Where did it go – my fight – my vision – my radical enthusiasm to push the envelope and take what my heart desired? When did I lay down? How did I become a bystander in world come undone?
These are dark times for so many marginalized groups. But if we look to truth – the days are lit loud and fierce by the actions, intentions and grace of some very powerful and focused women. (The men are there as well – yes – I am certain – but right now – this is about women – all of us).
Once upon a time things were not as they have become and the ease with which my tired eyes could focus on the possibilities was great. There was nothing out there that I would not have – if I desired. Sure – the fight for wage equality and the incessant drawl of the right wing religious zealots would always be a fly in my fruit basket of dreams – but they would not take me down and in my heart of hearts I believed we would overcome the oppression. There was nothing yet created that would take my voice, my heart, my drive, my sanity. This is MY life – my country – my place – and I stand proud and firm in the belief that everything should be fair and just and that my chances and opportunities would be equal to those of every other human being sharing this trembling planet. There was never a debate I would not endure or a righteous cause I would not embrace.
But in my recent days I have been tired. I have been quiet. I have been unmoved by reason and calls for protest. My heart screams for peace and justice and integral equalities – but my feet have not moved me in the direction of action. My dance is real – but it has become a quiet sway of solitude in the corner of a safe and familiar room.
Is it the ceaseless reverberating sound of the right that has taken the will from my heart? The hatred and name calling and demeaning articulation of all I have fought against my entire life? Has it worn me out and taken me down? Why, when all my sisters and like-minded citizens march and stand hand in hand across this globe – why am I baking banana bread and crying my eyes out? The answer is impossible and the reflection unbearable as my truth envelopes me and mutes the rage I so earnestly want to convey.
This is the time for all of us. Children of the seventies who have created children of the new century to break the familiar patterns and habits of avoidance and dare to jump into all the discomfort of a revolution. This is the time to find the dignity that lies strong and deep within and spread it far and wide for now and all our tomorrows by sharing our stories – telling our truth and peacefully marching towards the future we have all lived and breathed, worked and prayed for.
There is no evil that will ever imprison good, no hate that will devour love and no election that will propel me into the void of discontent. I must rise. I must write. I must march. I must speak. I must be heard. For you, for me, for her, for them and for all the reasons that make MY AMERICA strong, and great and hopeful. Let us create the history that will shine through these dark and ugly times and in the pages of the books yet written – let the words be brilliant with hope and truth, possibility and peaceful protests. Let the pages turn with tales of our hard work, intent-full battles and sisterhoods that brought a planet spinning out of control back to the balanced world we all so innately deserve.
I am awake. Time to change the world.
About K. Guzman
Kathy grew up all over the US - lots of east coast time. She is a surfer girl with an unabridged curiosity. A woman whose mid life awakening continues to bring her to the place she was meant to be. Her degree in Journalism/Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida is being yanked from the archives and put to good use. Her two kids are grown and rock stars in this wild world – her Harley is ready for some serious summer miles – and her heart remains open to life, women and the possibilities each day brings.