INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY: 100 YEARS LATER

This March 8^th, as the world converges to celebrate the 100^th anniversary that acknowledges inalienable human rights to females, I inquire how this translates for me, Jamaican by birth, African by ancestry and Universal in outlook.

In a riveting exchange with the first African woman to be chosen as a Special Representative to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, we concluded that a century later, we are still demanded to work that much harder for our accomplishments to be [begrudgingly] acknowledged by both men and women. I hastily add that this concurrence emerges from a place of conscious awareness rather than from victim-hood.

Throughout my upbringing, I was encouraged to be the best that I could possibly be. Being an only child, I never experienced the issues of sibling rivalry, and having attended an all girls’ school throughout my formative years; it never dawned on me until I entered the professional arena that I may be treated differently on the basis of my biological composition. Here the biological became juxtaposed against the cultural as well as the political. The treatment meted out to females was driven by the other’s cultural norms and attitudes, and ‘gender mainstreaming’ drove the political vehicle.

A strong advocate against injustice, initially I was outraged by this sort of largely ‘subliminal’ discrimination. The idealist within me could not reconcile that this sort of discretionary treatment could possibly exist within the hallmarks of humanitarianism. As I continued to climb the professional ladder, things deteriorated.

Refusing to succumb to the linear projections of others, I made a conscious decision to embrace, cultivate and respect my feminine approach to bureaucracy. Rather than become a victim or worse yet a ‘wanna be’ male, I chose to lead from the heart. Clearly this recipe continues to work given that I am still ‘on the ladder.’

Presently, life finds me in the heart of Africa; the Central African Republic (CAR) to be precise. Each morning as the sun rises and I stare out my window, I see women of all ages laden with baskets heavier than their body weight striding gracefully towards the markets. The younger ones may even have a baby tied to their backs.

When I drive through the markets en route to work, it is these same women that I witness harking their produce that they awoke during the darkest hours before dawn to pick. And at mealtimes, the women head home to prepare some semblance of nutrition to feed their families from their daily earnings. This scenario is by no means limited to CAR and in fact, is largely representative of the [un-defined] role of women as being the economic backbone of lesser developing countries.

Yet in many of these countries, families are forced to choose which of their children to educate and most often, the choice is clear: send the boys to school while the girls stay behind to tend the fields and take care of the household. The subsequent vicious cycle of their lack of education has many of them becoming mothers before they are adults.

In Jamaica, there are a startling number of single family households, the bulk of which are financed and run by women who wear multiple hats – mother, daughter, sister, bread-winner and community leader, struggling to survive within a society where patriarchal norms and practices reign supreme. In addition to juggling these multi-faceted roles, many continue to invest in themselves by way of further education, health and wellness and seeking spiritual sustenance – the latter I suppose to give them the strength to ‘carry on.’

100 years later, as females, the givers of Life, it is time for us to step up and claim our rightful positions within our respective societies.

How do we do begin?

Rather than perpetuating the divide, it is in our interest to help our communities to appreciate and embrace the fact that we are human, absolutely. Given the reality that we are incapable of reproducing without the other is a sound vantage point. As women, many of us are taught from a very early age that we must act and behave in a certain manner that is ‘lady-like.’ The connotations surrounding this are pervasively submissive and subservient. Too many of us value our worth against our attachment or lack thereof to a male.

My appeal on this International Women’s Day is for us to continue to create feminine ‘centrarchies’ where we are able to heal, grow and honour the women that we are. The universality of this notion calls us to collective action to support those amongst our clan who are abused, molested, marginalized, raped, objectified, victimized, ostracized and ridiculed and to celebrate those amongst us who are moving, shaking and transforming.

Together, let us join hands and hearts and share the blood, sweat, tears and laughter of the Divine Feminine. She lives within each and every one of us human beings.

‘I can of mine own self do nothing’-- John 5:30

On 11-01-11, at approximately 1853 hrs Central African time, as I was wrapping up another neurotically busy day at work, my boss, to his office, summoned me. I am fast getting used to hearing his famous last words, ‘I need you.’

He had literally just received an unreasonable request from the head of our office. As I sat before him, he frantically outlined this latest one.

In that 23rd hour, it had dawned on ‘Madame’ as she is affectionately called, that 12 January marked 1 year since Haiti had been struck by a massive earthquake, one that the country to date is still struggling to emerge from.

She was demanding that a flag ceremony be arranged to accommodate up to 800 people, in less than 24 hours. For those who are unfamiliar with such protocol, this 7 minutes of pomp and circumstance would compel us to jump into very high gear, including the raising and lowering of the UN flag, placement of a wreath, a moment of silence and lastly, a few words echoed by Her.

As I listened to this professional command, I was having a very different inner [personal] response. Quickly I scanned my body to find where I may be holding my own remnants of this disaster that in an instant transformed my life up until that point. It was my heart that spoke to me and from where this appeal today emanates.

I recalled being propped up in bed working on another humanitarian project in South East Asia when I received the call which prompted my fast return home to Jamaica to establish the GVN Assessment Team that traveled into Haiti less than 12 days after the quake.

Today on 12 January 2011, with immense humility and gratitude, I am remembering the lives of those lost as a result of this quake. I can still feel the trauma – tense, tight and raw – that loomed over the land as our aircraft touched down with seven team members who arrived in Haiti, committed to making a viable contribution to the Haitian recovery.

Besides the agenda of our hearts, we had no clear vision as to how we might even begin to contribute to the reparations of this immense atrocity.

One thing I do know for sure is that in spite of the insurmountable odds, we gave it our all, which subsequently led to the placement of over 400 volunteers in Haiti over a period of 6 months; seemingly ordinary human beings taking on extraordinary circumstances and manifesting projects beyond their wildest expectations.

For a brief moment, across the world, we humans, managed to step away from ourselves to be of tireless service to our fellow beings. I pray that now, one year later, we do not wane. Especially now, Haiti needs us during her re-traumatizing moment.

At 1653 hrs today, wherever you may be, I invite you to join me as I pause for a moment of silence to reflect upon the strike of Mother Nature then, and how we may strive to show Her our love and respect today – such that She recognizes that we’ve heard her call and are committed to being the humans that she invites us to be – kind, loving, compassionate and respectful to all sentient beings.

As I approach the mat shortly, it is my intention to honour all those who chose to give of themselves so that the lives of others, known and unknown, may always lovingly be remembered.

Namaste!

Fright and Flight: Is there a dark side to yoga?

About a year ago, one morning a student arrived reluctantly to class.

She claimed that she had chosen to stop practicing for several months as she found that whenever she practiced that she came away feeling in her words “depressed and out of sorts.”

My response/invitation to her was this: keep practicing. Sharing from my own experience, I related to her what I suspected may be happening within her. Given that our bodies are the canvasses upon which we paint our lives, perhaps her post-practice feelings were as a result of the body releasing untold works of art.

Something resonated because she chose to remain in the class that day. At the end, I acknowledged her courage and willingness to just be with her Self throughout the process. Over time, she became a regular participant in my morning classes.

As practicing yogis and yoginis, we approach our mats in reverence, gracefully. Sometimes we are surprised when unpleasant memories arise during our practice. Without the proper tools to confront and channel in these moments, we may be tempted to run away from them.

The first and most important tool is always available to us; namely the breath. When we are afraid or angry, we may notice that our breathing becomes short and agitated and emanates from the chest, rather than from the base of our abdomens.

It ain’t for nothin’ that whenever we face anger, either within ourselves or another, our innate advice is to take a deep breath and calm down.

This morning, I found myself in precisely the same situation of my student of a year ago.

Since my arrival to the Central African Republic two weeks ago, my meditation and asana practice have been my refuge and my strength. Truth be told, had I not been blessed with the gift of yoga, for a variety of inane reasons, I may have already flipped – perhaps this explains the sublime improvement in my inversions these days?

Heeding to my own advice, rather than sit and ponder my frightful plight, each morning, in spite of some degree of resistance, I have approached the mat, humbly.

The question that arose this morning startled me: is there a dark side to yoga?

For a brief nano-second, my deepest dark inner voice mustered, ‘perhaps you should keep off the mat for a while.’ Immediately though, wisdom shone through and pushed me to keep breathing as I reached up toward the sky in Warrior I.

Here in the remote, forgotten heart of Africa, fear and anger – different sides of the same coin I might add – have arisen within, vengefully.

These issues that have spilled themselves from within and onto the mat have been ‘fast and furious.’ My recurring rhetorical question is: why am I here?

Suffice to say, my initial impressions remain incomplete after two weeks. Usually, I am able to garner a feeling for a place from the moment that I step off the aircraft. Then again, in a place such as this where linear time seems non-existential, equanimity is essential.

Bangui, the country’s capital, is one long main red-dirt road with a few shops selling prohibitively expensive goods by shop owners who are mainly of Lebanese and Turkish extraction.

Characteristic of many developing countries, the polarities are stark. Along “The Strip” is it not uncommon to see an array of luxury vehicles – I’ve even seen a Hummer. Yet right alongside this supposed mark of affluence, prostitution is blatant and accepted as part of the status quo.

As elsewhere, the level of poverty is incomprehensible, silencing almost. To see it creates a twisted, futile validation that perhaps holds the clue as to why I am indeed here. This remains to be seen.

Whereas my time in Sudan taught me patience, I see where my lesson here is one of acceptance. Acceptance though can be conflicting and contradictory because what I note here is one that is laced with numbing apathy.

So in this vision, I’ve accepted that these are the lessons that are forth-coming to a humble student of Life. My duty is to Face them, Embrace them, Accept them and then eventually Release them.

For me, this is the essence of FEAR.

The practice of yoga is not for the weak at heart. In the words of David Life in the film Titans of Yoga “yoga is not for everyone. If you’re completely happy, satisfied and at peace within yourself and your life, then there is no need for yoga.”

At the end of my practice when I bow my head in *Namaste and then I open my eyes and take in the view of the Oubangui River before me and the coast-line of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) just beyond I brim with gratitude for having the courage to approach the mat and to take the practice from it into my heart and out into the world.

For then, the real yoga begins.

*The Divine within me honours the Divine that exists within you.