i love my body. love it. its softness, its solidness, its roundness. the way the muscles pull and move under my skin. the way i feel as i walk through the world with all the contained power and potential that is my body. just this morning misty read us aloud an eduardo galleano quote that goes, “the church says: the body is a sin. science says: the body is a machine. advertising says: the body is a business. the body says: i am a fiesta.” all day i’ve been affirming that my body is a fiesta. and not just any fiesta, it is the kind of fiesta you want to be invited to. and i want to be worshipping, nurturing and celebrating my body. i want to be taking care of it. but one day i will also want to risk it.
because my body is also political. historically my body has been a protected body. it is white, female, heteronormative (mostly). it is the kind of body cops ache to protect; it is the kind of body they were made to protect. men have been said to go to war for my body. i am the antithesis of the brown male body, and still a far cry from the brown female body, the non gender conforming body. those bodies have to be violently suppressed. i am meant to fear those bodies, distance them from myself, remain pure and worthy of the protection i am given. i am a body deified. our culture sets the standard for beauty by my body. i have all the power and privilege of my white female body. and one day i will use that when i am ready.
last night i was sitting around talking with some friends. talking about the sorts of community organizing i want to be doing in charlottesville, about the kind of work i want to be committing myself to. and it’s clear to me that one day, in my future, i will be organizing things that are much too threatening to the systems and structures we live in and under. because i want everything about my life to threaten and undermine the way we’re taught we have to live. i want to be breaking this shit down and creating pathways to different worlds. i want us to get back to the joy of living and let go of this struggle for survival that is capitalist culture.
and when what i’m doing is too much, when it gets to the point that the cops or whoever need to confront me and the other people i’m working with, i want my body to be in the middle. i want it to be the first body that’s attacked. because for centuries worth of history, all manner of bodies have been under attack, have been brutalized and terrorized by the police and others. but not mine. and i know in my gut, that part of my body that knows things before every other part, that i want to be in the way. i want to be the body they have to get through first.
veronica talked some with me about the difference between being the voice and being the body. how they both have their strengths and how you can really only be one or the other. because being the body requires you to give up access to the voice. because being the body is a different way of communicating and engaging altogether.
for now i’m happy to be a voice. i like using my voice. but i know that i am only being the voice now so that one day i can be the body. and that knowledge sits heavy in my gut for now, hovers a bit around my heart, making it flutter from time to time and is beginning to permeate my whole self. i feel grounded in it. not particularly excited, but almost ready.