She is born with a naturally occurring third eye, nestled within the softest place on earth. If you do it right, it might just wink at you. Waiting is a cycle. Stillness is a cycle. Regeneration and resurrection? Both are cycles. She wants no parts of your war – no parts of the blood you spill. (She often twitches at the day men were allowed into labor rooms.) The blood she spills is of living water; not of slain innocence and not of combat, campaign, or crusade. Yes, pay close attention to whom God granted His living water. It’s been said that it’s just too much. Too crass, too saturated, too heavy. Too brand new. The blood. Of cyclical possibilities with a scent of untouched earth waiting to be sown (or not). Rain on the horizon. Seeds taking root. Her insides – the great outdoors. It is her space and mine. Immense pain and immense pleasure. What of true life doesn’t birth both? Charged with the permutation of unadulterated first breaths! And we let them shame…tax…shun us for it. A gift. An offering. A safe space that everyone has at least once been familiar with. And we let them shame us for it? A built in clock synced with the moon, ocean tides…with her who stands with me and for me. And we let them shame us for it? Born with everything we need. To carry life. And we let them shame us for it? Phenomenal soil – watering itself from the inside out. And we let them shame us for it? Worth bleeding for. And we let them shame us for…the blood.
A woman will have an estimated 450 menstrual cycles during her lifetime; using upwards of 17,000 sanitary pads or tampons comprehensively. To the women belonging to countries who incorrectly label feminine supplies such as sanitary napkins as luxuries, 450 is the number of missed opportunities to feel supported, humane, hygienic and dignified. Wits University, Johannesburg (a South African province) is working to implement policies that impact this way of life in a positive way – one feminine hygiene donation at a time; coupled with initiatives aimed to educate women of childbearing age and their communities alike. Continue reading #WORTHBLEEDINGFOR
When I wake in the pale grey light
my heart is calm
my head is filled with thoughts and wistful yearning
thoughts of words and girls that mean so much to me
for I am a mistress of all trades and master of none
Continue reading “FOR MY GIRLS” by Michelle Mangal
She wasn’t broken
She just wore the pieces of herself on the surface
Backs turned to me, posted at each corner. Waiting. On the lookout for what is to come or what may come. Protecting the citadel I think (ah, that would be me, folks).