I am a white Christian woman of privilege. I am not persecuted. I do not know what it feels like to be judged based solely on the color of my skin. I do not know the feeling of walking into a room and being distrusted because society has trained us that certain colors can’t be trusted. I can’t tell you what it feels like to live in fear for my life because of whom I love or worship. I did not have to fight for the right to have children with the person I love because my marriage fit a societal norm. And I have never had to watch as my culture was demeaned for someone else’s amusement or profit. I would also like to be very clear, when I use the word “Privilege” I am not speaking of wealth. I am not wealthy. Due to my health I have had to rely on my government for my healthcare and my source of nutrition. I am an American woman struggling to support her family the same as the rest of you and I, like many Americans, had my own story to overcome. No, I speak of the privilege that the color of my skin affords me and I recognize it! I cannot speak to the battles women of color face. I cannot speak to the feelings of institutionalized racism because I have never experienced it and I won’t pretend to be persecuted. I am not a victim.

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However, I am a woman and I am not equal. I do know the fear of walking to my car alone and checking every vehicle and every shadow for a possible assailant. I have felt the hairs on my neck prickle as I check and double check every window and door each night because the feeling of being watched is sometimes palpable. I do know the shame of being raped because I was too drunk to move, but never speaking. I remember the thoughts as they echoed in my head in the aftermath, thoughts that had been ingrained in me since a child, thoughts that teach girls it’s our fault for drinking and wearing tight clothing. I remember looking at my face in the mirror and feeling the loathing climb in my throat until it choked me. Not loathing for the man who had raped me, loathing for myself for “letting” it happen. I had to swallow my hatred when my rapist started working at my job and pretended nothing happened. I had to swallow my self-worth when he told people how easy I was. Still I am not a victim.

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I do know the pressure of being told I should have an abortion because I couldn’t afford children. I also knew I could never psychologically deal with an abortion so that was never an option for me. That was my choice! All women should have the choice to make the right decision for their own bodies and minds. I know physical pain and live in it daily. My struggles come from a spine that is deteriorating faster than my body. I know the feeling of doctors throwing pill after pill at me until I became a shell of a human. Pills, pills, pills, all in the name of my health and profit! I know the pain, fear, and shame of homelessness and addiction, and no one should have to feel that sorrow. And I have felt the hot stab of betrayal more times than I can count, but still I refuse to be called a victim.

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Men are not always the problem ladies, we are just as bad to each other. I have watched as woman after woman, belittled, schemed, gossiped, and psychologically abused each other in the name of womanly competition. Women are taught to compete with each other for men. We are jealous and catty and cannot stand to see other women shine.

 

Where do we turn when we can’t even get along with each other? How do we change the future if we can’t stop quibbling amongst ourselves?

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Step One: Shut up and Listen!

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We are living in one of the most volatile times in modern history. We have put a man into office that is dangerous and woefully unqualified. We have allowed this dangerous man to select dangerous woefully unqualified people to serve beside him. We have literally handed our country to the elite and our best interests were never in his heart. One side is screaming at the other side, the other side screams back. Both parties are stomping off into their own corners to pout and lick their ideological wounds while the men at the top laugh at us. Friends are deleting each other on social media. Name calling and hate speech are rampant, lots is being said, but no one is listening. Every single time I have grown as a human in life it’s because I took a walk in someone else’s shoes. I shut up and listened.

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I grew up in one of the most segregated cities in the country. Our city is separated into black, brown, and white; a.k.a. North Omaha, South Omaha, & West Omaha. You want to live in West Omaha? You better be able to afford it, that’s where the whites live, and we have some severely entitled ones out here. I grew up in Elkhorn, a predominately white suburb of way West Omaha, and my school housed all of two black students. I rarely left my bubble and I certainly never opened my eyes to what was going on around me. Living in a homeless shelter will do wonders for your perspective and that gave me my first lesson in REALITY!

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I say reality, because there are certain parts of the city that are not touched by poverty, homelessness, and crime. That is not reality, and it is easier to live inside of a bubble and never touch the outside world than it is to step out of your comfort zone. I am guilty as hell. Losing everything and fighting my own demons gave me a new perspective on life and a better understanding of the world I live in. I used to scream at God for taking everything. I used to play the victim. Now I am thankful and humble to be able to have both the privilege, the education, and the understanding to get out of myself. I had to shut up, listen, and stop playing the victim and I am so grateful I did!

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The struggles I have been through brought me to today. I am a writer and  photographer and always have been. Photography however is literally the only career I have ever known and I worked hard at it for 12 years. When my health struggles hit I lost that career and with it a piece of myself. The path back to my passion has been a long and hard one, but for once I am able to do something bigger than myself. I share my story because I am one woman. I am one woman with one small voice and a lot of fire. I stand and fight with my voice and my lens because it’s not about me. I am only one woman, I am only one story.

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This march was more than one woman.

This march was more than one story.

This march was about more than just women.

This march was about coming together despite our differences and standing together peacefully to make a change.

This march was about Love!

This march was about Hope!

This march was about our future!

This march was for our planet.

This march was for our humanity!

Some believe humanity comes together best in tragedy, when titles and colors are stripped away and all that is left is the dust to rebuild. From the plague came the Renaissance and I pray every day in my words and in my mind that we can come together in peace before we end in plague.

 

But first we need to shut up and listen to each other!

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*Below you will find my album of the event. If you click in the descriptions, you can read about my experiences through the day.

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A huge thank you to everyone who marched that day, your help and efforts are greatly appreciated. However, our work isn't over. On the contrary, it has just begun. If you aren't sure how you can get active in your local community check out the links on the "March On" page. Please act now, one voice is only one voice until you add it to millions of others!