Space

Yesterday I was able to spend a bunch of quality time with a friend.  She recently finished residency at Goddard, where Kevin graduated.  As a Black woman, she was a part of a group of students of color who created some space to share thoughts, ideas, & concerns about life & academia at Goddard.  It was a big hulabaloo.  White students felt excluded & couldn't understand why students of color wanted an opportunity to share amongst themselves.  My friend had lunch with a white student who was particularly distraught over this event.  The white student couldn't understand why it was important to students of color to have space where they didn't have to explain themselves & their experience.

Most of us who have worked towards safe space & recognition on campuses or in communities have been a part of similar conversations.  Trying to help broaden a sense of understanding & also respect for experiences we can't understand.  There is always something outside of the realm of my knowledge, so maybe part of the work of being a conscious being is being humble to that fact.

Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

My friend and I began remembering various moments of carving out space.  We compared stories of Costa Rica, where we'd both spent time.  I remember arriving at national parks to find them closed.  My first reaction was, "Seriously!  I'm here for a limited time.  I rented a bike."  Hands were probably on hips. Thankfully, patient people explained to me that there's a national policy to close parks one day out of every week so that the animals and plant life have a breather from humans.  That shut me up.  What a shift in perspective too-- only one day out of every week to live without interference, gawkers, cameras, heavy footed hikers.  & what about all the swathes of earth without relent from human presence?

Earlier, when I was 20, I studied abroad for a semester in Cuba.  I had a beautiful conversation one afternoon in Havana with a woman who had played a large role in the Revolution.  I had come to her because I was struggling to understand gender dynamics in Cuba.  I was exhausted from constant cat calls, "sss sss, oya nena!  Oya!"  I could never be anonymous, never walk down the street uninterrupted nor unaccompanied.  Accustomed to the privacy of the northeast of the US, I often hid in my dorm room.

20 year old me eating cotton candy on a merry go round in Parque Lenin, Cuba

This woman had been a wealthy college student when Fidel & Che swept through Havana.  She was a part of the student movement making molotov cocktails & helping former prostitutes resettle for housing and job training in the fancy, exclusive downtown hotels after Batista was ousted.  She recalled to me when she had visited Chicago.  "I felt invisible," she said.

She helped organize women into the Women's Federation, a body representing 80% of Cuban women.  They met regularly and annually presented to Fidel, Raul, and the top cadre for five days on issues impacting Cuban women.  That floored me.  At the time, Bush was president of the US.  First, I tried to imagine a body that represented 80% of US women.  Then I tried to imagine Bush listening for FIVE DAYS to this presentation.  And then I thought what a small percentage of a year-- 5 days out of 365!

Gathering space for growth.  I feel this internally as I practice yoga.  Learning to lengthen spine and allow for there to be more-- more communication, more presence.  Maybe becoming slightly more adept at allowing the same for others-- animals to have uninterrupted space, those I love whose experiences are distinct to have space to share & explore-- allowing each of us to be a bit more unimpeded.