I FELT GOD IN HER ...TYPE OF BLUES
"When I touched her body
I believed she was god
In the curves of her form
I found the birth of man
The creation of the world."
Our curvaceous stature was created on purpose. We were built to hold the entire universe around our bodies as a garment. The Divine One placed it there, not as a burden, but as an adornment that illuminates the silhouette of our heavenly form.
Before I get down to business, let's bless this moment we have together with a prayer:
My Precious and Merciful God...
Today, I ask for and open my heart to receive a new image of myself. I recognize that in your eyes I am perfect as I am. I understand that if there is anything about my body that I choose to change, you have empowered me to do so. I have the power of free will. I have the power of choice. Today, I am choosing to change how I see myself, change how I speak to myself, and change how I allow access to me because you made me sacred. I'm choosing to see myself as you see me. I am choosing to surrender under your mighty and loving embrace. I ask that you release all negative, toxic, and unloving thoughts and feelings about my body and help me to accept myself as your beautiful creation. If there is anything within me that is not pleasing to you, I ask that it be lifted. I ask that all habitual, unconscious thoughts, beliefs, and memories about my body be brought into alignment with your thoughts, beliefs, and plans for me. I ask for strength and courage to make any changes that are required so that I will accept, honor, and love myself as you do.
Amen.
(Feel free to end this prayer based on your individual faith and beliefs)
Now...
Let's handle business baby. I won't keep you long. I just want to spend a little time with you. I want to make this space safe for us to be vulnerable with each other.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "Vulnerability" as the state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.
But...
According to the Dictionary of Courtney CM, "Vulnerability" is defined as the acceptance to honor oneself. The permission to become naked in front of the staring eyes of others to reclaim our value. The recognition of how worthy and human we are.
You like mine better don't you? I know baby...I know!
In the beautiful words of Gwendolyn Brooks, "We are each other's harvest. We are each other's business. We are each other's magnitude and bond."
I told you in the previous post about how locked in we are. And...
I stand in everything I say. You are my business. I got you. So...
let's get naked.
Before we were conceived, God carefully crafted our bodies...every single curve. Then, when he was satisfied with his work, he brought us forth as a living manifestation of his glory. He saw how beautiful we were and gave us as a gift to himself. The sun looked into our eyes and saw God. So why is the world treating us like we are the image of Satan?
"The discomfort others feel in the presence of a powerful Black woman is not her burden to bear. It is a reflection of their own biases and the fragility of the systems they uphold."
-Dominic Praise
I was reminded during meditation how we, as women of African descent, mirror God's creation, especially trees. We both stay grounded through any storm. We connect with our roots. We turn over a new leaf. We bend to hear God before we break. We enjoy each other's natural beauty. Most importantly, we keep growing. There is nothing on this earth strong enough to break us.
This is what they fear. They fear the power you carry. They see how miraculously you were made and they will do anything to gain access. There's an African proverb that says, "If thou seeketh to obtain by force what our Lord did not give thee, thou wilt not get it."
Hold on, let me take my shoes off for what I am about to say. Society, you know what...scratch that: MEN in this nation have been a threat to our bodies for centuries. We have heard countless stories about the abuse, disrespect, and murder of our beautiful woman based on the false narrative of divine entitlement that these brothas adopted to live by. They live by this creed so firmly that our bodies were forced to carry ancestral pain, heartache, and trauma. It paralyzes our spirit to limit our power. Let's talk about the first attack, shall we?!
.jpg)
1789-1815
Saartjie was one of the first victims of human sexual trafficking. Because of the diabolical and savaged fascination with her body, she was publicly exposed and traumatically examined throughout her life. Because of her inability to read, she was deceived in signing a contract that required her to travel to work as a domestic servant, as well as become an exhibition for entertainment. She was to receive a portion of the earnings and would be allowed to return back to South Africa after 5 years. As you may have guessed...
The terms of that contract that was told to her was indeed false, A FLAT OUT LIE!! And she remained enslaved for the remainder of her life. She was put on display and permission was given for her to be sexually abused by patrons who were willing to pay. The defilement of her body took a more evil identity after her death. Many of her body parts went on display to support the racist theories about the bodies of our African ancestry.
"What the Lord did not give thee, thou wilt not get it"
In 1994, Nelson Mandela requested that her remains be returned to South Africa. On March 6, 2002, her remains were returned and buried. How she was treated stands up and is screaming at us to pay attention. Her legacy of pain is a chain that has links that extend down to our bodies and handcuffs itself to us. Those savages exploited her. They raped her. Her body remembered her pain, but God promised that his spirit will come back for vengeance. What they tried to take, they could not have.
NEXT ATTACK...
"I will eat the last signs of my weakness, remove the scars of old childhood wars and dare to enter the forest whistling we believe her" -Audre Lorde
When I was about 10 years old, I used to visit my dad on the weekends. His neighborhood was jumping baby! It seemed like every Saturday Ms. Mildred, who lived two houses down, was having a cookout at her house. The Blues were playing, catfish was frying, spades were being played, gossip about who was sleeping with who was spreading faster than Ms. Linda's hips as she danced in the backyard. All of my dad's neighbors were super cool, so I thought.
Zora Neale Hurston once said that "if you are silent about your pain, they'll kill you and say you enjoyed it."
I have been silent long enough, now it's my turn to do the killing.
During one of these backyard congregation meetings, I left Ms. Mildred's house and skipped back to my dad's house because I needed to use the bathroom. There was a neighbor sitting on his front porch. He asked me if I was coming from Ms. Mildred's and I said yes. He asked me if I could take something to her and I said sure. So, my innocent little self, not realizing the danger, went over to his house. We went inside, he locked the door behind us, and he led me to the sofa. He wasted no time. He tried to force himself on me. He pulled down my pants and panties and tried to enter inside of me. God protected me that day because he gave me enough strength to push him off and run out of the door.
Hush money: A form of currency given for the sole purpose of gaining more control. A payment created to give an illusion, sometimes laced with a false narrative, of submission in order to quiet the uproars of the victims.
-Courtney CM
As I ran out the door, he paid for my tears with these words: "Don't even bother telling on me. They won't believe you. All you kids do is lie anyway."
So I didn't. I didn't tell anyone...until now.
"What our Lord did not give thee, thou wilt not get."
I now realize that "my silence had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences."
Brandi comes to mind when I think about this. She shared her experience in her book. This man preyed on her to complete his conquest of claiming her body. Like the true colonizer he is, he came across God's territory, stripped her of her innocence, and claimed her as his own. But now, she evicted him, removed his belongings, and has taken complete control over her land.
"What our Lord did not give thee, thou wilt not get it."
An estimated 8 out of 10 Black women have experienced some form of trauma. This includes: intergenerational trauma, childhood trauma, abusive relationships, pregnancy trauma, the list goes on. So where do we go from here? How do we heal?
Healing starts with permission:
The permission to feel
The permission to exist
The permission to rest
The permission to say no
The permission to love yourself
The permission to cry
The permission to stop taking accountability for others
Do me a favor: Take a moment, right after you read this post, and give yourself permission by:
Closing your eyes
Place one hand on your heart and the other hand on your stomach.
Take a slow deep breath in for 4 seconds.
Hold it for 4 seconds
Exhale slowly for 6 seconds.
Imagine whatever you are carrying is being carried away in your exhale.
Then breathe normally
Sit in this moment for a few minutes.
Allow your heart to speak in the silence by the rhythm of your breathing.
My prayer is that you will finally feel God when you touch your body. In the curves of your form, you will find the birth of man, the creation of the world. You are beautiful. You are safe. You are powerful and I fall in love with all of you each day. Do you want to know why? Because I feel God in you.
"Any world which did not have a place for me loving women was not a world in which I wanted to live, nor which I could fight for." -Audre Lorde
I'm proud of you. I am here to serve you as you heal. Just holla and I will come running. I love you beautiful Black woman. Talk to you in the next post!
Love,
Courtney CM (Lyric)
Find me: Instagram/Threads: @vintagewithsoul_
Email: Vintagewithsoul12@gmail.com
If you would like to meditate with me, just send me an email.
Comments
Post a Comment