Friday, April 19, 2013

We must end this era of fear, Rise above the past

Is there such thing
as a
crippled vagina?
Is there such thing
as the
weaker gender?

To tell you the truth,
my vagina is frustrated.
She's been sitting in silence
for too long.
She has been hibernating
for that distant howl
like the call
of the wolf
like the call
of the wild.
She hollers my name
como La Llorona,
the weeping ghost
of my temple.
That's who my vagina becomes
when poems
her lips.

But for a while,
my vagina was silent.
She was hiding, I guess....
hiding from the ignorance and the hatred;
from the anti-vagina propaganda
that tells us
that a vagina is this ugly,
dark, stinky hole
where all sins are born,
(even the sins of men).
Vaginas are blamed
for the downfalls
of humanity.

Honestly, my vagina is tired,
tired of disguising who she is.
She is tired of the labels and the stigma,
tired of the Victoria's Secret underwear
she's expected to wear
as socially acceptable etiquette
over the distorted politics of female genitalia.
My vagina is tired.
of being called dirty and unholy
of being forced to hide under the vulgarity
of words like pussy
and cunt
while being stripped
off her most basic rights.

Yes. My vagina IS tired
She's tired of the silence,
and tired of the darkness that prevails
in the lives of women and girls
whose vaginas are hated,
and mutilated
in the name of honor,
in the name of culture,
in the name
of God.

My vagina cries out.
She cries out for justice
and for peace.
She cries out for hope to return
back to the villages and the towns
back to the ancient shrines
and the homes
where women still wait
with their lips sealed
until the silence breaks.

We must end this era of fear,
this era of vaginal incarceration
because the chastity belts of back then
are still there
as the continuation of myths
wrapped in a pink blanket
with a promise of virginity
with a promise of normality.

We must rise above the past
above the first
and the last
of the lies
that rape
and negate
our unmistakable strength,
our beauty,
and our holiness.

That's why my vagina gives birth
to my own truths
and the truths
of other women.

That's why she wants to sing
chants of reconciliation
in a ceremony of rebirth
when across oceans and nations
the arrival of a daughter
especially a disabled daughter
is no longer mourned
but celebrated,
not dreaded
but anticipated,
as a blessing
and a gift.

Labia Minora
Labia Majora
In the name
of The Mother,
In the name
of The Great Goddess
we honor the sacredness
of our bodies,
liberate ourselves and our daughters
from the darkness of a history
that condemns our vaginas
to silence and shame.

My vagina will go out
dressed in feminist metaphors.
She'll come out of the closet
She'll become
Woman Warrior
Mother River between my legs
that shall baptize and bless
my words.

My Vagina Manifesto
by Maria R. Palacios

Painting by Elisabeth Slettnes

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