As I have watched the numerous women and men come forward as part of and because of the “Me Too” movement, I have been engulfed with a sense of sadness for not only the actual violations they have endured, but also for what they have been living with for years and in some instances decades.

Silenced – Sad – Ignored – Marginalized – Disbelieved – Avoided – Shamed – Disparaged – Afraid

and the list builds with words that my vocabulary is too frivolous to accurately capture.

I have been and continue to be mortified by the magnitude of these long muted hostage truths that continue to erupt from the bowels of virtually every corner of our society and have spewed the vomit of disgrace and dis-ease, leaving our communities, families, and businesses,,,,hearts and minds with the nauseous taste of bile stuck in our throats and the stench of decayed but not yet dead filth and rottenness embedded in our nostrils. And we can not look at this reality without horror plastered on our collective faces, nor look away from it without guilt and tears blinding our eyes.

And I witness the faces standing stoic before the cameras of compassionate and curious on-lookers, and I imagine them to be facsimiles that became trapped in a time-warp of anguish, living in their used-to-be-selves, while the years, experiences and the urgency to suppress lest-they-fall-apart plays underneath the surface of their faces while attempting to resuscitate and rescue souls and spirits from plotted suffocation and demise.

And because between then and now there is a certain population that have become mature and seasoned women, the world and the media sometimes recognize and remember that before they were hijacked, they were young and vibrant and hopeful and beautiful, and in the midst of their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And that someone and something vile and treacherous came to steal their smile away and sentence them into shameful hiding with threats and accusations and finger-pointing and mean-faced snarls and being treated as if they were venomous villains.

Poison on top of the Poison.

But I know that in spite of - ,

This is not all that they are:

They lived experiences that had meaning but were not powerful enough to debase their worth, derail their walk nor determine their destiny

In fact, this is not who they are at all!

They are still beautiful!

They are still vibrant!

They are still hopeful!

They are still the young spirit that refuses to be perpetually broken or silenced

They are courageous challengers of fear and shame and humiliation and lies and sadness.

As a Woman

HOW DARE I NOT SPEAK

As the Face of my brand - Hormones and High Heels

HOW DARE I DISTANCE MY VOICE and MY VIEW

And as a Colleague of the “Me Too” movement

HOW DARE I NOT SHOW UP

So with humility and in solidarity, I dedicate this poem

(which though written many years ago continues to find purpose and life)

To the community of people (young, maturing, seasoned, female and male) whose lives have been touched by the myriad manifestations of violence and violation,

Yet refuse to surrender to defeat

~~~~~

Reflections ©

As I sit and reflect

I consider those things

Which have been stripped and battered by the temperament of the elements

Yet, have the courage to flourish again

And those things

Which have been chiseled and maimed by an unbalanced instrument

Yet have the endurance to stand steady

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I consider the lives

Which have been engraved and branded by the footprints of time

Yet have the grace to radiate beauty

And the lives

Which have been twisted and shattered by an unfulfilled promise

Yet have the faith to trust in tomorrow

And then

I think of you

And Marvel