A mentor of mine asks me, "Kit love, what's true?" Then she asks it again. And again. It's super annoying actually. But it's also undeniably helpful.
So, today I share with you what is authentically true for me and I ask you love, what's true?
For me, what is true is that today is is hard for me. I am struggling to know what to say. I feel like I've lived a lifetime in a morning.
Blearily, I think of yesterday. Yesterday, I walked through neighborhoods of my city I had never been to. The experience struck down my belief that my city lacks diversity and re-presenced the truth that my city, like others, is racially segregated. I was reminded how racially segregated my life is. I also didn't know how to work on that in the moment, so instead I knocked on doors. I high-fived people who had voted. I giggled with a woman who didn't speak English. Because as I used my limited Spanish and a ridiculous attempt to act out "did you get your ballot in?", mutual laughter and nodding felt so good.
I sent a teary video message to soul-sisters expressing my emotion over both the possibility of making history and the fear of it somehow going all wrong.
After canvasing, I sat on the couch of best friends, watched the east coast polls close, and analyzed info-graphics. As I left, my friend removed the bottle of pink bubbles I had brought over from the fridge. We both agreed it was too early to open it and that I should take it to the next party, holding hope it would be opened soon.
I went home, walked the puppy (twice), and put on a white dress. I came really really close to not changing out of my jeans. And then I thought, "Regardless of what happens tonight, I will never regret honoring the women who fought for my ability to vote." I remembered that some of the founders of the suffragette movement died for the movement and many of the other founders died of old age before ever seeing their rights granted.
When I later walked into an election party gathering, I put the same bottle of pink bubbles into a different but equally friendly fridge. Then I hugged the host, burst into tears, and said, "Well, when I accepted this invitation I did say that my tears - regardless of the outcome - were inevitable." Then we watched. And more eyes turned red from grief. Everyone kept asking each other, "What do we tell our kids?"
All I could muster was, "I think we tell them the truth."
And then I had to really sit with, what IS true here?
This is what feels authentically true to me in this moment:
- Women aren't treated equally in 2016 America. AND I am equal. That I have to be more qualified than a man to do the same job doesn't mean that I am somehow inherently less than him. It does mean that we have a deep and hurtful wound in our society. One that we must continue to do our very darn best addressing. One that we look to our children and ask say, "We are doing our best. AND please, will you do better for us?"
- Sometimes fear is helpful. It ignites us to run from danger. Others times fear itself is the danger. It blocks us from our inner truth and connects us to hate rather than love. AND we can, even when other people are choosing hate, always choose and feel the truth of love. We can always make that choice. Sometimes it might be a journey to access that choice, but it is there.
- Humans are human. To be human is to be flawed and make mistakes and disagree with each other. We are living that right now.
- My body is my body. Regardless of laws, regardless of it being prioritized or violated by others, I know deep down the truth that she is mine. The sanctity of her pleasure and orgasm are for me. I am in devotion to protecting that truth on a macro level. AND on the most micro level there is, my body is already protected because she is loved by me.
- I'm aware of the truth that everything happens for a reason and it will be okay. AND right now I don't have total access to that truth.
- I'm scared. I'm hurt. I feel unsafe. AND I know I am safe.
- My childhood friends, my bother, my father, my mother, my college roommate, my fellow female entrepreneurs, my best friends, the woman who owns the kombucha shop down the street - all of them are hurting. AND all of them sent messages of love to me this morning.
This strikes me as an important time to stay in truthful vulnerability. Especially with kids.
I love when people call me Kitter because I can feel the endearment in it. But there is nothing that bursts my heart open more deeply than being called "Auntie Kitter." I am a proud aunt to one very important little girl. I am also a proud Auntie Kitter to dozens of children of dear friends. Those kids also mean the world to me and inspire me daily. I want to cuddle with them right now and I would hope that I could share these truths with them too.
So just at a moment when our instinct might be to shield, protect, and attack, I invite you to get vulnerable and continue to share what is genuinely true for you.
We weren't able to open that bottle of bubbles last night. AND someday we will.
I would be honored to witness your truth.
In deep love and devotion, Kitter xx