It is impossible for me to sleep for more than four hours. It begins with the extreme excitement of the women’s conference. And the stunning sunrise over Mobile Bay happening in panorama outside my twenty-fifth floor bedroom window -- Who could possibly sleep through that?
The most amazing woman has proposed the most amazing concept for my next phase in life, helping to unite women in circles of power for peace. She didn’t exactly ask me to do this; I sort of offered. How could I resist when a dead ringer for a mature Mulan announces that she’s petitioning the UN to create a UNICEF for women, and I have so missed the community activism of my New Orleans days?
I remember when women in the good old USA were blamed for bringing rape upon themselves. And I had to walk away from more than one job, even though I had two children to support, because I had no recourse for sexual harassment on the job. I’ve lost a business, and very nearly lost my freedom because I was forced by a bank to have a man sign for my business loan. When the man tired of me, he gave my business to the bank and told them that I was guilty of an attempt to defraud them in order to extricate himself from a relationship with me. It wasn’t so long ago that women in America were treated as badly as women in Iran and Afghanistan. This is an issue that I can sink my teeth into.
I had thought that my next big project would be to write a book about The Feminine Face of God, but I also found a book by that name at this conference. In writing it, the authors did exactly what I had planned to do, interviewing women of many backgrounds about their incarnation of the Almighty.
I’ve been referred to most of my life as “That God Damned Warrior” and “A Mighty Powerful Woman.” I was recently challenged by one of my granddaughters with the words, “Granny, you have some good ideas. You just need to step up.” This was on the heels of my daughter admonishing me that I need to “be brave” in facing her.
And since I’m always waiting to be burned at the stake when the next witch trials are conducted, I just as well know what I’m going to be burned for: Inciting women to stand in a circle around what we hold most sacred: a peaceful place to love our families and the extended families of our world. After all, aren’t there only six degrees of separation between me and the homeless mother in the on the streets of New Orleans and the veiled Muslim mother in Afghanistan?
I’m beginning the circle of One Million Matriarchs (and their men, I hope) to march on the UN in support of the Fifth World Conference on Women. Please join me. We’ll make quite a pleasing parade.