We can do better.

I sat quietly. Waiting for reactions.  Faces.  25 other facial expressions to watch.

Was I the only one?

The only one who didn’t find it funny? Maybe I didn’t get the joke – missed punch line.

Ironically some of the women laughed too – but we have been trained to do that.

It looks better if you laugh so they don’t see the scars it leaves.

“Only 4 more hours. You can do this Jen – 4 more hours. Shut up, smile and sit there. 4 more hours.”

More jokes as the hours press on – but less laughter I notice.  More flat expressions.  Ah – so is it the type of joke that is funny once but not so much the second, third and fourth time?

I cried.

All the way home.

Tears symbolizes the battle in my head – my heart and soul. Who is the too sensitive one? It was only a joke.  Get over it. You just don’t know how to have a little fun. You are too serious.  This is just how men are.  

A joke you say.  My soul didn’t find it funny.  If my soul didn’t find it funny then neither did my Creator.

We can do better.

Time to paint.  Feeling like something black and white.  Symbolizing struggle.

So what were the jokes you ask…

None worth mentioning – they make women objects – objects used only for man’s pleasure – and on his demand.  They make spousal abuse sound funny and a man esteemed for speaking disrespectfully to his wife.  You get the idea – sadly probably the same jokes you have heard.

I am valued only for my breasts and how much I please you sexually.

Yes I just said that.

Imagine for moment with me. Male or female – think about what you said this past week – all the comments and thoughts you had regarding women. Got it?

Now.

Could you repeat that to your daughters face?

That’s right.

To your daughter – straight to her face. Look at her right now – and say those things. Oh you can’t…i see…

Is that what she is worth?

We can do better.

—

Home.

I hug my boys a little tighter today.  My daughter refers to some immature actions at her school today – I break the news to her.

 Some people never grow up.

Never mature. Never see the value in everyone – regardless of race or gender.

“What do you mean?”

I shared with her my day – sitting around a table with people who think its funny to belittle women.  My boys look at me. Curious. They don’t understand how mommy was hurt today. But I hope my tears will teach them.

Its not ok.

We can do better than this.

much better.

What’s the solution?  I don’t have one.  But I think it needs to come through men of honour.  Are there any left?

I want future generations to get it – finally get it.  My daughter should not have to deal with this.  If you are a man – please apologize to me on behalf of the men who feel the need to ridicule women and then please make the choice to stand up for your daughter, mother, wife, or sister.  Speak out when things are said that shouldn’t be said.

Too much to ask? Why?

“…Love your neighbour as yourself.  There is no commandment greater than these”

Am I not your neighbour?

—

“Mommy your painting looks like a heart”

That wasn’t my intention I wasn’t feeling very “heart-like”.

I’m weary.  The heart was by accident.

“Weary” June 2016

• perhaps this painting isn’t done – in a few days i’ll feel less intense and perhaps add to it…or take something away…

—

 

We have to do better.

There is no other option.