1 bajillion cool points to anyone who knows where the title is from.
Okay, give up? It's from Nikki Giovanni's "Women poem". It just so happens to be my favorite poem ever, and does a damn fine job of describing how I've been feeling as of late. Actually, re-reading it just now, that's not entirely true. Each time I read the poem, there seems to be something that speaks to me. Just what line that is, changes depending where I'm at at the time.
How I'm really feeling right now is castrated. I think that's what made this poem come to mind. This poem was the first time I heard castration used to describe the state of a woman. And lately, I've certainly been feeling castrated. That diminution of worth, that frustrating lack of power, that sense of utter irrelevance.
A few hours ago I was watering the lawn. Doing so reminded me of an incident from the other night. Well, not so much an incident, but I can't think of the word I want, so I'll settle for that. A few days ago, I was watering the lawn, thinking about my finances, my interpersonal relationships, upcoming (and past!) deadlines, the state of the economy, race relations, the callousness of drivers (increasing hit-and-run rates as well as rise in drunk driving, the myriad of dangerous distractions people justify indulging while driving), the hyper-sexualization and anti-intellectualism so prevalent in America, etc. Basically, (allow trite and melodramatic phrasing) I was feeling the weight of the world. I saw small, dog scurrying around in nervous movements caddy corner to me, in the trafficless street. I looked on for a few moments and felt a twinge of protectiveness, but became distracted by my thoughts. I continued watering the lawn. When I rounded the corner and moved back to water the last little strip of lawn, I saw a movement behind the rosebush. At first I had assumed that the little white object in the corner was simply a stray plastic bag. But when I saw movement, I froze.
At first, I was scared that it was a possum. They disgust me. But that didn't seem right. A cat? No. A rabbit? Its movements seemed more rabbit like than anything. It turned out to be a small little Chihuahua. She cowered and shrank back like a dog that has been abused. Part of me wanted to take her in. But realistically, I knew that I couldn't. Time and energy wise, it would have been a major struggle, but perhaps doable, to have another dog to feed, walk, bath, and pick up after. Financially, there just wasn't any way. I poked around trying to find a home, but, unsurprisingly, to no avail. Disgustingly, people have been dumping their pets on the freeway (and otherwise abandoning/harming their pets they can no longer afford). The dog stayed behind the rosebush for nearly two days, save to follow me and Digby on our walks. I brought out an old towel and t-shirt for her to lay on, and some water and food.
She exuded intelligence and we developed our own communication system. A few times she looked at me pleadingly. This made me feel at once affectionate and resentful. I hated that feeling of being needed that she gave me. It was a reminder of my powerlessness. Digby, unequivocally alpha, does NOT get along with other dogs. At one point the white Chihuahua (WC) found her way into the back yard with Digby. Digby did not outright attack WC, though she proceeded to show her who's boss with a little rough house play. Generally, Digby seemed tolerant of WC, which is much more than I can say about her reaction to most dogs.
I felt bad leaving her outside in the cold at night, but she seemed to be incontinent, and I'm actually housesitting so that is already a bad combination. She looked like she was very recently pregnant, which likely means she's not fixed. This would mean either the expense of getting her fixed, or more puppies, which is DEFINITELY out of the question. Nickle and diming it, I can barely afford to feed myself, let alone Digby. Having to buy food twice as often, wouldn't be doable.
So, I reported her to animal control. I felt and continue to feel like a trader for it, because I had won her trust. Logically, I think I made the best decision. I couldn't take her in. No one else was stepping up to take her in. She was bound to starve, freeze, or get ran over, without a home. Best case scenario, someone goes to the animal shelter, is charmed by her, and takes her home. Worst case scenario, she dies in a painless, immediate way. I think projection leads me to feel somewhat okay with this. As my thinking is now, I, myself would rather be euthanized than suffer a prolonged, helpless descent of debilitation and dependence. And when it comes to animals, sometimes projecting is all we really can do.
But, emotionally, I don't feel at ease. I'm riddled with guilt and regret. And uncertainty. Her presence offered a brief distraction. But I am once again left to face myself, and stumble under the "weight of the world". Digby has been incessantly sniffing around the spot where WC was. Pacing back and forth with an undeniable purpose. We seem to both be left feeling a little empty. I am right back where I started.
Woman poem*
you see, my whole life
is tied up
to unhappiness
it's father cooking breakfast
and me getting fat as a hog
or having no food
at all and father proving
his incompetence
again
i wish i knew how it would feel
to be free
it's having a job
they won't let you work
or no work at all
castrating me
(yes it happens to women too)
its a sex object if you're pretty
and no love
or love and no sex if you're fat
get back fat black woman be a mother
grandmother strong thing but not a woman
gameswoman romantic woman love needer
man seeker dick eater sweat getter
fuck needing love seeking woman
it's a hole in your shoe
and buying lil' sis a dress
and her saying you shouldn't
when you know
all too well- that you shouldn't
but smiles are only something we give
to properly dressed social workers
not each other
only smiles of i know
your game sister
which isn't really
a smile
joy is finding a pregnant roach
and squashing it
not finding someone to hold
let go get off get back don't turn
me on you black dog
how dare you care
about me
you ain't got no good sense
cause i ain't sh!t you must be lower
than that to care
it's a filthy house
with yesterday's watermelon
and monday's tears
cause true ladies don't
know how to clean
it's intellectual devastation
of everybody
to avoid emotional commitment
"yeah honey i wouldv'e married
him but he didn't have no degree"
it's knock-kneed mini skirted
wig wearing died blond mamma's scar
born dead my scorn your whore
rough heeled broken nailed powdered
face me
whose life is tied
up to happiness
cause it's the only
for real thing
i
know
September,1968
*copyright 1969 nikki giovanni
