I Am Woman. Hear Me Roar.

The wise words of Helen Reddy (3/4 of you don't have any idea who she is):

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
(Strong)
I am invincible
(Invincible)
I am woman.

You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

 Being forced to take it down a notch thanks to my broken ankle provided me time to read.  I'm not a voracious reader by any means, and I have been known to start a book and never finish it.  One that really impacted me is Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights by Katha Pollitt.  I understand that abortion is a touchy subject, and you don't have to agree with me to understand why this book awakened something in me.

I am part of a generation of women (I was born in 1979) who reaped the benefit of decades and decades of struggle not just for reproductive rights, but for human rights in general.  Marital rape wasn't a crime when Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973, and in fact it wasn't until 1993 that marital rape was illegal in all 50 states.  Until 1978 a woman could be fired simply for being pregnant.  Hell, women weren't legally allowed to serve on juries in all 50 states until 1973.  If you don't believe me, Google it.  

In 2015, women still have a long way to go.  The government and our employers get to decide what medical care we can access.  Let that sink in.  The Supreme Court says that your employer can decide what medical services will be covered under your insurance.  Women should be yelling from the rooftops, "WHAT IS GOING ON!??"  Instead, we hide behind misunderstood "religious freedom."  Don't even get me started on religion being used to marginalize and persecute people.  Here's some advice: stop using God, Allah, Jehovah and any other god as an excuse to make your position in society better.  

But I digress.

Women, though expected to care for each and every egg we allow to be fertilized, are not given paid leave when babies are born.  FMLA does not protect a woman's job unless she has (usually) worked in the same place for a year.  Society claims to value human life but undervalues mothers every single minute of every single day.  Women don't make as much as men for the same work.  

Women both young and old are judged and valued according to their appearance.   Girls and women are told that being raped is their fault (because of their clothes, or maybe they were out too late, or maybe she should've known what he was after, or he was owed something).  

Feminist is a dirty word.

Boys are called "pussies" and ridiculed for running/playing/throwing "like a girl."

Men are told to "man up" because obviously showing emotion is weak. 

Corporations are people.  Fertilized eggs are people.  Women? Meh.  

Ladies and gentlemen, we have work to do.

Where do we begin??  Well, as with any many problems the solution isn't simple.  I hope to elaborate more on solutions in later blogs.  My purpose here is to get you thinking critically about the complacency of our generation.  I want y'all to start thinking about solutions.  Until then  Susan B. Anthony has an idea:

I know, she's ancient history, so let's hear from a more recent feminist:

Lessons from the Couch

Yes, friends, I broke my ankle.  Technically, I have an avulsion fracture in the fibula of my left leg caused by tripping over the sash between my basement and my garage.  This marks the second time I've broke a bone by tripping.  In fact, I broke a bone in my left foot the same way eight years ago.

I've learned so much more this time from being "grounded," maybe better defined as "couched."  Eight years ago, I stepped off my front porch on a lovely Spring day and rolled my ankle.  At that time my hubby was three hours away working in another city.  I was pregnant and had three other kids to take care of, but I got them all loaded up and we headed to the doctor.  My husband had to come and get me and the kids and drive us to my dad's so that someone would be around to help out the gimpy pregnant lady.  I was so busy trying to care for everyone else that I didn't really worry much about myself.

Fast forward eight years to me once again rolling my ankle on yet another lovely Spring day.  Curses!  This time I drove myself to the doctor all alone while my oldest babysat the other kids.  I may be stuck in a boot, but my kids can pretty much do all the chores.  No one needs a diaper change.  Sure, I've still been cooking the meals, but they can make a sandwich or get a bowl of cereal.  In other words, this time around I can actually rest.

Rest is medicine for a broken ankle.  Resting is so difficult for me; I can't even sit through a movie without getting restless.  I know that others have bigger problems than a broken ankle, but for me this injury is pretty devastating.  I can't teach yoga.  I can't go for a run.  I can't spend the day running errands.  I can't help anyone.  I can only rest.  (and eat cookies)

This time around things are much different.  This morning as I hobbled to the post office I wasn't chasing after a toddler and hoping to just get in and out as fast as possible.  No, this morning I could hobble and limp and take my sweet time.  I had time to notice the man walking with a cane.  He wasn't wearing a boot; he was just handicapped.  Life had thrown him a permanent "boot," one which he doesn't get to take off in a few weeks.  I was grateful to limp along today knowing that my boot is here to help and support me through a temporary injury.  Thank you, boot.

Last time I broke my ankle I wasn't yet practicing yoga.  This time around I'm not just practicing, I am teaching.  The bottom line hit me pretty hard: I can't teach yoga.  I can't, and that hurts more than the ankle.

But I can still practice.  My practice doesn't look the same right now as it did a week ago.  I have to remember the one thing I tell my students all the time: your yoga doesn't have to look like everyone else's yoga.  Your yoga, no matter what it looks like, is still yoga.  Will my yoga look like this?

Not for awhile.  Right now, my yoga looks like this:

And that's cool because it's still my yoga.  Friends, I've had to learn to take my own advice many times in the last few years.  That in itself is a pretty tough lesson.  In the next few weeks I'll have to follow another piece of my own advice: listen to your body.  What my mind wants will be irrelevant for the next few weeks.  My ankle is the boss of me, and I'm going to let it rule.  I'm going to be grateful for the time to heal and for the lessons I'm learning.

Thanks, boot.  Thanks for the lessons.