By Anna Yarrow
Wind. Wind. Be transparent as wind, be as possible and relentless and dangerous, be what moves things forward without needing to leave a mark, be part of this collection of molecules that begins somewhere unknown and can’t help but keep rising. Rising. Rising. Rising.
–Eve Ensler, In the Body of the World
Eve, I’m falling.
I attended your talk last week, and afterwards you hugged me and gave me a high-five, and said, “Way to go!” I spent the next day in bed, hiding under the covers, reading your new book. I read with my silence, my tears, my horror. I swallowed it whole.
I feel it digesting. An oracle. A wailing-wall.
You wrote about V-day, and One Billion Rising—women around the globe, dancing to end violence.
I confess: I was at the State Capitol on V-day, but I didn’t dance. I didn’t hold a sign, or march in the parade.
I didn’t shout, “Vagina!”
I was mute. Alone in the crowd.
A snaky voice in my mind whispered, isn’t it normal for men to rape? to be violent? isn’t that what women/vaginas are for? wives submit to your husbands. children obey your parents.
You said that next V-day will be Two Billion Rising—women around the globe, streaming to court houses and police stations, to ‘press charges’ against their rapists and abusers.
Snapshot: Tall stranger. Tiny girl. Dark. Blond. Alley. Hands. Going. Away. Where?
Real or imagined?
Video: Authority stands in my bedroom doorway—sleazy eyes and tight jaw. Says, “I spanked you because I love you. Because God told me to.” I live by spanking-time, an internal calendar . . . how long since the last correction? Gangly eleven-year-old, draped across his lap. Wooden spoon denting red ovals on my buttocks.
Someone told me that when I dream, all the characters are facets of myself. That’s what I’m afraid of.
I dream I am hermaphrodite. And wake, with something missing. My power. My Godhead.
My sexual fantasies: brutal. Coercion. Surrender. Ecstasy.
My mothers and fathers dance inside me, shouting, “Shhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Wind, molecules, words—catch me.
Anna Yarrow lives in Santa Fe.