I had goosebumps up and down my body while reading Jae’s poem and felt them again a day later when
shared her version. Seemed necessary to write out my own which I did late Monday night in a bath, hours after crying through the film Women Talking.Joy is my legal name but disappointment has been more akin to what I knew—I spent several decades restricting joy and rejecting it as my name (more on that soon) and am only now exploring how I’d like to welcome her home.
The litany / writing prompt:
I. myself
II. a list of bad bitches I know
III. & the people we should have fought
Litany / of the supple mouth
*inspired by Jae Nichelle’s piece, Second Litany
I. myself
I am called what I name myself, which is to say I am the universe’s daughter, a life resurrected before her first birthday, a burned infant who crawled out of a grave, unsoothable, unstoppable, determined to find a third way. My name is Joy which translates to hungry, lusty, big and brave, I name myself the opposite side of ‘bubbly’, ‘easy’ and ‘just happy to help’, I seat myself where I belong, ready to eat—I stretch out my mouth, my smile, my laugh and my growl. I name myself unashamed while gazing at every last corner of my body. My name is a cord suspending mouth to belly, devouring and singing a reverberating beat, my name cannot be extrapolated from how freely I feast. I am lyrical, I am melody, aiming to be a mouthful of integrity.
II. A list of bad bitches I know.
Bethany, a 100 in a sea of 10s.
Kimberly, soft hands rightfully offering the Eucharist.
Sarah V, who runs toward danger.
Crystal, whose truth crumbled religious men.
Stephanie, severs cords with bare teeth.
I trust in you.
Venessa, who took the crowbar and used it properly.
Corinne, who cannot be accused.
Christine, first responder and relentless encourager.
Gail, priestess of audacious hope.
Jess, who found the escape route everyone blocked.
I trust in you.
Jami, whose steady fire keeps building.
Nina, embodier of how to be our mother’s daughter.
Bird, who soars with clipped wings.
Sarah C, who halts the destructive upstream.
Peggy, wielder of battery rams and new dreams.
I trust in you.
Livia, whose voice and body are fervent, strong. Your name first echoed in the garden—may you encounter no such betrayal, may you eat the apple.
I trust in you.
**I could easily go on and on as I know multitudes of women whose names and stories are worthy of whole volumes—Ann Margaret, Cher, Michele, Katherine, Jackie, Jessica, Ruthie, Kelly, Chidimma, Megan and Kristine to only name a few—there are many more. Narrowing has never been my strong suit. I trust in you too.
II. & the people we should’ve fought
We name ourselves impolite. We drive up in a silver bullet and egg the house of [REDACTED] who assaulted you. We spray paint his garage door with his own behavior and don’t leave anything out lest he forget. We run an ad in The NY Times and talk openly about the epidemic of men [aka the DADS in our neighborhoods] who sell and buy daughters for sex. I fight every reporter, grandma and cop who insists on more evidence because goddamnit I believe you.
We roll up and jackhammer the center of [REDACTED] church’s parking lot and plant an olive tree non-ironically, carve into the trunk of it the names of those who just couldn’t trust themselves around our bodies, the names of the those who labeled our bodies as problems and solutions—we plant it just to watch it burn then hose it down to the edge of the air smelling almost dead, we know what almost dead feels like. We watch as [REDACTED] tries to park a 15 passenger van over the mess but now the upholstry smells too and we laugh across the bridge from little girls to women who can’t be scorned. We feel no regret for that life unlived because it’s a life we fought on behalf of to resurrect. We will fight anyone who tries to drag us back and win. We are unashamed while dancing on graves and naming names—we are not out for blood because witches do not hunt, we gather and tell the truth. We fight when necessary and always on our own behalf which is another way of saying—we created a life worth fighting for.
Oh, how lovely (!) how righteous (!) how delicious (!) are the names on our lips, pouring from such supple mouths.
I shared on IG last week but my big, little book, In The House Of Me is currently ranked #1 on Ingram Sparks under the category of SELF-HELP / Abuse and also #1 in the category of SOCIAL SCIENCE / Sociology of Religion. Taking these as small wins that readers who’ve had their consent and boundaries violated by religion and patriarchy (ie all of us) may have a better chance at finding her as a resource.
If you haven’t ordered In The House Of Me yet, you can find her on Bookshop, Changing Hands and also on Amazon.
I’m just .... weeping. Keening. Howling. Roaring. I needed this. And I needed it in your voice.
I saved this as “unread” in my email for a day (or two) because I knew I wanted uninterrupted time to read it, digest it, and let it fill me up (every last rough crack and soft fold of me). I trust in you sister. Your words are medicine. Thank you for putting them into the world.