The Phoenix

I woke up on Tuesday morning full of excitement, hope, and enthusiasm.  As I embraced each of my daughters that morning, I looked them straight in the eyes, and said with conviction and clarity, "Today is the day!  Today is the day we've been waiting for!  Today, in your lifetime, you will see the first woman be elected President of the United States."  

I believed it to my core.  How could this election go any other way?

And then it did.

 I came to a shocking realization that I live in a bubble: it is a bubble called California.  And I have felt a physical grieving inside of me that I haven't felt since Foxy died.  This pit in my stomach.  A feeling of unease, and utter sadness.  A deep and dark despair, that I live in a country that believes it's okay for the next Commander in Chief to grab a woman by her "pussy".

Memories that lay asleep in me for countless years, out of shame, and guilt, began to bubble to the surface of my being.  A flame, which for decades burned as a flicker, became a raging fire.

Overnight.

Please allow me to be completely transparent.  The time to share this is now.  I trust you with my vulnerability, but it takes some courage.  But I would place a bet that very similar things have happened to you, too, if you're a woman.

And if they haven't happened to you, they have happened to your mother, your daughter, your sister, your cousin, your daughter-in-law, your sister-in-law, your grandmother, your Nana, your Nonnie, your Oma, or your best friend.

Irregardless of race.  Irregardless of  spiritual beliefs.  Irregardless of stature.

Irregardless of who you chose to cast a vote for in the election.

You see, the first time I was "grabbed by the pussy", I was six years old.  This act of molestation only happened once, thank God, but I remember it vividly.  I can picture where I was sitting on the couch, the flowered nightgown that I was wearing, and the fact that I was alone with this person.  And I knew one thing: I did NOT like it one bit!  After he was done, I said, with utter disgust,   "I'm telling on you."  

I felt no shame OR guilt.  I was reeling, and kept asking 'Why did he do that to me?'  Looking back now, it felt like I was a little under aged lawyer who demanded justice.

But things get tricky.  And this was before Mc Gruff, the crime dog.  And well, I'm not sure if justice was ever really served.

The next time I was "grabbed by the pussy",  I was with my college basketball team in Mexico for a tournament.  While I was dancing with a man, he stuck his fingers up inside of me.  INSIDE OF ME!  In public.  With people surrounding us.  He just acted like it was business as usual.

I was shocked and disgusted!  I didn't know how to react except to get the hell away from him as fast as I could.  I was ashamed, and felt dirty.  Even though I had done nothing wrong!  

I never told anyone.  You're the first to hear this.

Another time a guy tried to get handsy with me, I was in college at Chico State.  When I politely refused his advances, he slapped me across the face.  I stood there stunned.

And then I went fucking nuts.  I came at him, fists flying.  He was huge.  A big guy.  My friends had to pull me off, because had he gotten the opportunity, I am fairly certain I would have ended up in the hospital.

But why is it that I have kept these secrets hidden for so long?  Out of shame, guilt?  Why?!  I have done nothing wrong, and yet, as women, we plow ahead like it doesn't affect us.  Well, this person we have elected as our next Leader, IT AFFECTS ME.

What frightens me is what we are becoming.  Saying we hate women is okay.  Grabbing a woman by her pussy is acceptable.

And believe me, I'm just getting started.  I don't have time, nor do you, to hear what I have to say about other issues regarding equality, bigotry, and absolutely no tolerance for racism.

I will just say this: if you are any shade other than white, I love you.  If you are a Muslum/Hindu/Christian/Jew/Atheist, or are just not sure, I love you.  If you have two moms, or two dads, or a mom and a dad, I love you.  If you were born a man, but feel like you may want to be a woman, I love you.

This is what I teach my daughters, and that will never change.

And we will rise like the Phoenix, out of the ashes.  Flash forward four years, and believe me when I say we will RISE.  Three of my five daughters standing by me side by side, as we walk into the voting booth.

Until then, we will promote love.  Because love is always the answer.

Always.