I trudged down to the Pride Center, sinus headache and all, for the writing workshop for the Breast Dialogues. And in that room, eight women talked openly and honestly about the breast and the empowerment and the shame of the breast. The pain of having big boobs, the pain of having small ones. Women talked about binding because they equated breasts with shame. And we talked about the joy, the abject joy, of the breast. We were open and we were connected and we were women. Together we laughed and we cried and the evening ended on this note when Mekeda (I know I'm spelling her name wrong) burst into TEARS as she told us she was scared to read her piece because in it she talked about the joy of growing up unashamed of the breast or the body and in so many pieces, we had discussed our shame at becoming women. She was beautiful. She was honest. She cried. And then she read and we all laughed and cried and gods, I fell in love with her words as she performed.
She was what women should always aspire to be and I am honored to know I will be on the same stage as her.
I then scampered down State Street toward Coffee Connection to meet up with Bi Utah and one of the women in the performance is also in the coffee group and so we met up again and a bunch of us sat and chatted about abjectly nothing and it was wonderful.
There are nights when, as a writer, you are reminded to get outside and live. Just enough. So that you can go home and write about it. Don't get out too much. :) Just enough.
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It takes a new view to see how women react with their breasts. A natural part of who we are, and a part which our society so easily objectifies.
ReplyDeleteNothing quite illuminates our feelings about our breasts as motherhood. It is at that point when its biological determination comes into need and its simplicity of being is at hand...yet so many people become repulsed at this simple way of life. Some are comfortable being natural, while most are afraid, hiding under the guise of modesty. It is a confusing time, breastfeeding. Such a shame that something so natural and so real is so very looked down upon as abhorrent in our culture.
My mother in law was diagnosed with breast cancer last month. This has put another chapter in the life of breasts in my world. Something so natural, so giving, has become so deadly. A woman's life that has been to nurture has now turned to uncertainty. She is scheduled to have a mastectomy next week. I hope she doesn't look at this as a loss of any womanhood. For we are women, strong, wonderful women, with or without breast.