08.03.15 What is the new?
it was international women’s day and the pressure to say something about my position on women and prove that i have something to say based on my unique and original experience of being a woman, of being me.
But I’m only still learning, still retracing the steps of others, still trying to catch up. wait for me.
I haven’t managed to find my voice yet/can’t contribute to the women’s movement yet/i’m still using the words of others/don’t know how to say my own thing yet/still finding my way…sorting out my thoughts about what kind of woman i want to be and how the bad habits of the woman I am right now keep me from this (never mind what kind of woman I’m supposed to be) – gotta pick your battles you know.
The familiar craggy surfaces left their mark on my hands that had become soft. Too used to smooth surfaces and repetitive precision jumps. I forgot to listen, to play with the city.
The wall I used to climb was now boarded up on the other side. The plants above this wall had died – too much trash that was never cleared and it knew its days were numbered. Neglected. Overdosed on alcohol, cigarettes and sugary drinks.
As I sit atop the wall and mourn, two girls walk by and one catches my eye. I give her a mischievous grin, silently inviting her to try climbing the wall too.
I’ve been spending too much time thinking about me, worrying about whether I’m strong enough to do pull-ups and trying to work on building strength when I should be talking to the city, listening to its surfaces, breathing in its dreams.
Bare trees. Sculptures of winter.
Sunlight pushing out the cold.
Dark blue berries tangling my hair as I crawl past.
Whispering stories of resilience.
The ambiguous gender I perform gives me freedom – and I like it