It's All In Your Head
BA Thomas
I was not made to sit in silence. For a long time, I believed it was good and right to always default to a pleasant smile, to submit to shame and fear, to only put forth the meek and mild self, to receive and receive and receive and only respond with neat, tidy sentences, never a messy birth of what I have to give to the world. It was convenient for those around me. But I found that people often mistake silence for sweetness. And this false type of sweetness, the wallflower existence, is often encouraged by the various ideals of womanhood perpetuated within society at large, and especially within church culture. It cultivates a quiet flower. But what’s in her head? And how did it get there?
How did I come to believe my existence is only to be tolerated, never celebrated inside a church? That my mind & body is only to be contained, controlled; so dangerous to the spiritual wellbeing of others that I cannot speak to them with my own words? So many women, now and throughout history, are placed into the categories of saint or harlot with no inbetween, communicating that we are unworthy of the same grace given to revered men, like David, Paul, and Peter. Is our mere existence so tempting, so deceitful, that we deserve no room for complexity? Or are our womanly wiles, shackled to us by abusers and accusers, something entirely different - something to be grasped and reclaimed to defeat devilish lies?
Tamar did it. The woman with the alabaster jar did it. Rahab, Mary Magdalene, and so many others throughout history took what was dealt to them by a broken, patriarchal society and furthered the truth they believed in, regardless. Some with their very bodies, others with monetary resources, with their minds, their maternal love, their tenderness and devotion, beauty and sensuality. What man placed upon them as weakness, they wielded as weapons against great evil. And then were called righteous, valued in their small communities, dignified by the highest power.
So what happened? Reductions of our humanity, constricting around our bodies like the serpents we were claimed to be, silenced our stories. It’s suffocating, being bound so tightly.
Or is this, too, all in our heads?
Not anymore. I’m tired of being called sweet, while I watch my sisters labeled as whores, snakes, rioters. I’m tired of being told to calm down before I’ve even begun to scream. So I’ve taken the dignity we all hold and married it with the messiness of living, making it tangible in order to spark something inside you. You may not feel comfortable viewing this work. I haven’t been too comfortable making it. But I hope you allow yourself to feel it.
How did I come to believe my existence is only to be tolerated, never celebrated inside a church? That my mind & body is only to be contained, controlled; so dangerous to the spiritual wellbeing of others that I cannot speak to them with my own words? So many women, now and throughout history, are placed into the categories of saint or harlot with no inbetween, communicating that we are unworthy of the same grace given to revered men, like David, Paul, and Peter. Is our mere existence so tempting, so deceitful, that we deserve no room for complexity? Or are our womanly wiles, shackled to us by abusers and accusers, something entirely different - something to be grasped and reclaimed to defeat devilish lies?
Tamar did it. The woman with the alabaster jar did it. Rahab, Mary Magdalene, and so many others throughout history took what was dealt to them by a broken, patriarchal society and furthered the truth they believed in, regardless. Some with their very bodies, others with monetary resources, with their minds, their maternal love, their tenderness and devotion, beauty and sensuality. What man placed upon them as weakness, they wielded as weapons against great evil. And then were called righteous, valued in their small communities, dignified by the highest power.
So what happened? Reductions of our humanity, constricting around our bodies like the serpents we were claimed to be, silenced our stories. It’s suffocating, being bound so tightly.
Or is this, too, all in our heads?
Not anymore. I’m tired of being called sweet, while I watch my sisters labeled as whores, snakes, rioters. I’m tired of being told to calm down before I’ve even begun to scream. So I’ve taken the dignity we all hold and married it with the messiness of living, making it tangible in order to spark something inside you. You may not feel comfortable viewing this work. I haven’t been too comfortable making it. But I hope you allow yourself to feel it.
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