Published in Dear Journal, issue 2
I learn, I read, I listen, I talk, I write, I wear, I do, I teach
I am, I am, I am
Everyday I mourn myself
I recreate myself
who I will be
embarrassed of who I’ve been
though I know there is
no shame in shame.
I am a bad feminist,
and I recognize the dichotomy is untrue.
I wonder what I am to others.
I fear a snap of reality.
They say Pisces are dreamers,
spacey, it’s true.
I simultaneously walk numerous paths
That is classic:
of a 20-something year old?
of a millenial?
of a first generation Canadian?
of a queer?
of a romantic, an over-thinker, an Other, a person?
We are all searching
but some more than others.
ism’s and o’s.
Thanks to feminism, I develop
the language to describe myself
to relate to others
to subvert, resist, belong,
and feel like I am not alone.
So let me turn my personal into the political,
question and be confused.
So let me revel in the complexities
of we are, who we’ve been, and who we can be,
standing on the shoulders of those before us
and of who we’ve already been.
When you are in a constant state of
confusion and enlightenment,
when you mix up self care and laziness,
or self care and avoidance,
when there is no right answer,
when time keeps moving but you are not ready,
when you keep moving but they’re not ready,
I am tired, I am energized,
I am burned out, I am revved up.
But the Other feels no choice but to take action.
We need more allyship
beyond a capital A,
and we need more
solidarity and less complacency.
Settling through unsettling:
I watch my puppy do rolls in a fuzzy blanket
My partner and I do the same.
Thinking beyond the self
I am all my me’s
and the me’s of you too.
Unsettling through settling:
Our collective embodiment of resistance
wraps us tightly in that fuzzy blanket,
“take care, beware.”