Wildflower Honey Hope

I woke up with hope in my heart. Which is difficult and seemingly preposterous in these times. Patriarchy is fighting with its dying breath to sustain and perpetuate itself. But just as Trump, and Hillary’s loss, unleashed the Women’s March and #Metoo; Kavanaugh and really, the utter bravery of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, have torn open a great, secret wound. Women are crying, howling out in pain.

All the years Patriarchy and rape culture have been in control, thousands of years from the beginning of time…there is a crack, a change. Our time is here, and our truth will prevail.

The stories are pouring out of us. The ones we, our mothers, our grandmothers kept buried. And we won’t ever give up. We know our own truths.

Not every woman. Some are still deeply immersed in Patriarchy. They don’t know how to exist without it. Some will do anything, sacrifice themselves and their children, protect and vote for any rapist and pedophile, just to cling to the approval they crave and can’t live without. These women seem the most perplexing.

I sound condescending, right? Maybe not being married for most of my life has freed me. Male approval is not a governing factor in my life. As a divorcee and single mom, women tell me things. Especially having lived in a very religious world… women shared their secrets with me. And though few would contradict the men in power in their lives, there was a fissure in their consciousness. That light will expand and grow.

In the meantime, we keep leading, banding together. We will face our painful truths. We will wade through the trauma, endure the sadistic gaslighting, the emotional torture. Some have not and may not survive, adding to our sorrow and mourning. But we know in our bones of their suffering. We carry them with us.

We gird our loins while Patriarchy gleams and gloats as it secures more wins. We know what Patriarchy cannot admit. Its source has made it weak. Patriarchy never earned its reign – it twisted and stole and abused and lied. There is no real foundation beneath it.

We survivors have felt weak because our weakness was carefully, painstakingly cultivated. But our truths make us strong. We become stronger and stronger with each passing day, with each passing scream Patriarchy emits. We are climbing, climbing until we see our horizon.

Patriarchy, made stupid by its arrogance, is revealing its ugly visage. No matter its triumphs, it remains angry and contorted and drunk on its history of abuse. Patriarchy is truculent – simultaneously warlike and immature, like the Child-King.

This is what we’ve seen playing out before us on the national and international stage. Individuals, like metaphors from Central Casting. Women have seemed throughout history like the bit players with an occasional starring cameo. A few captured the spotlight. Mostly, we were the troupe that sung, danced, spoke, scurried across stage, often crying in the back in the darkness. But we are about to see a dramatic scene change.

We are a gathering force, women and girls coming out from the shadows and corners. Feminism is an evolutionary process. We are not done telling our stories. Consider us narrative pirates. We’re oh-so persistent, and we know how to hold on. Like love, we are patient.

We are wildflowers, unpredictable and unexpected. We possess a riotous beauty. Our imagination and creativity and vibrancy knows no bounds. We bloom amidst devastation. And we are taking over the garden. Today, I see a new beginning.