We Must

I am reveling in stories. They are surrounding me, pulsing through me, reminding me that I am not alone. They connect me to the source-spirit, the great mother, the merciful father. They bring me closer to truth.

Two weeks ago, I looked around a circle of high schoolers, preparing for our closing night of Fiddler on the Roof. Not knowing what else I could share with them, I asked for their stories, their positive remembrances from our time together. I watched and listened as these young people told the story of their fun, their challenge, and their growth. I shared a story about loss and love.

We stood there, holding hands, looking at each other through bleary eyes, connected to and supported by our common experience. We create theater, we dive into other peoples' stories, we use others' stories to understand our own. We do this because we must.

Last week, I met with four other writers--a novelist, a columnist in various print and online publications, the curriculum coordinator for my district (my boss), and a colleague I admire for her experience, intelligence, and talent. Just being in the room with them is intimidating.

I brought some of my writing, my stories, crumpled into a folded square and crammed into my purse. I was shaking when I started to read: how could my words possibly keep up with these accomplished writers? Who am I to think I can write anything of significance?

But as my words escaped my lips, I felt the energy bouncing around the circle, simmering there in the center of the group. When I finished, I let out a deep breath and so did everyone else. I looked around the circle, intensely connected to and supported by these people. And when they shared their stories, I realized something: they are just as insecure sharing their words, but despite that fear, all of us tell our stories. We do it because we must.

This weekend, I performed for the first time in a long time. I was one voice in a chorus of voices sharing the stories of womanhood. Through The Vagina Monologues, the exploration of the words and the process itself, I found a community of women inherently connected to and supported by our female experience.

Despite the difference in age, background, scars, we are all one. We will not be marginalized or pushed to the side. We will not be made to feel insignificant. We will not stand for rape, sex slavery, female genital mutilation. We will not experience these things, hear of these things and remain silent. We break the silence because we must.

I am reveling in stories--the ones that are joyful, painful, and necessary. I find myself hearing them, telling them, living them. I do this because I must.