Me. As a feminist. 

A few years ago, I was hanging out with a friend after happy hour. Somehow, we got on the topic of feminism. She identified as a feminist. I did not. I viewed feminists as anti-male, and I couldn’t see why I would advocate for the antithesis of my identity. My friend tried to explain to me that my view of feminism greatly differed from what it is. She explained that feminism was about equality. That made sense. I support equality. The problem was that I didn’t see inequalities. I still resisted the term, “feminist”. My friend was patient with me. 

The following year, I moved to Swaziland to begin my service in the Peace Corps. I was reminded throughout my first year in Swaziland that part of privilege is being able to not notice (or not pay attention to) something because it doesn’t adversely affect you. I have no doubt that parts of my experience are correlated to me being a man. During my time here, there have been several instances of gender inequality. Some have been shared or pointed out to me. Others have been blatant. There’s a point when not noticing becomes negligence. It’s possible that the point for me was explaining to various men that I cannot give you any of my women colleagues or friends. Sometimes, discussions ensue regarding me wanting to “keep all the women for myself”. I try to explain that women are not property or rewards, and that women aren’t owned. At some point during my service, something from the past finally made sense. Years ago, a different friend described feminism as “the radical idea that women are human beings.” 

During my service, I’ve had the opportunity to read some of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s books. Most recently, I finished “We Should All Be Feminists”, which was an expanded version of a TED talk by the same name. I saw myself in some of the stories she told. I heard pieces of my story in her descriptive tales of folks with singular viewpoints on feminism, or the ‘single story’, as Adichie calls it. I was reminded of those micro-aggressions toward women that I’ve seen at home and abroad. I was reminded of many earlier conversations explaining that Black people in America are savages, and that not all Americans have great financial wealth. I still refer to myself as a Black American despite the negative images conjured in the minds of some people. For years, I’ve understood that Blackness eschews monoculturalism and the single story. There’s no definitive way to be Black. Letting go of some old thoughts has pushed me to the idea that feminism isn’t a single story. It is many things to many people. For me, it’s “the radical idea that women are human beings”. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

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Monday in a Picture – Tempting Ten Kilos of Fate

There’s a certain feeling that overcomes me as I’m about to finish something that I previously thought was impossible. I experienced that feeling again this past Saturday morning as I approached the final stretch of the ten kilometer race known as the Simunye International Friendship Run. 

I had been toying with the idea of trying a 10K recently. When I tried to register for one at the beginning of October, I was told that registration was closed. I was secretly relieved. Last week, I informed some running enthusiast PCVs that I was thinking about the 10K coming up. The response was positive, and the idea grew more prominent. I finally asked another PCV to check on registration and deadlines. A few hours later, I received a message that I had been registered. Cue the uneasiness and terror. I was sure that I wasn’t ready. I was wondering when I had acquired masochistic tendencies. In case you’re wondering, I hadn’t actually been training to run ten kilometers (or any distance). I started googling 10K advice. I had some slight concerns that I might actually die on the course. I tried calming myself. Another running PCV offered the advice, “just keep moving”.  

On race day, we arrived early and were shuttled from Manzini to a rural community in central Swaziland to begin the race. Most of the race was on gravel and dirt roads. Luckily, I had put together a 10K playlist. The music pushed me through the rough points and hills. Other runners helped as well, giving thumbs up as they raced past me. After more than nine kilometers, the end was in sight. Seeing the finish line gave me extra energy. Surprising myself, I finished. I ran ten kilometers! 

My legs will be taking a much deserved break over the next week or so. Who knows what my low barrier for suggestion can lead to next? 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

P.S. – As you can see, I received a medal. This was the wrong medal (for the 21KM race). I exchanged it for the proper one. I did not run a half marathon. 

#GloPoWriMo 15/30: Dance

She dances with the wind. 
She is connection. 
Connecting us. 
Equal parts global, 
and local. 
Maybe God is in the ocean. 
Maybe God is the ocean, 
A trinity turned quartet. 
She will speak,  
if you listen. 
She will love,  
without conditions. 
She doesn’t charge the surfer
for the wave. 
Just happy he got his surfs up. 
She caresses the shoreline, 
Melodic and sweet.
Millions of miles. 
Smiling on those
who visit. 
Loving those
who need it. 
Keeping the
secrets of the ocean talkers
She dances. 
She is the tide.

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#GloPoWriMo 14/30: Come

Come as you are. 
As long as you come like us. 
Be like us
if you want 
to be with us. 
Monopoly on Jesus. 
This is the way. 
Say as we say. 
Do as we do. 
Be whoever
you desire to be. 
Just don’t
be you. 
The gatekeepers
of goodness. 
Only the great
can come in. 
Be my judge. 
Or be my friend. 
But you can’t be both.

Ever wonder what is Kirby doing? Follow the blog!

#GloPoWriMo 11/30: Improved

If faith in humanity
could be single handedly
restored, 
it would be
because of you. 
A breath of fresh air. 
Full bodied,
green leafy trees
in the Springtime. 
You are
the perfect day
in all seasons. 
You are
Miss Bliss
even when I don’t need to be
saved by the bell. 
I breathe better. 
I am better
because you exist.

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