For as long as I can remember, I have been certain I was a black sheep; a woman existing on a deeper reality away from everything going on on the surface; the bars, the parties, the music festivals, the get-togethers, the social events. I never flitted about the surface, easily slipping into conversation about my cat or Victoria Secret’s new push-up bra or the ‘fat-blaster 3,000’ or the hottest DIY ass-workout or the newest ‘Super-Mom’s lean-mean-kale-blaster-machine’ protein drink. I never gave a shit about Taylor Swift’s new single or any Games of Thorns (?) TV series. I never found myself in any of those conversations, but I did find myself wary of the subliminal notion of disapproval, that something must be wrong with me for not being so.
So, in order to survive this daily disconnect from the rest of civilization, I fell into the routine of ignoring the loud voice inside, asking me, “what the hell is going on here? Is this really the world you are in? How can no one see what is directly in front of them? How can everyone ignore it all?”. Instead, I conceded to the acceptable version of living: going to work, becoming robotic, adhering to the mundane tasks of living as it means to live as a socially acceptable version of a woman: stay fit, remain visually appealing, shave the legs, put on the makeup, do so without questioning, be accommodating, take up as little space as possible, and by all means do NOT become an inconvenience. As long as these expectations were followed (silently), I did not receive disapproving stares, avoidance of conversation, eye rolls from those bothered by my identifying exactly what is ‘the bother.’
Not only were these notions the silencing of my past, but they were the silencing of my future. And when I turn up the volume, what I am actually hearing is a past of victimization, and giving into societal expectations of me- as a woman- is further victimizing myself. Waking up and silencing the voice that asks “what the hell is going on?” simply because it is an inconvenience to answer that question, reinforces the victimization. And I refuse to do that anymore.
What I also feel when I turn on the volume, is a feminist future. Not one that falls under any definition of feminism that I’ve heard before, but one in which all the wallflowers pushed aside by society as unimportant or inconveniences, come to life and live OUTRAGEOUSLY. I want to be a catalyst for that future not only for myself, but for those surrounding me. For those that feel the need for a soul tribe. I am here. To accept the unaccepted, marvel at the unordinary, (because what it really is is extraordinary) and to make a motherfucking ruckus.
Please feel free to comment or contact me if you'd like to join me on the Island of Misfits. Solidarity is everything. <3
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