A Letter to My Sisters
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Politics and Activism

A Letter to My Sisters

Do not forget what pride you may take in being a woman.

A Letter to My Sisters
Do The Hotpants

My wondrous sisters, I know that the pain within you is threatening.

It sits just beneath the surface of your thick skin waiting for the moment you allow it to pierce. I know what you know. I know that you all have had the moment when you've said, "Mother was right." Mother was right that you must carry your keys clenched in your dominant fist, point out, ready to gouge eyes, stab arms, anything you can reach if it just so happens that tonight is the night a man stronger than you decides you are the target. I know that you do not understand how it could possibly have gotten worse. How could a man accused of rape become the leader of your country? How could it be that our Muslim sisters are being assaulted in the name of this man? How could that grey cloud above your beautiful head have gotten bigger? The cloud which has been there since your breasts began to grow and your hips grew wider. The cloud that brings dread when you just don’t know the intentions of that man walking a smidge too close to you in that parking lot late at night. But my sisters, my mothers, my aunts, my sage grandmothers, I am here to tell you courage. You must remember the thick, brawny branches which grow up from the soles of your feet into the depths of your capable brain. I must remind you that you are more than a person.

You are woman.

Just as man is man, You Are WOMAN.

You grow not only with bones but with tree trunks of deep, rich brown within you. You have roots of untold bravery, leaves of abounding creativity, and countless, brilliant flowers. From your womb runs branches of life into our Mother Earth beneath your feet. Remember the depths of gut-wracking pain you have felt and how triumphantly you have borne it. Remember the softness of sisterhood you share daily with the ladies surrounding you. Remember the times you have experienced feminine pride well up from the tips of your toes to your thighs into your center through your chest and out through your bright eyes. And my sisters, remember that our brothers are with us. Our brothers march with us through time back to the jail cells of 1910. Our brothers are not all fists and fights. They are learning softness through the flowers blooming out of our mouths.

Today I challenge you my lovely, resilient sisters, do not give in to fear. Put on your lipstick. Lace up your boots. Wear your flowered panties and bras as your honorable armor. Find your tokens of strength whatever they may be. Hold your men softly. Raise up your sisters in effervescent fortitude. Take encouragement from the softness of roses and bravery from the depth of night skies. The backbone of femininity reaches across time and space to raise you up from your knees. You are not alone. You are not less than. You are not weak. You are not just a body. You are the earth. You are all. You are woman.

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