing that it’s telling a truth; 2) by committing to unlearn my racialized feelings of safety vs. harm in whatever ways I can; part of this has also been noticing how often I <em>don’t</em> feel threatened or uneasy, noticing particularly when there are black men I don’t feel uneasy around, and also noticing how often I feel uneasy around men that are <em>not</em> black to try to understand what other signals, other than race, put my body on alert; and 3) by always attempting to prioritize my safety in a way that <em>does not</em> perpetuate cycles of racism, that does not jeopardize the comfort of the man in question as much as is possible, and that is quiet and subtle, so as not to serve to unintentionally alert other white people or emphasize publicly the white fear of men of color. At various times, this has meant getting off a bus early as if it were my stop; getting out my cell phone to call someone, carry on a normal conversation, and move at a normal pace towards a pedestrian-heavy and/or well-lit area; and once even saying gently to a black male stranger who was following me and trying to get me to engage with him (about pornography, no less), “look, I don’t know you, and I can’t tell what your intentions are, so I apologize if this is misdirected and I want you to understand that it’s not about you personally, but I am a woman and as a woman in this society I don’t feel safe with strange men following me, so I’m just telling you now that if you continue to follow me I <em>will</em> call the police.” (It worked; the guy looked like I’d dumped him over the head with a bucket of ice and yelled, “well fuck off then, BITCH!”.) The point is to take care of myself first, always, but to do so <em>not</em> at the expense of perpetuating ugly cycles of racism—including the “dark stranger” rape myth.</p>
<p>The thing is I know that the reason why it’s called a “myth” isn’t because it doesn’t happen, but rather because every instance of it happening supports a mythical cultural norm. It’s a trope that benefits white supremacy and male supremacy by insisting that white women need white men to protect us from “dangerous” men of color (and through this, establishing that women of color are both not worthy of this same protection and perhaps even are to be sexually available for white men’s “perverted” fantasies that are “unfit” for the virginal white woman). And because it’s a trope that benefits white male supremacy, it is the trope that has become most visible and most powerful. I know this. But it was attempting to come to terms with the fact that this myth had been my reality was what prompted me to start trying to understand the myth in the first place, and that was my so-called wake-up call to the nasty dynamics of race in a white-dominated and white supremacist world.</p>
<p>According to my county’s website, the town I grew up in is 93% white. The non-white kids were the odd ones out, but it never occurred to me that they may have experienced their race much differently than I experienced it (theirs, and mine). I certainly didn’t have adults in my life that demonstrated otherwise. So the aftermath of the rape was the first time in my life I’d ever even considered that black people experience the world differently from white people, and it was a huge, huge realization for me. Of course, rape is a weapon of sexism more than anything else, and it does no one any good, least of all me if I’m to come to terms with its affect on me, to see it as just a crime against a white person at the hands of a person of color. But race was there. It was visible. And it threw me head-first into navigating the churning racist waters beneath the surface calm white folks have the privilege of floating peacefully on.</p>
<p><em>Later: I’m coming back to this a day later, having collapsed at the end of last night after writing this, an emotionally exhausted crying heap. I don’t want to re-write it, but it feels disingenuous to publish this with the emotion so markedly absent. I thought it had little place here, since this is about how the rape woke me up to thinking about racism, and not about the rape’s emotional effects on me. So I’ll say just this: this was hard for me to write. </em></p>
<hr size="1" /><a href="file:///C:/Users/Eva/Documents/My%20Dropbox/Education/CIIS/Building%20Alliances/Racism%20Reflection.doc#_ftnref1">[1]</a> I imagine there are more rapes perpetrated by white men on women, both white and of color, than by men of color on white women (I looked for statistics, but couldn’t find any), and ninety percent of reported rapes are intraracial, according to a report of the National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence from 1969—and these are just <em>reported</em> rapes. One can imagine what the racial demographics might be of <em>un</em>reported rapes, given that ours is a legal system that systematically privileges white people and subjugates people of color (as well as questions like “who is the proper Rape Victim?” with the implicit assumption of most people being “an appropriately feminine upper-class white woman beyond moral reproach (read: chaste)”, etc.).</p>
<p><a href="file:///C:/Users/Eva/Documents/My%20Dropbox/Education/CIIS/Building%20Alliances/Racism%20Reflection.doc#_ftnref2">[2]</a> I have also been assaulted by a white man, someone I knew.</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/12/18/responding-to-sexual-violence/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">responding to sexual violence</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/06/15/gay-guys-and-gay-gals/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">gay guys and gay gals, and why aren&#8217;t we all friends?</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2008/12/27/some-thoughts-on-rape-hate-crime/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">Some thoughts on rape &amp; hate crime</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/10/05/sexual-violence-part-ii-thinking-intersections-of-race/" rel="bookmark">sexual violence, part II: thinking intersections of race</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on October 5, 2010.</p>
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		<title>thank god for orgasms</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2010/06/04/thank-god-for-orgasms/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2010/06/04/thank-god-for-orgasms/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 04 Jun 2010 18:41:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sex]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mi'lady]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[moving]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rape]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[triggers]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=551</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d ever cried while having sex, until last night.</p> <p>Granted, big changes always unsettle me. When I first moved into the place I just left last year, I felt disoriented and weepy for the first week, questioning my decision to move and convinced I would never feel at home there. Of course [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d ever cried while having sex, until last night.</p>
<p>Granted, big changes always unsettle me. When I first moved into the place I just left last year, I felt disoriented and weepy for the first week, questioning my decision to move and convinced I would never feel at home there. Of course I got over the disorientation and weepiness after a bit (though I never did feel<em> </em>quite at <em>home</em> there, with a roommate who was lovely but who really had made it <em>her</em> home). I didn&#8217;t think it would happen this time, given that on the surface there didn&#8217;t seem to be anything remotely disorienting about this move: same neighbors, same building, mirror-image floor plan of the old place. And moving in with my <em>lover</em>, ferchrissakes. What&#8217;s disorienting about <em>that</em>?</p>
<p>Well, I&#8217;m not quite sure <em>what&#8217;s</em> disorienting, but I think I do feel vaguely disoriented and weepy this time around too. The move in with her feels completely natural, and in fact it doesn&#8217;t seem like much has changed in terms of our patterns except that we no longer have the stress of trying to balance quality Us Time with roommates being around. The shift into not working also seems entirely natural &#8212; I get up early, when she does, and the past few mornings I&#8217;ve been popping muffins in the oven (batter whipped up the night before) so that by the time she leaves for work, she can take some fresh out of the oven with her to work. And then I spend my days doing (for now) house stuff &#8212; massive grocery trips, unpacking, setting up internet, cleaning, organizing&#8230; But I guess there&#8217;s a period of adjustment just the same. Stuff still spilling out of boxes, things every which way in the house, closets utterly overflowing (damn San Francisco and its tiny closets!). It&#8217;s just not settled yet. And when things in my environment are unsettled, I think I&#8217;m more prone to being emotionally unsettled, too.</p>
<p>So maybe that&#8217;s part of why I cried last night when she was fucking me. But somehow I think there&#8217;s more to it than that.</p>
<p>It&#8217;s not like she was doing anything new. She was fucking me with her right hand, which I love because she can fuck <em>so hard</em> and <em>so fast</em> that way. But lately, I&#8217;ve developed a kind of mental block about being fucked this way. It started back in November, when I noticed one time after sex that I was bleeding. Then I <em>kept</em> noticing it &#8212; almost every time, I bleed. And despite the fact that I brushed it away, &#8220;don&#8217;t worry, I&#8217;m fine, no it doesn&#8217;t hurt, it felt really good, don&#8217;t worry!&#8221; sure that it was just some very minor tearing, it did bug me. I did go to my gynecologist, and she didn&#8217;t find anything wrong, so that was comforting as well. So I just shrugged it off. What&#8217;s a little blood here and there?</p>
<p>I <em>thought </em>I&#8217;d shrugged it off, anyway. Except for this afore-mentioned growing mental block around penetration. There&#8217;s a tiny rise of panic when she first goes in me, which she can read and so she always checks in with me. &#8220;No, no, do it, I&#8217;m fine.&#8221; But for some reason, that tactic wasn&#8217;t working last night, and as she was fucking me, my panic was stealthily rising. Panic isn&#8217;t exactly the right word. Not anxiety either, really. It&#8217;s more like this little voice of fear in the back of my head that kept getting louder, only since I was keeping the voice kept in a glass box, it was getting louder <em>and</em> having to pound at the walls of the box in mounting force and anxious energy because I was trying to ignore it. (How&#8217;s <em>that</em> for an extended analogy?) And so suddenly, I found myself crying.</p>
<p>My poor lady, she was so concerned, and was probably perplexed, too. I was telling her to stop and go and &#8220;it feels good&#8221; and &#8220;something doesn&#8217;t feel right&#8221; all at once. All of that was true. It <em>did</em> feel good, I really, really wanted her to fuck me. But at the same time, something wasn&#8217;t right, and it wasn&#8217;t anything about our connection, or about the way she was fucking me, or anything specific like that. It was so frustrating not to be able to put my finger on it. So instead I cried.</p>
<p>It&#8217;s funny. I&#8217;ve often wondered about triggers, since I&#8217;ve rarely been &#8220;triggered&#8221; while having sex. I&#8217;ve heard that many women who&#8217;ve been raped have a lot of trouble with sex and have a lot of trouble with physically-triggered flashbacks. I&#8217;ve only had that once, I think. I&#8217;m not sure why, but I think it has something to do with the fact that my memories of being raped are dissociated. I don&#8217;t have physically-triggered flashbacks because my mind separated from my body completely. But I wonder whether what&#8217;s coming up for me now, what came up for me last night, is some kind of trigger. I was dissociated from my body <em>during</em> the actual trauma, but came slamming back into it right after and for the aftermath &#8212; immediate and long-term &#8212; I was <em>definitely</em> experiencing my body. I have very acute physical memories from that time. But even those are rarely triggered, and even when they are, it&#8217;s not always easy to identify what it is that&#8217;s going on. I&#8217;m not even sure whether it&#8217;s worth trying.</p>
<p>Last night, though. I think that was a trigger. I think the slow build-up of anxiety over the past few months about this bleeding thing, I think that&#8217;s a trigger. It&#8217;s a trigger of physical damage, lasting physical pain, blood, and above all <em>not knowing &#8212; </em>not knowing and trying to repress, make it go away, ignore it, not let anyone know.</p>
<p>Jesus. I don&#8217;t know. I guess talking about it is a good thing. I&#8217;m not sure what to <em>do</em> about it though. Therapy, yeah, I know, right. I&#8217;ve cut therapy out, though, for now, for budgetary reasons since leaving my job with cushy health insurance. I just wish I knew how to help soothe that panicky, isolated voice in my brain that thinks it&#8217;s invisible and inaudible and that&#8217;s afraid of &#8212; what, pain? I guess &#8212; I hope &#8212; noticing it is the first step. Hearing it, voicing it, hugging it, letting it know I hear it. Does it sound like I&#8217;m schizophrenic? I think I <em>feel</em> kind of schizophrenic about this. Is that what dissociating does? It&#8217;s confusing. I don&#8217;t want that flattened 15-year-old creeping back. No.</p>
<p>Or, maybe I do. Maybe it&#8217;s the right time to go back and visit her and tell her everything is going to be okay.</p>
<p>Fuck this is ridiculous. I cried during sex last night, and look what I&#8217;ve made out of it! Anyway, here&#8217;s the moral of the story: I&#8217;m working on sorting shit out. And luckily, I have the most amazing lady to support me in all of it. After the tears last night, and after a little bit of trying to articulate what was going on, she asked me if I wanted to stop.</p>
<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; I said. &#8220;I want you to fuck me.&#8221; And so I patted that anxious voice on the head, and listened instead to how good it feels when she&#8217;s filling me up. Mmmmm.</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/14/sexual-violence-part-i/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">sexual violence, part I</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/02/23/a-leap-of-faith-and-love/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">a leap of faith (and love)</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/07/30/occupying-power/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">occupying power</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/06/04/thank-god-for-orgasms/" rel="bookmark">thank god for orgasms</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on June 4, 2010.</p>
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		<title>afterthoughts</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/26/afterthoughts/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/26/afterthoughts/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Apr 2010 19:50:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Gallimaufry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lingerie]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[metablogging]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mi'lady]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[moving]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pin-up]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[San Francisco]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=527</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>Well, that post on sexual violence was supposed to be Part I of IV, and I was going to do all four this month, in April, partly because it&#8217;s Sexual Assault Awareness Month but mostly because I thought it would be easier for me to write it all at once and altogether and then get [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Well, that <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/14/sexual-violence-part-i/" target="_blank">post on sexual violence</a> was supposed to be Part I of IV, and I was going to do all four this month, in April, partly because it&#8217;s Sexual Assault Awareness Month but mostly because I thought it would be easier for me to write it all at once and altogether and then get right back to my regularly scheduled ruminations about my life and my relationship. I also sort of felt insecure about it, like maybe people wouldn&#8217;t want to read something so serious and harsh on my blog, so it&#8217;d be better for <em>everyone</em> if I just hurried up and got it all out of the way. Except that something happened that I wasn&#8217;t planning on, and what happened was I sort of ran away. I hit publish, and then turned off the internet for a week and a half. I mean, I was reading other people&#8217;s blogs and doing <em>other</em> stuff on the internet. But I didn&#8217;t look at any comments and didn&#8217;t check my email or post on twitter or poke my head above ground at all. But the weirdest part is I didn&#8217;t even realize I was doing that until a week later.</p>
<p>I guess it just needed time to sit there and have its own life for a minute before I came back to it. And it&#8217;s fine, I&#8217;m totally fine, I&#8217;m glad I wrote it and glad I shared it, and thank you all <em>so so so</em> much for your comments. You can&#8217;t <em>possibly</em> know how much they mean to me. In a funny sort of way, my healing in the past few years has been much aided by all the love and support I get now from people in my life; it&#8217;s like I can remember that time of my life but also picture the warm and loving spirits of people now saturating the air around the 15-year-old me who had no idea they were there at the time because she was hurting too much to see them, but knowing they were there all along somehow helps me now in a way that doesn&#8217;t feel entirely retroactive. It actually is almost as if I&#8217;m beginning to learn how to re-remember, re-live that time a little less lost. Memory is a funny thing.</p>
<p>Anyway, to get back to the original point of this post, I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;m going to be writing parts II, III, and IV quite yet. It will happen, but not this month, and for the time being I&#8217;ve got plenty of other things to write about.</p>
<p>Beginning with:</p>
<p>We have a new home! I <a href="http://twitter.com/alphafemme/status/12117493296" target="_blank">tweeted</a> a few weeks ago about how disappointed I was that the perfect little <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/10/it-hurts-me-to-say-it-but-sometimes-lists-and-spreadsheets-are-not-the-answer/" target="_blank">garden home we wanted</a> went to another applicant &#8212; and <a href="http://dykeevolution.com/" target="_blank">Jen</a> told me that it must&#8217;ve happened for a reason &#8212; and was she <em>ever</em> right! Back story: I currently live in a sexplex (you know, a house divided into six units, duh, minds out of the gutter people!), two flats per floor, and the flats on each floor are flip-flops of each other. The landlord&#8217;s son and daughter-in-law have lived in the flip-flop flat to mine for the past few years, and they mentioned at the beginning of April that they might be moving somewhere bigger soon. My roommate and I got excited for a hot minute about the possibility of me and the lady love taking over their flat, but then we never heard another whisper of them moving and figured it wouldn&#8217;t be happening for a while, and promptly forgot about it.</p>
<p>Until last week, when suddenly, one day, they were gone. The very next morning I called our landlord, and said (more or less), &#8220;hey, you know, my girlfriend and I would be totally happy to move into that flat for you, if you could keep the rent where it&#8217;s currently at. It would be so easy for you, you wouldn&#8217;t have to renovate it or show it or anything, and you know me already, and I&#8217;m already a part of the building family, and, you know, we&#8217;re awesome tenants, so how&#8217;s about it?&#8221; And WHADDOYAKNOW? He fell for it! Well, almost: he did bump the rent up a bit, but it&#8217;s still well below market rate for our neighborhood, and it&#8217;s got TWO BEDROOMS. So much space! A guest room! A music room! A library! An office! A ballroom! So many possibilities! It&#8217;s a <em>mansion</em> you guys, and for <em>so cheap</em>. No, it doesn&#8217;t have a garden, but it has a sunny little back deck of sorts, and I&#8217;m going to see about having a little herb garden back there. And moving is going to be CAKE. I just have to drag everything next door. Like, three feet.</p>
<p>We&#8217;re so excited. May 15th will be the first day of our lease, so that I can move everything before I travel for two weeks starting May 18th. I think I&#8217;m going to die of asphyxiation from holding my breath until then, I&#8217;m so excited. Our OWN PLACE! :)</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve written about enough for now, so I&#8217;ll just leave you with a little souvenir of a fun photo shoot I did yesterday. The lady love, who isn&#8217;t even a photographer, snapped about 100 shots of me in my bedroom, and they came out so lovely! The lighting is just the gorgeous sunlight filtered through my translucent insulating blinds.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://alphafemme.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/alphafemme-pinup.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-528  aligncenter" title="alphafemme-pinup" src="http://alphafemme.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/alphafemme-pinup.jpg" alt="" width="360" height="480" /></a></p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/02/08/things-to-like-about-february/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">things to like about February</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/01/20/rainy-season/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">rainy season!</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2011/03/18/pin-up-girl/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">pin-up girl</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/04/26/afterthoughts/" rel="bookmark">afterthoughts</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on April 26, 2010.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>the threads that make my tapestry</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2010/02/17/the-threads-that-make-my-tapestry/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2010/02/17/the-threads-that-make-my-tapestry/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Feb 2010 23:59:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Depression]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[identity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lists]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[meds]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self-care]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.net/?p=435</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>I haven&#8217;t written about depression or anxiety in a while. I&#8217;ve been a bit stymied, to be frank, about the fact that I have an audience. Originally, I started writing this blog primarily as an outlet, a way to direct my depression and anxiety so that it had somewhere to go, rather than staying bottled up. [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I haven&#8217;t written about depression or anxiety in a while. I&#8217;ve been a bit stymied, to be frank, about the fact that I have an audience. Originally, I started writing this blog primarily as an outlet, a way to direct my depression and anxiety so that it had somewhere to go, rather than staying bottled up. I was in a bad place last summer, just felt like I was spewing my mental guts all over the sidewalk, and the blog was a way of at least spewing in a contained place. (Ew?)</p>
<p>And then something weird happened: I got readers. And somehow spewing my mental guts all over a bunch of kind lovely internet people is harder than spewing my mental guts all over the big internet black hole. And in tandem with getting a readership, I started slowly working my way out of the bad place I&#8217;d been in. I had started feeling like I wasn&#8217;t an <em>I</em> anymore, I was wasn&#8217;t a complete being, I didn&#8217;t have control over anything and I was incoherent, even to myself, but the very act of writing this blog helped me out of that. It helped me find a voice. And it helped me realize that I have a voice that other people, for whatever reason, actually <em>listen</em> to.</p>
<p>I&#8217;m choking up as I write this. Sometimes writing a blog is hard: people like it, and I start worrying that the next thing I write isn&#8217;t going to be good and people will stop liking it; or people <em>don&#8217;t</em> like it, and I think that maybe the next thing I write will make them change their minds. And yet. I think the more I write, the more I want to keep writing. Those of you who comment and/or send emails give me <em>so much</em> to think about, you inspire me so much, and the voice I thought I didn&#8217;t have is shaping and strengthening and I&#8217;m so grateful to all of you who read and all of you who write your own blogs for being a part of that.</p>
<p>Writing isn&#8217;t the only thing that&#8217;s helped me feel stronger, though. I have a village of people and a mental crater full of tools that help me cope. When I got an email from a reader a few days ago who was curious about what&#8217;s been going on with me mental-health-wise since I last talked about going off Prozac a few months ago, I realized I&#8217;ve been wanting to do this post for a while. Because this shit is <em>real. </em>Yes, I love talking about gender politics and femme-ininity and love and sex. It&#8217;s a lot of what goes on in my life, and it&#8217;s a great deal of what I think about every day. But it&#8217;s not the whole story. I&#8217;m like a tapestry, finely woven so you can only see the individual threads if you look up close, and most people just see the pretty picture, but I&#8217;m made up of millions of threads and so many different colors&#8230; femme is one thread, queer is a thread, San Francisco is a thread. My love of philosophizing and politicizing and being radical progressive: all threads. Mi&#8217;lady is a thread.</p>
<p>&#8230;and my history of sexual assault is a thread. My tendency towards co-dependency. My anxiety &#8211; a vibrant colored thread. My control-freak ways, my insecurity, my inability to be vulnerable, my difficulty accepting criticism. Those are all threads that were easier to write about and try to untangle when I was writing to (what I thought was) a black hole internet. Harder to write about when it feels more public.</p>
<p>But if anything, the fact that it&#8217;s more public now means it&#8217;s more important to write about it. For one thing, it&#8217;s good for me; it helps me unweave that one glaring thread I mentioned, my inability to be vulnerable. I can practice being vulnerable on <em>my own fucking blog</em>, for crying out loud. It&#8217;s a great place to practice vulnerability especially, in fact &#8211; because I can shut my computer when it&#8217;s getting hard. I can delete comments, ignore emails, I can be the boss of the space and control my level of comfort. And I also think it&#8217;s important to write about because it&#8217;s not just my truth, it&#8217;s a truth that belongs to <em>so many</em> of us, and I know how much it means to me to have solidarity, and maybe if I write truthfully I can help other people feel like they have company. Even if I&#8217;m in the Internet.</p>
<p>So. I&#8217;m not taking any medication at the moment. My intention, when I stopped taking Prozac, was to switch to Wellbutrin, but then I switched insurance providers and one thing leading to another means I haven&#8217;t actually seen a new psychiatrist yet. I may, eventually, but I&#8217;m not sure: as someone with a history of fainting/seizing, Wellbutrin is cautioned against, and the others (like Prozac) have these damn sexual side effects. So for now, I&#8217;m employing an army of strategies to see if I can get on without medication. But if it appears I can&#8217;t, you&#8217;d better believe I will go back to a psychiatrist in a heartbeat. Taking Prozac made me feel like <em>I was going to be okay.</em> It helped me believe that I had options, and that it wasn&#8217;t my fault. That medication was my lifeline, and I will never <em>ever</em> be one of those people who says you should try everything else first, that psychiatric meds are just a bandaid, that people who take psychiatric meds are just avoiding the real problem. Not. True. It&#8217;s a personal choice, of course, and if you choose not to take medication, awesome, I hope you figure out what works for you. And if you do choose to take medication, power to you, I hope you find the one that does the trick.</p>
<p>So, that army of strategies. I&#8217;ll share a few of them, the ones that work particularly well for me, both in general and specifically to deal with isolated situations.</p>
<p>1) I see a therapist. He&#8217;s gay, he&#8217;s really smart, and he specializes in coping with anxiety, trauma, and feeling out of control. He&#8217;s working with me on figuring out ways to work <em>with</em> my various trip-ups, rather than <em>against</em> them, and most of all on being forgiving to myself and parenting my own inner child to help heal past wounds.</p>
<p>2) I have a some somatic tricks, meditation-type techniques, that help me find my mental ground in situations (such as extreme anxiety) where I feel like I&#8217;m losing control. These include the stuff in <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/13/note-to-my-self-for-when-she-is-at-some-point-inevitably-lost-in-the-dark-again/" target="_blank">this post</a>, as well things like:<br />
* finding my pulse, and counting my heartbeats<br />
* closing my eyes, lying down if possible or at the very least sit, and greet every body part with gratitude or soothing (I know this sounds silly, but it helps me remember I&#8217;m whole, I&#8217;m human, I&#8217;m all here, for example: *wiggle my toes* &#8220;hi, toes, thanks for sticking with me&#8221;; or *inhale with my belly* &#8220;don&#8217;t worry, belly, you&#8217;ll be okay&#8221;), or if I can&#8217;t bring myself to greet my body parts, at the very least touch them and notice them and breathe into them</p>
<p>3) Sometimes motion is what I really need, because moving my body helps me get the emotions moving too. I&#8217;m not talking about exercise (though of course, that&#8217;s recommended for combatting depression), but about any type of motion. Shaking it all out. Taking a walk. Putting on Beyonce and dancing to it.</p>
<p>4) Writing.</p>
<p>5) Setting small goals, goals that are achievable, and then achieving them. This helps me out of my depression (helps me feel like I have more agency, like I&#8217;m not stuck) and my anxiety (by giving me something concrete to achieve, so that I&#8217;m not overwhelmed by something massive and, thus, anxiety-provoking). Example as applied to graduate school applications: small goal would be &#8220;write to undergrad professor to ask for recommendation.&#8221; Or, &#8220;register for GRE and order GRE prep book.&#8221;</p>
<p>6) Having a plan for what to do if I start feeling anxious. For example, I have some social anxiety, and if I&#8217;m out with large crowds and loud music, I can easily feel overwhelmed, distressed, and then panic. So, setting a plan for dealing with that particular situation, as well as an alternative plan in case it&#8217;s not working out, really helps me a lot. Example: &#8220;When I go in, first I&#8217;m going to get a drink. Then I&#8217;m going to find one person I know to have a one-on-one conversation with to ease me into the situation.&#8221; And if it doesn&#8217;t work out, if I still start getting anxiety? Alternative plan: &#8220;I&#8217;ve also really been wanting to practice my burlesque moves, so if I&#8217;m not having fun, I&#8217;m going to go do that.&#8221; That helps me know that I have options, so no situation can get the better of me.</p>
<p>So, this is where I am right now. Coping with my various threads, finding ways of pulling out the garish ones, but also being okay with the knowledge that my picture is far from perfect, but that&#8217;s what makes it beautiful.</p>
<p>Phew, congratulations if you&#8217;ve made it through to the end. Have any of your own coping or strengthening tactics to share?</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/10/27/anonymity-and-protecting-identity/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">anonymity and protecting identity</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/01/03/love-meds-and-femme-ininity-2009-in-review-and-some-ideas-for-2010/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">love, meds, and femme-ininity: 2009 in review (and some ideas for 2010!)</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/08/13/two-birds-of-a-different-feather/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">two birds of a different feather</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/02/17/the-threads-that-make-my-tapestry/" rel="bookmark">the threads that make my tapestry</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on February 17, 2010.</p>
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		<title>note to my Self, for when she is at some point inevitably lost in the dark again</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/13/note-to-my-self-for-when-she-is-at-some-point-inevitably-lost-in-the-dark-again/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/13/note-to-my-self-for-when-she-is-at-some-point-inevitably-lost-in-the-dark-again/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 Nov 2009 19:57:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Depression]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Speculation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self-care]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.wordpress.com/?p=271</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>don&#8217;t surrender your loneliness  so quickly. let it cut more deeply. let it ferment and season you as few human or even divine ingredients can.</p> <p>something missing in my heart tonight has made my eyes so soft my voice so tender my need of god absolutely clear.</p> <p>-Hafiz</p> <p>I&#8217;m not lonely right now, actually. I&#8217;m [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>don&#8217;t surrender your loneliness <br />
so quickly.<br />
let it cut more deeply.<br />
let it ferment and season you<br />
as few human<br />
or even divine ingredients can.</p>
<p>something missing in my heart tonight<br />
has made my eyes so soft<br />
my voice so tender<br />
my need of god<br />
absolutely clear.</p>
<p>-Hafiz</p>
<p>I&#8217;m not lonely right now, actually. I&#8217;m better than I&#8217;ve been in a long time. A month ago I hit rock bottom, and now I&#8217;m comfortably stable again, and have been for the past week and a half or two weeks. So I post that poem not because it&#8217;s leaking out of my soul right now, but because I suspect that, eventually, it will be. Because stability is an illusion, and although the downs feel so far away right now I know it&#8217;s just a matter of time. And you know what? That&#8217;s ok. Every time I plummet will give me another opportunity to learn how to survive. And so I post this poem right now as a reminder to myself, when the next wave hits. Whatever it is &#8212; loneliness, fear, insecurity, anguish, sorrow, emptiness &#8212; is beautiful in its own right, and is a gift to be embraced.</p>
<p>One of my favorite mentors, a woman at the rape crisis center I work at, teaches workshops on <a href="http://www.traumahealing.com/somatic-experiencing/index.html" target="_blank">somatic healing</a> (something I&#8217;d never heard of before, but am becoming increasingly interested in). She taught me that each finger represents an emotion to be cradled within us. I forget which finger represents which one, but I think they&#8217;re as follows: pinky is insecurity; ring finger is grief; middle finger is anger; index finger is fear; thumb is loneliness. Whenever you&#8217;re feeling one of those emotions, use your left hand to firmly hold the representative finger. Hold onto it, close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out, until you feel the warmth from your hand radiating from your finger throughout your body. And as you exhale, say to yourself, &#8220;this too shall pass.&#8221;</p>
<p>For some reason, to me it just feels right to put the finger holds and the Hafiz poem hand in hand. Whatever it is, welcome it, nurture it, feel it, cradle it, let go of trying to control it and force it away, and remember: it will pass. It always does.</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/30/one-year/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">one year</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/16/divorce/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">divorce</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/10/05/mental-health-day/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">mental health day</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/11/13/note-to-my-self-for-when-she-is-at-some-point-inevitably-lost-in-the-dark-again/" rel="bookmark">note to my Self, for when she is at some point inevitably lost in the dark again</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on November 13, 2009.</p>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Liberation</title>
		<link>http://alphafemme.net/2009/09/18/liberation/</link>
		<comments>http://alphafemme.net/2009/09/18/liberation/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Sep 2009 00:18:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>alphafemme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Personal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Speculation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Depression]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[happiness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[healing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[liberation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rape]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[San Francisco]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self-care]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the future]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the mish']]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://alphafemme.wordpress.com/?p=204</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I haven&#8217;t written about this here, yet, but part of why I&#8217;ve been so busy lately has been that I applied for, was accepted, and am now participating in an intensive rape crisis and peer counseling training at a local women-of-color-led, volunteer-based organization against sexual violence. Sixteen hours a week now I spend in their [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">I haven&#8217;t written about this here, yet, but part of why I&#8217;ve been so busy lately has been that I applied for, was accepted, and am now participating in an intensive rape crisis and peer counseling training at a local women-of-color-led, volunteer-based organization against sexual violence. Sixteen hours a week now I spend in their gorgeous mural-covered building in the heart of San Francisco&#8217;s Mission District (actually, it&#8217;s a block away from where I live), with 20 other women, learning how to be crisis hotline volunteers and one-on-one counselors. The training is amazing, and beautiful, and hard, and brings up so, so much for me. Surprisingly, it hasn&#8217;t so far been that triggering &#8212; it doesn&#8217;t bring up stuff about my own sexual assault. Rather, it brings up all the ways I am in general a scarred, flawed human being, how that&#8217;s okay, and how I need to work on healing myself in order to be able to start helping others heal.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">And it&#8217;s liberating. It might seem like being reminded that you&#8217;re a scarred, flawed being would be nerve-wracking, or defeating, or would break your sense of self-worth. For me, though, it&#8217;s been so, so healing. (I&#8217;ll probably be using that word a lot&#8230;) It&#8217;s so good for me to acknowledge to myself that yes, I&#8217;m flawed. I&#8217;m hurt. And it&#8217;s okay. I&#8217;m allowed to be imperfect. And each imperfection just gives me a beautiful opportunity to take care of myself and work on myself.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">I forget that the best way to heal and the best way to be the person I really strive to be is to love myself and take care of myself. I oh so often do exactly the reverse &#8212; I make a mistake, and I berate myself for it. I get frustrated with my weaknesses, angry that I mess up. I feel powerless against my deficiencies. But I forget that it is in my power to forgive myself for messing up. I&#8217;m my own harshest critic, and I&#8217;d do well to lighten up. I watch my dad growing older, in his 60s now, terribly, terribly unhappy, all because he believes he lacks the power to help himself. I DO NOT WANT TO BE THAT PERSON. It is his belief that he is helpless and powerless in the face of his own failures that makes him so miserable. And I want to be in charge of my own happiness.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">A while back, I posted a list of things I can do to care for myself. I go to that list often, when I&#8217;m feeling down and want to feel better, or when I&#8217;m facing an evening of solitude and don&#8217;t want to wallow. It&#8217;s a great list, and it was a good first step for me in focusing inward, being aware of my own needs. But I realized today that I have the wrong attitude about that list. I treat it as a resource I can use to fill a void. Lonely? Call a friend. Tired? Take a bath. Sad? Watch a funny movie. Stressed? Go to yoga. Focusing too much outward? Journal, or blog. In fact, though, self-care is not just something I need to do to fill a void. It&#8217;s not just a way to re-fill my tank when it&#8217;s on empty. I also need to take care of myself pre-emptively. I need to make a habit of taking care of myself all of the time. As a first priority. Take a bath when I&#8217;m not tired. Call my friends just to chat. Go to yoga regularly, to preempt stress.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">If I can learn how to do that effectively, then my life might be able to stop looking like a seismograph during an earthquake, and might instead look like a healthy state of equilibrium. Rather than wild ups and downs, where self-care brings me up and then I run out and fall down down down and need to bring myself back up, I need to consistently be aware of taking care of my own body and my own mind, consciously checking in with myself about how I&#8217;m doing, so that I can maintain a relative balance.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">This will also help me be a better person for others, to bring this post back around to the beginning, when I was talking about learning how to be able to help others. I&#8217;m going to refer here quickly, though, to a quote from Lilla Watson, a Murri aboriginal activist:</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">&#8220;If you have come here to help me, then you are wasting your time…But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.&#8221;</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">This is to say, I can only help others as much as I can be helped along the way. That doesn&#8217;t mean &#8220;I&#8217;ll only help if I get something back.&#8221; Rather, it means that (or I take it to mean that) the only way for me to heal and be whole again is for others to heal and be whole again too. And vice versa &#8212; so that others can only heal and be whole again if I make sure that I am also healing and becoming whole. So when I say that I&#8217;m learning how to help others&#8230; what I&#8217;m realizing now is that if I&#8217;m going to do this work, this so-important work of intervening in sexual violence and supporting survivors, then I need also to be wholly and completely willing to surrender myself to the healing process.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="position:absolute;left:-10000px;top:0;width:1px;height:1px;">And here&#8217;s where I take a deep breath, and feel my height and width and depth, feel my past extending behind me along with everyone who has my back all lined up to catch me if I fall, and feel my whole future spread out in front of me ready for me to take it in my hands. And I can fill up all that space and feel my power and know that I will not fall off the earth because I take up space and am firmly planted here. And the healing begins.</div>
<p>I haven&#8217;t written about this here, yet, but part of why I&#8217;ve been so busy lately has been that I applied for, was accepted, and am now participating in an intensive rape crisis and peer counseling training at a local women-of-color-led, volunteer-based organization against sexual violence. Sixteen hours a week now I spend in their gorgeous mural-covered building in the heart of San Francisco&#8217;s Mission District (actually, it&#8217;s a block away from where I live), with 20 other women, learning how to be crisis hotline volunteers and one-on-one counselors. The training is amazing, and beautiful, and hard, and brings up so, so much for me. Surprisingly, it hasn&#8217;t so far been that triggering &#8212; it doesn&#8217;t bring up stuff about my own sexual assault. Rather, it brings up all the ways I am in general a scarred, flawed human being, how that&#8217;s okay, and how I need to work on healing myself in order to be able to start helping others heal.</p>
<p>And it&#8217;s liberating. It might seem like being reminded that you&#8217;re a scarred, flawed being would be nerve-wracking, or defeating, or would break your sense of self-worth. For me, though, it&#8217;s been so, so healing. (I&#8217;ll probably be using that word a lot&#8230;) It&#8217;s so good for me to acknowledge to myself that yes, I&#8217;m flawed. I&#8217;m hurt. And it&#8217;s okay. I&#8217;m allowed to be imperfect. And each imperfection just gives me a beautiful opportunity to take care of myself and work on myself.</p>
<p>I forget that the best way to heal and the best way to be the person I really strive to be is to love myself and take care of myself. I oh so often do exactly the reverse &#8212; I make a mistake, and I berate myself for it. I get frustrated with my weaknesses, angry that I mess up. I feel powerless against my deficiencies. But I forget that it is in my power to forgive myself for messing up. I&#8217;m my own harshest critic, and I&#8217;d do well to lighten up. I watch my dad growing older, in his 60s now, terribly, terribly unhappy, all because he believes he lacks the power to help himself. I DO NOT WANT TO BE THAT PERSON. It is his belief that he is helpless and powerless in the face of his own failures that makes him so miserable. And I want to be in charge of my own happiness.</p>
<p>A while back, I posted <a href="http://alphafemme.wordpress.com/2009/07/07/positive-self-talk-and-self-care/" target="_blank">a list of things I can do to care for myself</a>. I go to that list often, when I&#8217;m feeling down and want to feel better, or when I&#8217;m facing an evening of solitude and don&#8217;t want to wallow. It&#8217;s a great list, and it was a good first step for me in focusing inward, being aware of my own needs. But I realized today that I have the wrong attitude about that list. I treat it as a resource I can use to fill a void. Lonely? Call a friend. Tired? Take a bath. Sad? Watch a funny movie. Stressed? Go to yoga. Focusing too much outward? Journal, or blog. In fact, though, self-care is not just something I need to do to fill a void. It&#8217;s not just a way to re-fill my tank when it&#8217;s on empty. I also need to take care of myself pre-emptively. I need to make a habit of taking care of myself all of the time. As a first priority. Take a bath when I&#8217;m not tired. Call my friends just to chat. Go to yoga regularly, to preempt stress.</p>
<p>If I can learn how to do that effectively, then my life might be able to stop looking like a seismograph during an earthquake, and might instead look like a healthy state of equilibrium. Rather than wild ups and downs, where self-care brings me up and then I run out and fall down down down and need to bring myself back up, I need to consistently be aware of taking care of my own body and my own mind, consciously checking in with myself about how I&#8217;m doing, so that I can maintain a relative balance.</p>
<p>This will also help me be a better person for others, to bring this post back around to the beginning, when I was talking about learning how to be able to help others. I&#8217;m going to refer here quickly, though, to a quote from Lilla Watson, a Murri aboriginal activist:</p>
<blockquote><p>&#8220;If you have come here to help me, then you are wasting your time…But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
<p>This is to say, I can only help others as much as I can be helped along the way. That doesn&#8217;t mean &#8220;I&#8217;ll only help if I get something back.&#8221; Rather, it means that (or I take it to mean that) the only way for me to heal and be whole again is for others to heal and be whole again too. And vice versa &#8212; so that others can only heal and be whole again if I make sure that I am also healing and becoming whole. So when I say that I&#8217;m learning how to help others&#8230; what I&#8217;m realizing now is that if I&#8217;m going to do this work, this so-important work of intervening in sexual violence and supporting survivors, then I need also to be wholly and completely willing to surrender myself to the healing process as well. And together, we all work on healing each other.</p>
<p>And here&#8217;s where I take a deep breath, and feel my height and width and depth, feel my past extending behind me along with everyone who has my back all lined up to catch me if I fall, and feel my whole future spread out in front of me ready for me to take it in my hands. And I can fill up all that space and feel my power and know that I will not fall off the earth because I take up space and am firmly planted here. And the healing begins.</p>
<div id="crp_related"><h3>Related Posts:</h3><ul><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/09/23/crash-and-burn/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">crash and burn</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2010/03/28/team-spirit/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">team spirit</a></li><li><a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/07/13/a-little-bit-of-distance/" rel="bookmark" class="crp_title">a little bit of distance</a></li><li>Powered by <a href="http://ajaydsouza.com/wordpress/plugins/contextual-related-posts/">Contextual Related Posts</a></li></ul></div><p>============<br />
This post, <a href="http://alphafemme.net/2009/09/18/liberation/" rel="bookmark">Liberation</a>, originally appeared on <a href="http://alphafemme.net">alphafemme</a> on September 18, 2009.</p>
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