Long live the belief in equality!

 From the moment we are born (and way before that as history impacts) we are surrounded by a culture that affects how we see ourselves and others. One of the issues of being born under a monarchy is that from the get-go I have been in a society that believes that some people are more important than others. A certain family, simply through who their parents were, are deemed to rule over me and I am supposed to be subject to them. 

Added to this is a capitalist structure that operates on the assumption that our worth is defined by our productivity. That some people will own the means of production and are encouraged to make profit from that, whilst others will toil and still struggle. This will be accepted as a natural order of things. 

Furthermore there is then this weird lauding of celebrity. Trials/marriages/divorces/clothes etc etc of people who are “famous” will be deemed newsworthy, whilst the experiences of those of us not deemed famous will not. 

I discovered a phrase for this the other day. It is seen as referential power. And I JUST DON’T GET IT. Why would we see someone as more significant than someone else just because of the family they were born into or if they can play football? Maybe this is because in addition to all these cultural messages I’ve been exposed to, I have also been interested in a faith message that says that every single one of us is special. Wonderfully made. Unique. And that there is no person who is any more, or any less important than anyone else. My faith also teaches me that we all need each other. There’s an image given as to how we’re all connected like a body. So just like we can’t all be hearts or ears, we also can’t all be footballers or nurses. We all need each other to use our talents whatever they are. Or to simply be, as it’s not always about the doing (contrary to what a capitalist, ableist society says).

 Instead of privileging some over others, what would our world look like if we celebrated each one for who we are, rather than just celebrate some? What if the birth of every baby was treated with equal airtime? What if there was a 4 day holiday to mark anyone’s 70 years of giving of themselves to others? What if every child as they grew up knew that they were just as important as every other child anywhere in the world, and were no more or no less deserving of attention and respect? That’s the kind of world I’m working towards. 

Bye-bye booby, booby bye-bye

And so a significant chapter comes to an end. 21 years ago I started learning a little about breastfeeding in readiness for becoming a mum. Like lots of new parents, I then found it wasn’t as simple as I’d imagined and was very grateful for some support I received over the phone. That same Breastfeeding Network supporter went on to train me 3 years later to be able to support other new parents. I couldn’t tell you how many, but in 17 years we’re talking many hundreds. 

There is the National Breastfeeding Helpline, where as a volunteer I’d log on whenever I could. Not as often as I’d have liked sometimes, but it has included some Christmas Day calls, some that I’ve caught just before the line shut at 9.30pm, and many where I really felt I made a difference. The last few years we’ve been counting calls, so it’s 373 of those, with who knows how many before. 

My local group moved location a couple of times in those two decades. I made some amazing connections there with other volunteers and with regular attendees, as well as those who just wanted us once. 

I also was grateful to find paid work through the organisation. Several part time roles, in two different local projects, plus coordinating volunteers on the national helpline. Working on a maternity unit; hanging out at antenatal clinics; visiting new mums in their homes at such an important time in their lives; such a privilege to be alongside so many people at such a special but often challenging time. When the projects came to an end, I continued to supervise locally. Many, many friends made along the way. 

And so it’s a big chapter to be turning the page on. I am currently needed elsewhere and so to find the headspace for that, am saying goodbye to this. Maybe it’s not the end. Sometimes in a story a theme comes back in a different way in a new chapter. But I’m leaving the organisation I’ve known nearly half my life (3 years out) so wanted to mark it well :)

Reflexivity

 I’ve long used writing as a means of processing. Under my bed is a stash of diaries in which I journaled all kinds of thoughts as a teenager, filling an entire page each night with my insecurities as well as how many choc ices I’d consumed that day. Some days I would write words in two different pens to produce a beautiful two-tone image, delighting in my creativity that I was clear was for my eyes only. I stopped when at aged 18 I was in a shared house and someone took the diary to read, and so pouring my heart out onto paper no longer felt safe.

Fast forward a couple of decades and instead of pens and paper and pseudo-privacy, there is an option to press a publish button and unleash your contemplations on the wide world. And so I started a blog. 

Ten years ago today I was in some ways in a good place despite still grieving the end of my marriage. I’d recently met Ben for the first time, tho we’d yet to start going out. I had supportive friends. I enjoyed my three very part time jobs. But still I noticed an absence of adult company, as a single parent of two children aged 6 and 9. It’s interesting to look at the varying frequency of my entries, starting fairly intermittently, then reaching a couple of years where I blogged sometimes twice a day. Now that I have lots of interaction with adults (my offspring included) there’s much less need for a space to craft and share opinions. There are still occasions where I want an outlet to express something longer than can be posted in a Facebook status, but these are now few and far between. 

A few remain as drafts, from times where I’ve needed to vent but realised that to share publicly would not be wise. Those that are published vary from tedious renditions of dull days, to upbeat messages that I feel proud of having written. Like the teenage diaries, I’m pleased to have preserved some thoughts that no doubt my memory would otherwise have let slip away. Some have caused contention but mainly they have had minimal impact on the world, a very small audience and a rare comment - and that’s fine by me. My purpose is not to attract ‘followers’ but to channel some of my thinking in a way that’s productive for me rather than have the words circling in my head. It’s been a good way of letting some friends know how I’m doing and I’m especially grateful for those who check in with me having read what I have shared.
Maybe one day I’ll even shift it from my ancient tablet onto a device where I can easily include photos :)

Unexpected decade

 Ten years ago I was invited to a birthday party where I met someone and talked about God, which didn’t usually happen to me at parties. Usually people I met at events talked to me about breastfeeding once they asked what I did for work. I’ve not been to many parties since I started working for the church so maybe now people would talk about God instead? Anyway back then it was unusual and a delight. I didn’t feel ready to start a new relationship as I was clear I was still grieving the end of my marriage, but Ben understood my need to grieve and yet also enabled me to live and love in the present. I figured that I didn’t have to have confidence in the future, what was important was the present, and ten years of living pretty presently has brought many gifts. I’ve learned a lot about love (and a fair bit about war, given his WW1 passion). I have plumbed surprising depths of commitment, rejoiced in his generosity, eaten well, and had a lot of fun along the way. We’ve been through various losses together - family, work, health - with a lot of learning about ourselves and each other, the class dynamics and how our early experiences still shape our current ways of being. Of course, any relationship has its challenges, that's what happens when you are real with one another. I'm glad to have opportunities to be real with people!

This last year, in lockdown, we've spent a lot of time together in particular, and I've been grateful for that. Its been an unexpected decade with much to celebrate.

Trigger warning - Mary and Eve

 It's been a tough week. I don't know why I'm surprised really. Every week women die at the hands of violent men. (Men also die at the hands of violent men, and occasionally people die due to women's violence. Every death and attack is horrific). Last year there were 62,200 reported rapes in the UK ( happening to women and men, by men). That is a staggeringly high number. For those involved it is their following days and years that will be incredibly tough.

I think the way the week unfolded has made it particularly hard, bookended by days in which women were celebrated (International women's day on Monday, Mothering Sunday today). In between my media pages were filled with varying degrees of sexism (in some cases compounded by racism and transphobia). This included refusal to believe the experiences of a high profile woman; a murder of a woman who was walking home; the anniversary of a woman murdered in her home during a police raid; many many women sharing their experiences of assault, some sharing for the first time and a backlash from many men unable to hear the pain without immediately wanting to point out that not all men are bad. 

Of course not all men are bad. I'm glad to know many good hearted men, those who not only would never attack a woman, but are also doing their best to figure out what they need to do to challenge the sexism, and to do what they can to reduce the intimidation felt. There have been some good allies this week, tho at times they have felt few and far between.

I also understand the pull to defend. Everytime I hear someone say that they were around a Christian who oppressed them, I want to shout "we don't all believe that! I'm not like that!" And I've slowly learned that actually it's not about me. Maybe if I can build a good enough relationship, the person will get to see that I'm not like that. But that will only come if I first sit with my discomfort that someone like me has caused pain. And to hear how upsetting that was. To acknowledge the truth of the person's experience, rather than rush in and diminish what they are trying to express.

As soon as we get defensive, we're not listening so well. It's bloody hard. I've felt defensive a fair bit myself this week. I can see why it's difficult to make progress and to keep at it together instead of get divided off from one another.

And the contrast isn't new either. For centuries there's been the saint/sinner extreme of worshipping the mother of God or blaming everything/the fall on one woman. So to be praised on Monday and trashed by Tuesday should not be unexpected. But it certainly should be challenged.

Friday fix

 Today I am overtired after a really intense working week. I really love the supervision training we were delivering but it's been very full on. I knew I'd need to go gently today.

I am signed up to this blog which every Friday introduces a song through the lens of faith, and I often enjoy it (I've only managed to contribute once, I must get around to writing again). Today's made me laugh out loud, I love the line about top level delegation and can relate to the amazement that God entrusts us to do the loving. And I also cried, as I'm overtired and it's that kind of day.

https://thefridayfix.home.blog/2021/02/19/how-long-will-i-love-you-the-waterboys/

Seeing new things

 Do you ever have a line jump out at you in a book?

Once I had read this, I couldn't carry on reading my book*, I had to ponder it. "We need a new way of seeing more than we need to see new things and places." I probably don't need to explain why this resonated, but in case anyone is reading this post-pandemic (surely such a time will come), let me unpack it a little.

Current regulations mean we can't drive anywhere to exercise, so I'm regularly undertaking my favourite local walk. This could potentially be tedious, I tend to thrive on novelty rather than routine, I'm the kind of person who chooses a different way home from a place rather than stick to the same route. However, an advantage of repeating the same path is that little differences become more noticeable. I celebrated when I spotted the snowdrops peeking through when a few days before they were not to be seen. Last week, when suddenly realising that I was striding as if on a mission to get the walk over with as soon as possible, I slowed down and instantly became aware of the birds who had been singing all along, I just hadn't opened my ears to them.

So whilst I might think I crave a new place, what I have is the option to see anew. Having worked from home for nearly a year now, I've been seeing rather a lot of the same four walls. But lying in the bath after the sentence leapt out, I gazed as if for the first time at the grouting. One of the appeals of being around children is the way they delight in the things we older ones have maybe become jaded around. How great it is to marvel anew at what we take for granted. 

I know lockdown is dragging on. I too am keen to see those I've not been around in such a long time. I even long for the beach and I'm not a beach person. But I also think we can wonder awhile and reopen our eyes to what is right in front of us.

*I'm reading The Call: Discovering why you are here, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.