Today, I heard some inspirational words:
Attitudes are contagious. Make yours worth catching.
Do what is Right, not what is policy.
Shame is too blunt an instrument ever to be used to effect any kind of change.
I heard more words of pain, from caring people wrung out by a thankless task:
We have lost the capacity to hold space for our humanity.
While we are fighting each other within the system….. women are being hurt.
The over use of intervention is a human rights issue.
Because of our fear we have subjected women to the loss of their autonomy and human rights… to our fear of risk
Perpetrators aren’t the ones seeking therapy.
It did not stop him becoming the 45th president of The United States of America.
The roar Behind the Silence is a book, looking at the Global problems in our maternity systems. Why kindness, compassion and respect matter in maternity care is the tag line.
And they do, oh, goddess, how they do.
I am not just roaring about maternity care. Not just about the lack of compassion we offer to women in childbirth. Not just about my work environment, not just about birth.
I am roaring about everything.
About our governments decisions on where to spend our money.
About poverty, desperation and homelessness.
About the oppression of women, of trans people, of ethnic minorities, of children, of the poor, of the disabled.
About CONSTANT abuse and violations of human rights, those to bodily autonomy, a safe home, Water, food, education, healthcare.
About the Goddamned patriarchy.
About the pressure to do better, achieve more, and fight harder all with less.
Less resource, less heart, less money, less time, less people.
I want to Roar. I want to fight. I want to run off to the parallel feminist universe and live a different life. I want my children to be safe and live good lives without the constant conflict I experience. I want the babies I have caught to live in a world where they never have to live in fear. But I also want to curl up in bed, under my duvet, next to the love of my life and cry.
Because it all seems so very very hard. It all seems so very hopeless. It all seems so very, very heartless.
Today, a little girl turned five. And she lost her first tooth. And she had a beautiful cake, which she shared with a loving family. And I want her not to have to fight.
In two weeks, my foster daughter gets to come home, and reunite with us, and her child and she is so brave. She is roaring to the hilltops. Fighting for her life.
So how can I do less?
I am back. I will be writing again. I will Roar, even if it is just here, just quietly, just in this space. Just to myself.