DENIAL 101: A Nine-Year Old's Point of View

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Grandma dolly sits on my rocking chair

Having tea and cookies with G. I. Joe.

Ocean breezes blow and give a pretty smell to my hair.

"Sunshine on My Shoulders," sings the radio.

 

Mommy goes to work and I go to sleep

Then you come and do "bad touch" again.

"Time to go away," grandma dolly says.

So I go to a happy place far away, as soon as you begin. 

 

I go where you can no longer reach me

In the playgrounds in my head

Safe from your touch and its severity

In my stuffed-animal covered bed.

 

"It is not happening.  It is not my body.

I am not listening now.  You have not taught me!"

1996

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8 to 21: What does it mean to be silenced?? 

 

My 8 year old self holds her vagina in her palm and her mouth is sewn shut. 

You think horror movie, but I see muffled women at every turn. 

Little girls sexualized then criticized for their sundresses and. 

 SILENCED.

My rapes and the hand print bruises on my arms, remind me of when I tried to speak but was

 SILENCED.

The appendage of patriarchy is sure-footed when it steps on her neck in the home they share. Her caged bird is 

SILENCED.

But the patriarchy forgot that silencing me put me in touch with warrior women—past and present—it gave me time to read so much that I found my vernacular amongst the formerly silent author women.  

It failed to anticipate…

                                   Shifts in my paradigm.

 

100,000 arrows shoot from my ears and the hydra reaches out like medusa snakes as I nurture my lost voice and--suddenly—I am 21, in an intro to sociology class where they are showing the Extremities.. 

This causes me to weep and scream violently;

                       unbinding my 8 year old lips.

I toss my vagina angrily at the Blackboard and command my audience with words I never knew that I knew (at 8 or 15 or--even-- yesterday!)   

Words that I didn’t know could exist in my mind, my mouth, my very being. 

Then lil izzy remembers her place and grows quiet and sullen. 

                 But the crowd has already made their decision!

                 They heard the visceral cries and guttural moans. I am exposed, mascara trails my checks and puddles in my bra as I await the guillotine that shall silence me once and for all.

     But the applause of sistas saying # metoo and the ghosts of women who beat the fucking path to being loud and taking up space reminds me that I do;

in fact, 

have a tremendous, cacophony of voices behind me telling me things as simple as “I love how eloquently you speak" to the deeply profound whispers of my she-ancestors; the underlying message meant to empower me…to give volume and depth to my voice.

So, scarred as I may be, my voice tonight speaks for all of my sisters still cauterized by others or simply muffled by social mores and expectation.  Take up space bitxhes.  Tear down walls.  Impeach.  Implore.  Impale the patriarchy!

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What is a vote worth? 

A child fed by continued SNAP benefits?

A potential suicide diverted by professionals provided by their insurance?

An addict finding recovery at a transitional facility?

 A Family finding a home through HUD!  

A trans woman finding her voice thanks to equitable laws☺?

A cop who doesn’t profile anymore because of sensitivity training programs?

An individual living 37 years after an HIV diagnosis because of Ryan White funding?

A baby fed, perhaps even publicly, thanks to laws and WIC?

A promise kept. 

A candle lit under the ass of politicians!

100 concrete and symbolic changes that begin in a cold November polling place. 

A voice that is wholly my own

 …and hers 

…and his

 …and theirs.

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Izzy Conquers Sex Shame

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I’ve always aimed for androgyny, but tested strongly male.

Be it nurture or nature;

No one could ever tell. 

James’ Laid crones “messed around with gender roles, line my eyes and call me pretty.”

It’s all part of becoming sexually whole.

I shaved my head in 1998,

but I reclaimed my sexuality at age 13. 

And I began a journey of sex positivity 

as much as I have seen. 

Consent. Compersion. And my Center 

are tied to notches on my bed. 

Pleasure is the order of the day 

my visceral self is hand-fed. 

Sexual positivity, Like a Phoenix, 

Rises From the Ashes of misogyny, 

 abuse and neglect and replaced with

 earth-shaking orgasm 

All owed to me. 

So when I ignore media contradictions 

And embrace the hedonist within

 I can enjoy the dopamine rush 

And let the fun begin!

 It can be as soft as rose petals 

or as animalistic as a forest fire

 but I can get there with or without you 

now tell me that I’m a liar! Drop mic.

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2019