Friday, March 15, 2013

Poetic Stillness In the Chaos of Oppression

This is a very important article and I highly recommend you read it and the come back here for my thoughts on the issues raised in this article...

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/29/magazine/why-afghan-women-risk-death-to-write-poetry.html?smid=pl-share

I stumbled upon this article a bit ago and it's been on my heart ever since.  It is amazing to me sometimes how much I can take for granted the freedoms I have in my life and my corner of the world. I have the freedom to the sort of education I want.  I have the freedom to choose my path for career/ marriage/ child bearing/ child rearing endeavors and can choose how best to balance those endeavors in my life.  I even have the right to spew my narcissistic internal monologue all over the Internet via blog, tweet, or facebook status update; so when I have something to say, be it poetic or prose, I can do so without fear for my life.

I have a voice if I choose to speak up and even with the gender inequality that is still present in our country during this age, I don't have to hide my gift set or my artistic expression under a bushel...even in the church. (at least many corners of the church)

But there are sisters a half a world away in a place we have a large military presence, that have none of these freedoms.  My heart aches for this reality.  I feel like being aware of the life of Afghan women has fallen out of fashion in our pop culture.  I want to scream...this issue isn't a trend, or at least it shouldn't be, this issue is a human rights calamity.  There has been progress, but more is still needed.

For the women who are silenced and for the women who's poetry and prose is snuffed out too soon, I  take pause and direct all of my feminine and artistic energy to shine light on this issue in our world.  I grieve for the loss of life and creation and pay respect to poets whose artistic expression remains secret.

One of the women interviewed in the article wrote this and I feel it honor's the spirit of many young poetic women lost too soon.


“Her memory will be a flower tucked into literature’s turban.
In her loneliness, every sister cries for her.”  Ogai Amail


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