A Temple in the Hood

Some are taught as children that Womanhood is sacred, life-giving, strong and wise. Huh.

When a woman can look back into her past, without resentment, for the too numerous to mention times her friends pointed out how much of an idiot she could be, but then often reminded her of how much she had improved, and learned that it was the truth that set her free, that at first had pissed her off.

When a woman can look back at her weight during pregnancy, and the all encompassing desire for Cracker Jacks and Chicken Yakatori, she can embrace the fullness of her experience, considering no one else could get their arms around her.

When a woman can look back into her past, without regret, without spotlighting the screams directed at her husband while giving birth, “You did this to me, you bastard! Oh God! This is all your fault!” She can embrace the gift of her experience or at least until she develops calluses on her nipples from breastfeeding.

When a woman can look back into her past at the ongoing unhappiness she has connected with the shape of her body, and she can then allow her personal trainer to pry the handcrafted Cinnamon Dolce Latte from one hand, and the chocolate iced vanilla pound cake from the other, she will be liberated.

When a woman can look back into her past, without hesitation or bitterness, and throw her personal trainer and caution to the wind, to build upon what she had gained, membership in a small, fat-loving civilization, she will respect herself.

When a woman can see her own divinity and recognize the divinity in other women, although some of them had cosmetic surgery to enhance the divinity, she can see her body as a temple and appreciate its form, regardless of age or stage of life she is in.

When a woman can look back and see that the temple that God had given her was being treated like a tent, she can use her experience to learn from and without faltering, choose to reposition the center pole, braid new guy lines and secure the stakes.

When a woman can look back and suddenly say to herself, “Why the hell am I looking back, we aren’t going that way,” The sooner she can move forward to express her emotions, her intellect, her talents and sing praise with the strength and beauty of a diamond that illuminates her itty-bitty, teeny-tiny, world.

Here’s to you, Womanhood.